The February newsletter winner is Cindy G. Congratulations, Cindy! As you all know, the prize was the first four chapters of Vampire Mistress, Gideon’s story to be released in May. It’s actually five chapters, since it includes a prologue ;>. Don’t worry, the rest of you don’t have long to wait – only two more months. Hope it will be worth the wait!

I’ve sent Cindy a direct email with the chapters. Thanks to everyone who entered the contest, and we’ll have another one in the March newsletter, around mid-month.

Have a great day!

Now, without any ado, Lyssa and Thomas, Part 2. As soon as I can resolve a technical issue, I’ll replace “Tyler Tied Up – All of It” in the right sidebar with “One Night Only – All of It”. That way you’ll have one button to push if you want to read all of it to date, from the beginning. But right now, if you didn’t read Part I, just flip back to the previous post if you don’t mind (smile).

Okay, let me repeat – now, without any MORE ado, Lyssa and Thomas, Part 2. Enjoy!

* * * * *

“You are taking unseemly joy in this, my lady. Like a man given a virgin to defile.”

Her jade eyes gleamed. “My intent is not to defile you, only ensure myself of your loyalty.”

“Practically, I’m not sure how this proves that. Very few men could resist your charms.” In fact, if Jesus had met Lady Lyssa in the desert instead of Satan, Thomas was sure Christian history would have turned out far differently.

Because she was inside his mind, that surprised a chuckle out of her. But her voice softened. “You are an exceedingly devout man, Thomas. If you defined your faith only by brick and mortar and holy texts writ by men, you would have given in to temptation a hundred times by now. I have certainly tested it.” In her gaze he saw the sensual reflection of it, every time she’d bade him bathe her, dress her hair, lie in her bed so she could curl around him, absorb his warm and companionship while she slept. “Your order has shut the door against you. But you have not abandoned your oath to God.”

Until tonight. He couldn’t help the thought, but of course she heard it.

“You have the sense to know better. Don’t become mindlessly pious on me now.” No softness in her voice now, a cue he’d learned to read well. His spine automatically straightened, his senses sharpening. She arched a perfect brow. “Show me the scars I put upon you.”

Two nights ago, he’d taken the Ritual of Binding to a Vampire Queen. She’d used a whip, striped him with it fifty times. She’d soaked the single tail in her own blood so the lashes would leave these permanent scars, despite a secondmark’s advanced healing ability. As a thirdmark, he would never have another scar except this, an intentional branding.

I am sworn to your service. Compelled by absolute loyalty, I safeguard your well-being before my own or any other ties of family or friendship. I swear it by the giving of my blood to you and before all of Divinity, may my life be cursed and my soul be damned if I speak false or ever betray the vow.

The ancient vow he’d said to her echoed in his mind. Had the words required he put her above Divinity, he wasn’t sure he could have done it, because he’d gotten this far believing the vows were not in competition. Until tonight.

That phrase was going to be branded on his mind like those lashes, though Lyssa’s faint tone of scorn had told him she wouldn’t tolerate false guilt. The fact he was going ahead with it said so. Even if she wasn’t in his mind, he expected she’d never let a man hide from the truth of his soul, however base or noble its intent.

She made a noise, reminding him she’d given him a command. He was wearing a coarse linen shirt over workman’s trousers and boots. It was clean and modest, neat, something over which he could easily don a jacket and dress up if she had guests, but which worked well otherwise for his work around the plantation, tending the garden, helping the staff with repairs or reading in the orchard.

Now though, stripping off the shirt was like taking off his skin. It was another mystery, why he felt self conscious at this point. While she was entirely immodest with him in her bath and dressing areas, she had no compunction about invading his privacy the same way. Many times, when he’d been bathing, she’d come to watch him.

She hadn’t cloaked it in a pretense of conversation. She’d sat on a chair in silence and studied his naked male form in detail, making it clear it was her right to do so, to take whatever pleasure she wished in the sight of his hands cupping and lathering his genitals, the stretch of his body, the length of an arm as he rubbed soap over the firm expanse of skin over his rib cage and the indentation of arm pit, the curve of biceps. The first time she’d ever come upon him like that, he’d practically leapt out of the tub like a squealing girl and taken refuge behind a bush.

“You startled me, my lady,” he’d stammered. “What may I do for you?”

“What you are doing. I will watch you, Thomas. Whenever I wish. Come out of there.”

Her jade eyes had stayed fixed up on him, as intently as they were now, until he stepped out from behind the foliage. Lord in Heaven, his stomach had been quaking. There’d been a tremor through his legs, but it wasn’t that reaction which caused him the most mortification. He’d continued bathing even as he became fully erect in front of her. Because of that and a wealth of other reasons, he hadn’t washed his cock and balls. He had absolutely no intention of doing so. Not in front of her. However, not for the first time, she reminded him how clever she was.

“You missed a spot, Thomas. A substantial one. If you will not clean it yourself, you’ll goad me to do it. I won’t suffer an unclean servant.”

“I think you’re the one goading, my lady.”

“Testing. Whether you pass or fail is entirely up to me.”

Now, returning to the present, he considered her. “You’ve watched me bathe before, my lady.” Her gaze touched his chest, the muscled lines of his arms and abdomen. He helped with the manual labor, tending horses, clearing brush and making repairs, not liking to be idle when she didn’t need him, or he wasn’t at prayer or study. Vanity was a sin, but he couldn’t help the way the obvious pleasure in her regard uncurled warmth inside of him, tightening his lower abdomen and hardening his cock even further. She noted that as well, the increased constriction of the pants now revealed to her.

“Yes, I have. In fact, I recall I’ve required you to strip quite a few times when you weren’t expecting it. In my library, to give me the pleasure of looking at you while we were both reading. In the gardens, while I tended the roses. I liked seeing your backside flex as you dug or planted. The way your knees pressed into the dirt, your testicles so heavy and touchable, swinging between your legs.”

He closed his eyes. The fit of the pants was getting decidedly uncomfortable. He was also certain fluid was leaking from his organ, likely staining the front of the thin cloth with a damp kiss. “Why would you do that? Tempt yourself with nakedness but not touch?”

“Because I like the look of you. Pure and perfect, a creation of God. So sexual. You got hard, every time I required it of you. Just as now.”

“And I’ve told you that men cannot help what their cocks do. Only what they do with them.”

“So you have.” A light smile touched her lips, but didn’t reach her eyes. “Thomas, turn.”

He did, and knew she was looking at those fifty raw stripes, the ones that had kept him moving stiffly this past day, though his healing ability had turned them into closed scars. In his world, the healing powers of a secondmark would be considered a miracle. In her world, it was simply part of being a vampire’s servant. When she drew closer, that first touch was like a lightning strike, the way her fingers trailed down his shoulder. He closed his eyes again, and his fists. Throughout the ages, men of God had flogged themselves. For penance. To show their devotion by giving up comfort and immersing themselves in agony. To resist temptation.

Father, forgive me…

Could a man ask for forgiveness before he sinned, knowing that he was going to do it, even if it was wrong? Of course not, not unless he was hypocrite. He was worse than that. A scholar, a thinking man. She was right. In his heart, he didn’t consider this a sin.

She let those fingers drift down his shoulder, rest on the line of scars. The pain during the lashing had been excruciating, such that he’d cried out during the last twenty. Afterwards, he’d lain down naked on the cold stone floor of her small chapel. She hadn’t required that. He’d done it to underscore what he was choosing to do, praying for guidance. He’d fallen asleep that way. When he woke, a blanket had been laid over him by her own hands, and his head was in her lap, her fingers stroking his temples. She’d let him into her mind in that intimate moment, and he saw her considering the dusting of silver in the hair, a reminder he was no boy. He was a man. He’d been taught they were all children of God, but his mind had often wondered why God would want a world full of creatures who never matured and grew up. Even infants could learn enough from their parents to be guided by their wisdom in making their own decisions. Why couldn’t adults do the same from God’s Wisdom?

