Dark Peril (31 page)

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Authors: Christine Feehan

Tags: #Romance, #Romantic suspense fiction, #Occult fiction, #Horror, #Occult & Supernatural, #South America, #Vampires, #Fiction, #Shapeshifting, #Paranormal, #Fantasy, #General

BOOK: Dark Peril
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He was using an oil of some sort. It smelled a little minty, and as he applied it, rubbing it into her muscles, heat spread. She wasn’t certain if it was the oil, his hands or her body’s response, but deep inside her core, her temperature soared. He worked down each arm and then down her lower back until she was nearly purring. A pure jaguar couldn’t purr, but her species could, thankfully, and right now would be an appropriate moment.

“You cannot be close to me—or to them. The moment the parasites sense you they will go quiet and they’ll know either you or Brodrick is near. We will need a good plan.”

She rubbed her cheek against the soft padding of the table. “That’s what you were trying to tell me, but I jumped to conclusions.”

“I have given some thought to how I phrased it. Perhaps I could have chosen my words more carefully.”

His hands on the small of her back felt wonderful. “I think you were being who you are, Dominic. You were named well. You have dominant tendencies. Unfortunately, although I doubt I was born with them, I’ve developed them.”

“Your fighting skills are extraordinary, as is your courage in battle,” he acknowledged.

His praise sent a warm glow through her. His hands moved lower, to her buttocks, working deep in the muscle, kneading thoroughly until her body was limp. He took a few moments to stroke gentle caresses over her lush curves before his hands moved her thighs apart. She thought of protesting; she was already aroused beyond what she thought she could bear. But this time he started with her feet, so she submitted, thinking herself safe.

How many times had she limped her way back to this cave, cold and bloody and sore, and wished just for this one thing—a massage. She remembered telling her dream man how she often fantasized about a massage. It warmed her that he remembered and cared enough to give her this amazing experience. She’d never felt so pampered in her life.

His hands worked their way steadily up her legs and her breath caught in her throat as he began pressing and rubbing above her knees. The strokes moved up higher, toward the junction of her legs, and she couldn’t stop the flood of telltale damp heat. She actually could feel her sheath pulsing, empty and in need. A small sound escaped and she jammed her fist into her mouth. She should have told him to stop, but it felt like heaven.

“So what do you think we should do?” She tried to keep her mind on battle, on any distraction, but she was so aware of those strong fingers moving closer and closer to the place where she needed him most.

“I think we have a couple of days before the big meeting takes place. More vampires are in the area. I want to make certain they stay away from Zacarias’s people.”

She frowned. “Can you do that?”

“I am going to try. It will be a difficult safeguard to cast, and I will need blood to do it.”

“I don’t mind you taking mine,” Solange said, and realized it was true. She would rather provide for him than have anyone else do so. In the end, when she’d gotten past her fear of being conquered, she’d found it an erotic experience.

His finger moved down her bottom, tracing the firm flesh and sliding across her very wet sex. She inhaled sharply and rolled over. She couldn’t take one more moment of his hands on her. She’d never felt so needy in her life.

He stepped back and helped her to sit. She was too limp to stand. “I do not know if it is safe for me to take your blood, for either of us. Not until we get the information needed from the vampires.”

“For either of us?” Solange found it hard to look at him. He was so gorgeous and she was so naked, her skin flushed, her breathing almost harsh. Hadn’t he been as affected by touching her as she was by his touch?

“Your blood may be killing the parasites, and I need them,” he explained. “As for you, the act of taking your blood is very sensual, and I dare not lose control and convert you. How are you feeling now?”

“I feel better. Thank you.”

“More relaxed?”

She bit her lip. She didn’t want to lie to him. He’d gone to a lot of trouble for her.

Two fingers lifted her chin. “What is it,
kessake ku toro sívamak—
beloved little wildcat? I thought we had established that when I ask a question, I require an answer. Is that not easy?”

She shook her head and attempted a smile. “Not as easy as you make it sound.”

“What would you be afraid of telling me?”

