“I am a mere twenty-three,” she pointed out desperately. “You are centuries old. I have not lived at all.”
He shrugged with casual strength, muscles rippling, his silver eyes on her beautiful, anxious face. “Then you will enjoy the benefits of my experience.”
“Gregori, please try to understand. You don’t love me. You don’t know me. I am not like other Carpathian women. I don’t want to be a brood mare for my race. I can’t be your prisoner, no matter how petted and indulged I am.”
He laughed softly and waved a hand dismissively in the space between them. “You are young, child, if you believe what you are saying.” There was a gentleness in his voice that turned her heart over in spite of all her fears. “Is your mother a prisoner?”
“My parents are different. My father loves my mother.
Even so, he would sometimes walk on her rights if he could. A gilded cage is still a cage, Gregori.”
There was that amusement again, warming the cold steel of his eyes. Savannah felt her temper rise. She had an almost uncontrollable urge to slap his face. His grin widened, a subtle challenge. He indicated the open door.
She forced a laugh. “We can stand out here until dawn, Gregori. I’m willing—are you?”
He leaned one hip lazily against the wall. “You think to dare me?”
“You can’t force me against my will without violating our laws.”
“In all the centuries I have existed, do you believe I have never broken our laws?” His soft laughter was without humor. “The things I have done render abducting you as petty as the human crime of jaywalking.”
“Yet you brought Roberto to justice, even though San Francisco is Aidan Savage’s territory to hunt,” she pointed out, naming another powerful Carpathian who tracked down and destroyed those among them turned vampire. “Did you do that because of me?”
“You are my lifemate, the only thing that stands between me and the destruction of mortals and immortals alike.” He stated it calmly, as an absolute truth. “No one will touch you or try to come between us and live. He struck you, Savannah.”
“My father would—”
He was shaking his head. “Do not try to bring your father into this, chérie, even if Mikhael is the Prince of our people. This is between you and me. You do not want a war. Roberto struck you; that was reason enough for him to die.”
She touched his mind again. No anger. Just resolve. He meant what he said. He wasn’t bluffing or trying to frighten her. He wanted truth between them. Savannah pressed the back of her hand against her mouth. She had always known this moment would come. “I’m sorry, Gregori,” she whispered hopelessly. “I can’t be what you want. I will choose to face the dawn.”
His fingers brushed her face with incredible gentleness. “You have no idea what I want from you.” His hands cupped her face, thumbs stroking the satin skin over the pulse beating so frantically in her throat. “You know I cannot allow you such a choice, ma petite. We can talk through your fears. Come inside with me.” His mind was invading hers, a warm, sweet seduction. His eyes, so pale and cold, heated to a flowing mercury that seemed to burn into her mind, threatening her very will.
Savannah’s fingers dug into the railing as she felt herself drowning in hot liquid. “Stop it, Gregori!” she cried sharply, determined to break his mental hold. It was sweet torment, rushing heat, seduction so dangerous that she flung herself toward the entrance of the house to flee his dark power over her.
Gregori’s arm stopped her headlong flight. His mouth moved against her ear. His body, aggressively male, hard, and ferociously aroused, brushed hers. Say it, Savannah. Say the words. Even the whisper in her mind was black velvet. His mouth, perfect and sensuous, so hot and moist, wandered down to her throat. The reality of his flesh was even more erotic than his mental seduction. His teeth grazed her skin lightly. His body clenched, and she could feel the monster in him awaken, hungry, burning with need—no gentle, thinking lover but a fully aroused Carpathian male.