But it was Gregori’s silver eyes that captured and held her gaze. It was Gregori who caught her hips in gentle hands and Gregori who tested her readiness with his probing fingers. “You are mine, Savannah. Only mine,” he said softly as he surged forward, filling her. He wanted to tell her he loved her, but he couldn’t say the words, so he said them with his body. Again and again he buried himself deep within her. Hard and fast. Slow and tender. He took his time, wanting it to be forever, hiding his face so that she couldn’t see the unexpected moisture in his eyes.
Her body was made for his. Tight. Hot. Silken. Her skin was satin, her mouth hungry. He wanted her to take away the long, endless centuries, the emptiness. He wanted her to fill that emotionless void in his soul. That black empty spot, utterly bleak and hopeless. And she did. Somehow, with a miracle of total, unconditional acceptance, she did. She gave herself freely, without reservation, accepting his domination, his body taking hers.
He felt her ripple with pleasure again and again, with white heat, velvet gripping him tightly, finally taking him over the edge to soaring into space with her. She clutched him, her nails digging into his back, her mouth pressed against his shoulder, her small cry of satisfaction muffled against the heavy muscles of his chest.
Gregori held her tightly, nearly crushing her. He still did not believe she was actually with him. He couldn’t believe she could possibly accept him. He had killed so many times, broken their laws. Felt no remorse. Felt nothing at all. She was so compassionate. So young. So filled with beauty and life. He buried his face against her neck. “You must feed, bébé” he reminded her in a neutral voice.
Her stomach lurched. She had been with him, in his mind, when he had fed on the reporter. Blood was a necessity; she accepted that. She even accepted that Wade Carter had to die to preserve their race. But she didn’t want his blood. Her tongue touched her lower lip carefully, her heart pounding. Very cautiously, she moved, and immediately she felt the hardness of the marble-tiled floor. She hadn’t noticed it before; in fact, it had enhanced their lovemaking, allowing Gregori to drive deeply into her. Now she felt bruised and sore, her hips aching. “This is uncomfortable, Gregori,” she ventured.
He rose with one fluid movement and took her with him, cradling her in his arms. “I am sorry, ma petite. I should have taken more care with you.”
She touched his jaw with gentle fingers. “Promise me you will never leave me like that again. Next time let me go with you.”
Her eyes were eloquent, pleading, so much so that he had to look away. “Do not ask me for what I cannot give you. I would give you the moon if you asked, chérie, but I cannot allow you to place yourself in danger. Not for any reason. Not even to help me.”
Her slender arms wrapped around his neck. Her body pressed tightly against his. “I don’t know if I can survive that again,” she said softly into his throat. “I was so terrified for you.”
“Your hunger beats at me. I want you to feed.”
“I can’t,” she admitted reluctantly, fearful of his reaction. “That man…”
He was silent, carrying her down the hall to one of the bedrooms. “Yes, you can, and you will because I wish it.” He lowered her to the bed.
She stared up into his pale eyes, eyes that held her captive, commanded her, even as they roved possessively over her body. He cupped one breast, filling his palm with her softness, his thumb feathering across the rosy tip, bringing it to a hard peak. “Gregori.” Her voice was a soft plea.
“You will do as I wish, Savannah.” He was implacable. His dark features were set, almost cruel.
She tried to look away from him, but he caught her chin in his hand and held her still. “Now, Savannah. Feed now. You did not do so this morning, and we have the night ahead of us. You will feed.”