“Do you really consider lying with a woman a defilement?” She could purr like a cat, stroke a man with her voice, but sometimes that would fall away. He’d hear a trace of vulnerability it seemed only his ears were allowed to detect. Such evidence of her trust was a gift he valued beyond comprehension.

“Not this. Not with you. God help me.”

She laid her cheek between his shoulder blades, her lips grazing the nearest one. He thought her eyes might have closed now, because her hands slipped around his waist, her knuckles curling to trace the muscles in his abdomen, then down, around the hip bone, along the line of hip and upper thigh. At last, she plucked at a crease in the strained fabric of his trousers, like a string in a violin tightened to near snapping. His testicles contracted at the thrum of incidental contact all along his groin.

“I told you I would want to hear it tonight, Thomas. Why you want to be my full servant.”

“You asked me that the very first day, my lady.”

“Yes. You said you felt it would serve the Lord’s purpose. I laughed at you.”

“You did more than that, my lady. You said, ‘That’s a convenient male excuse.’”

“And you hid behind your wit and impertinence. You said, ‘No man would willingly choose to serve such a demanding taskmaster. Only a monk, used to serving God, would be up to the task of serving you as you demand, my lady.”

She straightened, one arm remaining loosely molded to his side, her skin sliding against his as she pushed up on his left arm so she could pass beneath it and turn into his body in front, settling herself so her breasts rested on his chest, her thigh brushing the inside of his. Their mouths were so close. It wasn’t often that he was so directly reminded of how much shorter she was, a petite doll of a woman. One who, standing so close, had to tilt her head to look up into his face. As he had to bow his own to see hers.

Her hair teased his fingers where it fell in curls over her hips. “You amused me, because it was a challenge. You were an enigma. You still are.”

“I doubt that. You are inside my mind, my lady. If you honor me with your final mark, you believe you will have ingress into my very soul.”

“I have seen a squirrel dance across a branch that should snap beneath his weight, fling himself in the air and land without fear on a tree limb fifteen feet away. I know squirrels can do that. It doesn’t make the mystery of how they came to be what they are any less. Your greatest sin is speaking the truth, embracing your own wisdom, believing that it can be inspired by God’s. And that sin has endured, despite a lifetime of self-deprecation, of being nurtured on the idea that man is hopelessly weak, ignorant and misguided. You try to flagellate yourself with it, and yet your skin bears no scars. Not until mine.” Her fingers passed over them again. “Do you want to touch my hair, Thomas?”

“Yes.” He swallowed, but kept his hand hovering in the air where she’d pushed it, the other in a clenched knot at his hip.

She nodded, but didn’t give him permission to do so. Instead, she outlined his collar bone with one long-nailed finger, scraping enough to leave a mark. “That first day, I thought you a man of God led astray by your lust. But your gentleness intrigued me. And when I looked in your eyes, I saw something far more than lust in your gaze. So now, you must tell me the truth, whatever it is. Why would you turn from God to give yourself to me?”

Now her expression sharpened in that way she had of taking a man off guard, all play gone, no games or tricks. Her gaze was as direct and piercing as a monarch’s, but her voice was clear, demanding truth. And though he hadn’t been quite sure how he would say it, it came from him as if summoned. The way she had trained him to react to her commands, over one short year.

“Because I feel I am turning toward Him, not away.” He swallowed, made himself keep holding her gaze. There were times she didn’t allow it, but this was not one of them. She waited, wanting more, because she knew as he did there was more truth to be told. She wouldn’t break the lock between their eyes until she had all of it. All of him.

“The history of my church, of men in my church… Monks, cardinals, priests, popes…we’ve often engaged in earthly matters. Politics, wars, scheming. Acts of deceit, to secure power or privilege for the Church. Such men have stood next to kings, influenced the direction of countries.” He swallowed again. “They believed power was an acceptable weapon to secure faith. And sometimes it was. Though sometimes, to our shame, it wasn’t.”

He only had to look into her slanted jade eyes, over the abundance of black hair, to know they would have burned her alive during those shameful times. Being a vampire would have been the least of it.

She nodded. “I have been alive for nearly nine hundred years, Thomas. Such a time span gives one far less respect for religion, and far more for the Divine.”

Despite the tension of the moment, the conflicting reactions of his body and his heart, he couldn’t help but smile. As beautiful as she was, he sometimes thought it was her clever, irreverent mind that truly bewitched him.

“I do not seek to compare myself to such men,” he continued, “though I pray I am not misguided as some of them have been. But I see what you are trying to do with the Vampire Council. And if I may be so bold, my lady, I will say that perhaps I have seen what others have not about your intentions. You may not consider humans equal, but you do not think that gives you the right to take advantage of the power God has given you. You think like a predator, not a human. You take what you need, and you demand respect, but that is all. You do not kill or subjugate merely for the power.”

Her other hand still rested on his back. But now her fingers dug into one of the scars, enough to have him draw in a breath. “You may be wrong about a part of that,” she murmured. “Sometimes I do subjugate…for the pleasure in the power. But you haven’t finished your explanation, have you?”

This was the more difficult part. He almost had to close his eyes again as her hand came back to his neck, slid down over the pectoral to tease the nipple. Her clothing was thin, and he could feel the press of hers. He wasn’t a virgin. He’d come into the monastery after sowing a few wild oats as a stable boy, so he knew what it was to feel a woman’s arousal through her breasts, the hardening tips a reflection of his own body. It was a heady feeling, one that made him dizzy, but she was holding him, steadying him.

“I think what you are doing will save lives. It will make it possible for two species to live in relative peace. From what I can see, you are alone at the head of a small army, standing against a far more savage one. One that wants no law but blood. I…feel what you are, my lady. I know there is a savagery inside you as well. You have the strength of will to use it for good…but you are also alone. If you will forgive me for the presumption, I can give you what others cannot – a quiet place, a confessional, a place to rest. A place of understanding. A reminder of why you are doing what you are doing.”

Despite the urges of his body, the conflict in his mind, something else took hold of him now. He spoke without flinching, his voice gaining in strength, resonating with the attentive look on her face. “I think I can be a way to hold onto your compassion and mercy. I can help you retain your belief in balance, that it is more important than power for its own sake. It is ambitious for a humble monk, and I have prayed upon it. Scorn my humility if you will, and though it could be my ego, pride or truth that guides my feeling in this, I know I feel it. As surely as I feel my love for God.” He took a breath. “And my love for you.”

At the flicker in her gaze, the press of her lips, he allowed himself to twine a finger in one ebony curl. Not to touch, but to affirm. “In the end, we answer to God. But I know by serving you, I serve him. I’ve made that peace, and this moment is as much about that for me as it is for anything else.”

He stared directly into those jewel-green irises, the darkness inside of them. As her fingers came to rest on his face, near his lips, he spoke again. “Whether I burn for it or find my way to the Heavenly Gates, it is what I have decided. May God have mercy on us both if I’ve chosen wrongly.”

“I think you are burning now,” she said after a long moment. “Your skin is so warm. Just a light gleam of sweat.”

“It’s from the fire. You like it far warmer than most would find comfortable.” She would be comfortable in the bowels of Hell itself. Lucifer would offer her a comfortable chair and a glass of wine, if she ever graced his gates. A creature of all worlds and none.

After another long pause, she spoke. “I accept you as my servant, gentle monk. Tonight I will mark you as I take your body. Give yourself to me generously, this one night. Every ounce of your heart, soul and body. If you do that, you will have done my bidding.”

She smiled then, and the soft pleasure to it dropped the bottom out of his world. It was several moments then before he could speak. When he did, he knew he’d stepped out of the world of books and theology, and left his eloquence there. Now he could only say what he was feeling. This primal place was her world.

“I’m nervous,” he admitted. “Nervous that I will not please you.”

