She'd had the occasional client who wanted his flesh split open. Even at her club, they limited that to three strikes. She'd had only one who made it to that number. The reality of it was far different from the imagining. It could require st.i.tches, leave permanent scars. She didn't encourage it. She wanted her club to be a haven for those who used pain as an avenue to a complete bonding between Dominant and submissive, not to feed a destructive pain addiction.

The heart rate accelerated under extreme pain, and adrenaline kicked in. When the pain grew too intense, and there was no safe word, as now, the mind would go into fight or flight mode. There would be struggling panic, or rage. She expected at least the latter from Gideon, which made it more impressive to see him hold his position. The Council was visibly amazed that she hadn't chosen to bind him, because staying still would be almost impossible as the pain got worse. She knew Daegan would help with that, though.

The third mark helped Gideon's resilience considerably, but she knew beyond all of that, it was his heartbreaking stubbornness that kept his body jerking but his knees still. A slight noise came from the back of his throat on strike eight. Daegan pushed him deep onto him, and Gideon bucked, this time for another reason.

Swallow, love. Concentrate on relaxing your throat. He's a lot to take at once. Relax the muscles in the back. Let your saliva gather to lubricate him. Suck your cheeks in as he pulls out and pushes in. The suction increases the pleasure. And use your tongue. Then she struck again, the whip leaving a red, angry stripe across the broad back, the shoulders that had borne so much. Then she struck again, the whip leaving a red, angry stripe across the broad back, the shoulders that had borne so much.

Gideon knew what a c.o.c.k felt like, knew that sense of steel under liquid silk of a blood-filled erection. The way the tip would pearl with pre-come, indicated by the musky taste on his tongue now. Daegan had large b.a.l.l.s, of course. At another time, when he didn't feel like a flamethrower was being used on his back, he would have been tempted to cup and squeeze them. The random thought would have horrified him, but for the overwhelming pain which kept him from embarra.s.sing himself in such a crazy way. That, and Daegan's order to keep his palms on his knees, which gave Anwyn a clear strike field.

On the eleventh strike, it started to get crazy. Crazier, really. Pain, rebellion, pleasure, need. It all started to roll together, like a s...o...b..ll, though this one had jagged gla.s.s that stuck out like people's feet and hands in the cartoons when they rolled down a hill.

Perversely, though, the pain helped. It wiped everything out of his mind. What he was doing to another male, what the Council was watching and would decide to do next, any worry about this being too much for Anwyn, possibly triggering another attack.

The Council had done them all a favor, bringing the mind-wiping pain into it for him. They were linked together in one focus. Anwyn kept up that quiet murmur of encouragement, rea.s.surance, even as Daegan flavored it with the s.e.xy male commands to suck him harder. f.u.c.k, your mouth feels good, vampire hunter. f.u.c.k, your mouth feels good, vampire hunter.

How he could be getting harder during this was one of those f.u.c.king twisted vampire-servant things. He groaned, a half scream, as the next strike landed and fire erupted anew. Holy Christ, it hurt. It hurt like all the lonely moments when he'd crouched in dark places, soaked to the ankles in blood. It hurt like it did when the adrenaline drained away, leaving him standing over a body to be burned, an area to be cleaned up. It hurt like all the hard, dirty mattresses he'd slept on alone.

Thwack.

He didn't know where the emotional s.h.i.t was coming from, so he sucked harder, focused on the physical, because that was d.a.m.ned baffling and amazing at once. His mindless c.o.c.k was straining. Was his l.u.s.t simple, b.e.s.t.i.a.l reaction to doing something that most males enjoyed so much themselves? Or was it deeper than that? Was he actually getting stiff from doing this to Daegan? Being on his knees, taking the vampire's c.o.c.k, tasting him, giving him pleasure, making him shudder as he handled him as roughly as he'd want it done to himself? Slickly sliding up and down, teasing him with a tongue that seemed to have a mind and direction of its own, flicking at the vein beneath the broad head, then down, following that thick ridge, sucking hard on the whole thing like a favorite d.a.m.n treat.

And he was doing it while experiencing some of the worst pain he'd ever felt. f.u.c.k, he was having to imagine his knees nailed into the ground to keep from bolting. His whole body was shaking, and his gut was turning over.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

He strangled on the cry, unable to stop himself. The blood was running down his back, over the dried blood from earlier. The pain and irritation were beyond description, just a white inferno. His hands clenched on his thighs. Holy Christ. What number were they on?

