Dark Peril (15 page)

His fingers skimmed down her arms and then settled. Her heart jumped. He turned her around and bent his head to the bite on her shoulder, the one still oozing blood. He inhaled, taking the scent into his lungs so he would recognize anywhere the man who had assaulted her, simply by smell. “Hold still,
kessake
.”

She couldn’t have moved if she wanted to. She felt much like a wild animal cornered with nowhere to run. His tongue moved over the puncture wounds with healing saliva. The feeling of that velvet rasp against her bare skin robbed her of breath. He pushed her shirt out of the way and followed the wounds down her back.

Of course he hadn’t wanted to inspect her body to see what his lifemate looked like. She felt embarrassed all over again, praying he hadn’t read her wayward mind. It shocked her that he would take the time to see to her relatively minor wounds when his had been major. He even took the sting out of most of the bruises. She’d never really had a sensual experience, but the feeling of his fingers and mouth on her skin turned her body into a bundle of raw, throbbing nerve endings.

“You need blood.”

The voice startled her and she jerked away from Dominic, dragging down her shirt. Zacarias. How had she forgotten him? She’d almost—Well, okay, she had been thinking erotic thoughts, forgetting they weren’t alone. What was wrong with her? She’d never blushed before, but he’d witnessed her total humiliation and she could feel color turning her face an ugly red. She blinked rapidly. trying to break the spell Dominic had woven around her.

It took her a moment to realize Dominic’s larger frame had blocked Zacarias’s view of her. For some idiotic reason the knowledge that Dominic had protected her in her moment of weakness from prying eyes made her feel warm and comforted.

“As do you,” Dominic responded. He turned then, keeping Solange close to him, his hand on her arm.

Both men looked at her. Her heart pounded frantically. She’d seen Juliette giving Riordan blood. Zacarias was torn to shreds and he was family. He was her family, whether extended or not, and therefore under her protection. But this . . . She’d never considered that she would ever have to give a man her very blood.

“It is our way,
kessake
.” Dominic’s voice was pitched low, but the sound moved inside her, that soft, velvet caress, snaking its way seductively into her mind.

She bit her lip hard, trembling, wanting to do this for him, such a small request, but enormous in her mind. Why did it matter whether she pleased him? She had never cared what anyone thought of her, yet she stood there like a mute imbecile, unable to say no when everything in her demanded that she run. She stood trembling, desperate to get away, yet she couldn’t move, at war with her own nature.

Dominic was her chosen one. It mattered little if she’d thought he wasn’t real. He was there now, more of a man than any she knew, more respected and more powerful. She wanted to be that woman he needed, and he needed this from her.

Hardly daring to breathe, she watched Zacarias approach, his body bleeding from a thousand tears from the vampire bats, their teeth and claws stripping his body of flesh at the command of Drago. Her stomach churned. Bile rose. He was going to sink his teeth into her skin and she was going to stand there, shuddering with distaste, caught in Dominic’s spell. She had to find the strength to resist the madness that had settled around her, turning her body to lead.

She swallowed hard and looked up at Dominic. At once his blue eyes trapped her gaze and held her captive. His smile was tender, only for her, as if he were reading her mind and knew her abhorrence of this act, knew she was on the verge of fleeing and that it was only the sheer power of his personality that kept her there. He drew her body against his, her back to him, one arm just under her heaving breasts, his hold so gentle she didn’t realize at first that she was locked to him with his enormous strength, unable to break away if she wanted to. His other hand slowly but inexorably stretched her arm out toward Zacarias in invitation.

“From her wrist, and be gentle,” he cautioned.

She shuddered again as the Carpathian male drew near. Dominic bent his head and whispered softly to her in his own language. “
Solange. Emnim. Tõdak pitäsz wäke bekimet mekesz kaiket. Te magköszunam nä ŋamaŋ kać3 taka arvo
. Solange. My woman. I knew you had courage to face anything. Thank you for this gift beyond price.”

