Christine feehan - Dark Slayer 20

«He broke your wrist.»

How had he noticed when he had been so horribly mutilated? Ivory shook her head, unable to speak, not when his gaze moved over her body with brooding allure, touching her in places deep and secret and feminine.

He had to quit reciting the list of her injuries, so pale in comparison to his own. His voice was so gentle, she couldn't get it out of her head. The way he looked at her body when he spoke, as if her injuries were all that mattered to him, the healing of them, the fact that the vampire had hurt her. When she touched his mind, she felt nothing but his need to make certain, to see for himself, that she was wholly healed.

«Mother Earth and the healer aided me, and several Carpathians including the prince gave us blood to speed our healing process. I am fine.»

«Nevertheless.»

There was a note in his voice that fascinated, thrilled and repelled her all at once. She was unsure how to react to his demand and that confused her.

«What would you have me do?»

He held out his hand to hers. «Let me see.»

She moistened her lips, feeling a little shaky, on unfamiliar ground, but she held out her hand to him so he could see the faint lines where the earth had healed the lacerations and knit the bone back together. She was unprepared for the feeling of his gentle fingers stroking over her skin. She felt his touch all the way to her deepest core, and then her heart stood still while his mouth moved over each of the faint white lines and his tongue swirled and stroked a velvet pleasure over her skin.

«You do taste like salt and sin,» he said, and his voice roughened with hunger.

She pulled her arm away. «Are you satisfied?»

He shook his head, his gaze locked on hers. «Open your vest.»

Her breath actually hitched in her lungs, burned there, raw and hot. Her womb clenched and spasmed, sending ripples of urgent need radiating through her body. His request wasn't sexual. It didn't need to be sexual. Her body didn't have to grow damp and hot with flames licking over her skin and turning her blood into a molten stream that thickened in her veins. She could just be cool about this, one warrior reassuring another. Her hands went to the silver buckles.

«Let me.»

His voice was husky, maybe even shook a little, but it made her weak. So much so that she obeyed his silent command when his hands came up and covered hers to halt her unsteady fingers and gently push them aside. The pads of his fingers brushed against the swell of her breast, sending ripples of awareness through her body. His gaze remained locked with hers as he slowly unbuckled the vest and allowed her full breasts to emerge. Only then did he drop his gaze.

She heard him inhale. A sharp, sexy sound that curled her toes. She felt his breath warm her breasts, and her nipples answered by hardening into two tight peaks. She felt exposed, vulnerable, but she couldn't move, mesmerized by the look on his face, the stark, raw desire, the unrelenting hunger and admiration in his eyes. When he stroked his fingertips, feather-light, over the faint lines along the swell of her breast and then again lower, his thumb brushing along her nipple, lightning streaked from breast to belly and then lower, so that her thighs spasmed and her core grew hotter and wetter.

Razvan bent his head toward her. She wanted to stop him. She thought to take a step back, terrified of the feelings coursing through her body and the sudden terrible need that welled up out of nowhere, threatening her hard-won peace of mind. She had chosen him, but she hadn't considered that the physical and emotional pull between them would be so strong. She could barely breathe when he touched her, and she had no control over her body's reaction to him. She held her breath, waiting. Wanting.

His hair touched her first. Soft strands of black and white silk brushing seductively over her skin. Every cell in her body came to life. The breath burned in her lungs. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides as she struggled not to bury them in his hair and cradle his head to her. She was in his mind, and knew this inspection was as necessary to him as breathing. And now it was to her.

At the first gentle touch of his mouth she jumped, and in spite of her every intention, she found her hands buried in that silky fall of hair. His tongue flicked out to swirl over each line and circle, to flick over her nipple, sending darts of fire racing to her belly and spreading even lower. Her hands tugged him closer even as a low moan escaped. His tongue slid along each line, his healing saliva providing a balm to the deep ache that was still there.

When he lifted his head, his eyes were so dark they were almost black, so blue they were like midnight and so hot with desire she thought she might melt. Her hands trembled and she forced her fingers to let go of the silky strands so he could stand tall. She just stood there while he slowly buckled her vest, enclosing her breasts behind the tight leather.

Ivory took a deep breath, shaken, but proud of herself for standing. «Are you satisfied?»

Razvan's eyes lit up with a male amusement and he deliberately shifted to ease the thick bulge in his trousers. «Not hardly, but I have assured myself you are healing well, and that will do for now.»

The color crept up her neck. She shook her head. «You are crazy, but in a good way.» She looked back toward the rich black soil, desperate to find something to divert her attention-to divert his attention from her. She gestured toward the ground where they could see the traces of excessive salt running like king's gold in deep veins through the darker loam where the wolf pack still lay sleeping.

«Are you ready for this? They have been attended to by others, Vikirnoff and Nicolas, Natalya sometimes, but they will be ravenous for us. Feeding is part of the ritual of sealing the pack together. They're like my children.»

Razvan knew she needed the distraction to feel in control again. Emotions were difficult for her. His heart fluttered in his chest and he found himself smiling at her. Happy. Just to be alive. Just to be with her on this crisp, cold evening, with the moon spilling light over her blue-black hair, framing her face so that she looked as angelic as she did sexy.

«I am certain they will be happy to be out of the ground after all these weeks,» he agreed. «Let us do this and bring our family back together.»

He found he was as anxious as she to see the wolves. They had become family to him. He had spent so long in her mind that her deep affection for the pack members had transferred to him as well. «As children go, they are a fairly wild bunch.»

Ivory laughed with him, sharing his humor over the pack. She stretched her arms and called softly to her pack. «Awake brothers and sisters. We will run free this night. Come with me. Join with me.»

She sent Razvan another quick smile that managed to raise his temperature and quicken his heartbeat. The soil boiled up into a geyser and one by one the six wolves leapt free, shaking their gorgeous silver coats and rushing to Ivory, nearly knocking her over. She sank to the ground, laughing, her arms surrounding them as they greeted her with more enthusiasm than manners.

Raja and his mate, Ayame, turned to Razvan and he sank down beside Ivory, surprised when the big male leapt at his chest and rubbed his body along Razvan's in greeting. He realized just as he had accepted the pack as family, they had accepted him as Ivory's mate. Joy swept through him. A family. Another gift from Ivory. He sank his fingers into the thick fur and roughhoused a little, ignoring the show of teeth, feeling the wolf's laughing intent.

Each animal took its turn coming to him and greeting him, being welcomed by him and reaffirming its position in the pack. He found he was particularly fond of Blaez, the second-in-command. He was quietly confident and very alert to danger, taking his cues from Raja, yet guarding the pack with a fierceness that told Razvan he would have had a pack of his own had his circumstances been different. He felt that same fierce protec tiveness toward Ivory and the pack, and there was a sense of kinship when he stroked his hand through the thick fur and scratched the alert ears.