Christine Feehan - Dark Possession

«I could make you crawl to me and beg forgiveness for that,» he snapped, his black eyes smoldering with dark, telling smoke. He could feel the pull of her, so powerful he couldn't stop the frenzy his bock-had gone into. Hard and hot and crawling with such a need-the feeling was far worse than any hunger for sustenance. He drank in the sight of her, shocked at her beauty. Her skin was so soft-looking he ached to run his fingers over it, to slide his body over hers, into hers. She had full, luscious curves and a mouth he couldn't stop staring at, sinful and wicked and so tempting his body hardened into one long, painful ache. He imagined her fingers on him, her mouth, her body surrounding his, tight and hot and killing him with pleasure.

He needed to bury his face in her wealth of blue black curls, inhale her scent and keep it for all time in his lungs. He needed the warmth of her arms and the sound of her laughter. But his body needing sating first. He couldn't look at her and not want to be inside her, not want to ravage her, bring her to fulfillment, to have her cry out his name. He wanted her on her knees in front of him, wanted her to admit she belonged to him and no one else, admit that she wanted-even needed-to give him the ultimate pleasure of her body.

MaryAnn wasn't certain exactly what had happened. He'd fallen back, but she'd only yelled at him, the arrogant ass. In any case, crawling didn't figure into her plans. And begging forgiveness wasn't exactly her style. He looked furious, and dangerous, and altogether far too handsome for his own good. A spoiled, arrogant man whom everyone had obviously catered to all of his life. Women must have done whatever he said, when he commanded it. And he must have done a lot of commanding.

She bit down hard on her lip to keep from telling him to go to hell, because… MaryAnn spread her hands out. «Look, I'm as much to blame as you are. I had choices here.» She wasn't going to blame just him. She was a grown woman and believed in responsibility, although nothing that had happened to her since entering the rain forest had been normal. «I bought into the entire lifemate thing because you're… well… you're gorgeous. What woman wouldn't want you?» And she'd reached the point she'd been darned sure she was never going to experience soul-searing, hot-as-hell, unforgettable sex. Manolito looked like a man who could –and would-deliver it. So yeah, she was guilty, but he could forget all about her crawling to him for forgiveness.

Manolito studied his lifemate's face, gently probing her brain at the same time for some clue as to what their relationship had been like. Stormy obviously. And her name was MaryAnn. MaryAnn Delaney. He was hazy about details, such as when and where they'd been first together, but he knew the addicting taste of her. He felt a driving need to dominate, to hear her breathless pleas and see ecstasy cloud her eyes.

He had reconfirmed the sealing of their souls in the age-old ritual because his mind had insisted he do so. But she was a woman who needed a firm hand. Stripping her naked, yanking her across his knees and delivering it to her unbelievably beautiful bottom was something he'd take pleasure in doing. And then he'd lay her out and taste her, eat her, lap up every drop of that feminine cream, memorize every luscious curve, learn what drove her mad until she did beg him for forgiveness. And then he would bring her over and over to the brink of fulfillment, until she knew just who her lifemate really was.

He took a step toward her and something crossed her face, fear maybe. He didn't want her afraid of him, not really, although a little healthy fear might win him some cooperation. Confusion for certain. He stopped

when she backed away from him and looked around as if she might run.

«I could never harm my lifemate, you should know that. At most I would find a pleasurable punishment, one I could be certain you would ultimately enjoy.»

MaryAnn frowned at him. «Whatever you're talking about you can forget. I'm too old to be punished. Look, we've made a mistake. Both of us. I came out here with the intention of counseling Juliette's sister, and Riordan told me you were in trouble. I've never actually been introduced to you before. We've never met. I saw you in the Carpathian Mountains at the Christmas party, right before you were attacked, and a few times in the distance, but we were never introduced. I have no psychic ability. I'm a normal human being who counsels women in need.»

Manolito shook his head. Could this be the truth? «Impossible. You are no stranger to me. You are the other half of me. My soul recognizes yours. We are sealed as one. You belong to me and me to you.» He pushed an impatient hand through his long, silky hair, then reached back to tie it with a leather thong he drew from his pocket.

Maniacal laughter slid into his head, so that he whipped around, scanning in every direction, his body language changing to protective. He leapt the distance separating them and placed her behind him.

«What is it?»

«You did not hear anything?» He knew what was out there. The vampires emerging slowly out of the shadows to stare with pitiless eyes and gaping maws for mouths, to point bony fingers in accusation at him.

MaryAnn listened but only heard the annoying call of cicadas and other insects. Who knew they'd be so loud. She shook her head, feeling her heart break for him. «Tell me, Manolito. You look so sad. You should never be sad.» She willed him to be happy. To go back to being furious and smoldering instead of lost and lonely.

He turned then, catching her upper arms and dragging her close, staring down into her guileless face and meeting her eyes for one long, endless minute. He raised one hand to her face. The pad of his thumb slid along her high cheekbone, regret etching deep lines around his eyes and mouth. «I just found you, MaryAnn, but if you do not hear the voices, it means I am not quite sane. I do not remember things. I have no idea whom I can trust. I thought you…» He trailed off, groaned softly and covered his face with his hands. «It is true then. I am losing my mind.»

«I'm human, Manolito, not Carpathian. I don't see and hear the things you are able to see.»

Manolito wished that were true, but the ground was rippling beneath their feet and she didn't see the face in the leaves or the disturbed soil forming a mocking mouth. He stood very still for a time before lifting his head, while the rain poured steadily down.

«You must leave me. Go back to where you feel most safe. Stay away from me. I do not know why I believe you belong to me, but I fear for my sanity-and for your safety. Go now, quickly, before I lose my resolve.»

Because he couldn't bear the thought of her being out of his sight. Until that moment he hadn't realized how much he needed her. His needs no longer mattered. She had to be safe-even from him-especially from him.

There it was-her freedom. She looked around her. The rain forest was dark and somber but for the water. It was everywhere, forming both small and large waterfalls, finding new paths and converging into wide, rushing streams. The water poured down, relentless and steady, adding to the falls pouring out of the rocks

and dirt. She was so out of her element here, so completely without a clue what to do.

Manolito appeared just the opposite, even if it was true that he was losing his mind. He was at ease in the world, confident and powerful, his eyes once more searching the area around them, trying to assess the danger to them-no-that was wrong-he was trying to assess the danger to her.

She took a deep breath and slipped her hand into his. «We can figure this out together. Are you hearing voices now?»

«Yes, mocking laughter. And I see vampires in the ground, in the trees, in the shrubbery. They are surrounding us.»