Let go, love. Just let it go. It doesn't matter.

He locked the Council out of his mind. He deserved suffering, but the pain of this lash could make him free. It would creep into his battered heart and soul, make him let go, take him to a place where he'd just feel what Daegan and Anwyn were doing to him forever. But oh, how it hurt. There was nothing but them, but it was all pain, and pleasure, never one without the other.

Daegan reached down then, gripped Gideon's fists and lifted them so Gideon's hands were clasped over Daegan's hips, digging into him with hard fingers, an anchor. Daegan kept his hands manacled on Gideon's wrists, so when the next lash landed, and Gideon reflexively jerked back, he was held fast, Daegan making him a prisoner. It just made him hotter, harder.

He was still pumping him with his mouth, but he was in full, h.e.l.lfire agony, and didn't know how much longer he could keep it up. Thwack. Thwack Thwack. Thwack. She was striping over existing wounds now. He didn't want to scream, would bite down on his tongue if Daegan's c.o.c.k wasn't there, and fortunately for the vampire he had enough of a brain not to do that. He dug his fingers hard into his thigh muscles, bruising. He wouldn't scream, not in front of those a.s.sholes, whatever they were thinking.

You scream if you must, Gideon. Anwyn's sensual tone, her Mistress's voice. Anwyn's sensual tone, her Mistress's voice. You are ours, and this is what we desire. You are serving us, giving us pleasure with your pain. You are ours, and this is what we desire. You are serving us, giving us pleasure with your pain.

He realized he'd divided his focus solely between Dagean's c.o.c.k and Anwyn's lashing. Perhaps because of the weird contrast to what was happening, he was drawing peace from the familiar smell of Daegan's clothes, the cologne he'd used tonight. Muscular b.u.t.tocks flexed just beyond the range of his fingertips as Daegan f.u.c.ked his mouth.

I should have shoved my d.i.c.k in here a long time ago, vampire hunter. I just never realized how effective it would be for shutting you up and getting you to focus on more important things.

Gideon managed to clumsily score him with his teeth, hard enough to earn a grunt. Daegan's hand shifted to give his hair a sharp, warning tug, but he thought he heard the vampire's feral chuckle, and a muttered, "Careful. Payback is h.e.l.l."

It was going to be okay. Daegan was ragging his a.s.s. He was going to survive this. He was. A clear image arrived in his brain, compliments of Anwyn. Gideon, stretched out and tied on a rough wooden wheel like a medieval torture device, turned upside down so Daegan could close his mouth over him without the subservience of being on his knees. It made Gideon still the slave, Daegan tormenting him, holding him helpless and upside down, sucking and sucking until he was so close to coming . . .

Thwack. The wet meat of loosened skin slapped against open wounds. The wet meat of loosened skin slapped against open wounds.

He did scream this time, and the pulsation against Daegan's c.o.c.k made the organ jump. Daegan's hand convulsed as well. That's it. Scream, vampire hunter. Vibrate against my c.o.c.k, so I can shoot come down your throat. That is what a servant does. Serves his Master and Mistress's will, no matter what he is enduring. That's it. Scream, vampire hunter. Vibrate against my c.o.c.k, so I can shoot come down your throat. That is what a servant does. Serves his Master and Mistress's will, no matter what he is enduring.

Gideon thought he might black out or vomit, but he did neither. Drawing on the determination that had gotten him through a couple decades of h.e.l.l, he pushed past the pain, heard the voices of Anwyn and Daegan's encouragement in his mind as he worked himself up and down that organ, pushing back into the lash. Somewhere along the way, screams turned into animal growls, snarls of rage, defiance and rutting pleasure. He became all beast, red-eyed and ready to kill, to f.u.c.k, to do anything but break.

Daegan's grip on his wrists was iron, while Anwyn decorated him with a crisscrossing of stripes on his a.s.s and back that dripped blood onto his thighs, running down inside his pants.

Come for me, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Give me every drop.

You do not order me to do anything, Gideon. Tell me what you want.

I want you to come. But I'm not begging for it.

One day, you will.

With a matching growl, Daegan released, holding Gideon's hair in a hard grip to shove himself to the back of his throat, shooting hot seed there as Anwyn landed the last five strokes in hot, hard, b.l.o.o.d.y succession. Gideon howled, even as he furiously worked to keep Daegan's jetting come going down his throat. He was dying, except he knew no one ever seemed to die of agonizing pain. Another of G.o.d's constant stream of ironies.

