“Lucian,” she said in breathless wonder, her hands sliding over his shoulders, soothing him.
He was gentle with her, loving, ensuring her pleasure, yet at the same time she could feel him watching her closely, waiting for something. Waiting for her to condemn him. She caught that thought from him before he could censor it, and at once she raised her head to find his mouth with hers, wanting to wipe away his fear of her displeasure. Lucian couldn’t think that he had hurt her, that she might never be able to forgive him. What they were doing was beautiful and right. She felt that in every cell of her body. How could he think otherwise? How could he condemn himself when he had been so gentle and careful of her?
“I do not want you to loathe me, angel.” He bent his head to kiss her vulnerable throat. “I have searched your memories, your heart and soul, and have found no evidence of hatred—not even for your worst enemy. It is the one thing that gives me hope.”
She wrapped her arms around his head as his body began to move with more aggression, with harder, faster strokes. Her body seemed to find the same rhythm as his, rising to meet his so that she could feel him deep within her, a part of her. She needed to hold him close as she felt the building of a firestorm, flames whipping from him to her and back again, higher and higher, rushing through their bodies, a fierce conflagration finally exploding into a thousand fragments, raining sparks down upon them.
Lucian rolled over, taking her with him so that she lay atop him. The firelight danced over them, yet the air seemed to help cool their bodies. His hand pushed at the wild blond hair falling around her face so that he could look at her. “You are mine, you know.” He made it a statement.
Her body certainly knew it. She felt him in every cell, alive, living within her. She smiled, her hands caressing the heavy muscles of his chest. “You were angry with me for going outside, weren’t you?”
“I do not honestly think I could be angry with you,” he said thoughtfully. “You are my life. My miracle. I feared for you, and I did not care for the feeling. I have never known fear. I hunted and destroyed, went into battle a thousand times, and I never knew this emotion. I know it now, and I do not like it.” His hand was back in her hair, stroking, twisting strands, his fingers occasionally finding the nape of her neck to massage her. “It is in your nature to protect others. You are very different from what I envisioned once I knew you existed.”
Jaxon lifted her head. “Really? Just what was your vision?”
He smiled into her dark eyes. “I have a feeling my answer could get me into trouble. I think I will remain silent.”
“Oh, no, you won’t. You tell me all about this wonder woman.” She thumped his chest for emphasis.
“The women of my race are tall and elegant with long black hair and dark eyes. They would never go hunting a vampire or ghoul or even a madman, especially when asked by their lifemate to stay within a certain area. And before you consider them downtrodden, these women do this because they have complete faith in the ability of their lifemate to protect them. You go rushing out headlong, your first thought for my safety instead of your own. I am the most powerful hunter our people have known, yet you think to save me from one such as a ghoul.” He smiled and reached to kiss away her frown. “I am not complaining, angel. I am merely stating a fact that I have come to understand.”
“Tall? Elegant? What does that mean? What do you mean by ‘elegant’? Just because I’m short doesn’t mean I can’t be elegant. I wear jeans because I like them, and they’re comfortable. Long black hair may be beautiful—it is on you—but there’s nothing wrong with blond hair. Or short hair, for that matter. It’s very practical to care for.” She sounded indignant.