Now she was embarrassed to sit in front of him completely naked, her body so unbearably aroused she could barely think straight, let alone find the right words to tell him. She felt vulnerable all over again. Why should it be so difficult to voice her sexual needs? What more did she want from him? The way he’d said that taking her blood was sensual, and the tone of his voice when he’d uttered
conversion
had sent her already aroused body into a shocking frenzy of need. She stilled; in spite of her raging body, desperate for release, she wasn’t certain her brain would allow her to receive him without a fight. So classic jaguar and so difficult to explain.

“It’s embarrassing and I don’t want to disappoint you.” There. She’d told him the truth. Okay. Maybe she’d whispered, but she managed to say the words without stammering.

“You only disappoint me when you do not trust me enough to share your needs.”

How could she possibly describe the slow-building, burning, relentless ache that refused to give her rest? The silence stretched between them. He didn’t move, his body still, his eyes on hers, refusing to allow her to look away.

“I’m very . . .” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head. “I feel as if I’m burning alive. I ache.”

A slow smile briefly teased his mouth. His eyes warmed. “For me? Did I put that ache here?” His fingers slid down her bare stomach to the smooth mound. The pads of his fingers did a slow massage “Do I make you this way? Is all the wetness a welcome for me?”

She closed her eyes, her head falling back at his touch. Deep inside, her body began to pulse. “Of course for you. I didn’t know I could feel this way.”

“You should never hide from who you are, Solange. Or hide from your needs. Certainly you should never try to hide them from me. I am the only one to give you satisfaction. Do you understand what I am telling you? Only me. I want you to embrace yourself as a woman, as
my
woman. I have never understood why a woman should be unfulfilled sexually, or in any other way. Partners should trust one another enough to share their needs.”

Very gently, he pressed his hand against her shoulder, forcing her to lie back down on the bench. “Just relax again and let me put you where I want you.”

She swallowed her apprehension and let him shift her body so her bottom was at the end of the bench and her legs straddled the end of it. He opened her thighs, draping her there, her feet flat on the floor.

Her first instinct was to close her legs, but his hand rested on the inside of her knees so very gently, and she found she couldn’t move. She tried to breathe evenly. He wasn’t physically preventing her, but still, the power of his mind did. She didn’t want him to stop, yet she felt so completely vulnerable. Her body was open to him, her most private center. She was a woman and she would have to accept invasion.

A small sob escaped.
Invasion.
Was that how she viewed sex? Making love? What was wrong with her? And how could he put up with her being so absolutely terrified of such a natural act? She wanted him. She needed him. She was extremely aroused, so much so that she knew her scent was pervading the air. But she didn’t move. She
couldn’t
move
.

Dominic loomed over her nude body, completely clothed, and she found the situation even more arousing, especially when his heavy-lidded gaze drifted so possessively over her. She could see he was hard and thick and ready for her.
She
had done that. Solange Sangria, with her not-so-perfect body and her idiotic stammering ways and the millions of mistakes she made in a relationship. She had been the one to put that tremendous erection on such an amazing, powerful, very sensual man.

“When you let out those little breathy sobs, Solange, it should be out of pleasure, not because you are upset with your thoughts. You are not ready for joining with me yet. When you are, you will want to take care of my needs. That will be the only thing on your mind. You will cease to exist other than to please me, as I do for you now. That is how it should be.”

His fingers traced over her breasts and then he simply bent his head and took possession of her mouth. The shock of pleasure sent a current of electricity straight to her core. She moaned as his tongue tangled and dueled with hers. She’d never kissed a man this way. Not once. Nothing had prepared her for Dominic sweeping her into a sensual, dazzling world where her body refused to be her own. His claiming was the most dominating thing she’d ever experienced.

His mouth took command of hers and insisted on her compliance. She couldn’t have stopped herself if she wanted to. Besides his compelling, seductive nature, she could taste the dark lust in him, the passion that welled up for her, so strong, like a raging river. He seemed to feed at her mouth, kissing her again and again, his strong hands framing her face while he devoured her.

Just when her arms began to circle his neck, he bit at her lower lip with just enough force to sting her, sending a jolt of fire darting from her breasts to her sex. She moaned again as he kissed his way down to the swell of her breasts. He nuzzled there for a moment while her heart jumped and her hips grew even more restless.

