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Chapter Thirteen
Aidan woke with his body raging at him. Not with the compulsion for nourishment, the need for blood that was always with him, but with stark, urgent arousal unlike any he had ever experienced. He groaned aloud. Beside him, Alexandria lay in slumber. She was pale, her hair spilling over both of them, binding them together. He wanted her. He had to have her. If he stayed beside her for one more moment, he would be unable to stop himself from claiming her.
He leapt away from her as if burned, his skin hot, painful, searing. He swore softly. How could he feed her in this condition without the act turning into something erotic and wild? Inside, the beast, always wild and untamed, roared for her. Hungered. Needed. It had no logic, only that heavy, relentless ache growing more merciless every day.
He ran an unsteady hand through his unruly hair. The situation was explosive now. There was no way to supply her with her life’s blood without claiming her body. Yet after what had occurred earlier, he knew she needed more time. The beast within was raging, and he could no longer control it. Marie had believed he could. She had faith in him. But she did not know the demands of the Carpathian male, the heat rising between mates. She did not know how close he had come to turning.
He groaned aloud again and turned away from the figure lying so still on his bed. In his lair. He flinched as the word entered his mind. The beast was becoming more dominant. And the only way to control it was to merge with his lifemate, let her gentleness, her light, guide him away from the darkness spreading a stain across his soul.
He cleaned up before he woke her, dressing with care in a soft silk shirt and black trousers, hoping an old-world elegance would enhance his appeal. He secured his long hair at the nape of his neck. The shirt he left open at the throat, more because he was having trouble breathing than to be sexy.
As he sent his mind to wake her and watched her take her first breath, his body hardened with such an intensity, he found himself swearing again. He could feel sweat trickling down his chest and lower, between his legs. She stretched, her body moving sensually under the quilt. He thought he might burst. Her tongue moistened dry lips, left them glistening and inviting. He closed his eyes against the sight, but he could smell her, hear the rustle of the sheets.
Alexandria sat up slowly, disoriented. She had vivid images of an erotic dream, hands on her breasts, a mouth pressed to hers, fingers moving in her, then a hard, aggressive body blanketing hers, pinning her down. Her body ached with need, craved his touch. She squirmed, felt the creamy invitation calling, beckoning, tempting him. She opened her eyes—and met Aidan’s hot golden stare across the room.
Danger. It was there in his carved features, in the intensity of his eyes. She remained perfectly still, not taking her gaze from the predatory creature watching her. She was afraid even to breathe. If she moved, if she sighed, he would be on her. She sensed it, knew the erotic dream was his, knew his control was fragile and that he was battling his every instinct.
“Get out of here, cara mia,” he whispered hoarsely. The velvet roughness of his voice felt like a tongue lapping at her sensitized skin. “Get out while you can.” Red flames seemed to light the gold of his eyes, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. His muscles bulged with the effort to remain stationary.
She wanted to go to him, to soothe him—or to enflame him further, the consequences be damned. Her body was on fire, a living, breathing flame nearly out of control. It was only her shyness that prevented her from tempting him further. Her shyness and her fear. She rolled off the bed and fled, running as if seven demons were behind her. Running from herself even more than from Aidan.
Behind her Aidan stood as still as a statue. If he moved he was afraid he might shatter with pain, with need. He could not hold out much longer. God help them both if she did not come to him soon.