Dark Challenge. Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 5

She had fed every night for centuries; she had given blood numerous times when it was needed. It had never been like this. Fire racing through her body, hot, leaping flames demanding relief. She felt like a living flame burning in his arms, her body moving restlessly, aching and impatient for the hard aggression of his.

Julian sealed the marks on her throat with a caress of his tongue, at the same time opening the buttons on his shirt with one hand while the other palmed her nape. He murmured something to her in Italian, something soft and aching and sexy, and the smoky need touched off a wildness in her she had never known. He pressed her to his heavy muscles, reached down to gather her small, jeans-clad bottom into his hand so he could urge her more closely into the thick evidence of his arousal.

He smelled fresh and masculine. Her body was on fire for him, her skin so sensitive her breasts ached, her nipples chafing in the thin, lacy bra that confined her. Hunger was swamping her, sexual as well as physical. She couldn’t begin to tell where she began and he left off. His heart beat strong and fast, waiting for her, needing her, wanting her. Hunger was a raw ache between her legs, in her stomach, her breasts, gnawing mercilessly at her until she felt her teeth pierce his skin.

At once pleasure beat at her; it took hold and rushed through her body like a wall of flame, a firestorm of beauty and ecstasy. Sweet and hot. Immeasurable. Like nothing she had ever known. It was addictive, consuming, eternal. There would never be a Desari without Julian. Never a Julian without Desari. She would need his body, his blood, and his soul for all the rest of her days. He would need hers.

Gasping, terrified, Desari closed the tiny pinpricks and held on to him, the only solid anchor in a world that seemed to be disintegrating around her. At once his arms were there, real and strong, his chin nuzzling the top of her head so that silken strands of her hair were caught in the golden shadow on his jaw, weaving them together like threads. “Do not fear this, piccola. I know what to do. I am ancient and powerful and know the ways of our people. This is natural for us.”

She shook her head, her heart pounding. “Not for me. You do not understand at all, Julian. I cannot leave my family. I have been in your mind and know your intentions for us. You are a loner, even a bit of a renegade. You like to set your own rules and go your own way. You follow your Prince, but rather loosely.”

Julian’s hand again came up to caress the nape of her neck, easing the tension out of her. “We have time to get used to one another.”

“I sing, Julian. I love to sing. I like the crowds, the sharing, the excitement in the audience, the connection with them. And I love my family. If we have a prince, a leader, it is Darius. He had dedicated his life to us, lived for us, protected us. You do not know what he has done for us. I cannot leave him at this time, when he is so close to the edge of destruction.”

The night whispered to them, enfolding them in its dark cloak. Julian lifted his face skyward, staring at the stars spread above them like a glittering blanket. “Tell me about him. Tell me how it is possible that no other Carpathians know of your existence. If you managed to escape notice, perhaps there are others, also. This could be very important to the continuation of our species.”

His voice was so gentle and tender, it turned her heart over. Yet she could sense his implacable resolve. Like Darius, he had a strong and relentless will. He chose to follow his own path, make his own rules. He coaxed the entire long-ago story out of her. The terrible massacre. The precariousness of the ship. The terror of the children in a savage, lawless land surrounded by predatory animals.