You're done, Gideon. You did it.

Exhausted satisfaction swept in among the wreckage. He'd done it. He'd given them both what they wanted, hadn't failed. Was a part of them.

No, that didn't make any sense. Fuzzily he recalled this had been a test for the Council, not something he was doing for Daegan and Anwyn.

It doesn't matter. It's all the same. And you never fail us, love. Never.

Daegan was slowly withdrawing, and Gideon couldn't help himself. He cleaned it as it left his mouth, nuzzling it, giving it a sharp bite that won another of those s.e.xy warning noises. He tried for a sneer to tell the vamp what he could do with his warnings, but he couldn't seem to find the energy to curl up the corners of his lips. He should have been falling down. Instead, embarra.s.singly enough, he was leaning into Daegan, his head against his hip. Crazy world that it was, Daegan stroked his hair, that manly tousle, sensual affection. He hadn't failed.

You've never failed, Gideon. Daegan shifted, and Anwyn took his place, letting him lean into her soft abdomen, his head below her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Perfect. The male musk and enticing hardness of Daegan replaced by female perfume and soft flesh. The best of both worlds, as long as both worlds were named Daegan and Anwyn. G.o.d, his brain was turning into a sentimental mush. He'd never hurt so much in his life. Daegan shifted, and Anwyn took his place, letting him lean into her soft abdomen, his head below her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Perfect. The male musk and enticing hardness of Daegan replaced by female perfume and soft flesh. The best of both worlds, as long as both worlds were named Daegan and Anwyn. G.o.d, his brain was turning into a sentimental mush. He'd never hurt so much in his life.

Then he felt two things. The first was Daegan, behind him now. At the first touch of the male vamp's lips, he shuddered, somehow wondering if he should object. He'd said he didn't want Daegan marking him, drinking from him, but this was different, right? His tongue sliding along those welts, gathering the blood, licking it away, soothing, using the blood-clotting agents in his tongue. Anwyn brought her wrist under his nose and Gideon smelled that rich burgundy of her blood, a vein opened for him.

Drink, Gideon. It will take away the pain, and you'll heal more quickly.

She pressed it to his mouth, and it was easier not to resist, to simply seal his mouth over it and drink. It tasted so much different than he'd expected blood to taste. It tasted like her, the best chocolate and whipped-cream dessert, flavored with exotic female s.e.x.

Daegan's sensual firm mouth, following each welt, tasting his blood, made him tremble with pain and desire at once. G.o.d, he was hard as nails. If anyone touched him right now, he'd go off like a geyser, despite the fact he hurt like he'd been hit by a truck. Jesus. Those third marks were something else. He should be half-dead, or all the way dead, not even thinking of his c.o.c.k. Instead, he wanted to plow into Anwyn's sweet, slick c.u.n.t, feel her arms wrap around him. He'd maybe even be okay with Daegan there. Gideon could sink between her legs, and then maybe Daegan would guide himself into Gideon, so they were locked together and Gideon was between them, full and complete, the center of everything they needed. Like the weapons room, except maybe he wouldn't fight so much this time. See where surrender took him.

But that was just more pain-crazed talk, wasn't it? He'd lost his mind. It floated away from him like a child's balloon on the wind. He lay down and watched it drift ever higher, until he couldn't see it anymore.

Daegan rose at length, his slacks refastened and belt buckled. Gideon was slumped against Anwyn, unconscious, his arms still wrapped around her waist and hips, his large body partly leaning against Daegan's leg now. Putting his hand on Gideon's shoulder, Daegan experienced a tender and dangerous protectiveness toward the man that he'd felt only toward one other, and he was clasping her shoulder with his other hand, a united front.

He'd done many things in his life, experienced horrors and wonders great and small, but he wasn't sure he'd ever felt such an explosive mix of emotion as he carried within him now. Putting a mask over it was perhaps one of the hardest things he'd ever done, but he did it.

"Did that prove what you needed proving, Lord Belizar?" He hoped his tone accurately conveyed that if it wasn't, the Russian wouldn't be keeping all of his appendages.

Belizar leaned back in his chair, looking sated with the aftermath. In fact, there was a fairly weighted silence in the room. The servant Alanna looked stunned and pale. Drained in some odd way.

