Dark Predator (26 page)

He bent his head and ran his tongue over her frantically beating pulse. He felt the echo of that throbbing beat deep in his own veins, pulsing through his thick cock. His teeth rasped back and forth over her skin, his tongue easing the small sting. Each time his teeth bit gently, he felt the liquid heat dampen her panties in welcome.

“I will say words—powerful words that will unite us. Our souls will become one. I will take your blood and give you mine in a full exchange. This will not bring you fully into my world, but it is our second exchange and you will be more than halfway there. There will be—repercussions.”

I don’t understand.

“Unlike human marriages, ours are irreversible. Once the words are said, there is no retracting them.” His mouth teased her pulse and moved to her nipple, suckling a little roughly, tugging with his teeth, once more moving his tongue in a velvet rasp to ease the ache. “You will always need me near you. I will always need you close to me. Our minds will forever seek to remain locked within the other’s. I will never be able to let you be free. Nor will I be free. There will be no Zacarias without Marguarita. No Marguarita without Zacarias.”

She took another deep breath, her fingers burrowing into the thick mass of his hair. She closed the strands in her fist and held tightly.

He took that for her assent. There would be no going back for either of them. She was giving him life when she gave herself into his keeping. He pulled strongly at her breast, allowing himself to get lost in the sensations of pure pleasure.

“Te avio päläfertiilam,”
he whispered against her pulse. “You are my lifemate.” His body shuddered, the fiery streaks of need turning his groin into an inferno. He shed his clothes with a thought and drew her closer, removing the lacy scraps shielding her body from him in the same way.
“Éntölam kuulua, avio päläfertiilam.”

What does that mean?

His teeth nuzzled that pounding pulse. “I claim you as my lifemate.” He kissed her soft skin along the curve of her breast and bit deep. Pain flashed through her. He pressed his hand between her legs, caressing with his knuckles, sending shivers of excitement coursing through her. The pain gave way to an erotic rush. She threw her head back and held him to her breast, her fist pulling at his hair.

The essence of her life poured into him, feeding his addiction. He craved that unique, sexy taste that was all Marguarita. All his. Only for him. Created for him.

He switched to the more intimate form of communication while he drank.
Ted kuuluak, kacad, koje—I belong to you.
He would always belong to her. He always had.

Élidamet andam
—
I offer my life for you. Pesämet andam
—
I give you my protection. Uskolfertiilamet andam
—
I give you my allegiance.

Her blood flowed into him, rejuvenating every cell. Filling him—with her. He could feel the powerful ritual words doing their work, binding them together with millions of tiny, unbreakable threads.

Sívamet andam
—
I give you my heart.
He did give her his heart such as it was. Shadowed. Damaged. But it was hers to keep for all time.

Sielamet andam
—
I give you my soul.
His soul was in shreds. So many holes had pierced it. All those kills over the centuries. He had lived for them and each one had taken a toll on the soul he was giving to her.

Ainamet andam
—
I give you my body.
His body craved every inch of her, and he could feel that same craving rushing through her for him. He felt it in her welcoming wetness as he pushed one finger into her, feeling her muscles clamp down on him, desperate to draw him inside of her.

Zacarias lifted his head and watched the ruby beads run down the slope of her breast before dipping his head and following the trail with his tongue. He used his saliva to close the puncture wounds before shifting her in his arms, lifting her and cradling her close to him. Very gently he carried her to the bed where he sat, holding her naked body in his lap.

She was beautiful. Her rounded breasts were streaked with marks from his hands and mouth.
His.
His mind couldn’t believe that someone so much of the light could look at him with such smoldering desire. With such a need burning in her to be with him. A gift. His miracle.

“You will drink, Marguarita. I know it feels wrong to you, but this is our way. You’ve put yourself into my keeping.” He drew a line over the pulse beating in his breast and pressed her mouth to him. “Trust in me now.”

