Dark Fire (20 page)

Tempest drew in her breath.
She
had done this. Where nothing in his centuries of existence had managed to shake his utter calm, she had. "Darius." She whispered his name in the beauty of the cave, her voice aching with sorrow. "I never meant to hurt you."

At once his hands framed her face. "I know that. I am here now. I can heal these wounds. But do not neglect your health again, baby. I am not altogether certain my heart could take it." His hands dropped to the hem of her cotton top.

At the first brush of his fingers against the bare skin of her stomach, her breath caught in her throat, and her body went still. Darius pulled the shirt over her head with a single fluid motion, leaving her vulnerable and exposed. He barely gave her lacy bra a thought, using a razor-sharp fingernail to dispense with it. His attention was on the puncture wounds on her side, the scrapes on her back.

He swore. She knew that was what he was muttering although she didn't understand the language. And then he bent his head low, his thick mane of midnight-black hair brushing her ribs, sending darts of fire dancing over her skin. At the first touch of his tongue, she closed her eyes, unable to believe the exquisite beauty of the moment. She felt his lapping, velvet soft yet slightly rasping across her damaged skin, a mixture of soothing sensuality.

Even as he took time and great care to see to the wounds on her body, the clothes covering his skin became unbearable, confining his bursting muscles, drenching him in heat and sweat. He shed them easily, as he did everything else, with a single thought to ridding himself of the discomfort. His body moved against hers, hot and aggressive as he bent to his task. His hands caught at her hips, bending her back to get better access to the puncture on her rib.

His hair brushed the underside of her breast, and she jumped as if he had scorched her. At once he lifted his burning gaze to hers. She was swamped with his hunger, his need. It was there in his eyes.

He watched her throat move convulsively as she swallowed a tight knot of fear. Very gently, with infinite tenderness, his hand spanned her throat so that her pulse beat into the warmth of his palm. "Give yourself to me, Tempest," he whispered softly, his voice so beautiful that it entwined itself around her heart. "Tonight, come to me as my true mate. Be with me the way I hunger for it to be. Give me this gift I have lived lifetimes without."

His mouth was only inches from hers, and every cell in her body cried out for her to close that tiny gap. How could she deny him anything when his need was so great? She moved until her lips were against his. "I want whatever you want, Darius." Even as the consent entered her mind, formed the words, breathed them into his being, her heart jumped, wondering what she had committed herself to doing. Did she really trust him so much? Or was his need feeding her own, the urgent hunger beating at him in waves, swamping her as he touched his mind to hers?

His kiss was gentle, tender, a reverent exploration that only added to her great need of him. "I want the water to heal you, honey," he said softly. "I want nothing but pleasure for you this night." His hands found the buttons to her jeans. His gaze held hers as he slowly dragged the material over her hips, taking her white lace panties with them.

Then he lifted her into his arms. "The water is hot, baby, but it will aid in the healing I do." He was holding her over the steaming water. "I think it is time you realized I will not be defied any longer. You are under my protection, Tempest. Every time I sleep, you get into trouble. I will not allow it to continue."

His arrogance set her teeth on edge, but at the moment she was more concerned with just how hot the water really was. He was lowering her feet close to the surface. It smelled like sulfur. Tempest clutched at his bare shoulder, her nails digging into his flesh. "You know, Darius, I have a major aversion to mineral water." His body was powerful and masculine, the heated thickness of him pressed aggressively against her bare skin as he lowered her toward the waiting pool.

"I think you need to trust me more, Tempest." Darius dipped her feet into the water. She gasped at the sting-ings, her fingers curling around his biceps, holding on to him for safety. The problem was, she had to lift her legs around him to keep from touching the water. Instantly it brought her hot core of femininity, liquid with need, to press fully against his thick, fierce arousal.

