Christine feehan - Dark Slayer 20

She didn't want that knowledge to hurt anymore. She wasn't that same naive young woman who adored her brothers and believed the best of everyone. She knew Prince Vlad had sent her to Xavier's school, not to help her but to get her out of his son's sight. She looked at Razvan, unaware of the tears in her eyes. «It still hurts.»

This time he did pull her close in that same gentle, slow way. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her face into his shoulder and just stood, silently offering her comfort. She thought his compassion might diminish her somehow, but it only filled her with warmth and steadied her as nothing else could. She wasn't that young girl anymore, but she wasn't alone either. She had Razvan, and somehow he fit her like a second skin.

«I am all right,» she whispered, pressing a kiss along his neck. The blood pounded there, calling to her. Her body stirred restlessly and she felt the instant answering heat of his. «It was a momentary weakness, passed now.»

«Not weakness, fel ku kuuluaak sivam belso-beloved. You are supposed to feel whatever you can. Regret, sorrow, pain, even betrayal. There is reason for sadness in that, for the loss of a loved one. Grief. You do not dwell on these things, but you must feel them. It is part of life.»

She sent him a small smile, pressed one last kiss against his neck just to feel his warmth and take in his masculine scent. She stood there, her body leaning into his, her face buried against his throat, and she knew she could face anything with him. «We certainly can say all those things have been part of our lives,» she agreed, forcing a briskness into her voice to cover the emotion that threatened to spill over as she stepped away from him.

His fingers curled around her arm, slid down to her wrist and remained there like a bracelet. She couldn't look at him, not when her heart was so full. She felt silly and shy and out of her comfort zone. No one had touched her with such disarming tenderness. No one looked at her with such desire or love. She could only handle so much attention after being alone for centuries.

He cupped her chin in his palm and forced her head up, waiting until her long lashes lifted the veil over her eyes and their gazes locked together. She felt the rush of heat, like a drug pouring through her veins.

«You are a very dangerous man, Dragonseeker,» she whispered.

His slow smile set off a burn, low and sinfully wicked.

«That is just as well, warrior woman, as you are the most dangerous woman I know.» There was gentle amusement in his voice. And pure velvet heat.

He leaned his head down toward hers, taking his time in that slow, measured way he had. The way she knew he would stroke her skin. The way he touched her with the pads of his fingers, so light, but savoring, a slow burn that spread until the fire raged out of control, refusing to be dampened or extinguished.

She could feel her body tightening. Her breasts aching. Her womb spasming. His breath was warm and male. She couldn't close her eyes. She watched his face change as he came closer and closer to her. The way he looked, those worn lines softening, the wonder on his face and the building hunger in his eyes. She could see his long lashes, thick and full, the only really feminine thing about him, when his body was all hard muscle and strong, broad bones.

His breath took hers. Exchanged. He breathed for her. In her. He took her over, with that same slow, measured stroke of his mind. And then his lips were on hers and a heat wave rushed over her. White lightning streaked in her veins, electricity sizzled and snapped over her skin until she was lost, drowning in the pure fire of his kiss.

Ivory didn't know how it happened, but she found herself with her arms circling his neck and her mouth fused to his, her body pressing close. She felt a shudder run through his body, and hers trembled in answer. She wanted to stay there, just like that, in that perfect moment, with happiness and hunger singing through her veins. She tried to quench the desire rising like a tidal wave, swamping her, but there was no way to stop the rising need.

His lips left hers and trailed seductively from the corner of her mouth to her chin, to her throat; a burning fire at the swell of her breast. She felt the scrape of his teeth and she moaned, the sound breathy and a little desperate. His tongue swirled over the soft mound. Her breath caught in her throat. Another sound escaped. Her fingers fisted in his glorious hair as his teeth sank deep and the erotic pain burst into a swelling pleasure that spread through her body faster than lightning strikes to settle into a throbbing beat pulsing between her legs.

She wound one leg around his and cradled his head, trying not to cry at the pleasure crashing through her. He savored the taste of her like a fine wine, not gulping or tearing, but drawing the essence of her life and the exotic flavor of her into him slowly. His hands slid down her back and pressed her hips forward so that she could feel him hard and hot against her. Just as she thought she might drown completely, or sob and plead with him to complete their bonding, his tongue swept over the pinpricks.

His breathing was ragged, his eyes hot and a little wild. He simply tore his shirt open and pressed the back of her head with his hand. His fingers curled into a fist, bunching her silken braid, holding her against him, her mouth over the tempting sound of his heart. His blood ebbed and flowed, beckoning, a terrible temptation she couldn't resist.

She nuzzled against the heavy muscle of his chest, loving the feel of his strength and the depth of his response to her touch. With deliberate intent she stroked her tongue over his pounding pulse, wanting that Zen-like calm to go up in flames. She needed to know-absolutely know-that he not only wanted but needed her with the same growing intensity that she did him. She couldn't be alone in this desperate need.

His hand pressed her head closer, a silent command to take his offering. She did another slow swirl of her tongue just to hear that deep male groan, to feel the jump of his pulse and the hammering of his heart. She let the fire take her, sweeping up through her feminine channel to her belly and breasts, while her teeth lengthened and she drew the scent of him into her lungs.

He whispered something low and guttural, the sound more important to her than the words. His fingers were magical in her hair and against her scalp, the nape of her neck, and one hand swept over her buttocks, pressing tightly as he half lifted her. The strength in his body matched that of his will and she couldn't help the feminine thrill at the feeling of his hardness against her softness.

She took a breath, savoring the moment of exquisite lust wrapped with terrible love so sharp it pierced her heart. Then she sank her teeth into his body, connecting them in the way of lifemates. Richness spilled into her. Every cell soaked him up, took him inside. The taste of him burst against her tongue like fizzing bubbles.

Razvan gave another throaty moan, even sexier than the first one, the sound vibrating through her body, adding to the swirling mix of emotions welling up with her physical reaction to him. He moved her like no other could, getting under her skin and into her bones and now, the addictive taste of him nearly made her lose all perspective. She needed him, right there in the middle of nowhere with snow on the ground.

Not our first time. Our first time together I want to have hours with you, not a few minutes with our pack surrounding us and with danger at every turn.

Even his denying her was sexy. The velvet voice, the slow heat, the stark need he didn't try to hide from her. She let herself take one last taste and then she swept her tongue across the pinpricks and simply stood, letting his strength hold her up when her entire body was trembling.