Dark Predator

“If I kiss you, kislany ku?enak 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.

Did she think he would lie to her? He knew nothing of relationships. He’d long ago buried his mother and father from his existence, refusing to ever allow them into his mind—or heart. They were gone along with every scrap of humanity that had ever been in him. On some level, he recognized that this woman, this human woman who had no reason to even like him, was fighting to save him. It was in her mind, in her heart.

Kiss me, Zacarias.

His heart felt brittle. He feared it would shatter in his chest. Kissing her again would be claiming her. Making her irrevocably his. Her body was amazing, a sensual lure he doubted few could ever resist, but it was that tenacious determination, her resolve that she would pull him into the light that drew him like a magnet. She mesmerized him. She had no thought for herself, and she refused to abandon him to the fate of all predatory Carpathians.

How did one fight that? How did he find the strength to walk away from someone that courageous? He was lost for the first time in his life. And for the first time, he wanted to fight for his existence—for her. To match her courage.

He drew her close, his breath settling over her, into her. His heart picked up the frantic rhythm of hers and automatically took charge, matching her pulse beat for beat. He watched her lashes drift down to veil the desire in her dark eyes. Her lips parted. He took her breath into his lungs. She was so warm and soft, heating him from the inside out.

He let his mouth settle leisurely over hers. A part of him was desperate for her, so hungry he could barely think, but he wanted to take his time, to feel her every heartbeat, to taste her every breath, to know the shape of her mouth, the velvet depths, what made her breath catch and what made her body crave his. His kissed her lightly, a slow exploration, absorbing every separate sensation until need overcame him and he simply lost himself in her fire.

He kissed her over and over, stealing the breath from her lungs, breathing for her, his tongue taking possession of that inviting, scalding velvet paradise. His thumbs traced her nipples, as he took her mouth over and over. She melted into him, all that fire, scorching him, searing his very heart.

What happened when fire met ice? He feared he would cease to exist, yet there was no other path for him now. His body was in flames. His hunger beat at him like a thunderous drum. The pounding need filled his groin and ate at his soul. Marguarita. His. He had to take her now. Had to make her his. Had to fill his veins, his body with . . . her.

His mouth drifted over the corner of hers. He kissed his way down the curve of her face to the small indentation at her chin. He swept back her cloud of hair from her neck with one hand, his mind firmly settled in hers. He allowed himself to experience all that she was feeling and she was completely aware of his every need—of every urgent demand of his body. His growing hunger. Still, she didn’t pull away from him, but he could feel her holding herself very still.

“Do not fear this, Marguarita. There is great courage in you.” He whispered the words against her collarbone as he kissed his way along her smaller frame. He turned her in his arms, his mouth continuing along the swell of her breast.