“Now that is shameful pride.” Her eyes glinted and she teased his mouth with her fingers again, such that he couldn’t help himself. His lips parted and he tasted her. In the reflection of her eyes he saw the look of concentrated wonder on his face, amazement at himself. Lifting up on her toes, she brought her lips within a breath of his and spoke in that sensuous whisper she did so well.

“Thomas, I promise you, you are incapable of not pleasing me. Before this night is over, you will kiss my throat, my breasts, between my legs. You will taste every inch of my skin, and I will taste yours. As well as your blood. No more waiting. As much as I have enjoyed our dialogues, until I bid you otherwise, I bid you silent.” Her green eyes grew vibrant and close, taking over everything as the whisper became a breath, taking the air in his lungs.

“Kiss me. Use your body to talk to me.”

* * * * *

Thomas circled the chamber for what felt like the hundredth time. He’d prepared her bed as he did every night. He’d turned back the cotton sheets the way she liked, arranged her pillows, and cut one perfect white rose, the bud not quite open, to lay on the linens. Though it was something she required, tonight it seemed as if he did it by his own will, for his own purposes. His fingers lingered on the petals as he imagined trailing the bud between her breasts, down a silken abdomen…

He swore, something he rarely did, but the moment seemed to call for it. He attended her in the evenings when she first rose, and she often laid out her schedule for the nighttime hours while choosing her clothing, calling for his assistance to lace a corset or tie a garter. He’d seen her naked plenty of times. He helped her bathe, after all, pouring water over that slim back, massaging oils into her skin. He washed her dark hair, a web of temptation all its own, the way it fell in twists and curls down to her flare of her hips, teasing the crease between her bare buttocks.

She was a descendant of Lilith, of Jezebel, of every woman who knew exactly how to use such beauty to confound a man’s mind. Despite the fact it was a more enlightened time, almost 1852, there were still some of his monastic brethren in England who considered women Satan’s agents, either deliberately or through female weakness for sin. But he didn’t. Even after a year in the service of a vampire queen.

That year had brought him far from the monastery, geographically at least. Her decision to leave Europe for the young United States of America had been surprising, but she’d felt the position was strategic. It spoke to her desire to see the European vampires take a new, more enlightened view of their relationship with the human world. She’d purchased this plantation house outside of Atlanta, and, though they hadn’t been able to stay here as often as she liked, she’d at least managed to get a prolific rose garden. She never lived anywhere she couldn’t have roses. A quirk that always reminded him of the vulnerability of the woman beneath the queen’s exterior.

Turning away from the bed, he moved to the fire, added another log. She didn’t really get cold, but she liked warmth, the way it pressed against her skin like a lover’s touch. He didn’t give himself to such sensual poetry, of course. She’d told him that once, and he’d remembered it. Such words were thorns she drove into his flesh, tormenting him, goading his resolve.

He was an intelligent man. She’d told him his brilliant mind was why she’d brought him into her service, and possibly his intellect was the reason he’d been drawn to it. However, though he’d left his monastery to serve her, he had not set aside his vows as a monk. His brothers might consider him no longer one of them, but his oath had been made to God, not to them.

Because he was an intelligent man, he’d been able to look beyond his fear of his own weak impulses to the mind of the woman he served. It put his to shame, particularly when it came to calculation, testing a man’s mettle. Lady Lyssa needed a full servant, and the past year had been a never-ending audition for it. Yes, she’d tested his resolve to honor his vow of celibacy, and though the woman in her had taken pleasure and amusement in it, her intent had been far more serious and politic. And because he’d understood that, he’d stayed.

Though she’d tempted him mercilessly in those first three months, there was some invisible cessation point where her taunts became almost affectionate barbs, no longer such a test of his will. Though his soul had breathed a sigh of relief, it had been rocked back on its heels by one simple command, given two months ago.

I am ready to give you the third mark, Thomas. It will make you my full servant, your soul bound to me forever. Before I do that, you will take the Ritual of Binding to a vampire queen. And you will lie with me, to prove your loyalty to me can exist in the same heart that holds your loyalty to God. I will ask it of you only once, but your heart and body must be given to me freely, like the rest of you. If you cannot do that, then I will release you to return to your monastery. She’d paused then, those green eyes vibrant, but she wasn’t done. She was thorough, his lady, and never left any stone unturned.

And on that night, I will also demand to hear what you have never spoken. Why you have chosen to serve me.

Even though she could read his mind, she knew that forcing a man to say such a thing to a listening ear made it far more binding and concrete, not just nebulous wisps of thought, like clouds scudding away.

She’d not been willing to negotiate or argue her terms. In their travels, they had debated many things, even argued heatedly like two scholars. But there was a tone that entered her voice when she assumed her queen’s mantle, and it had been there at that moment. Those jade eyes had been cool and remote, making it clear there was either acquiescence or departure. And both would be permanent. Forever.

Had she known he would need two months to decide to stay or run? The thought made him chastise himself. Why did he think of it that way in his mind? If he hadn’t been able to reconcile himself to this moment, he would have left, not run away. He’d come into this relationship with his eyes open.

She was not like other vampires he knew, and he’d met many since their paths had crossed. Any other vampire mistress would have demanded this act long before tonight, because sexual demands of servants were closely integrated into all aspects of the vampire world. However, part of it was his lady had spent her year up to her slim neck in conflict. Addressing the guerilla tactics of what he feared eventually would become outright war between the vampires. There’d been plenty of vicious brutality and bloodshed going on in the shadows of the oblivious human world, but he already knew they were minor moves on the chessboard for what might come. His lady had a vision for the future, and he could see the knowledge in her eyes, what the cost would ultimately be. She would face it unflinchingly, as she did everything else.

But he believed there was another reason she hadn’t pushed it before now. Respect. She respected him. When he’d come into her service, she’d needed his intellect, his companionship. The reasons he’d found himself here were complicated and simple at once, as much intuition and gut as reasoned thinking. He knew he was an oddity, a monk who wished to be a monk, yet serve God in a way that seemed inconsistent with those vows. She was a vampire equally as unique in her world. Another thing that drew them together.

At the beginning, she’d made him a first marked servant, the geographical locater for his protection from the other vampires they might encounter. It was a sigil of her service. Then, as his duties became more involved, he took the second mark, so she could speak in his mind, and he in hers, though of course he did not have the same free access to her thoughts as she did to his. He had told himself it did not concern him. After all, God could be in his mind at any time, so it would be an additional test, to ensure that everything in Thomas’s mind reflected his devotion to His will.

While he knew his order would scoff at such things, she never did. Nor did she do anything to reassure him what he was doing was right. She left it entirely between him and God…though everything else was subject to her will.

His faith was predicated by the belief that other men were ordained to know better than he what God demanded—priests, cardinals, the Pope himself. The Bible spoke of sins and betrayed faith. Thomas knew all that, but he could not deny what his heart had told him, the first time he had met her.

She’d been seeking an ancient manuscript, a history of the Crusades. Specifically, a reference to a knight who had fought in it. The reference had been obscure and vague, no way to tell if it was the man she sought. Even so, Thomas remembered the way she’d placed her fingers on the line of text, her eyes closing, her mouth softening in a way he had not seen since. However, it had been a blinding light into her soul, showing him who she was, this mysterious, dangerous and powerful woman, like no other he’d met.

After that, she’d engaged him in a lively dialogue about the other histories and texts he had. She spent three days there, apparently just to increase her knowledge by testing his. When she got ready to leave, he knew what she was. She told him she would take him into her service, if he went willingly. He’d been at the monastery nearly twenty years, yet it took him only one night to decide to leave it, as if all his training and preparation had been for her eventual arrival.

His place was at her side, not as an abandonment of his faith, but as a reinforcement of it. He’d been sure of it, had rarely doubted it. Tonight, however, that belief would be tested as it had not been before, because it was the first time his service to her would so definitively trespass on promises given to Another.

