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Dark Fire by Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 6

At the first touch of her mouth on his chest, his body shuddered with the effort for self-control. It had to be. She had to complete the ritual, deliver herself into his keeping for all time. Her tongue tasted his skin, the touch so erotic, his hands pinned her hips that he might bury himself ever deeper, even harder than before. Her teeth teased, scraped, and he heard his own hoarse cry. A thousand years of need. This one time had to be his.

Darius lengthened a fingernail to slash his chest, then caught the back of her head and pressed her to him. Her mouth moved as he had commanded; her hot sheath, slick and velvet soft, tightened in demand, squeezing and kneading until his body clenched and thrust helplessly, mindlessly, aggressively into hers, spilling his seed deep within her, claiming her for all time.

He spoke the ritual words. He needed to say them aloud. Needed to seal her to him, make them one. His need to chant the words was as urgent as the taking of her body had been. It was every bit as primitive and instinctive as the hunger to take her life force into his body and give her his in exchange. “I claim you as my lifemate. I belong to you. I offer my life for you. I give to you my protection, my allegiance, my heart, my soul, and my body. I take into my keeping the same that is yours. Your life, happiness, and welfare will be cherished and placed above my own for all time. You are my lifemate, bound to me for all eternity and always in my care.” He murmured the words above her head as he cradled her to him, as his powerful, ancient blood flowed into her body, as his seed exploded into her. The power of the ancient words surrounded her, seeped into her to seal her soul, her mind, and her heart to his, to bind her to him irrevocably.

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Chapter Nine

Tempest opened her eyes slowly, drowsily, sexily. Darius smiled down at her, touched his finger gently to her swollen lips, caught a ruby drop of his blood on the pad of his finger, and brought it to his own mouth. She blinked to bring him into focus. Her body was locked with his; she could feel him, thick and heavy, buried deep within the tightness of her core. His smile was lazy and sated, his black eyes holding masculine satisfaction that he had done so much more than simply please her. He looked as if he might start purring over his own prowess.

Tempest found her smile hovering too close to the surface. He was moving with slow, languid strokes that kept heat scorching her body, kept her nipples pressing into the muscles of his chest. The flickering lights from hundreds of candles illuminated the fine sheen of sweat on his skin. His long hair was damp, falling around his face, lending him the look of a pirate. She reached up and gently traced the hard line of his jaw.

Darius captured her hand, brought it to his mouth to kiss, then laced his fingers through hers. He stretched her arms above her head and held them there, leaving her body open and vulnerable to his continuing inva­sion. She was no longer afraid of him. He had been wild and insatiable, even rough at times, but he had ensured her pleasure before his own. She could read the satisfaction in his eyes, the light in his soul, and she was thankful to be able to bring him relief from his endless, barren existence.

Darius savored the hot, slick wetness of her, the perfection of her satin skin, the silken mane of her hair. The wildness inherent in his nature ran as deep in her. Her passion matched his. She was made for him, and in his deepest heart, his very soul, he knew it absolutely. He bent his head to place a kiss in the tempting hollow of her shoulder. It was unbelievable to him that he was here with her like this, that it was not some dream his mind had created to appease his dying soul.

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Categories: Christine Feehan
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