Darius groaned aloud, every sane thought, every good intention, flying out of his head. In its place was a need so strong and urgent that he fastened his mouth fiercely to hers. In primitive, stormy, almost violent possession. His mouth fed on hers. He swept her away from the crushing mountain, from the pain of her wounds, and from the steaming water. She could feel his hands sliding possessively over her skin, slow and deliberate, as if he were committing every curve and hollow to memory. She could feel the soft earth pressing into her as he trapped her beneath him, his body, so large and strong, blanketing hers. His mouth never stopped its series of long, drugging kisses that seemed to steal her will and arouse him beyond all human boundaries of need.

Tempest found her hands clutching his wild mane of hair, hanging on for dear life as the firestorm raged around them, through them. His hands cupped her full breasts, slid along her ribs to her belly, found the triangle of curls below, and caressed her thighs. Everywhere he touched he left flames behind, on her skin, inside her body, until she wanted to scream for relief.

She thought to be afraid of his enormous strength, but that thought, too, was swept away on a tidal wave of passion as his palm pressed into her heat. She made a single sound, a low moan in her throat that ignited the fuse smoldering in him. Darius's mouth left hers for the first time, trailing fire down her neck to the thrusting tip of her breast.

She cried out, arching into him, nearly exploding as his fingers found her tight, hot sheath and his mouth pulled strongly, his teeth scraping and teasing the swell of her breast. His knee nudged hers apart even as his tongue lapped at the valley between her breasts. He was above her, his face harsh yet sensual, his eyes black, burning coals.

It was happening too fast. Way out of control. Tempest felt him, thick and aggressive, pressing into her. He seemed far too large for her to accommodate. Trapped beneath his body, she couldn't move, almost couldn't breathe. His teeth scraped the swell of her left breast, an erotic enticement that set her arching toward his mouth. Yet fear beat at her as he surged forward, his body pinning hers, invading hers, taking possession as if he had every right to her. She felt as if he was invading her soul, thrusting so deeply within her that she would never get him out. Instantly she stiffened, whimpering into his shoulder. She felt his teeth piercing her breast, spreading white-hot heat, sinking possessively into her skin as his body buried itself in hers.

His mind pushed into hers, breaking through every barrier until they were completely one. She felt the heat of her own skin, the exquisite ecstasy of her tight, hot, velvet sheath gripping him, releasing, sliding over him, her blood, hot with life and light, flowing into him, the joy and searing flames, his insatiable hunger and terrible need. She saw the erotic images in his head, the things he would do to her, the things he wanted her to do to him. She saw his iron will, his implacable resolve, his ruthlessness, his merciless, predatory nature. He saw her fears, her modesty, her blind faith in him, her need to run away. He felt the slight discomfort of her body at his thickness and instantly changed his position to accommodate her. He fed her own passion with his, building the fire between them until it raged out of control.

Darius was everywhere she was. In her body, in her mind, in her heart and soul. They shared the same blood. And, God help her, she could deny him nothing. Not when he was rising above her, surging hotly into her, his body slick with sweat, his mouth in a frenzy of hunger and need. It was the most erotic thing she had ever encountered. Tempest didn't care if she ever returned to herself. She was flying, soaring, sating his terrible hunger for the first time in all his centuries of living.

The sense of power that gave her was incredible. She was in his mind, knew she was giving him sweet agony, molten fire. Knew it raged in him as it did in her. She surrendered to him completely, holding nothing back, her fingernails in his back, her soft cries, pleas for more, in his ear. She wanted this with him, wanted to give him this exquisite torment.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and she cradled his head, her body moving with his, faster and harder until she was rippling with pleasure, exploding, fragmenting until he caught her safely in his arms. He lapped his tongue over the pinpricks in her skin, closing the tiny wound his fangs had left. His body clenched and raged for release, burning with a terrible need only she could fill. He was in her mind, and he took control, commanding her to do as he bid, not allowing her to think or know what he was asking.