He usually laid out a filmy silken gown for her slumber, one that clearly showed her body beneath it. It was her preferred nightwear, a woman of no shame when it came to her sexual beauty. Tonight, though, she’d told him to lay out only a robe.

“It’s all I’ll need tonight,” she’d said. She’d mentioned it in a careless offhand way as they’d been doing quarterstaff training. She’d spent time in Japan learning the intricate staff work, and in turn she’d trained Thomas so he could spar with her, though she of course had to slow her movements. He’d missed a step, and gotten his knuckles wrapped for his trouble.

Not by a flicker did she acknowledge the significance of her words, but he’d felt the impact beyond his smarting knuckles. It had seared through his gut and lower, in parts not even given the relief of his hand for nearly twenty years, let alone the heated silk of a woman’s body.

Would he shame himself like a boy? Surely not, for she’d tested him so often this past year that restraint should be second nature. But there was a keen difference between her honeyed words, her casual touches, and being bare together by the light of this fire, his body between her legs, his cock… Ah, God help him, he hadn’t thought so much about his cock over two decades as he had in the past two months. All monks figured out ways to get past the involuntary urges, accept and eventually quell the desires that came in the middle of the night, the churning need of the male body to spend. To deny it made one stronger for God’s service, that energy channeled into prayer and service. Tonight, he was going to channel it into its animal purpose, and as the moment grew closer, he was growing more desperate to understand if he was acting on his desires or God’s.

Realizing his pacing was wearing a hole in the Persian rug, he dropped to his knees on the stone near the fire, putting his head near enough to the heat to feel the burn through his hair. Dear Father, I have prayed about this so much. I believe it is Your Will that I serve her, to the extent you will overlook this one night, but forgive me, I do not know if an overly developed intellect masquerades as divination of Your Purpose, to have what my man’s greedy soul might want…

He could remain her secondmark servant. After all, he served her well in that capacity. But he’d known his destiny was to be far more to her. As her thirdmark servant he could help her in ways he would never be able to do as a secondmark, giving her strength and support she would need in the days ahead. No one else in her retinue was as close to her, understood her mind the way he did. That was not a boast – it was a tricky, dangerous path every day, something that drove his conflict to even deeper levels when he saw he had a knack for it that no one else did. She knew it, too. Why else would God have brought him into her life?

He knew what others of his order would say. The Devil was equally as capable of bringing such influences into a man’s life. But he’d long ago faced the truth—that every choice and decision lay in a man’s heart. No other man or institution could bear the responsibility or blame for it. There was no one between him and God on this. He had to follow what his own soul told him to do.

“Thomas.”

He hadn’t heard her come in, so deep had been his contemplation. Or perhaps she’d chosen to move as a vampire, so silent that no man could see her when she did not wish to be seen. He lifted his head, tilted it so he could find her in the corner of his gaze, though for the first time in their relationship, he found it too difficult to look at her directly. “My lady.”

Her gaze passed over the bed, lingering on the rose. “White, the color of death. Or of endings. Is this your answer?”

“No, my lady. But I am…” She would not tolerate prevarication. He could not assuage his soul by justifying his actions to her. So he stopped before he started. He made himself get to his feet, turn and face her, meet her jade gaze. “No, my lady. White can also be the color of beginnings. Or a reflection of your fair skin.”

“So it can. Though a monk should hardly be considering a woman’s fair skin.”

“Well, the night seems to call for a certain amount of gallantry.”

A faint smile touched her lips, but he was absurdly touched by the seriousness of her gaze, an acknowledgment of what this might cost him. She would not mock or tease him tonight, not that way. Pulling the sticks from her hair, she let it tumble down her shoulders, all the way to her hips. That glory of ebony silk would soon be filling his hands. It was much easier to resist when he knew it was not his to touch. Now, when it would be required, it was almost impossible not to feel it already sliding over his palms.

If he unleashed this longing growing in his breast, would he ever leash it back again? Could he serve them both?

“You’ve never been nervous in my presence. Even when you understood what I was. You are different from most monks. You fence my sharpest wit like an expert swordsman, you endure my subtle taunts with a resigned smile and a dry humor that makes me laugh, when nothing else can. I’m in your mind, I’ve seen you quell your desire, the way you quell hunger or any other natural impulse. You have more discipline than any human I have ever met. But you’re nervous now, aren’t you?”

No use denying it. “Yes, my lady. I am.”

“I like it.” She leaned in the door frame, accentuating her hips in the men’s trousers she’d donned for her practice, pants that hugged her body indecently. But nothing about her had ever seemed indecent to him. She seemed above such rules.

“Did you talk to your God?”

“He is Your God as well, my lady. But yes.”

“Hmm. If you have spoken to him, made what peace you are going to, then we leave Him outside this door.” Turning, she closed it with a significant click, shot the bolt home, then gave him a glance, filled with that sensual power and yet amusement that could be tender and merciless at once. “That leaves just you and me, doesn’t it?”

Thomas wondered. He couldn’t imagine even God denying Himself the pleasure of seeing what would happen next in this energy-charged room that suddenly seemed much warmer. God have mercy on my soul.

Her lips curved. She’d heard the thought.

Ask Him for mercy, Thomas. Because I shall give you none. Not until dawn.

I’ve tried to loosely categorize these alphabetically in case you have particular interests, but some could go in more than one category, of course. If I thought the organization was well known, or the name was self-explanatory as to their mission, I didn’t elaborate. However, if that wasn’t the case, I tried to include a little info, either from the website or the description the contestant provided. And of course for those organizations that have websites, I’ve included the links so you can click and learn more about them!

As I said in January, I was not at all surprised to hear how generous so many of you are with your time and resources. I hope this post will lead to additional resources going to these fine organizations. Thanks again for participating!

ANIMALS

Animals for Adoption (Sue Sternberg)

ASPCA

Bengal Cat Rescue

Best Friends Animal Society Home Page

Brunswick Animal League

CAAWS – Capital Area Animal Welfare Society

Chimp Haven

The Heartland Shelter

Humane Society of the United States

International Fund for Animal Welfare (IFAW)

Kitsap Humane Society

Luzerne County SPCA

Martinsville SPCA

McKamey Animal Center

Michigan Humane Society

National Wildlife Federation
Peggy Adams Rescue League

Rancho Coastal Humane Society

Southport-Oak Island Animal Rescue (SOAR)

Tails Humane Society

DISEASE PREVENTION/CURES/FAMILY SUPPORT

American Cancer Society

American Diabetes Association – NY

Avon Products Foundation Inc.. -  Walk for Breast Cancer – NY

Caring Bridge for Audrey Robart – This is a relative of the reader who submitted the organization. Audrey has hit the maintenance phase this month but still has a long way to go.  Her mother passed away with leukemia a few years ago at this time of year. 

Children’s Mercy Hospital in Kansas City, Mo

Juvenile Diabetes Foundation

Ronald McDonald House

St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital

Operation Smiley Face – Cancer survivor who sends out “smiley faces” to bring cheer/support to those facing disease/hardhsip

Tenovus – Welsh-based charity for cancer care and research

HANDICAP ASSISTANCE

Canine Companions for Independence – Can give money or time – can raise a puppy for the organization.

Guiding Eyes for the Blind – this organization helps a challenged person live a more full life and at the same time gives some lucky dog a loving home as well as a very important job.

Paws with a Cause – Wonderful work training service dogs for the handicapped, hearing dogs for the hearing impaired, and now they are training seizure-alert dogs also.

KIDS

Easter Seals of Southeastern Pennsylvania is a pre-school that works intensely with children with many different types of disabilities although many are autistic.  Most of the children have little or no speech but they work with them each day. Last year, one little boy who was at the end of his last year in the school and had never spoken, actually spoke a sentence one week before the last day of school.

Freedom Writers –There are books about and by Erin Gruwell about her teaching methods and how she inspires others to replicate her success. And yes, this is the organization/woman who inspired the movie with Hilary Swank!