His breath was warm on her neck, and he pressed his lips over her frantic pulse. His teeth scraped back and forth, gentle, more than seductive, so that her heart beat fast and her breathing turned ragged. She was aware of him with every single cell in her body.

She closed her eyes and absorbed the sound of his voice, the pleasure in it, the way he made her feel as if he knew she was feeding the other male just for him—only for him. She could never have done it without his seductive voice in her ear, or his hard body against hers. It felt as if she were giving herself to him, giving him everything she was, and yet it was another man who took her wrist.

At the last second, as that hot breath touched her skin and she saw the length of those fangs, she felt panic and nearly jerked her arm away. Before she could move, Dominic bit down into her neck and the crashing pain turned instantly to a pleasure so intense she cried out, her body reacting with a tidal wave of pure fire. She had experienced the heat of her cat many times, a purely physical drive that didn’t touch her beyond the abstract. But this—this was all encompassing. Every nerve ending felt raw with desire.

Her womb spasmed. Heat rose between her legs and her nipples tightened into hard, desperate peaks. The fire burned her skin, her insides, poured like molten gold through her body until she writhed against him, unable to control herself. Solange, who had so much control. Solange, who despised men, was giving herself body and soul to this man and his needs—not just his needs, his every desire. A small sob escaped.

Dominic had never imagined that anything could have been so erotic as taking his lifemate’s blood. To him, the act of taking or giving blood had always been mundane, a necessity with no particular feeling attached to it, not even before he’d lost his emotions. He was unprepared for the need slamming wicked and low, a hard punch of arousal that shook his deadly calm as nothing else ever had. He was disciplined and controlled. It had never occurred to him that once he held Solange in his arms and his teeth connected them, the act of taking her blood would be as intimate as taking her body or her mind.

He was in such a state of arousal, it felt to him as if he was sharing her with another man in an extremely intimate act—something he would never do. She was his to protect, to love and cherish. He didn’t want another man to see her vulnerable or afraid or sexy, and right at that moment, he found her the most sensual being on earth. That part of her belonged solely to him. Had he realized what taking her blood would be like, he would never, under any circumstances, have forced her to give Zacarias blood.

And he had forced her—or at least coerced her. He knew she found the idea repugnant, yet Zacarias was family to her. She lived by her sense of code, her honor, her duty. She would not have forgiven herself for denying him in his moment of need. She would have dwelt on her refusal in the long hours of the day when Dominic couldn’t comfort her. He had a code, too, and that code was to provide his lifemate with everything she needed, even if that meant stretching her limits beyond what she thought she could handle.

But this might be stretching his limits beyond what he could handle. She had been a warrior to Zacarias, but Dominic had seen her vulnerable. Her vulnerability was beautiful to him and that she would show it to him was an honor. It brought out his every protective instinct, and the beast prowling inside of him roared for her. Not simply the physical mating, but the completeness of what a lifemate was. She needed. He provided. He needed. She provided. Each was dedicated solely to the other.

But this—this shocking reaction of body and mind—was nearly his undoing. Her blood swept into his body and the parasites cowered before it, more than they had with Zacarias’s pure Carpathian blood. They retreated, became quiet, hiding from the royal jaguar blood as if afraid of the fierce fighting cat. As her blood spread through his system, the internal fire started, a great sweeping storm that burned hot and fast and out of control.

Her body moved against his, inflaming his already rock-hard groin. He didn’t want to stop; his hand stroked the underside of her breast, although what he wanted—no,
needed
—was to feel her silken skin against his. Her small sob brought him up short. Restored control. Order. An awareness of where he was and what was happening around him. He’d been so far into the throes of madness, he was astonished as he took a slow lick across the pinprick holes and followed the ruby-red drops of blood down her shoulder. He straightened slowly, breathing her in, absorbing the feel of her small, curvy body tight against him. Nothing had ever felt so right to him.

Aware of her growing fear, he pressed his mouth to her pulse, wanting only to calm and comfort her. His little wildcat had a feminine side she considered submissive, and it terrified her. It was up to him to show her that part of her was every bit as important as her warrior persona and that being a woman didn’t in any way take away from who she was.