At the first touch of her mouth on his chest, his body shuddered with the effort for self-control. It had to be. She had to complete the ritual, deliver herself into his keeping for all time. Her tongue tasted his skin, the touch so erotic, his hands pinned her hips that he might bury himself ever deeper, even harder than before. Her teeth teased, scraped, and he heard his own hoarse cry. A thousand years of need. This one time had to be his.

Darius lengthened a fingernail to slash his chest, then caught the back of her head and pressed her to him. Her mouth moved as he had commanded; her hot sheath, slick and velvet soft, tightened in demand, squeezing and kneading until his body clenched and thrust helplessly, mindlessly, aggressively into hers, spilling his seed deep within her, claiming her for all time.

He spoke the ritual words. He needed to say them aloud. Needed to seal her to him, make them one. His need to chant the words was as urgent as the taking of her body had been. It was every bit as primitive and instinctive as the hunger to take her life force into his body and give her his in exchange. "I claim you as my lifemate. I belong to you. I offer my life for you. I give to you my protection, my allegiance, my heart, my soul, and my body. I take into my keeping the same that is yours. Your life, happiness, and welfare will be cherished and placed above my own for all time. You are my lifemate, bound to me for all eternity and always in my care." He murmured the words above her head as he cradled her to him, as his powerful, ancient blood flowed into her body, as his seed exploded into her. The power of the ancient words surrounded her, seeped into her to seal her soul, her mind, and her heart to his, to bind her to him irrevocably.

Chapter Nine

Tempest opened her eyes slowly, drowsily, sexily. Darius smiled down at her, touched his finger gently to her swollen lips, caught a ruby drop of his blood on the pad of his finger, and brought it to his own mouth. She blinked to bring him into focus. Her body was locked with his; she could feel him, thick and heavy, buried deep within the tightness of her core. His smile was lazy and sated, his black eyes holding masculine satisfaction that he had done so much more than simply please her. He looked as if he might start purring over his own prowess.

Tempest found her smile hovering too close to the surface. He was moving with slow, languid strokes that kept heat scorching her body, kept her nipples pressing into the muscles of his chest. The flickering lights from hundreds of candles illuminated the fine sheen of sweat on his skin. His long hair was damp, falling around his face, lending him the look of a pirate. She reached up and gently traced the hard line of his jaw.

Darius captured her hand, brought it to his mouth to kiss, then laced his fingers through hers. He stretched her arms above her head and held them there, leaving her body open and vulnerable to his continuing invasion. She was no longer afraid of him. He had been wild and insatiable, even rough at times, but he had ensured her pleasure before his own. She could read the satisfaction in his eyes, the light in his soul, and she was thankful to be able to bring him relief from his endless, barren existence.

Darius savored the hot, slick wetness of her, the perfection of her satin skin, the silken mane of her hair. The wildness inherent in his nature ran as deep in her. Her passion matched his. She was made for him, and in his deepest heart, his very soul, he knew it absolutely. He bent his head to place a kiss in the tempting hollow of her shoulder. It was unbelievable to him that he was here with her like this, that it was not some dream his mind had created to appease his dying soul.

Where he had been wild and aggressive before, he was slow and gentle now, moving with long, sultry strokes, his gaze locked with hers so he could see the pleasure he brought to her on her expressive face. Her eyes clouded with passion; her lips parted as her breath came in little gasps of wonder. She was so beautiful, she destroyed his tranquillity, that absolute calm he had long ago acquired, and she made him as helpless and out of control as a youth. He wanted her for all time. Not the short span of years they would have, but for an eternity. He wanted it all.

Darius closed his mind to that possibility, that temptation, and bent to take her mouth with his, his tongue dueling with hers, sweeping over her teeth, exploring the moist interior, demanding that she do the same to him. He thrilled to the tiniest details. The brightness of her hair, the length of her eyelashes, the curve of her cheek-all an abundance of riches along with the feel of her body surrounding his. Hot velvet gripping him, teasing him.

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.