"Indeed," Lord Belizar murmured. "I think you and the fledgling have provided us a more intense entertainment than we have experienced in some time. Far more emotional than I expected between ones with such a short history together."

Daegan knew it wasn't always the amount of time that formed bonds, but the circ.u.mstances. He inclined his head, though. "Then, if that is all, I will take them back to our quarters to recuperate. I expect to take my leave tomorrow night, unless there are other matters to address."

"You expect?" Lady Barbra rallied enough to send him a sharp look. "You may request to be excused, Lord Daegan, but you never presume to expect anything of us."

"I believe I was addressing Lord Belizar," Daegan said shortly, making it clear how much authority he gave her. While he hadn't held much doubt, the moment he'd met their gazes, he'd known Stephen and Barbra had been responsible for Barnabus. Like Gideon, he understood that meant they were responsible for Anwyn as well. For that alone, they'd earned a death sentence, and as soon as he could figure out how to administer it so it didn't endanger Anwyn and Gideon, he'd carry it out.

"Though I do concur with Lady Barbra's admonishment," Belizar said, in a rea.s.suringly mild tone, "I will allow for the fact that, if you have amazed and depleted us, you have likely depleted your limited diplomacy skills as well. Go to your quarters, Lord Daegan. I will send word as to the Council's pleasure regarding you and your charges before dawn."

16.

WHEN Gideon surfaced, it was to a gentle hand on his brow and cool cloths on his back and b.u.t.tocks. He was facedown on a bed and bare-a.s.sed naked. When he tested movement, he found he could move far more easily than he expected. Reaching back, he found one of the deeper stripes along his rib cage was already a pink strip of healed skin.

"The blessing and curse of being a third-marked servant. They can beat the h.e.l.l out of you, torture you all they want, and after a day or two, they could do it all over again, your skin completely unmarked."

"Not entirely," he murmured, finding her hand, whispering over her stroking fingers. "My Mistress gave me some permanent ones. You did good, Anwyn. They're the jerks, not you."

She paused, adjusting the packs on his back, though he thought the whisper of her fingers felt even better over his flanks than the ice.

"Let me amend that," she said. "You'll be fine in a day except for your brain damage. That's inoperable because no surgical saw is strong enough to cut through your thick skull."

"Nice." Gideon cracked his eyes open at last to see her lovely face. "Hi there."

Her eyes crinkled, though he saw the strain around her mouth, in the blue-green depths. "Hey yourself. I can probably remove the towels if you want to sit up." She stroked his brow again. "Gideon, I'm so sorry."

"Not your doing, Mistress. I'm just grateful you remembered you have a vampire's strength before you started swinging that thing, else you might have had to rea.s.semble my ribs like bowling pins." With a cautious groan, he pushed himself up, giving Anwyn time to move the packs. Except for an initial moment of light-headedness, he was remarkably himself. "Wow. I feel like a superhero. How did I get here?" He gave her a sidelong glance. "Please don't tell me that you carried me. Flesh-ripping pain I can handle; being carried by a girl will require ritual suicide."

"Worse than that. Daegan did." She gave him a mock grimace. "And though you weren't carried by a girl, you were carried like a girl. He cradled you in his arms as gently as a mother. It was very touching. And impressive, considering how big you are."

"Christ. Tell him next time to just drag me by one boot heel."

"Letting your head thump, thump, thump down the stairs?"

"Well, you said that couldn't hurt anything, right?"

Anwyn put a hand on the side of his face, her gaze sobering. "I am am sorry." sorry."

"Sorry for having to do it, or sorry for the fact you kind of enjoyed it?" He kept his gaze level with hers, no condemnation in the simple truth. She c.o.c.ked her head, stroking her knuckles through the hair at his temples, teasing the light scattering of silver strands, and pa.s.sed her thumb over his lips.

"I was immersed in your thoughts there at the end," she murmured. "Though I've always known the relationship between pain and surrender, pleasure and release, there is something about what I am now that has made testing those boundaries that much keener. I felt how you let go to me, and to Daegan, and for a moment, despite how horrible it all was, it was . . ."

"Perfect." He finished it for her, lifted a shoulder. "Whatever it is that you have in you, combined with what was before, found an answer somewhere inside me. Don't know how to deal with it, how to talk about it. h.e.l.l, really don't want to talk about it. Would rather just leave it there, you know. It happened, and that's that."

