Dark Blood (Dark #26)(89)
Author: Christine Feehan

What is it? Do you have need of me?

The Carpathian paralysis was at its heaviest and yet she managed to return to him. Again, he was a little in awe of his luck. I’m just wondering how a man of war like me could be so lucky as to get a woman of grace like you.

Her long lashes swept down, but not before he saw the pleased amusement in her eyes.

I am the lucky one, Wolfie, and I am well aware of it. Sleep. You need to rest.

She called him Wolfie when she loved him so fiercely she felt a little overwhelmed by it and had to lighten the moment. He found himself smiling. Happy. Content. Except for the fact that he was awake when he should have been fast asleep. There was just a nagging feeling of unease. He knew he had no choice but to check it out.

Branka, I’m going to walk around a bit and make certain everyone is safe. Continue to rest. I’ll return as soon as I’ve made the rounds.

A small frown came over her face. He couldn’t help but rub his finger over her full, pouting lips. Her lashes fluttered, but she didn’t lift them. Answering wings fluttered in his stomach, teasing his groin into growing in length and girth.

You’re Carpathian, you can’t go out this time of day.

I’ve always been able to go out this time of day. Why should anything be any different just because the ancients acknowledged me?

Her little frown deepened. His heart did a slow somersault in his chest and this time he smoothed the line between her eyes.

I forgot about the Dark Blood lineage. They are the only ones to be able to do such a thing. Combine that with your Lycan blood and there you go. Not a good thing when your lifemate can’t do the same.

Her petulant tone made him smile. And why is that? he asked her, bending down to brush his mouth gently across hers.

Who knows what trouble you’ll get into without me.

He laughed softly, once again finding himself happier than he’d ever been in his life. It mattered little the circumstances surrounding them, the danger or the battles, only this fiery woman lying curled so close to him.

He cupped her breast, his thumb sliding over her nipple. She shivered and her nipple peaked. He had known that even during the time when Carpathians couldn’t move, she would respond to his touch. He was fascinated by her body, the shape of her, those soft curves, all that silky satin skin.

Mmm, she whispered. Your touch always makes my body sing.

She was more than half asleep to say something like that to him. His smile broadened. I like the way your body sings for me. Have you ever dreamt of making love during the time you cannot move? Your body seems so alive to me.

To tease her, he ran his hand down her flat stomach to the junction between her legs. There was smoldering heat when the rest of her body felt cool to his touch. I do believe you’re dreaming of me. He cupped her mound and felt the small rush of liquid response.

She gave a little sniff of disdain, her lips curving into a smile. Not really. A wolf man? Why ever would I do that?

Because, my darling woman—he bent his head again to draw her breast into the heat of his mouth—if you dreamt of another man and responded like this, wet and ready with your fire growing, I would have to hunt him down and kill him. He flattened his tongue, stroking and teasing, using the edge of his teeth while he suckled, showing her the wolf lying in wait.

She laughed softly, the sound vibrating through him, teasing his body like the touch of her fingers. You’re such a big bad wolf sometimes.

You have no idea just how bad a wolf can be. Here you are lying so helpless, and I have no problem taking advantage of you.

His teeth nipped his way down to her belly button, his tongue easing the sharp sting. His sank one finger deep into her waiting body, feeling her readiness, that eager reception he always anticipated.

Should I be afraid? I believe my body belongs to you. It is saying so right this minute.

Her laughter teased at his groin, as if her mouth was so close to him, breathing warm air over the burgeoning shaft and sensitive head. He could have sworn he felt the brush of her tongue over him. His cock jerked and he circled his girth with his hand, already on fire for her.

You’re playing with fire again, she said softly, intimately, into his mind. Her tone was pure seduction. A temptress with her body calling to his and her mind touching him with her fingers and tongue and mouth.

Hunger was savage. Tearing at him unexpectedly the way it often did when he was close to her. The scent of her called to the wolf in him, and his body reacted with urgent, brutally hard need. He plunged two fingers into her tightness, trying to prepare her when he knew he would join them fast and hard.

I am always ready for you, my love, always. I look at you and my body drips with welcome. My breasts cannot wait for your mouth and hands. I am more than ready.

Zev didn’t waste any more time. He parted her thighs and moved her body so he could slide into her fiery sheath in one, fast forceful surge, burying himself to the hilt. He went so deep he felt her womb, that warm, snug place she would carry their child. Despite the hour of the day, her sheath was hot vibrant silk, moist and ready for him, opening reluctantly and then clamping around him like a tight fist of pure fire.

His breath hissed out as he began to move, locking her hips in place while he pounded his body into hers, burying himself over and over in that scorching blaze. She couldn’t move, couldn’t stop him from doing anything to her body, and the wonderful thing was, she didn’t want to. He could touch her anywhere, kiss her, taste her and just explore, and his woman gave herself into his keeping.

He gave himself up to sheer feeling, letting the sensations pour over him and into him. There was a kind of wonder in being able to always be what he was—a wolf, an alpha, a predatory animal claiming his mate. Branislava never objected to the wild pounding or rough handling, matching him flame for flame.

This time, because she couldn’t move, there was a sense of power mixed with lust and love, an intoxicating combination. The knowledge that she trusted him implicitly, that she would allow him to use the sanctuary of her body during this hour, was the most sensual of all.

His hands moved over her, stroking and kneading her body, feeling the answering response as her muscles clamped down around him tight. The heat built and built until even the ground seemed to glow with a red-orange hue. He lifted her buttocks and surged forward again and again, driving into her so that each stroke sent her breasts swaying.

Her mouth formed a small round O and her eyes glazed. He could see the marks of his possession on her skin, all those nips and bites, the press of his fingers, marking her, claiming her as his own. Satisfaction rose along with a primitive need to possess her. A wolf chose his mate wisely, and Branislava would always be his choice. His destiny.