“
Pesäd te engemal—
You are safe with me.” He whispered the words against the frantic pulse, his tongue swirling there, holding her while she calmed.

Her wild nature was evident. Solange had lived her life on the fringes of society, never in the midst of it. Laws didn’t apply in her world. She didn’t need to learn the niceties of city life, or even life within a community. Her world was survival only—very much like his world had been.

Zacarias went to slide his tongue over the laceration to politely close it, but Dominic pulled her wrist to his mouth. He took one drink, felt the fireball rolling through his body and then he closed the wound himself.

“Thank you,” Zacarias said.

Dominic knew the Carpathian hunter was thanking him, not Solange. In ancient times, lifemates were sacred and others didn’t speak to them without express permission. Zacarias was of that old school, and perhaps, if he was entirely truthful with himself, Dominic was, too.

He lifted his head to meet Zacarias’s gaze. “The dawn approaches.”

Zacarias nodded. “
Kolasz arwa-arvoval
—may you die with honor.” He stood for a moment. “It is long since I have heard our own language spoken. For a moment, I felt the call of our homeland.”

“Veri olen piros, ekäm
—blood be red, my brother,” Dominic answered. The meaning was clear. Find your lifemate.

Zacarias looked from him to Solange, her clothes and skin stained with blood. He shook his head. “My time is past for that. The world has changed and left me behind. I will aid you when you call, old friend.”

He simply vanished, the vapor merging with the smoke from the dying fire. There was silence. Solange didn’t turn her head to look over her shoulder at Dominic, she simply stood waiting for his direction, holding herself very still, although he could feel the tremors running down her spine.

Above her head, he smiled, the tension easing from his body now that there were no males near her and they were alone. He gathered her to him. “I will take us to a safe place where we can bathe and rest.”

She wanted to just let go of him and drop to earth and shatter. Did other women feel this way? Wanting to please him, to do what he asked and yet feeling so terrified she couldn’t breathe? And what was he asking? A simple thing. Bathe and rest. He hadn’t said anything else. She could never,
ever
give her body to him. Not him. A shudder went through her body. Mutely, she shook her head.

He heard the quick intake of her breath as he lifted her. “Courage,” he whispered against the nape of her neck.

She didn’t fear the method of travel he chose, he knew that. He also knew she didn’t fear him—not Dominic the warrior. She trusted him or she never would have entered into battle with him. It was Dominic the man she feared, and he was the one who needed to earn her trust. More than anything else, he wanted all of her. He knew his need was selfish, but he’d had very little brightness in his life, and Solange shone like the brightest of stars. He took her into the skies, her body locked to his.

Solange jammed her fist into her mouth to keep from protesting. She didn’t want to do anything wrong, but if she didn’t have an idea of how to act, she was bound to make a mistake. Her cat prowled back and forth, one moment purring contentedly and the next hissing and growling as she sensed Solange’s growing terror.

How was she going to shed her clothes in front of him? Why hadn’t she listened to MaryAnn when she was trying to help Solange learn to be more girly?

He leaned into her and stroked his tongue over the exact spot where he’d taken her blood. Her mind lost its train of thought. Heat flooded between her legs. Her stomach muscles bunched beneath his palm and her breasts suddenly felt full and aching. On top of everything else, she was going to react to him like a cat in heat. Except . . . she could never lay with him, never give herself to him because he would swallow her up, leave her with nothing.

He nuzzled her neck.
Stop thinking and just let yourself enjoy what is left of the night. Relax into me.

She was holding herself stiffly, terrified of feeling his immense strength, petrified of the commitment just accompanying him meant. How much further would she go to please him? Would she lose her sense of herself?

Is it so difficult,
kessa ku toro
—my little wildcat, to relax for me?

Was it? She was being silly. She took a deep breath and let it out. She forced her eyes open and looked up at the night. They were out of the heavy canopy in open sky. High. Higher than she’d ever been before. She’d never been out of the rain forest. She’d never flown in a plane. For a moment she was frightened and she clutched at him.