Dark Fire by Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 6

Darius ignored her sleepy command and lifted her easily into his arms. “I was more than selfish. I should have attended to your discomfort first, before my own.”

Tempest laughed softly at his serious expression. Her fingertip smoothed the hard edge of his mouth in a gentle caress. “Is that what you felt? Discomfort? Hmm. Perhaps I should make you feel that way more often.”

He growled-a warning or assent, she wasn’t certain which-but she laughed at him anyway. “If I felt any more for you, baby, I would go up in flames,” he admitted and padded on bare feet to the steaming pool.

She caught at his neck, scowling at him. “I really don’t like being immersed in boiling water, Darius.”

“It is not boiling. It is the same temperature as a hot tub,” he chided.

She had a death grip on his neck. “It looks boiling to me. I don’t want to go in. And anyway, I never go near hot tubs. Everyone always wants to get naked, and I don’t know anybody that well.”

“We are not wearing clothes now,” he pointed out, wading into the steaming pool. He was trying not to laugh as she scrambled higher into his arms.

“It’s too hot. How can you breathe in here? You know, Darius,” she added seriously, “this is an honest-to-God volcano. Lava could fill up this chamber at any time.” She peered into the depths of the pool. “It’s probably bubbling up through the ground right now. See those bubbles? Lava.”

“What a baby. Put your feet in the water,” he instructed, amusement climbing from his voice to his eyes.

Her eyes began to throw off sparks, her temper showing. “I don’t want to go in, Darius.”

“Too bad, baby. It is good for you.” Ruthlessly he lowered her feet into the steaming water.

Tempest tried to jerk her toes away from the hot mineral water, but he lowered her even farther, so that her calves, then her thighs, were immersed. She gasped. “It’s hot, you ape! Let me out!” But the water was already doing its job, soothing the lacerations on her feet, loosening cramped muscles, though she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of telling him so.

His gaze was on the beads of perspiration running between her breasts to her stomach and disappearing beneath the surface of the water. He lowered her until her feet touched bottom and the water reached her waist, so that his hands could find her hips and hold her still for his inspection. He bent his head to the underside of one satiny breast and caught a droplet in his mouth. “Do you have to be so damned beautiful?” he murmured softly.

Her fingers tangled in his hair and dragged his head to her breast so that she could arch into the moist heat of his mouth. The water lapped at her skin. Bubbles burst all around her. Steam rose. “Do you have to be so damned sexy?” she countered, wanting the feel of his mouth feeding erotically on her.

Darius’s hands skimmed over her hips in a light, possessive caress. He wanted to know he could touch her this way, that she was his. He wanted her to touch him. For the first time in all his centuries of existence, he was truly alive. Her soft skin, so like satin, brushed against his body. Her hair, so like silk, feathered over his shoulder, sending heat waves coursing through him.

His mouth wandered lower to find the places where the bird’s talons had pierced her skin. He winced, remembering the feeling of lying beneath the earth, helpless, while she struggled for her life. “You scared the hell out of me,” he told her softly, his tongue bathing the puncture wounds.

Tempest pressed herself closer to his soothing ministrations. “You have a curative agent in your saliva, don’t you?” she asked, suddenly comprehending. He had to. That was how he closed the pinpricks his fangs made in her neck, never leaving evidence behind unless he wanted to brand her. It was how her bruises had healed so fast. Darius. So tender and gentle, carefully healing each laceration, every bruise. “And you must have an anticoagulant in your teeth.” It was a guess, but a fairly safe one.