“I love how you sound. So sexy,” he murmured against her nipple.

Before she could reply he drew her breast inside that scalding-hot cauldron of his mouth, sucking strongly, his tongue flicking and licking, alternating with his fingers as they tugged and rolled her nipple. She heard her own broken cry and her hips bucked. She hadn’t known she could be so sensitive. She arched her back, giving him better access, compulsively circling his head with her arms. She tried to stifle the small sobs of need as all discipline and thought deserted her. Small lights burst behind her eyes, and sensation overwhelmed her.

He lavished attention on her breasts. She felt the scrape of his teeth and heard the change in his breathing—for her. All for her. He was in her mind, heightening her pleasure, showing her his. He loved her breasts. He could spend hours suckling there, feasting, teasing and tormenting. Some of the images in his head were shocking, but still very erotic, and she was willing, in that moment, to give him anything if he would just relieve the terrible building pressure in her body.

His hair swept her stomach as he kissed his way down, pausing for a just a moment to tease her belly button before he moved lower still. “This is why,” he murmured against her bare mound, “I do not want anything between my mouth and your skin. I want you to feel everything I can give you.”

His hands cupped her bottom and he lifted her hips to his mouth, his tongue sweeping over her in a languid, almost lazy lick. She jumped, her cry shocking her. That desperate, needy sound couldn’t have been her.

“Mmm. Delicious. You taste like nectar to me. I hope you enjoy yourself,
kessake
, because I have the feeling this will be a favorite pastime.”

He took his time at first, a gentle, slow torment while he kissed and licked and explored until she was writhing under his mouth. His tongue plunged deep and the breath hissed out of her. And then he stroked that hard little button where every nerve ending centered. She nearly convulsed with rapture.

Dominic feasted, exactly as if this were his favorite pastime. His expert tongue never stopped, and when he flicked and then suckled her clit, her shattered cries became pleas. He took his time, his fingers plunging deep while he lapped at her cream. Tremors rolled through her as she moaned brokenly, desperate for release. Her heart raced so fast, almost in time to the pulsing in her womb. Her body wound tighter and tighter until the sensation was nearly unbearable. She tried to push herself onto his mouth; her hips bucked uncontrollably. The hunger in her built and built with no end in sight. She was afraid she was going insane, thrashing on the table, her cries and pleas filling the room.

His relentless mouth didn’t stop, his tongue flicking her small, inflamed button, fast and slow, then plunging deep to draw out more nectar, pushing her beyond every limit she’d ever considered, beyond any imagining. She sobbed, begged and promised him anything if he would just allow her release. Her hips rose pushing into his mouth helplessly. His torment was exquisite, a pleasure so deep it bordered on pain.

“Dominic, please,” she pleaded. “I need . . .”

Me. You need me.

The words reverberated in her mind. He lifted his head and his eyes glittered, almost ruby red, a feral, dark promise nearly stopping her heart. Then he bent his head and sucked once more on her most sensitive spot, his tongue flicking hard and fast. Two fingers penetrated her and she choked, screaming as her body clamped down like a vise, the orgasm rolling over her fast and hard, so that her back arched and her hips ground against his hand.

Tears rolled down her face, and when she lifted her hand to wipe them away, he moved over her. He brushed the sweat from her skin as if it had never been there, tasting her tears as if they were a fine wine, stroking back her damp hair while she came down from the earth-shattering ripples of pure bliss. He was infinitely gentle, so tender she felt wrapped in a cocoon of love when she had long ago forgotten there was such a thing. He was giving her something beyond price, and it wasn’t the rapture of his lovemaking. He made her feel hope again.

His soothing voice whispered to her, telling her how beautiful she was. When she found the energy she lifted her hand and traced the lines in his face, the small webbing of scars that ran down to his shoulder.

“I feel like I’m in the middle of one of those fairy tales my aunt used to tell us.” Her voice trembled, her lashes were wet and spiky and her mouth quivered. “Are you real, Dominic? Do I dare believe in you?”

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