His hand went to her neck, and he angled her head back with his thumb. "I've wanted to kiss you all night long."
She braced herself for a hard one, ready for all he could give her, except that when his lips came down on hers they were languorous. She could feel the passion in the taut lines of his body, but he clearly refused to be hurried. When he lifted his head, he smiled at her.
She was totally used to the fangs, she thought.
"We're going to take this slow tonight," he said.
But she stopped him before he kissed her again. "Wait. I have something I have to… Do you have any condoms?"
He frowned. "No. Why?"
"Why? Ever hear of safe sex?"
"I don't carry those kinds of diseases, and you can't give me anything."
"How do you know?"
"Vampires are not susceptible to human viruses."
"So you can have sex all you want? Without worrying about anything?"
When he nodded, she found herself feeling a little ill. God, how many women he must have-
"And you're not fertile," he said.
"How do you know that?"
"Trust me. We'd both know if you were. Besides, you won't have your first needing for another five years or so after the change. And even when you're in it, conception isn't guaranteed because-"
"Hold on. What's this needing thing?"
"Females are fertile only every ten years or so. Which is a blessing."
"Why?"
He cleared his throat. Actually seemed a little embarrassed. "It's a dangerous time. All males respond on some level if they're in the vicinity of a female in her need. They can't help themselves. Fights can break out. And the female, she, ah… the cravings are intense. Or so I've heard."
"You don't have children?"
He shook his head. Then frowned. "God."
"What?"
"To think of you going through the needing." His body swayed, as if he'd closed his eyes. "To be the one you used."
Sexual heat came out of him in a rush. She could actually feel a hot gust move the air.
"How long does it last?" she asked in a husky voice.
"Two days. If the female is… serviced well and fed properly, she rebounds quickly."
"And the man?"
"The male's totally used up when it's over. Milked dry. Drained of blood, too. It takes longer for him to recover, but I've never heard one complain. Ever." There was a pause. "I'd love to be the one who relieves you."
Abruptly, he stepped back. She felt a cold draft as his mood changed and the shifting heat dissipated.
"But that will be some other male's duty. And privilege."
His cell phone started ringing.
As he tore it out of his inner pocket with a snarl, she felt for whoever it was.
"What?" There was a pause.
She headed for the bathroom to give him some privacy. And because she needed a little herself. The images in her head were enough to make her dizzy. Two days. Of nothing but him?
When she came back out. Wrath was sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees, brooding. He'd taken off his jacket, and his shoulders looked very wide in that black shirt. As she approached, she caught a glimpse of a handgun under the coat and shivered a little.
He looked up as she sat beside him. She wished she could read him better and blamed the dark lenses. Reaching out to his face, she stroked the harsh cut of his cheek, the strong length of his jaw. His mouth opened slightly, as if her touch made him short of breath.
"I want to see your eyes," she said.
He pulled back a little. "No."
"Why not?"
"Why do you care what they look like?"
She frowned. "You can be hard to read with those glasses on. And right now I wouldn't mind knowing what you're thinking."
Or feeling, even more important.
Finally, he shrugged. "Suit yourself."
When he made no move to take off the lenses, she reached up to the temple pieces and slid the sunglasses from his face. His eyelids were down, his lashes dark against his skin. He didn't open his eyes.
"Won't you show me?"
His jaw tightened.
She looked at the glasses. When she lifted them to the candlelight, she could barely see through them at all, they were so dark.
"You're blind, aren't you?" she said softly.
His lips curled back, but not in a smile. "Worried that I can't take care of you now?"
She wasn't surprised by the hostility. She imagined a man like him would hate any weakness he had.
"No, I'm not worried about that at all. But I would still like to see your eyes."
With a flash of movement, Wrath dragged her across his lap, holding her off balance so it was only the strength of his arms that kept her from hitting the floor. His mouth was set in a grim line.
Slowly, he lifted his lids.
Beth gasped.
His irises were the most extraordinary color. A luminescent pale green, so pale they were almost white. Framed by his thick, dark lashes, set deeply beneath his brows, his eyes gleamed like they were lit from inside his skull, all but popping out of his face like lightbulbs.
Then she noticed his pupils. They were all wrong. Tiny, unfocused pinpricks of black.
She caressed his face. "Your eyes are beautiful."
"Useless."
"Beautiful."
She watched as he scanned her face. He was straining, as if trying to get his vision to work.
"Have they always been like this?" she whispered.
"I was born visually impaired. My sight got worse after my transition and will probably degenerate even more as I age."
"So you can see something?"
"Yeah." His hand lifted to her hair. When waves of it landed on her shoulder, she realized he was picking the pins out of her chignon. "I know I like your hair down, for instance. And I know you are very beautiful."
His fingers traced the contours of her face, then brushed lightly down her neck to her collarbone. They kept going, marking a path between her breasts.
Her heart pounded. Her thoughts slowed down. The world receded until there was only Wrath.
"Sight is seriously overrated, though," he murmured, flattening his palm over her sternum. The weight was heavy. Warm. A foretaste of what his body would feel like pressing hers down into the mattress. "Touch, taste, smell, hearing. The other four senses are just as important."
He leaned forward, nuzzled her neck, and she felt a soft scratching. His fangs, she thought. Running up her throat.
She wanted him to bite her.
Wrath breathed in deeply. "You have a perfume to your skin that makes me hard. Instantly. All I have to do is smell you."
She arched in his arms, rubbing herself against his thighs, thrusting her breasts up. Her head fell back, and she let out a little moan.
"God, I love that sound," he said, moving his hand up to the base of her throat. "Make it for me again, Beth."
He sucked her neck. She obliged.
"That's it," he groaned. "Sweet heaven, that is so it."
His fingers started traveling again, this time over to the tie on her dress. He loosened the bow.
"I wouldn't let Fritz change the sheets."
"What?" she mumbled.
"On the bed. After you left. I wanted to smell you when I lay down in them."
The front of her dress slid open, and cool air hit her skin as his hand drifted up her rib cage. When he got to her bra, he drew a circle around the edges of one lace cup, gradually working his way inward until he brushed against her nipple.
Her body jerked, and she grabbed onto his shoulder. His muscles were rock solid from holding her off balance. She looked up into his fearsome, magnificent face.