Fresh Air Fund – Since 1877, The Fresh Air Fund has been giving inner-city children the joy of a summer vacation with volunteer host families and at Fund camps, creating unforgettable memories and fresh possibilities.

Gift for Teaching – Organization’s mission is to transfer surplus community resources to teachers to help students in need.

Girl Scouts of America

InterServ – faith-based, not-for-profit, human service organization countering the effects of poverty on children, youth, elderly and families in St. Joseph, Missouri and neighboring communities

Make a Wish Foundation

St. Mary’s School, Lincoln NE – “a wonderful school [who] gives to their poor. Since they are the poorest parish in the city they rent text books from the state. When I asked the principal if I could help with $50 GC for books she gave me a list of "The Boxcar Children" Books for the library where they rarely get donations to add to.”

Ricky Martin Foundation – Children’s rights (Child Trafficking, Violence Against Children, Health, Education, etc)

Victory Junction – Provides camp experience for children with chronic medical conditions or serious illnesses.

Youth Haven Ranch – local Christian group that teaches underprivileged children the love of Jesus Christ. During the holiday season, they have Christmas parties giving many of these children the only Christmas gifts that they will receive all year.

MILITARY/VETERAN SUPPORT

Fisher House Foundation – helps the injured military and their families with short and long term care needs

Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund – helps the injured military and their families with short and long term care needs

USO

INTERNATIONAL ORGANIZATIONS

Doctors without Borders

Heifer International

One.org – grassroots campaign and advocacy organization backed by more than 2 million people who are committed to the fight against extreme poverty and preventable disease, particularly in Africa.

Save Darfur Coalition – This organization raises public awareness about the situation in Darfur and mobilizes response for humanitarian aid, ending the violence, promoting long term sustainable development, etc.

Unicef

World Vision – “they’re one of the charities pretty much every government allows on the ground immediately after disaster strikes” 

HUMAN ASSISTANCE(General)

American Red Cross – National

Central Virginia Food Bank

Habitat for Humanity

Orlando Sentinel Family Fund – supports nonprofit agencies in Central Florida that provide low-income and underserved residents with basic needs and promote the acquisition of basic skills so that they may fully participate in and be productive members of the community.

Salvation Army

Southwest Indian Foundation

United Way

No Strings Attached by Jaci Burton

La Petit Mort by Jasmine Haynes

Honor Bound by Joey Hill

Rhio’s Dancer by Denise Rossetti

This is the second time I’ve had the privilege of sharing the cover with these three talented ladies, and just like last time, we wanted to celebrate with a blog tour.

If you haven’t done one before, it’s fun and easy, no worries, and you get four chances to win free books. We’ve chosen four questions to answer for you, one question posted on each blog. You can visit each blog to read the answers, and leave your own answer or relevant comment to be eligible for the book giveaways. We’ll do the drawings Wednesday morning, Feb 3, approximately 9am EST. Winners will be notified directly of course, and we’ll also post it in our respective comment sections.

All four of our questions are related to the type of clothing we wear, and it was an entertaining topic to discuss – we found we varied pretty widely even among ourselves. So we’ve bared our clothing secrets – don’t be afraid to bare yours! It’ll be just between us, promise (wink). Men, don’t be shy – if you’re out there, post your answers as well, or make a comment (laughter).

So the question being featured on my blog is : What’s your most sexy/naughty-feeling outfit? Here were our answers –

Jaci Burton – I have a curve hugging sundress that fits me beautifully. Sadly it’s a summer only type of dress, but it’s one of my favorites because it looks good on me and makes me feel sexy when I wear it. It accentuates all those parts of a woman that make a woman feel great about herself. And with either heels or sandals, I can dress it up or go casual, but either way, I still feel beautiful in it. I love that dress.

Jasmine Haynes -  A see-through blouse with just a lace bra underneath. It can be paired with a skirt, pants, or even jeans. I find it extremely sexy. Nothing really shows (I reveal more in a bikini) but there’s the hint of naughtiness, like you’re letting a man see a promise. A black bra with a sheer white blouse, ooh, that’s really naughty and nice!

Joey W. Hill -  I have a VERY short dress, a gray snakeskin print fabric, where the back is 3-4 thin straps, and there’s a low neckline in front. Last time I wore it, I put it with a pair of teetering silver heels. Though I’ve never worn them together, I also have this great chain-mail jewelry creation from www.sblades.com that I wore for the Romantic Times fairy ball (depicted here). It cuffs at the wrists, the upper arms, and the throat. I would love to put those together, to add a BDSM flare to the dress. If I’d been thinking clearly when I wrote Honor Bound, I would have had Peter put something like that on Dana when they go to the BDSM club…oh well, there are always follow-up vignettes!

When we were in our local yacht club, I wore the snakeskin dress for the annual Commodore’s Ball, which is always fun, because for that one night, instead of my usual “bag lady fashion” where I wear ankle length skirts and T-shirts with sneakers, I get to project a whole different look. As one person told me – “I’ve never seen your legs before tonight!” Since I’m more often than not mistaken for a kindergarten teacher, my reputation can weather one night of sluttiness (grin). There’s something about letting yourself feel sexy and daring every once in awhile that gives you a charge of confidence. In Honor Bound, though Peter didn’t use the jewelry, the corset into which he laces Dana is intended to serve that purpose. It gives her confidence and trust in herself, as well as him.

Denise Rossetti – You have to start with gorgeous lingerie, or possibly none at all, if you can get away with it. But I can’t feel sexy if I’m actively uncomfortable – or at least, not for any length of time. Shame that men don’t get that. I suppose they figure you won’t be wearing the stuff long, so it doesn’t matter. Heh.

Half-cup bras are great because they not only support the breasts, they offer them. Dead sexy. Plus, you get cleavage. What’s not to like?

Then there are thigh-highs and fuck-me heels. Nothing flatters the legs like sheer stockings and stilettos. Click clack, click clack. Love that sexy strut. I have the most wonderful pair of red heels, the most expensive shoes I’ve ever bought. They were a present to myself when I signed my first contract with Berkley, scarlet patent leather and velvet. Red shoes have always struck me as so much more daring than practical boring neutrals.

Thinking about my most sexy outfits, I used to have a black velvet dress with a deep sweetheart neckline, long narrow sleeves, tight over the ribcage and the waist. With it, I wore a pair of classically elegant black heels, with a little beaded fringe that swung over the heel. They even had a name, ‘Beyond the Fringe’. Cute, huh? Sadly, the dress has long since left me for the ragbag, but I still wear the shoes.

Funnily enough, when I asked My Beloved for his favourite of my outfits, he picked a bright turquoise sheath with splits on both sides to the top of the thigh. Men – obvious. *smile*

* * * * *

Okay, now, tell me your answer to the question or, if you’re VERY shy, just leave an intelligent sounding comment and I’ll enter you in my drawing, which is for a copy of Laced with Desire (if you win and you’ve already pre-ordered it, I’ll let you substitute a different title, no worries.)

After you do that, hop on over to the other ladies’ blogs and you’ll get to read our answers to their assigned question and have a chance at their wonderful giveaways!

Jaci Blog – http://www.jaciburton.com/blog Prize – An advance review copy of her March Release, Bound, Branded and Brazen

Jasmine Blog URL http://www.jasminehaynes.blogspot.com/, Prize: autographed copy of Yours for the Night

Denise blog http://www.deniserossetti.com/blog/ Prize – autographed copy of Unlaced and Laced with Desire!

Good luck!

You may remember that this month’s newsletter contest asked what your favorite all time book is. Audra’s was Outlander by Diana Gabaldon, which was a great choice – happens to be one of my favorites as well. Would you like some other suggestions for your reading lists? Here are the titles that were submitted as “all time favorites” from the contest participants. Since I figure you already know about mine, I didn’t include the contestants that named my books, though I definitely appreciated that!! Enjoy, and hope you find many TBRs here.

