He felt her tighten around him, her muscles rippling with the intensity of her pleasure, and he allowed the sensations in her mind and body to become his own. He felt the deep ripples begin like an earthquake, building and building until her shattering release. She was making little sounds in her throat, her arms taut as she writhed beneath him, trying to break free from his grip, but he held her and watched and experienced the strength and power of his body joined with hers, the tidal wave ripping through her, fragmenting her mind as the rush came. Only then, still holding her mind firmly with his, did he allow himself to rebuild his own conflagration, so that she could feel the pleasure she gave him.
His body surged more strongly into hers, each stroke harder and longer, going deeper until they were fully one being. He wanted her to know what she did for him, the beauty of her priceless gift. The rush took over, consumed his mind, consumed his body, until every muscle was bursting with need. Still he held her gaze so that she could see the tension on his face, the wildness in his eyes, the hunger and rapture, the sweet agony and ecstasy her body brought to his. He erupted into her, over and over, a volcano of molten seed, of burning fire, and the terrible darkness that haunted his soul. She was dragging him back to the light, and he felt the purity of it as his cries of joy echoed hoarsely throughout the cavern.
Tempest’s legs held him tightly, nearly as possessive as he. Their hearts were beating in the same wild rhythm, their labored breaths matching. He finally released her wrists and lay his head on her breast, even as his elbows held his weight from crushing her. She could feel his tongue lapping at the small beads of sweat on her breasts, and each feathery stroke sent an aftershock rippling through her. She brought her hands down to tangle in the disheveled mane of his hair, to just hold him. They lay like that, their silence speaking more than any words could have.
Darius took their combined scents into his body, the feel of her hot skin, her breast beneath his cheek, the silken strands of her hair against his sensitized skin. Every sensation seemed heightened, seemed to echo through his body and linger there. The taste of her, rich and filled with life, was in his mouth and heart, and for the first time he could ever remember, his terrible craving for hot blood was momentarily sated. He would never again be tempted to make a kill to feel a rush of power, as one so close to turning often was, when he held the ultimate satisfaction in his arms.
He stirred then, a slight frown touching his mouth. “I did not heal you properly.”
Instantly he was off her, leaving her feeling somewhat bereft. She also felt lazy and drowsy, the stifling heat of the cavern and his uninhibited lovemaking wearing her out. “I don’t care. I want to sleep. You can heal me later.” Her wounds no longer hurt, when earlier they had been burning and throbbing. He had successfully introduced her body to other, much more enjoyable sensations.
Darius ignored her sleepy command and lifted her easily into his arms. “I was more than selfish. I should have attended to your discomfort first, before my own.”
Tempest laughed softly at his serious expression. Her fingertip smoothed the hard edge of his mouth in a gentle caress. “Is that what you felt? Discomfort? Hmm. Perhaps I should make you feel that way more often.”
He growled—a warning or assent, she wasn’t certain which—but she laughed at him anyway. “If I felt any more for you, baby, I would go up in flames,” he admitted and padded on bare feet to the steaming pool.
She caught at his neck, scowling at him. “I really don’t like being immersed in boiling water, Darius.”
“It is not boiling. It is the same temperature as a hot tub,” he chided.
She had a death grip on his neck. “It looks boiling to me. I don’t want to go in. And anyway, I never go near hot tubs. Everyone always wants to get naked, and I don’t know anybody that well.”
“We are not wearing clothes now,” he pointed out, wading into the steaming pool. He was trying not to laugh as she scrambled higher into his arms.
“It’s too hot. How can you breathe in here? You know, Darius,” she added seriously, “this is an honest-to-God volcano. Lava could fill up this chamber at any time.” She peered into the depths of the pool. “It’s probably bubbling up through the ground right now. See those bubbles? Lava.”
“What a baby. Put your feet in the water,” he instructed, amusement climbing from his voice to his eyes. Her eyes began to throw off sparks, her temper showing. “I don’t want to go in, Darius.”
“Too bad, baby. It is good for you.” Ruthlessly he lowered her feet into the steaming water.
Tempest tried to jerk her toes away from the hot mineral water, but he lowered her even farther, so that her calves, then her thighs, were immersed. She gasped. “It’s hot, you ape! Let me out!” But the water was already doing its job, soothing the lacerations on her feet, loosening cramped muscles, though she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of telling him so.
His gaze was on the beads of perspiration running between her breasts to her stomach and disappearing beneath the surface of the water. He lowered her until her feet touched bottom and the water reached her waist, so that his hands could find her hips and hold her still for his inspection. He bent his head to the underside of one satiny breast and caught a droplet in his mouth. “Do you have to be so damned beautiful?” he murmured softly.
Her fingers tangled in his hair and dragged his head to her breast so that she could arch into the moist heat of his mouth. The water lapped at her skin. Bubbles burst all around her. Steam rose. “Do you have to be so damned sexy?” she countered, wanting the feel of his mouth feeding erotically on her.
Darius’s hands skimmed over her hips in a light, possessive caress. He wanted to know he could touch her this way, that she was his. He wanted her to touch him. For the first time in all his centuries of existence, he was truly alive. Her soft skin, so like satin, brushed against his body. Her hair, so like silk, feathered over his shoulder, sending heat waves coursing through him.
His mouth wandered lower to find the places where the bird’s talons had pierced her skin. He winced, remembering the feeling of lying beneath the earth, helpless, while she struggled for her life. “You scared the hell out of me,” he told her softly, his tongue bathing the puncture wounds.
Tempest pressed herself closer to his soothing ministrations. “You have a curative agent in your saliva, don’t you?” she asked, suddenly comprehending. He had to. That was how he closed the pinpricks his fangs made in her neck, never leaving evidence behind unless he wanted to brand her. It was how her bruises had healed so fast. Darius. So tender and gentle, carefully healing each laceration, every bruise. “And you must have an anticoagulant in your teeth.” It was a guess, but a fairly safe one.
He lifted his head, his dark eyes moody and unreadable. “I can heal you completely, but you must stay very still and accept what I do.”
She nodded solemnly. He was so beautiful, in a purely masculine way. She loved the hard bones of his face, the deepness and purity of his voice, the rippling of power beneath his skin. His beautiful face now showed intense concentration. He had withdrawn into himself. Tempest found the way his hips indented fascinating. He was so physically perfect. Her hands, of their own volition, reached out to touch those smooth indentations.
The feel of his skin beneath her fingers sent flames dancing in her stomach. She explored farther, the palms of her hands sliding over his muscular buttocks. A sound escaped his throat, a soft warning growl, and his hands shackled her wrists, holding her palms against him. “Just what are you doing?”