Dark Magic (22 page)

"You mean I killed him." He said the words softly.

"No, I know he was a threat to our people. I know he tried to kill you. I know there was no choice. But I can't." She tried to wiggle away from him. She suddenly wanted her clothes on, self-conscious of her nakedness.

"You will feed," he said again. This time his voice was a whisper of sound, so compelling, so hypnotic, she found herself leaning close to him. She could feel the heat from his body, feel the warmth of his breath.
Feed, Savannah. Come to me now
. He dragged her closer to him and pressed her against his chest. "I am your lifemate. I can do no other than to see to your needs."

Savannah could taste him, the salt from his skin. His hunger, her hunger—she couldn't tell where one left off and the other began. He was whispering in her mind, words impossible to understand, the music of them echoing through her body. His grip was impossible to break, the hand on her nape pressing her to him. There was no escaping his iron will. She didn't even want to, her mouth already moving over his skin.

Gregori closed his eyes as her teeth pierced deeply. The pleasure-pain was sensuous, her bare body irresistible, but he clamped down on his insatiable hunger. He had already been selfish, taking her on the tile floor, impatient and needing her in the midst of his own uncertainty. Now he cradled her head to him, feeding her until her pale skin was once more glowing and healthy. Then slowly, reluctantly, he allowed her to escape the compulsion.

Her blue eyes blinked, awareness suddenly in their depths. She pulled away abruptly, rolling away from him to scramble for her clothes. "You really are scum, Gregori. You have no right to force me when I've said no."

He watched her look around for her tattered clothes. She sank back down on the bed with a tired sigh. "I seem to have no clothes again."

"Easily fixed, Savannah," he said softly. Fashioning clothes from air and the elements was as old as time, as easy as anything he had ever done. She looked so upset, he wanted to gather her into his arms and hold her, comfort her. She was still disturbed that he had willingly ingested poison. That he had broken their laws by killing while feeding. But mostly she was upset that he had forced her to wait for him while he ventured into danger instead of allowing her to help him. And she was distressed that he had forced her to feed under compulsion.

Gregori handed her soft jeans and a cotton shirt, his silver eyes watching her closely. "I am what I have been shaped to be over these endless centuries, Savannah," he said carefully.

She pushed wearily at her hair. Everything was happening so fast. Her world changing, turning upside down, unfamiliar and out of her control. Peter. The vampire. The human hunter. The poison. Being imprisoned by her own lifemate. She bit her lower lip in agitation, holding up the shirt to cover her breasts. "You can choose to be different, Gregori. Anyone can."

He touched her mind, a slight brush, and knew she was close to tears. He cupped the side of her face, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. "I do not choose to allow you to place your life in danger,
mon amour
. That is not something that will ever change."

"But I'm to live with you placing yourself in danger," she countered, her blue eyes flashing at him.

His white teeth gleamed, a predatory smirk. "I was never in danger. Wade Carter thought he was protected, but Carpathian children have stronger barriers against predators."

"The point is, you couldn't know that, Gregori. You went out there and let him shoot you with that dart gun without even knowing what it was. And you made sure I couldn't help you."

He took the shirt out of her hands and slipped it over her head. "I was never in danger, Savannah." He said it quietly, patiently, his voice black velvet.

She bent her head, long hair tumbling down to hide her expression. It didn't matter. Gregori was in her mind, easily reading her thoughts. She was confused, afraid, sad. It pressed on her like a terrible weight on her chest.

Gregori lifted her as if she were a baby and tugged on her jeans, encasing her bare, slender legs. He sat on the bed and cradled her in his lap. Very gently he rocked her back and forth. "I am sorry I frightened you,
ma petite
. I would not do so for the world. But you have to realize that you are tied to a man of power. Many things that might endanger our kind do not work on me. I am capable of many things that have never been done by others of our race. I know my own capabilities." He stroked her hair, a gentle, soothing caress.

She turned her face into his throat, hot tears spilling over. "I don't know your capabilities." Her voice was muffled, the tears clogging her throat. She tightened her fingers in his thick mane of hair, hanging on to him almost desperately.

