lap. “Do you mind?” he asked, running his fingers through her hair.
“Just don’t act so ordinary I start to expect it from you.”
He cracked a laugh and caressed her cheek with his cool fingertips. “I’ll never be ordinary.”
“Do you wish you were?”
“Before you, never.”
“And now?”
“Now, a few times, I’ve wished I were an ordinary man so I could be what you need.”
“How do you know what I need?” she demanded. But even as she made her demand, she felt the touch of his fingers, oh so gentle, like a caress to her soul. It softened her, and weakened her, in ways she liked. It was almost like a kind of relaxation, almost like the way she felt when she climbed into bed after a hard day. Her soul unleashed a sigh of contentment.
“Sometimes,” he said, “you need a man who doesn’t have to be afraid of comforting you. Or holding you.”
“Are you really that afraid?”
His fingers paused in their light strokes of her cheek and neck. “Not anymore,” he said finally. “Rest a little. Then we’ll see if you’re refreshed enough for the ritual. If not, it’ll have to wait another day.”
“I don’t want to wait. This is nerve-racking. And what if someone else dies?”
“But we can’t proceed if you’re still weak,
He could tell she didn’t like the part about waiting, but there was nothing else to be done about it. Self- denial in and of itself could enhance one’s strengths. He had frequently practiced it as a priest, often fasting. Then there was the other part—her weakness right now. She might be feeling strong enough, but he could tell she was still not fully recovered. There was a danger in that, the danger that she could take power away from him, albeit unconsciously, to restore her own.
No, this had to be as equal a give-and-take as he could ensure, one that would empower them both, not weaken one of them.
Otherwise he would have gladly started the ritual right this moment. He closed his eyes, his nostrils filled with all her enticing aromas, and imagined how it would be. The ritual cleansing, full of delights itself, to be carried out thoroughly and gently. His hands passing over every inch of her to wash away the detritus of the mundane world, hers washing him the same way.
The mere thought was enough to bring his Hunger to the brink of madness.
Then the candlelit, perfumed room, laying her down in her robe, binding her tenderly to her bed posts so she wouldn’t awaken the predator in him. Uncovering her delights little by little, massaging her with scented oils until her skin gleamed and she was breathless with need for him.
Until she glowed like white-hot fire beneath his ministrations. Oh, that was going to test his self- control.
Yes, he’d done this before, both as mortal and vampire, but it had been centuries since the last time, and he knew it would be a hard test to restrain himself for so long.
Because nothing must be hurried, and he had to be sure they had both reached an absolute fever pitch that could get no higher before they united their powers.
Damn, he was nearly there just thinking about it. But when he opened his eyes, he thought her lovely face still looked a bit tired. When he checked the heat emanations of her body, they didn’t seem quite warm enough.
She wasn’t ready.
And therefore, neither could he be.
He refused to think about how much he wanted her. How easy it would be to fully make love to her right then and there. Take her all the way, finally joining their bodies as they had not yet done. But doing so might affect the ritual badly, and no matter how much he wanted her, he couldn’t risk that.
Never had it been so hard to counsel himself to patience.
Though he might refuse to think about it, his body was throbbing with need for her, every cell shrieking to feed, to love, to take her to that place right between life and death. Sitting here with her head in his lap was one of the hardest things he could remember doing, primarily because it was not simply a step along the road of seduction.
No, he meant to comfort her, to help her rest. To relax. He was not using his wiles to get what he wanted, and that made this very different and a whole lot harder.
He wondered how it would be after the ceremony. Would his Hunger lessen or would it grow? And what if it did grow? Would he have the strength to walk away after they dealt with the bokor?
He had better, because if there was one thing he was absolutely certain about, it was that life with him would not be good for Caro over any sort of long term. A few weeks, a few months, a few years—it would not be good for her. As a mortal, she had needs and wants no vampire could ever slake. She needed to walk in the sun, to have mortal friends, to have the life she had built, not to share the nights with him and only with him. He couldn’t even give her children.
She would not want to come to Cologne either. He could move himself—he had moved himself before many times—but how difficult would he make her life by being the lover she could never introduce to her friends and coworkers, the person who would always lead a shadowy existence on the edges of her life?
She might endure for a short while, but even with the example of Jude and Terri before him, he didn’t believe it could last forever.
Too many sacrifices would be required, and when love required too many of them, things often turned sour. He didn’t want to be the sour note in her life.
So as soon as they faced down this bokor and got rid of the elemental, he would have to leave. For both their sakes.
The thought saddened him more than he would have expected, but there was nothing he could do about it.
Realities were realities, after all.
Caro got some of the sleep her nerves had denied her during the day. She dozed off with her head in the lap of a vampire, feeling oddly comforted. How extraordinary that he could comfort her with gentle caresses when he had warned her repeatedly how dangerous he could be to her.
How strange to sink into dreams of him, dreams of flying across rooftops on his back, dreams of him drinking from her, dreams filled with some of the greatest experiences of her life. Places once beyond her imagining, and now a part of her life. In her dreams, no end loomed before them. It went on forever, that racing ride on his back, that blood sharing, his touches and even his rare laughter.
Then something jolted her instantly awake. Her eyes snapped open and she saw Damien looking down at her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked immediately.
“It’s trying to cross the circle. I guess the bokor no longer cares about witnesses, if he ever did.”
“Can it cross?”
“I doubt it.”
“But why should anything be able to stop it?”
“Because there must be limits on everything. Rules. Can you imagine the total anarchy if there was no veil between worlds? If powers could act without restriction? No, there are always limits. It seems the bokor has lessened a few of his own, but he can’t lessen mine. I’ve restricted this space.”
She didn’t want to sit up, to leave the comforting pillow of his lap, but the need to look around for reassurance took charge. She pushed up until she sat and scanned the room. Everything looked the same. So she closed her eyes and reached out with her other senses.
“It passed Jude’s wards.” The thought scared her.
“Mostly likely because we disturbed them with our comings and goings. If you want, I’ll get out the chrism he left here and restore them. We’ll have to before the ceremony regardless.”