Those who submitted these as their favorites sometimes included the reasons why in their email. In the interests of space, I just gave the title/author here, but if you’d like to comment and say why you loved any one of these titles, don’t hesitate to do so.

Also, don’t forget to visit here tomorrow for the Laced with Desire author blog tour! Four more chances to win books, as well as to find out fashion “secrets” about us (chuckle – things you may decide you didn’t want to know!)

Contest Participants’ All Time Favorite Books

As mentioned earlier, after I get past Gideon’s rework, I will do a blog in January about the many wonderful charity suggestions I received – everything from animals to literacy, to the Salvation Army and other very worthwhile groups. But I wanted to go ahead and let you know who won the prize.

Thanks for all the great suggestions – this is a very generous, loving group (and of course I’m not at all surprised by that). Happy New Year!

As a matter of professional courtesy, I don’t talk about books that I don’t like and/or don’t feel are worth reading. So all of the following, in my opinion, ARE worthwhile reads and I was glad for the time I spent with them. This doesn’t mean I won’t point out my personal little hang-ups with them, if I have any. That’s because I know one person’s hangup is another person’s automatic buy, and so may help the author as well (laughter). I don’t summarize the books in great detail, but if you click each cover, it will take you to the page that tells you more about the story. If it’s a small press/digital, I’ve also included the publisher name.

Okay, first up was Lynn Kurland’s Dreams of Stardust. Very well written medieval timetravel romance where the hero is our contemporary protagonist, who ends up in medieval England, courting a nobleman’s daughter. This book is apparently part of an ongoing series, but you don’t have to read the others to catch up. The story and the way it was written reminded me of my junior high/high school days, when I read a lot of historical romance, including Valerie Sherwood, Kathleen Woodiwiss, etc. Lynn Kurland obviously has a gifted pen.

A word of caution though – unlike Sherwood or Woodiwiss, absolutely zero sex or sexual tension in this book. There’s romance, and a kiss or two, but the focus is on how they achieve their happily ever after against time travel and medieval obstacles, not how they sizzle with one another. While some would say the restraint is appropriate for the time period (since she’s a noble’s daughter and he’s a “nobody” from the future), I’d have expected SOME sexual tension, because  I think they had that, even back then (laughter). But nope, not in this book. So if you’re one of those readers who wants a great romance without the sex, this book is excellent for that, and the storytelling is good for anyone who enjoys a great read.

Okay, next up, In Over Her Head by Judi Fennell. This book was such fun. We have a heroine who is water-phobic, who, through a series of mishaps, ends up having to spend time under the sea with a really hot merman. The opening to this book is one of the best hooks I’ve read. I don’t know who could set it down after the first few pages. Since I’m not really a humor reader (I prefer to live on angsty, high stakes emotional conflict, etc in my reading, as well as my writing), that’s high praise.

I’d had the pleasure of sharing a forum with Judi at the Authors After Dark conference, and I wanted to try one of her books. Her undersea world building is incomparable – ten times richer than my own, and far more well integrated with the story, I have no problem admitting. Plus, her sense of humor is terrific – I laughed out loud quite a few times. As she progressed, I was pleased to see her transition from slapstick into a more fully fleshed emotional motivation for the hero, which helped me identify with him and start rooting for his success. This also deepened the impact of his relationship with our heroine. This is the first in a series of these books, so if you enjoy humorous, extremely well written paranormal mermaid romance, this is an excellent choice.

Next up, Rapture, Book 2 in the Shadowdweller series by Jacquelyn Frank. Fabulous, fantastic, wonderful. As many of you know, I loved Book I, Ecstasy, and raved about it in my newsletter. Like the last one, this book has a great story and wonderful main characters.

Our seriously formidable heroine is a slave who finds herself unwillingly  chosen for one of the greatest honors – to be handmaiden to the most powerful priest of the Shadowdweller world, Magnus. Their relationship, how they evolve together as a united fighting force in the increasingly troubled political clime of that world, is interspersed perfectly with wonderful moments of sensuality and romance between them. Have you ever read one of those paranormal books where the plot just annoys you, because what you really want to be doing is spending more time with the main characters, watching their love story unfold? Well, Jacquelyn Frank spins the right balance between plot and sensual romance in this one. I think you can also read this independently of the first book, though the underlying political intrigues do build throughout the series.

Next, Bound Odyssey. I REALLY raved about this one in my November newsletter. A fantastic BDSM menage (m/m/f). It’s a futuristic, where our planet is dying and our only hope is the chance to seek asylum on a planet that is a purely FemDomme society. The government has enlisted Mira, a professional Domme, to train an alpha tough guy to be an ambassador to that world. To help her with the training, she brings along another Dom, Roman. What’s so intriguing about the emotional interplay is that Roman is submissive to Mira, but is a Master to Jace, the emotionally closed-off guy they have to train. Mira of course is Mistress to them both. Don’t be put off by the futuristic plot. Like Rapture, the storyline is well integrated and doesn’t detract from the relationship dynamics. This is one of those books that captures you with the way the relationship builds between the three, the very real vulnerabilities and strengths that get revealed. The only problem I had was a way too abrupt ending, but I understand from Michelle there will be more about these three in an upcoming book. They won’t be the main characters, but they will be in the book, and we’ll get to see what happens to them. (Ellora’s Cave Publishing)

Boys of Summer – yeah! Yep, I like a great male/male erotic romance, and this was one. I wasn’t so sure in the beginning – I couldn’t quite grasp the characters right at first, but that was quickly resolved, and it developed into a very loving and sexy contemporary erotic romance between one man who is comfortable being gay, and one who is not, even though he loves the other to the point he has no choice but to get over it (laughter). Great flow and pacing, and I’ll definitely keep an eye out for more from Cooper Davis (Samhain Publishing).

Okay, my final two books are BDSM erotic romances. They both came with many high recommendations. I didn’t enjoy them personally as much as I wanted, but as an author, I felt they were very well written and/or had strong and involving characterization. In the BDSM world, there is a saying: “my kink is not your kink”, so sometimes one book’s view of BDSM doesn’t tickle my fancy as much as another’s. But it is important to note that, especially for those who practice D/s, there are a million different approaches, as individual as the people themselves, so my comments below reflect that, not the talent of these two authors. They’d make good erotic bookclub selections, because they both leave you thinking!

The premise for Reluctant Dom by Tymber Dalton is truly remarkable and heart rending – a dying Master who asks his best friend to move in with him and train to take his place for his emotionally fragile wife, for when the inevitable happens. The characters were well drawn, and the story was very realistic in dealing with the onset of a terminal disease. I also liked what we learned of Kayden and Seth’s friendship over the years as the book progressed. Like many friendships, the depth is not really fully understood until a loss like this is faced.

The only real hangups I had were two. One, it got somewhat repetitious, which again, is realistic – you go round and round over the same issues when dealing with cancer, yet it doesn’t always translate well to a story format. My other problem was that it seemed the men became/become Masters because Leah had to have it and needs it, like a medicine for her “illness”, rather than either one being natural Doms. Our heroine was very damaged, no question, needing the BDSM to cope, so her “improvement” toward the end was certainly a good thing for her personally. I’ll let you decide. A very thought provoking book (Lyrical Press).

Butterfly Unpinned was not a light read. The heroine is in a pretty extreme, hardcore, BDSM situation where she has accepted being treated as a slave in  a household of women serving one Master. Over time, through meeting our woodworking hero, there to do furniture and sculpture work for the Master, she realizes that’s not what she wants. She chooses to leave with her carpenter. Thus begins a journey of transition for her, the unpinning of the Butterfly.