He dropped his head protectively over hers. "You need to have more faith in my strength, Savannah. Have faith in me. I am not about to throw away my life now that I have found you. Believe in me, in my power and abilities."

She burrowed closer, as if trying to get inside him.

Gregori tightened his arms, sheltering her close. "I know what I can and cannot do,
mon petit amour
. I did not take any unnecessary chances." He held her to him, inhaling her scent, their combined scents, counting himself lucky that she felt so strongly for his safety. "I am very sorry I frightened you," he repeated into the silken strands of her hair.

"Don't do it again," she ordered, nuzzling his throat. Her mouth moved over his skin and left behind a living flame.

Gregori's body reacted, stirring to life. He could feel her discomfort, the sore spots on her hips and back because of his own carelessness. He laid a palm over her hip and sent himself seeking outside his own body. At once, Savannah could feel soothing heat easing sore muscles, speeding to heal bruises. She could hear the ancient healing chant in her mind, Gregori's beautiful voice flowing into her.

She lay passively in his arms, staring up at sensual features etched and carved by time, at masculine Carpathian beauty. He was power and strength. He was her lifemate. She studied him, examining every inch of his face.

Gregori suddenly smiled at her, a genuine smile that warmed the cold steel of his eyes to molten mercury. "What is it you are seeing?"

She touched his chin with a fingertip. It was a nice chin. Stubborn. Determined. Nice all the same. "I'm seeing my lifemate, Gregori. I don't want anything to happen to you." Her hands framed his face. Very slowly she lifted her mouth to his. She kissed him slowly, thoroughly. Completely. Her tongue swept into his mouth, explored, teased, tempted. When she lifted her head, she rested her forehead against his. "Don't ever do that again. Don't leave me alone and helpless without you."

He actually felt the wrenching deep in his heart. She was turning him inside out. She wasn't condemning him as she should have, she was making herself sick with worry. He found her neck and trailed kisses along the slim column. His teeth scraped her shoulder. "So you like jazz."

Savannah raised her head, her blue eyes searching his. "I love jazz," she said softly. He could see the anxiety in her, the sudden hope.

"Then I guess we cannot miss the famous festival in New Orleans," he found himself saying, just to take the shadows from her eyes.

She was silent a moment, her fingers twisting in the blanket. "Do you mean it, Gregori? We can go?"

"You know how much I love crowds of humans," he said, straight-faced.

She laughed at him. "They don't bite."

"I do," he said, the words low and soft, his silver gaze at once possessive. Just the heat from her smile wreaked havoc with his body. He had had her only a few minutes before, yet he was hungry all over again. Fiercely hungry. His body reacted urgently, savagely, and he allowed it, making no effort to conceal his great need.

Savannah's breath caught in her throat at the sight of his arousal. This power, at least, she had, and the depth of it amazed her. Her fingers brushed his skin deliberately. He trembled beneath that light touch. She trailed her hand along his flat belly, and she felt him suck in his breath. Her fingers wrapped around the hard length of him, and she felt him shudder with pleasure.

He caught her head in his hands, dragging her closer. He was full with need, hurting with it. "I am going to hate New Orleans," he whispered against her silken hair before she began lowering her head.

Her breath warmed the velvet tip of him, sending fire racing through his blood. "Maybe we can think of something interesting to make it more enjoyable for you," she ventured. Her mouth was satin soft, moist and hot.

Gregori pressed his hips forward, forcing her back on the bed, his knees on the thick blanket above her. She was so beautiful, her flawless skin like cream, her thick hair spilling around her slender shoulders. Sitting up, she slowly peeled off the cotton shirt, baring her full breasts to his silver gaze. She looked lush and sexy in the dark of the night, a mysterious, erotic gift to him.

"You think you might make New Orleans more bearable for me then?" His eyes were saying more than his mouth, touching her here and there, dwelling on every curve of her body.

Her hand spanned his flat stomach and lingered there. "I'm sure I can be inventive enough to make you forget your dread of crowds. Take off my jeans."

"Your jeans?" he echoed.

