Dark Legend. Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 8

Her arms slipped around his neck and she held him close as he thrust into her, surging in and out, reaching ever higher while she careened over the cliffs into a free fall that went on and on until he exploded into her, falling with her, their bodies entangled so that neither could tell where one started and the other left off. Gabriel held her to him, slowing their heartbeats, more than satisfied with her reaction. Rather than being angry with him at his deliberate seduction, she was pressing her beautiful mouth into the hollow of his shoulder, her body soft and pliant. In her mind he read her satisfaction, her growing desire for more. She wanted this heat and fire. She wanted his hands on her. It was unlike anything either of them had ever experienced.

Suddenly she stiffened and pushed at the wall of his chest. Gabriel allowed her a few inches of freedom. A bead of sweat was trickling down the valley between her inviting breasts and lazily he leaned his head down, tracking the bead with his tongue. He felt her body shudder and tighten around his. She pushed at him again and at once he sought her mind. Guilt was invading her, guilt and confusion that she should feel such a strong sexual attraction when she had never before experienced such a thing.

“It is natural, Francesca,” he whispered soothingly, his teeth scraping back and forth over her sensitive breast, then moving to the corner of her mouth.

“Maybe for you it is, but not for me. I need time, Gabriel, to sort all of this out. I need to be alone. I need to think this through. Please let me up.”

Were there tears in her voice? He studied her averted face for a long moment, willing her to meet his dark gaze, but she steadfastly refused. Reluctantly he eased his body from hers and at once felt bereft. She did too, but she was refusing to admit it to herself. She wanted to be alone. Gabriel moved his large frame off her body, his hand trailing over her soft skin once more because he couldn’t help himself. He lay staring up at the ceiling of the chamber, a small smile of satisfaction curving his mouth.

She wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. There was a sensual, very passionate woman hidden in Francesca. Gabriel closed his eyes and thought of what it would be like to hold her every dawn, to wake each night with her beside him, to bury his body deep into the welcoming heat of her at will. He had never imagined such a paradise in all his centuries of existence, and now more than ever he was determined he would not lose her.

Francesca had retreated to the bathroom. She stood in the shower with tears running down her face. How could this have happened now, so late in her existence? How could Gabriel still be alive when the entire Carpathian world believed him dead? He was a legend, a myth, not someone living and breathing and demanding his rights.

“It will not do you any good to hide in there.” She sensed that Gabriel was close. Hastily she fought back the tears and turned off the water. Stepping from the shower stall, she wrapped her slender body in a large towel. Her skin was so sensitive she found herself blushing for no reason at all. He had done this. Changed her for all time. He had given her blood and brought her back fully into the Carpathian world. He had bound her to him, completing the ritual so that the two halves of their soul were melded together, their heart was one. She would need him now, need to touch his mind and need the heat of his body for the remainder of her time on earth. Francesca, who had never needed anyone. Francesca, who never answered to anyone.

Gabriel was lounging lazily against the door frame, his black eyes watching her warily. She was so beautiful she took his breath away, but the tears clinging to her long lashes tore at his heart.

“I am not hiding,” she replied as she stepped resolutely in front of the full-length mirror. Did she look any different? Did it show that she had been loved so thoroughly by a man? “I was merely collecting my thoughts.”

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