Marguarita tried. She moved her lips over the laceration, her tongue tentatively tasting him. He groaned, his erection pressing tightly against her bare buttocks. He had not expected the terrible raw demands of his body, the way she would get inside of him, all heat and fire, melting the ice in his veins, bringing back floods of memories, good and bad, bringing him fully to life. Bringing his body to such a fevered pitch of sheer need. He uttered a command to make it easier for her to accept his gift of immortality.

He whispered the next part of the ritual binding words into the cloud of her hair.
“Sívamet kuuluak kaik että a ted
. I take into my keeping the same that is yours.”

Her body would always be in his keeping and he would spend his nights worshiping her in every way he could. He filled her mind with erotic images. His hands roamed over her, massaging her rounded bottom, sliding up the clean line of her back to the flair of her hips and her narrow, tucked-in waist.

One hand tugged and rolled her nipples to keep her stimulated while she drew the essence of his life into her body—while the very blood of the Carpathians claimed her for his own.

“Ainaak olenszal sívambin
—your life will be cherished by me for all my time.”
Cherished.
He knew the meaning of the word now, where he never had before. He would cherish her. Protect her. Keep her.

Marguarita was the meaning of life, his holy grail at the end of the centuries-old battle between good and evil. She was the reason. She was what he had been looking for all of his life and never once realizing it. “
Te élidet ainaak pide minan
—your life will be placed above my own for all time.” He knew the moment he uttered the words that he meant them. Her life would always be put above his own. His woman. His personal miracle. A human woman who had found a drowning man and served herself up as a lifeboat.

“Te avio päläfertiilam
—you are my lifemate
.
” Colors shimmered before his eyes, glittering and bright. Vivid, dizzying colors. For a moment his world tilted and then righted itself. Those colors pulsed and throbbed in his heavy erection, sending spirals of electrical currents charging through his body.

“Ainaak sívamet jutta oleny
—you are bound to me for all eternity
.
” He had tried to save her, but it was far too late now. They were tied together soul to soul for all time. She would stay with him through both good and bad and he feared, for her, it would be far more difficult than she could ever imagine with her modern mind. She could not conceive of the kind of monster he truly was.

“Ainaak terád vigyázak
—you are always in my care.” That was the one thing he could give her. He could promise her. He would never go back on his word. There would be absolute loyalty to this woman and he would always
, always
see to her care.

Gently he slipped his hand between her mouth and his chest. Her tongue rasped one last time over the laceration and his body clenched, shuddered, the feeling so erotic he knew he would want the experience over and over. He closed the wound and took her mouth, his hand on the nape of her neck, holding her still while he fed at the rapture there.

Heat poured through him. He shifted her, turning, laying her out on the bed in front of him like a gift. Her eyes were slightly glazed, brilliant champagne diamonds glittering with lust and need. He’d put that look there. It was all for him. She was all for him.

He knelt over her, his hands in between her thighs, pulling her legs apart so she was open to him, so he could enjoy the sight of the glistening evidence of her need of him. His hands went to her breasts, roughly kneading, rolling and tugging on her sensitive nipples. Every streak of fire that went to her core shot straight through to his cock. He took her into his mouth, suckling strongly, his teeth teasing that taut peak, tugging and biting while she writhed and gasped beneath him.

Her hips bucked with every sting of his teeth, with every lave of his tongue. He sucked hard, reveling in her body, in the soft, pliant offering. His. All for him. Her arms came up to circle his head, she arched into his mouth, pushing deeper, her hips lifting to rub over his body. His heavy erection pressed against the V at the junction of her legs and she widened her sprawl to try to get closer to him. Her smooth thighs rubbed against his body, driving him past sanity.

He captured her nipple and tugged just to feel the wonderful sensation of streaking fire, filling his groin, vibrating through him. His mouth found hers again, a little brutally this time, taking her response, demanding she give him everything she was. He wanted nothing less than everything from her, nothing less than complete surrender.