I liked the Native American roots of the carpenter, and how that background figured into this story – it gave it a unique twist, for certain. Only two hangups on this one as well, and they were interestingly similar to the other book: 1) I couldn’t get a good grasp of whether the hero was truly Dominant, or just dabbling and/or willing to try for her sake, and 2) the heroine was quite obviously a committed natural submissive who’d gotten into a bad situation, but during her subsequent “healing”, it seemed her submissive qualities were minimized – the message being she could probably make do with a little “slap and tickle” domination once she was fully over her “self-destructive” phase.

Still, the writing is incredibly evocative, and once again, a very thought provoking tale. (Samhain Publishing, Bonnie Dee and Laura Bacchi)

Just a side note – Butterfly Unpinned had the most awesome cover, didn’t it? I’d love to have that as a poster!!

Hope these will give you some ideas for your own TBR list – as I noted at the beginning, all of them are time well spent!

Thanks so much to all of you for entering, and for the many kind comments you included in your entries about holiday wishes, my work and tomorrow’s release of Mermaid’s Ransom. I wish I could have responded personally to everyone, but this was our most successful contest yet – nearly 200 entries!

On that note, be thinking about your favorite charity, because, just like last year, my contest prize in the December newsletter will be a $50 donation to the charity of your choice, to celebrate the spirit of the season. Stay tuned for that…

Until then, hope you all had a great Thanksgiving (those who celebrate it), and hope all is well with you and yours.  Off to work on Brendan and Chloe, and prepare to plunge into part II rework of Gideon, Anwyn and Daegan!

I wish you and yours a wonderful Thanksgiving, if you celebrate it, and to all I wish a very happy holiday season. Don’t stress out too much over those crazy relatives, the shopping lines, the extra few pounds that will come off after all of it’s over…just enjoy the time with those you love, give to the organizations that need it so much this time of year (my choice is going to be the Salvation Army and my various animal charities) and dwell on the blessings.

As I mentioned earlier, I won’t start a new vignette until the new year (the one with Lyssa and her former servant Thomas), but in a week or so I’ll have a blog post about my vacation reading so you can determine if you want to add to your TBR (To Be Read) list. I’ll also give you a reminder heads up on the couple interview/giveaway opportunities I identified in the newsletter.

Remember to keep letting me know your vignette ideas as well. I’m compiling a list to keep us busy well into 2020 (lol). A vignette idea can also be a request to know how certain loose ends were tied up. I just had a lovely reader ask about Make Her Dreams Come True, wanting to know if Meg made up with her mother, what she and Daniel are doing now, if they had any children, etc. So I added that to the vignette list, which means it might become a vignette focused on just those two, or maybe a social gathering with other characters so we can learn more about what’s happening with a variety of folks.

Anyhow, without further ado, here’s the last part of Tyler and Marguerite’s vignette!

* * * * *

He combed out her hair on either side, letting her feel the tug on her scalp, a hint of his strength. The pressure of his body on the brand was a deep burning feeling, and she wondered how long she would have to wait before he’d agree to do that navel piercing he’d described. Knowing Tyler, he’d have the barbell and cuff custom made, set with a diamond, and inscribed with his initials. Present it to her as her birthday gift, a few months hence. She shuddered, imagining him touching that piercing and the connecting brand.

“How does it feel?” he said, his intent gaze on her face.

“Like I’m yours. Thank you, Master.”

His eyes softened, a rueful tug to his mouth. “I’m still seriously tempted to turn you over and spank you for all of this.”

“I’ll take that as proof you liked your birthday gift.”

He snorted, but then he wound his fingers into her hair, until his fingers were framing her face again. He lifted his upper body so that the pressure on the throbbing skin was released. The touch of the air on the brand was excruciating, enough that a quiver ran through her, but it also adjusted his hips so he was seated at a different, deeper angle. When she let out a moan, humor left his gaze, and he bent to her breast. As he scraped the curve with his teeth, he traced it with his tongue, making lazy circles toward the center, the jutting nipple that fairly vibrated with need. Her legs twitched and he gave her a warning look.

“You keep them spread and your ankles on the ground, angel. As far as you’re concerned, I have you tied out here with stakes and rope. In fact…” The tip of his tongue made another pass around the areola, evoking another whimper. She was becoming a symphony of needy sounds again, but she knew that would please him, make him harder. “I think that’s the perfect way to make sure you keep from abrading the burn. Tomorrow, when I’m working on my roses, I’m going to take garden stakes and soft rope and stake you out on the grass while I prune. And maybe I’ll use that bit I described, those two roses, to keep you quiet and focused only on everything going on inside of you. Put that small vibrator into your sweet cunt, let you come as many times, and as often, as it takes me to do my gardening. Sara will bring us both water when we need it, snacks. I’ll feed you, of course, tip the water to your lips. Run the ice cubes along your nipples, over your clit, if you’re getting too hot. Would you like that, angel?”

She quivered, her breath shortening. “Sounds like a lot of work for you.”

“I’m willing to make the sacrifice.” He placed a single, dragging lick over the right nipple and she cried out, but remained perfectly still, as still as a trembling body could stay. “Plus, if I get too hard watching your pussy cream over that vibrator, I’ll just feed my cock into my sweet slave’s mouth, have you take care of me.”

“Tyler.” Her breath shuddered deep as he closed his mouth fully over the nipple this time, drew deep, making the suckling noises he knew could drive her crazy.

Her pussy rippled over his length, and he put a hand between them to caress her clit in a slow, sensual circle, flicking back and forth over the engorged flesh, teasing rather than stroking it, making her body quiver harder. It didn’t seem possible that she could be close to coming again, but the way that brand seared into her flesh, keeping her hyperaware of its presence and meaning, along with his stimulation, made her think she was still riding the waves of the last orgasm.

“Want you…to come with me,” she gasped, too close for finesse and teasing. “Please.”

“You know when you say please, I can’t resist you, angel.” Tyler clamped down on the other nipple, suckling hard. Despite his earlier edict, he’d apparently decided he did want to feel the friction of her wet pussy gripping him, because he pulled half out and slid back in to the hilt, giving an extra thrust to take him that much deeper. It wrenched an animal sound of pleasure and effort from her throat. He kept his stomach off of hers, though.

“It…if you abrade it…it makes a deeper mark,” she said, but he gave her a quelling look.

“Not happening, angel. You’ll have to be happy with it as is.”

“I am if you are. Thank you, Master. Thank you, Tyler.”

“Christ, you kill me.” Another retreat, then the slow surge back in, with that extra twitch, sending a jolt through her nerve endings. “You keep talking to me. I want to hear your voice, know when you’re about to go over. I love it when I break you down like this, when you give me everything.”

“You already have everything,” she whispered, her fingers clutching the grass where her spread arms lay. “Everything I am. I like…what you want to do tomorrow. I want to be still, and yours, and feel the sun… Hear the birds… And not worry about anything.”

“Not worrying about anything now, are you, angel? You’ve given it all to me.” Those clever fingers flicked her clit again and Marguerite gasped over a tight spiral ratcheting up from between her legs, a near orgasm. If he did that a few more times, she’d be unable to hold back, and from the intent look in his amber eyes, he knew it. “Keep talking.”

“Pretty horses here…can you…ride?”

“Every Southern gentleman can.” His mouth was on her again, cruising down her sternum, his body making that slow penetration and retreat that made her ache to lift her legs, clamp them around him, but he knew how devastating it was to have an orgasm this way, with him controlling the build up. There’d been nights he’d strapped down her legs from hip to ankle, completely immobilizing her, so that not even a twitch of her lower body was possible. He’d licked her clit with that devil-blessed mouth until she’d come, so intensely she’d blacked out. She’d woken in his arms, him caring for her, massaging her legs, cleaning her. Though he was so aroused his cock was an iron bar pressed against her side, he’d insisted on caring for her first.

“Will you wear…those tight pants? Boots?”

“Wanton woman. You’d just be staring at my ass.”

“And your big…riding crop.”

