Christine feehan - Dark Slayer 20

When she was silent for so long, he reached for her mind, his touch as gentle as a lover's caress. Once again he took her into another realm, his mind in hers, leading her away from pain and what they both knew they would have to face when they rose.

His hand slipped into hers and he walked with her, side by side, his body brushing against hers, walking into the night, taking her to his garden, the one place he was familiar with, the one place he loved and could share.

Flowers cascaded down the terraced rock and covered arbors of white. The fragrances mingled, rising above the mazes of shaped hedges and bushes. Trees formed small groves of oranges and lemons with taller evergreen towers on the corners of the stone-fence-wrapped garden. Weeping willows stood at the edges of the blue-green pond, while a few ducks swam lazily, dunking their heads beneath the rippling surface and coming up to shake the water from their feathers.

Ivory looked around her. «You grew up here?»

He brought her fingers to his chest, over his heart. «It was our mother's family home. We lived here for some time after she passed away. And then my father disappeared and Xavier took us away. But this was where we were together and happy.»

«It's beautiful.»

«I used to believe it was the most beautiful spot in the world, but I think you managed to create that in your home.» Razvan looked around him and inhaled to drag the scent of lavender into his lungs.

«Our home,» Ivory corrected. «It is our home now.»

He felt the instant reaction in his heart to her words. Home. What would that be like, to feel as if he had a home, a woman to share his life with? They had a purpose for living, for suffering the fires of hell: to rid the world of its greatest evil-Xavier. For a short time he could simply be with Ivory, enjoy walking with her through a beautiful garden.

Ivory glanced sideways at him and then quickly averted her eyes, her long lashes hiding her expression.

Razvan stopped to push the long fall of silken hair from her face and back over her shoulder. «You are hiding from me.»

Color rose, turning her pale skin to a soft rose. «Maybe. A little.»

«I had no idea you were a little shy. You are such a fierce warrior and wholly confident, I thought you would be that way in all things.»

She shrugged. «I have little experience with men-most of it long ago and not good.»

He grinned at her, a slow, heart-stopping smile that revealed his straight white teeth, and suddenly seemed a little shy as well. «My body has a tremendous amount of experience, but not my heart-and not me. Truthfully, I feel like a young boy on his first date.»

She lifted her chin. «It is my first date.»

He regarded her steadily, his dark eyes drifting over the exquisite bone structure of her face. His gaze settled on her full lips. «Then we must make it memorable.» He couldn't conceive of forgetting this moment, this one time with her, surrounded by the memory of his garden and so close to her that he could breathe the same breath.

She lifted a hand to his face, worn and lined, as if he still couldn't change that look, even in his dreams-even in his memories. He had forgotten what his face had looked like in his younger days, forgotten being a carefree youth. He could only give her what he was now, and hope that it was enough for her.

«You will always be enough for me,» she whispered, meaning it. «I had stopped dreaming of my prince long ago.»

«What was he like?»

She smiled, her eyes warming. «Tall, of course, with long, black, flowing hair and broad shoulders. He was a great warrior and he rescued me from my tower where my brothers had imprisoned me. He wanted me to ride beside him on his snorting, rearing steed, a sturdy animal that blew smoke through his nostrils and pawed the ground with impatience to rush headlong into battle.» She laughed softly at a young girl's dreams.

Razvan made a face. «I am tall, but my hair is streaked with white, and I cannot say I am an accomplished warrior. But I would surely rescue you and take you off to ride beside me anywhere we went, including battle.»

Her fingertips went to one particular thick white streak in his hair. She rubbed the silky strands back and forth between her thumb and index finger. «A warrior is not someone who merely fights, Razvan. You have the heart of a warrior and the soul of a poet. I find you fascinating.» She dropped her gaze. «And tempting.»

There was a moment when his breath caught in his lungs. Tempting? He tempted her? There was no shadow of evil inside his body. Nothing stood between them and she confessed to him that she was tempted by him? Ivory's stark honesty moved him as nothing else could.

His palm curled around the nape of her neck, drawing her closer to him. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his face, could see-not just feel-the softness of her skin. He had more discipline than any man walking the face of the earth, yet he could not stop himself from leaning his head down those scant few inches and closing the distance between them.

His lips brushed hers. Barely touching. Feather-light. His body reacted, clenching hard, tightening, every muscle, every cell coming alive, paying attention to that smallest of sensations.

Ivory didn't pull away from him. They stood in the middle of his garden, surrounded by cascading flowers of all colors, birds and butterflies, bees flitting from one bloom to the next, a place of absolute serenity, and time just seemed to stand still for them.

His hands framed her face and he tilted her head so his mouth could come down on hers again. She sighed into his kiss, her body somehow closer. He didn't know if he moved or she did, or maybe it was the earth shifting under his feet, but her mouth went from warm to hot to burning just that fast.

The sensation opened up an entire new world, one of pleasure, of intense sensation. Where his life had been pain and suffering, her mouth, soft and hot and enticing, swamped him with immeasurable pleasure. It wasn't just a physical sensation, but his mind was merged deeply in hers, feeding off her pleasure, heightening it as she heightened his. His heart was fully engaged, nearly overwhelmed with the feelings that had been growing stronger and stronger from the moment he'd first opened his eyes and saw her face, from the first touch of her gentle fingers as she pushed back his hair.

His tongue swept across the seam of her lips, not tentatively, but not pushing her beyond what she wanted to give. His hands were gentle, in contrast to the hard aggression of his body. Her mouth opened to his and he was inside that soft, scalding cavern of heat and fire. Flames licked at his belly. His groin tightened even more, swelling and hardening, and deep in his belly an inferno raged.

He took his time, as gentle as ever, savoring the reaction of his body as he explored her soft mouth, savoring her reaction, the small breathy moan that nearly drove him insane, the small movement that pressed her soft breasts against his chest and aligned the cradle of her hips with his. Little sparks ignited everywhere and the world seemed to spin away even further.

His hands slipped into that silky fall of hair cascading down her back. Each new exploration of her skin and body added to his rising pleasure, further intensifying it.

You are the most incredible woman ever born. He meant it. He let her see the truth of his statement in his mind, in his heart. He'd never imagined such feelings, of the strength of emotion and the intensity of his physical reaction to her.

His body had been used by Xavier, yes, but he hadn't been present, only witnessing the degradation at a distance. He had never experienced pleasure from the joining, only sorrow and regret when he could recall the emotions. And now that he had emotion in abundance, he felt distaste and shame at the memories, along with sorrow and regret. He hadn't expected . . . this-the wonder and beauty of love blossoming right here in his garden along with his flowers. Had he been in the real world he might have scoffed at the poetry singing in his soul, but here, in his dream, in his memories, the words were perfect, fitting the way he felt.