Marguarita never so much as pulled away from him in her mind. His hands grew rough as they shaped her body, claiming her, wanting her to know and accept him as he was. He would give her everything he was, pour himself into her, give everything he was to her—it was all he had.

She was incredibly responsive to him, her body writhing and bucking as he stroked caresses over her belly and thighs. He inhaled, wanting to forever remember this moment, wanting to savor every new separate experience and emotion. He’d never had such a sensual, tactile experience. Pure sensation. Pure pleasure. Lust was deep and driving, in his blood, pounding with need, clawing and raking, yet at the same time, spreading like fire through his body—and through her body. The dual sensations were overwhelming and irresistible.

He completely indulged himself, exploring every inch of her soft, curvy body. Every streak of fire that went through her, went through him. He felt drunk on the building hunger, this time for her body, for that scorching hot sheath that begged and wept for him. He was just as addicted to the rush of electricity streaking through his body and filling his heavy erection as he was to the taste of her blood.

He had no idea of passing time, only of her body, of her taste and texture. Of knowing her gift was real. Never once did she protest, even when he took her too high and she was gasping and pleading with him for release. She stayed connected, wanting his pleasure, giving herself to him without reservation, keeping her word.

And he found her pleasure was just as important to him, if not more, than his own. Each gasp, every plea in his mind, the score of her nails raking down his back, her fist in his hair—all of it added to his pleasure. He loved seeing her needy for him, seeing her eyes dazed, her mouth open, the soft cries in his mind. The mindless chant of his name. He was rough, yes, but he made certain that she felt nothing but pleasure. He wanted her to want to be with him in every way he could conceive, and hurting her or ignoring her needs felt repugnant and wrong to him.

He indulged himself for the first time in his life, taking this time for himself—for her. The two of them were one now, soul to soul, and as long as he was in her mind, he felt. He saw in color. His world was rich and emotional. There was no ice in his veins, no shadows in his heart. Her bright light illuminated him inside and he felt as if he could soar to the heavens or run in freedom across the land. She made him free.

When he knew she was more than ready for him, slick and hot and gasping, he knelt between her legs and lifted her hips, pushing into that tight hot space created just for him, joining their bodies in the same way their minds were joined. He was careful, feeling her response. He was thick and long and she was tight. He could feel the burning and stretching with his invasion just as she could feel the sizzling pleasure racing through his body as her sheath grasped him in scorching pleasure.

He had to fight a battle to control himself. He needed to plunge into her, bury himself deep, and had he not been in her mind, feeling what she felt, he had no doubts that he would have selfishly done so, but the burning was bordering on pain for her. He forced his body to go slow, whispering to her in his native language, soft words of encouragement. He found himself calling her
sívamet
—my love, or more literally, of my heart.

He hadn’t known until that moment of pure revelation that she was of his heart. She had given him so much, this small slip of a human woman with more courage than good sense and she had somehow slipped inside of him and wound herself tightly around his heart. He was more careful than ever, slipping into her inch by slow inch until he felt that thin barrier.

“Take a breath,
kislány kuηenak minan.
” Deliberately he leaned closer to her, pressing on the spot that brought her the most pleasure and translating what had become an endearment, “My little lunatic, you have given yourself to me, and I accept you into my keeping.”

He took her then, making her fully his, burying himself inside that tight cauldron of heat, claiming his home, his sanctuary. The ice was gone from body and mind to be replaced with Marguarita. He had found home and he never wanted to leave.

He took his time, careful to allow her to catch up to him, at first setting a slow, excruciating rhythm, and then, as her body became more receptive to his invasion, as pleasure sizzled through her, he picked up the pace and drove into her as he needed to do, hard and fast, his hands biting into her hips, his body plunging home again and again, burning light into him.

He threw back his head in a kind of ecstasy, fire burning him through the inside out, driving him higher and higher. All the while, he was aware of her, every caress, her fingers in his hair, her soft little gasps, her hips bucking under his, that exquisite tight sheath, grasping and milking, just as needy for him as he was for her.