He was right. On the surface, the horror of it should have sent her straight into a seizure, watching his flesh slice open at her hand, the blood running down his back. Yet somehow, somewhere along the way, she'd let go of that as well, her consciousness and Daegan's twining around the chaos of Gideon's pain-wracked brain. A thought had come to the top of that spiral, from her servant's mind. Something his brother, Jacob, had apparently said. The true meaning of utter trust and surrender, Gideon. Being stripped so bare that a Mistress could walk the avenue straight into the darkest room of a man's heart, and he would want her there. Need her there The true meaning of utter trust and surrender, Gideon. Being stripped so bare that a Mistress could walk the avenue straight into the darkest room of a man's heart, and he would want her there. Need her there.

"It happened, and that's that." He'd repeated it. She knew it was far more complex than that, yet she found his way of summarizing it uniquely him, and therefore appropriate.

"You've never been very verbal." She watched him lace their fingers together, bring her knuckles to his lips.

"No, I'm not. Mistress."

It flickered in her heart like a warmed flame, made her fingers tighten on his. His lashes fell against the proud cheekbones as he pressed his mouth harder to her flesh, holding it there.

"Well," she said, somewhat unsteadily, "I've had one good thought, sitting here with you. As long as the two of us are connected to a supersecret agent like Daegan, it's not likely we'll often be required to be part of the vampire social scene."

"Supersecret agent." He gave a m.u.f.fled snort against her hand. "I guess there might be one perk to hanging around with the arrogant b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Now all we have to do is get out of here alive to enjoy it."

"True enough." She spent several more precious moments stroking his face, the line of his shoulder; then he lifted his head.

"I seem to be wearing nothing, so maybe I should put some clothes on. If you have no objections."

"I have plenty, but given the circ.u.mstances, I'm going to wait until we're home to start imposing the no-clothing-except-when-I-allow it rule."

He couldn't tell if she was serious, G.o.d help him. He decided to leave that alone as well and rose to go to the closet. "Where's Daegan?"

"One of the Council servants came and got him about two hours ago. You've been out awhile. I'm not sure what it was about. He told me not to worry, that no matter what, we leave here when he gets back." She nodded toward her laptop, open on a desk. "I've been working on some billing issues and logging messages to James and Madelyn, though I have to go up top for them to go through. For some reason, stone walls don't lend themselves to good Wi-Fi reception." She attempted a grim smile. "I really do need to get back. We have an annual VIP reunion coming up, and it's always our busiest weekend. I need to be there."

At his look, she lifted a shoulder. "Insane, isn't it? Daily life goes on despite this kind of thing."

He grunted, a noncommittal acknowledgment. But when she rubbed her arms, he saw an ink mark and gestured. "Did you get yourself with a pen?"

She glanced down at it. "No. I was asked to accompany Lord Brian to his lab so he could take some tests. This was a needle marker."

"Ah, h.e.l.l. It was because of what Vincent saw, wasn't it?"

She nodded. "Daegan said I shouldn't be concerned about it. But then, he says that about everything, doesn't he?"

Gideon gave a gruff snort at that, and she managed a half smile. "I don't know what will come of it, but at least it wasn't that difficult. It was actually pleasant to see him again. It was private there, so we didn't have to pretend we'd never met."

Though Anwyn wouldn't say the conversation had been entirely comfortable.

Still shaken from the dinner, Anwyn had gratefully received the injection Brian had prepared for her, which he said also included a vampire version of a sedative.

"I can tell you need it," he said gently when she at first balked. "It has no sluggish side effects. It won't dull your wits. I know Gideon is still unconscious, because you get a particularly strained look to your face when you're having to manage the gremlins by yourself."

"After that dinner, how can you tell the difference between that and your standard nervous breakdown?" She gave a harsh chuckle. "Daegan can help, but they're intimidated by his presence in my head. They cower, but they're sullen and angry about it, testing. With Gideon, they calm, lie down like birds in the gra.s.s. I haven't quite figured out why."

"It's likely a mixing of their psychology with yours. When you're agitated, Gideon calms you because he is your servant, not a threat to your dominance."

Her lips twisted. "Early on, Daegan said something similar. He always has to be right."

"Well, he's about seven hundred years old, I believe. There's a theory, not entirely proven, that there's a connection between time and the acc.u.mulation of wisdom."