Her skin was flawless, so soft it was difficult not to reach out and run his hand down her back. He liked her hair wild, a black cloud of silk cascading like a waterfall to below her waist. Zacarias stepped close to her, his hands sliding around her to link just below her breasts. She inhaled in a kind of shocked delight, her eyes jumping to the mirror. He allowed his own form to materialize behind her. He was a good head taller than she was, his shoulders much wider than hers. He cupped the soft weight of her breasts in his palms and leaned down to bury his face in the cloud of her hair.
“I love how you smell,” he whispered into all that silk. He loved how she felt, how her hair felt against his skin. How they looked together, her feminine body so completely engulfed by his masculine one. Simple things. Pleasurable when there had never been pleasure.
She didn’t tense or push him away as he expected. He would have allowed her freedom, but she leaned back into him and closed her eyes, relaxing against him. Such a small thing, but for him, intense.
He nuzzled her neck, his fingers moving over her breasts, the sensation astonishing. He felt the softness beneath the pads of his fingers and each touch fueled more heat in his body, driving his temperature up. He did nothing to control the rush, allowing it to spread through his body, marveling at the miracle of woman. He stroked caresses over all that soft skin. His shaft swelled, became full and heavy, and he pressed closer to her soft body.
“I want to exchange blood with you. This time it will not hurt. I will make certain you will enjoy it. Will you trust me?” He whispered the words, a blatant seduction. He wanted her to agree, to give herself to him. To be part of him willingly.
She went still, but there was no rejection, not from her body, or in her mind. She slipped her arm back over her shoulder, hooking her hand around his neck as she tilted her head back. The action lifted those soft, full breasts, her nipples tight and pushing at the lace.
Kiss me. A soft wisp of heat curling in his mind. Sheer temptation.
His cock jumped. Pulsed. She was sensual without even knowing it, enticing him when he no longer had the will to resist her. He had known when he answered her call that he was making a commitment to her. He hadn’t considered that he would make her fully his. She had never been in so much danger and yet she didn’t seem to have any self-preservation.
“If I kiss you, kislány kuηenak minan—my little lunatic—I do not know if I will stop there.” The ache was there. The need. The hunger clawing deeper than it ever had.
She nuzzled his neck. You would stop if I asked you to.
There was complete confidence in her voice. She should have been afraid of him. He had given her reason to fear him—deliberately had done so, yet he felt her confidence. She was giving herself into his keeping and he didn’t understand why. He truly didn’t trust himself with her—so how could she? She was every bit the lunatic he had named her, yet now, it was an endearment. Now, he thought her beautiful and brave. He thought her—his.
Kiss me, she whispered again into his mind. An enticement. A seduction.
Her fingertips traced his earlobe and his body tightened. He felt the breath leave his lungs. There was no resisting that soft lure. He turned his head to find her mouth with his. He brushed his lips gently, almost reverently over hers. He felt the impact right down to his toes. Electricity sparked along his nerve endings.
He took his time, tracing her lips, committing the shape and feel of her to memory. He had refused for so long to retain anything in his memory that didn’t add to his fighting abilities, but now, learning all about her was as necessary as breathing. He didn’t want to hurt her. Not again. He’d spent a great deal of time thinking about how she felt his emotions when he couldn’t. How she saw inside of him when he was unable to do so.
Her fingernails traced around the upper curve of his ears. She turned her head a little more and found his earlobe with her mouth, biting gently, and then suckling, her tongue a velvet rasp, sending spiraling heat to his aching groin. Her fingers found his thick hair in an erotic massage that added to the sensations streaking to his cock.
The physical feelings were intense now, gathering like a fireball in the pit of his stomach and spreading through his body like a wildfire. He hadn’t felt anything for so many centuries and now she had brought his icy body to volcanic, fiery life. And she knew what she was doing. She wanted him to feel.
It doesn’t hurt you to feel. Her voice slipped seductively into his mind, proving she was lodged deep in his being—proving she knew his thoughts. Feel me, Zacarias. Feel what I’m feeling when you’re touching me.
“This is dangerous,” he whispered, knowing he was already lost.
His hands, of their own accord, pushed aside the flimsy scrap of lace covering the soft weight of her breasts. He tugged at her nipples, his mind already firmly entrenched in hers. He could feel exactly what each tug and roll did to her, the sizzling streaks of fire racing to her core. He could become just as addicted to feeling her pleasure as he was fast learning about his own. “You are dangerous.”
I won’t hurt you.
The words brushed in his mind like silk against his skin. He felt her smile, that tender, outrageous, amazing gift of a smile.
“I am afraid of hurting you. You have no idea what I am capable of.” He was fighting for her, yet he couldn’t stop his hands from exploring all that creamy flesh. She was so soft and warm and beautiful. The heady scent of her arousal enveloped him and fed the fires burning and clawing at his belly.
Her fingers continued that slow, erotic massage along his scalp. Her lips whispered over his ear, his neck, her tongue tasting his pulse. She was temptation and he was too weak to resist.
I see you. I’m inside your mind just as you’re inside my mind. I see inside of you, Zacarias. You would never hurt me. Never. It isn’t in you.
I did hurt you. Several times.
Her soft laughter rippled through his groin, so that he felt himself swell more. Felt the first drops of need weeping for her. You were striking at yourself, Zacarias, not at me. You know what I say is truth.
He hoped she was right, because there was no way he could stop himself from tasting heaven. Not now. Not with her soft body moving against his and her wild hair brushing like silken skeins over his skin. Not with her breasts in his hands, his fingers rolling and teasing and tugging at her sensitive nipples. Every shiver that went through her body, every electrical spark, he felt in his own. He heard himself groan as she bit down on his neck, that sweet sensitive spot where his shoulder joined. She was killing him slowly.
Hunger beat at him, raw and desperate. The sound of her pulse throbbed in his own veins. He didn’t hide his need from her. He wanted her to see who he was—what he was. She had to accept the truth, not some girlish human fantasy. He was pure predator. He had no gentle edges, or soft spots. She was rousing the devil, and if he took her, he would never let her go.
“I need your blood.” He said it deliberately, his mouth moving over that sweet pulse that called so deeply to him.
He waited for her to panic, to pull away from him, to save herself. Instead, her lips moved back to his ear, tugging on his earlobe and sending another streak of fire straight to his groin.
Kiss me. I won’t be so afraid of you taking my blood if you kiss me. You can’t lie when you’re kissing someone.