"You put them on me, and they're definitely in the way. Take them off." Her hand was wandering lower, her fingers walking lightly over his clenching muscles, a deliberate persuasion.

His hands made quick work of unfastening her jeans and tugging them down her legs. She kicked them aside and leaned forward to press a kiss onto his stomach. Her hair slid over his heavy fullness, a silken tangle that nearly drove him out of his mind. "Sometimes your orders are very easy to follow,
ma chérie
," he murmured, his eyes closing as her mouth wandered lower.

He cupped her breasts in his palms, his thumbs caressing the tips into hard, beckoning peaks. His hips thrust forward almost against his own will, his body taking on a life of its own. Her fingers dug into his buttocks, urging him deeper into her, then slid down to caress the thick columns of his thighs. Her fingernails raked his skin gently even as she arched her body to allow him better access to her aching breasts.

He burned for her in his body and his mind. There was a dull roar in his head, a rush of pleasure that washed over him and took with it every vestige of sanity. Outside, the wind began to pick up. It sang at the windows and brushed the thick walls, heralding a storm.

Neither heard or cared. The storm was raging inside as he pushed her down, his mouth finding every inch of her body, every shadow and hollow, caressing and inflaming. Creating fire. Creating a storm. Gregori moved over her, her soft skin against his palms, his mouth hot on her skin. She drove away his demons, the terrible sights and hideous deaths. She took away the loneliness and replaced it with such pleasure, he wasn't certain he would survive it.

Her inarticulate cry was muffled with his own mouth as he entered her, burying himself deep. She was velvet soft, fiery hot, exquisitely tight, surrounding him, gripping him in molten heat. He whispered to her in the ancient language, words she couldn't understand, but he meant every one of them, words he had never said before, never felt before. She might never really know him, yet he was branded by her for all time. He was hers alone. He worshipped her. And the only way he had of showing her was with his body, his strength, his knowledge, his expertise.

His body took hers, a demanding possession that went on and on. A bolt of lighting sizzled and danced across the sky. The earth moved beneath them. None of it mattered. He took his time, over and over, ensuring her pleasure first and foremost. She was clinging to him, with him, as he finally allowed himself release. He never wanted to stop, afraid that if he let her go, she would somehow slip away forever.

Gregori swore softly and rolled over to force his body away from hers. She was making him crazy. Desperate. He was going to kill them both with his insatiable appetite. Already his fingers were curling in her hair, bunching silken strands in his fist.

Savannah heard the soft, hissing words flowing from his mouth, and her heart stood still. He had just shaken her entire world, set it on fire, and now he was angry. She turned her back to him so that he could not see her hurt. "What did I do wrong?" she asked in a small voice.

Gregori tugged on her hair to force her back to him. "You make me feel alive, Savannah."

"Do I? Is that why you're swearing?" She turned onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows.

He leaned into her, brushing his mouth across the swell of her breast. "You are managing to tie me up in knots. You take away all my good judgment."

A slight smile curved her mouth. "I never noticed that you had particularly good judgment to begin with."

His white teeth gleamed, a predator's smile, then sank into soft bare flesh. She yelped but moved closer to him when his tongue swirled and caressed, taking away the sting. "I have always had good judgment," he told her firmly, his teeth scraping back and forth in the valley between her breasts.

"So you say. But that doesn't make it so. You let evil idiots shoot you with poisoned darts. You go by yourself into laboratories filled with your enemies. Need I go on?" Her blue eyes were laughing at him.

Her firm, rounded bottom was far too tempting to resist. He brought his open palm down in mock punishment. Savannah jumped, but before she could scoot away, his palm began caressing, producing a far different effect. "Judging from our positions,
ma chérie
, I would say my judgment looks better than yours."

She laughed. "All right, I'm going to let you win this time."

"Would you care for a shower?" he asked solicitously.

When she nodded, Gregori flowed off the bed, lifted her high into his arms, and cradled her against his chest. There was something too innocent about him. She eyed him warily. But in an instant he had already glided across the tiled floor to the balcony door, which flew open at his whim, and carried her, naked, into the cold, glittering downpour.