He chuckled against her flesh, but she felt the flex of his hands in her hair, knew he was getting close to peak as well. She wanted to go together, and lifted her head slightly, capturing his attention. His hands slid beneath her neck, supporting her, tilting her head so her mouth was so close to his.

“Together…please.” She was lost to the desires of her body, but this, this was pure emotion. She wanted to be together, melded together by that flood of release. He saw the need in her gaze, for he didn’t tease her, as he might otherwise.

“Together, angel. Always. Ready?”

She nodded.

“Then come for me. Let me hear your cries.”

That clever hand stopped making those light circles and instead stroked her with purpose, setting off a charge of reaction through her clit and pussy. As he did, he began to stroke harder within her, and with less defined thrusts, his own need coming up and over him, so that the leash of control broke. As her voice rose in the cry of release, he put his hands to her hips and increased his strength, hitting her labia and clit with every stroke, replacing his fingers with the overwhelming demand.

She wanted to touch him, wanted to wrap arms and legs around him, but she obeyed him, leaving her limbs straining and straight, because it made the orgasm so much more intense. The cry became a tearing scream and as it overwhelmed her, took over her motor control, he shifted and held her legs and arms pinned with his hands and hips, his feet hooked over her calves. As he did, he rose and plunged, rose and plunged. She felt the heat of him spurt into her, renewing the assault on her tissues. She caught a glimpse of his face, seized by the powerful paralysis that a universe-changing orgasm could do, and loved it. Loved him. Loved the deep, masculine cries of release, somewhere between a shout and growl of a savage animal.

A savage animal that slowly settled into repletion. His climax had been so intense, his hands had bruised in their grip on her arms, but she reveled in that loss of control. When he finished, he was lying full on her again, her body still twitching from aftershocks, tiny cries coming from her lips with each one.

“All right?” he asked after a long while, his voice a rumble against her ear.

“As long as you never move.”

“You need to breathe, angel. And that’s all the pressure we’re going to put on this brand for now.”

With a groan, he made it to his knees and then shifted beside her, propping on an elbow and a hip, regarding her pale, trembling body from her painted toenails to the crown of her silky hair. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured. “The way you lay there, still obedient to me, your arms and legs spread. Who’d have thought a Mistress could surrender so utterly? You’re a jewel. My wife.”

It gave her an inner glow she was too proud to ever admit. Unless he seduced it out of her. But her voice had a betraying break as she spoke. “I want to touch you now.”

He nodded, and she turned on her hip, her depleted body and the ache of the burn making it a careful movement. He glanced down, then traced around the burn area, not touching the skin, then slid upward to her breast, running his knuckles along the curve before bringing his hand to rest on the nip of her waist, his thumb close to the mark. She noticed, with satisfaction, the way his eyes kept straying to it.

“Violet thought I should do the same to you one day. You know, kind of a double D ranch brand on your haunch.”

His gaze flicked up to hers, lazy amusement in it. Laying his head down on his arm, he let his knuckle descend, do another circle around the brand area, then down, brushing her mons and her damp labia. Her legs automatically adjusted for him, letting his fingers slip inside. Her muscles gave a final, exhausted contraction, an incoherent murmur coming from her lips as he stroked the liquid silk inside with tender fingers.

“And what does my beautiful Mistress think?”

“I think this is enough for me. Though I haven’t been able to practice my hog tying in awhile.”

“I should tell you something that happened to me the other day, when I was in town. It involved two young, beautiful women.”

“Really?” Her brow arched.

“Mm-hmm. You know that gallery near you, the co-op for aspiring artists? I saw a sculpture in the window I particularly liked. It was a bronze of a naked female angel. It looked as if she’d been playing above stormy ocean waves. She’s in a twisting motion, and a merman has surged up from the waters to take her mouth in a kiss, his hand closing on her wrist. One wing is angled down, as if she’s about to pull away, but there’s something about the arch of her throat, the tension in her body, that tells you she’s aroused by the merman’s boldness, his attempt to hold her.” He let his fingers slide out, painted their combined fluids on her upper thigh and then closed his hand over her fragile wrist, bringing the hand to him so he could nuzzle her fingers with his mouth.

“I thought it was exceptional work. Figured I could buy it, take a picture of it and send it to Marcus, tell him I found it in Somalia at a street bazaar. He’d probably spend months scouring the area to get the artist under contract with him.”

“You have a mean streak.” Her mouth curved. “And you underestimate Marcus. I bet he’ll figure out your game in no time and retaliate by putting your name and photo out on the Internet as “Gay male, single, who likes being spanked by Daddy.”

“Oh, he already did that one.”

“Yes, but it was a classic.”

“He prides himself on being original.” At her shiver, he noticed the sun was starting to go down. “I think we probably need to get you home.”

She glanced down at herself. “You said…”

“I meant it. Nothing but panties until it heals.” A twinkle went through his amber eyes. “Better hope no one stops us on the way home.”

She shook her head and lay back on the cover, giving him an amused look as she draped her arms over her head in a provocative pose. “You’re driving, so you’ll have to explain it. But I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me about the two beautiful women.”

His eyes creased in that handsome way that never failed to make her heart lurch. “Didn’t forget that, did you?” Still, before he continued, he rose, pulling his jeans back on and fastening them, then disappeared briefly into the barn. Marguerite watched the rose and gold colors paint the sky until she heard his feet, then she turned to watch him cross the ground back to her. He’d found her blouse and guided her to slide it on, though leaving it open. “If you get colder, you tell me. I don’t want you uncomfortable.”

“Women?” she prompted.

He gave her a grin, recapturing her hand, but continued. “When I went into the gallery, two young women were there, the owner and one of the artists. As you know, I have exceptional hearing, and I heard the owner talking about me. You know, the usual. How incredibly sexy I was, the things she’d do if she could get her hands on my ass…”

“I can think of a few things to do with your overinflated opinion of yourself,” she retorted. When she tried to pull her hand away, he held her fast.

“Ssh, be still.” His voice softened, his eyes sobering as he touched her face, keeping her other hand firmly closed in his grasp. “I could sense the artist watching me, not saying anything, but then she told her friend not to bother. That I was taken, in every sense of the word.”

Marguerite pressed her lips together then, at the expression in his face. “I wondered, because it sounded like she meant more than being married, even if she’d noticed my ring. So I stopped by the counter on my way out and asked her point blank why she’d said that.”

Marguerite could imagine it. That direct look, the firm tone and yet sexy Southern drawl that could seduce and command a woman at once, even when he was being entirely appropriate, as she was sure he was. She imagined the owner’s discomfiture, knowing she’d been overheard, and the artist’s clear, steady gaze as Tyler repeated her words.

“She smiled at me, and gave me a quote by the novelist George Moore: ‘Other men it is said have seen angels, but I have seen thee and thou art enough.’ She told me that was the look I had about me, so she knew I already had my angel.” He shifted. “It was uncanny, given what I call you, so I wanted to think about it awhile before I told you. I’m glad I waited, because I couldn’t think of a more perfect time to tell you.”

He drew her forward then, bringing his mouth to hers for a sweet, lingering kiss. Marguerite let herself get lost in it, in the scent of him, in the familiar yet arousing pressure of his lips, in the fact that every inch of him was hers.

When he lifted his head at last, he murmured, “Thank you for my birthday gift. Though you’ll always be enough for me, every birthday.”

In answer, Marguerite put her hand on the side of his throat, her forehead to his, holding him close. “I’ll give you a quote,” she said softly. “’Love has no desire but to fulfill itself.  To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.  To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving.’ Kahlil Gibran.”

She met his gaze, their faces so close. “Thank you for giving my heart wings. Thank you for giving this birthday to me, and every one after it.”

Visibly moved, he put his hand back over her wrist, gripped her there hard, his lips pressed tight. “I love you, angel. I always will. What do you say you let me take you home, and we can watch the sunset over the water?”

“I’d say that would be a perfect end to the day.”

“That’s every day that ends with you, angel.”