Gregori held her while her body rippled with pleasure, while aftershocks shook her. He dragged her close, pulled her into the shelter of his body, desperately needing to be close to her. He was bathed in sweat, his muscles taut and rigid with his own hunger for release. If the cycle of mating heat was anything like the desire clawing at him, he and Savannah were in for either a difficult time or a glorious one.
She could feel the urgency of his need beating at him, tearing at his very soul. “I’m sorry, Gregori.” Savannah’s voice was soft, filled with guilt, a mere thread of sound, her face buried against his silk-covered ribs.
He lifted strands of ebony hair to his mouth, inhaling her fragrance. “You have no reason to be sorry for anything, ma petite.”
Her clenched fist lay over his heart, the three diamonds in her palm. “You think I can’t read your body? Feel the heaviness in your mind as you try to shield me? I can’t change who I am, not even for you. I know I’m failing you, causing you discomfort.”
A slow smile curved his mouth. Discomfort. Now, there was a word for it. His hand crushed her hair, ran it through his fingers. “I have never asked you to change, nor would I want you to. You seem to forget that I know you better than anyone. I can handle you.”
She turned her head so that he could see the silver stars flashing in her blue eyes, a smoldering warning. “You are so arrogant, Gregori, it makes me want to throw things. Do you hear yourself? Handle me? Ha! I try to say I’m sorry for failing you, and you act the lord of the manor. Being born centuries ago when women were chattel does not give you an excuse.”
“Carpathian women have never been considered chattel,” he corrected softly. “Ours is a dwindling race. Our children rarely survive, and there are so few women for lifemates, most of our men are lost to their inner darkness after centuries alone. Our women are our most precious treasure, guarded and protected.”
“Gregori.” Savannah kept her fist clenched, clutching the diamonds of her tears inside as if they were a symbol. “Let’s try to come to some kind of understanding so we can maybe live together in peace.” Her body was still rocking with aftershocks, and his looks alone kept warmth curling through her. She had the most surprising desire to touch his dark eyebrows with her fingertip.
His mouth found the silky fragrance of her hair, and his hands ran down the length of her back, finding pleasure in the way her tiny waist tucked into her slender hips. “What kind of understanding?” he murmured almost absently, his mind clearly on other, more provocative things.
The trace of amusement in his voice irritated her, as if he were merely humoring her. Savannah pushed at the solid wall of his chest to put a few inches between them. His large frame didn’t budge, and she was locked in by his arm. She pushed at him again. “Forget it.”
He bent his head to taste the vulnerable line of her neck, to feel her pulse in the warm, moist cavern of his mouth. His blood surged and pounded. Little jackhammers began to beat at his skull. “I am listening to every word you say, ma petite,” he murmured, lost in her softness, in the scent of her. He wanted her with every fiber of his being, every cell in his body. “I could repeat each word verbatim, if you desire.”
Soon the fire would start, and there would be no choice for either of them. His blood would call to hers with such an urgency that she couldn’t ignore the summons. His mind would slip easily in and out of hers, the psychic link so strong it would bind them close even over great distances. She would need it as much he.
Gregori inhaled her into his very body, her scent so feminine, so seductive. She stirred such depths of feelings after such a barren existence, it terrified him. He was used to an emotionless life. She could bring him good, but his potential for evil was enormous. He was a law unto himself. Even the laws of his people, the very laws he defended, had never applied to him.