DARK MELODY By Christine Feehan

“You should be bigger.” He spoke gently, but it was clearly a reprimand. “Now I will have to add that to my growing list of things to worry about where you are concerned.” He reached out with lazy ease and caught a lock of her hair, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger as if he couldn’t help himself.

“The baby is perfectly healthy,” she said defensively, trying desperately not to be affected by the intimacy of his touch.

He tugged at her hair. “What has the doctor said about your health?”

Corinne tried to duck her head, but Dayan’s hand caught her chin, his black eyes capturing her gaze, refusing to relinquish his control. “Answer me, honey.”

It was odd, but she could feel his voice brushing at the walls of her mind, compelling her to answer him. She wanted to tell him despite her natural inclination to keep certain parts of her life private. She shrugged. “Well, you know. Doctors have a way of making everything seem like a worst-case scenario. I’d rather talk about what you found at our house.”

Dayan moved, a menacing ripple of muscles that had her heart pounding in her throat again, but he was just standing, stretching like a large jungle cat before reaching for her. He picked her up easily, as if her weight were that of a small child, and glided through the hall to a bedroom.

Corinne closed her eyes tightly for a moment, her hand creeping around his neck. “What are you doing?”

“If we are to talk, honey, I thought it best you be somewhere comfortable. I will not deny it is in my mind to make love to you all night, but I am fully aware of your pregnancy and the difficulties it presents, so I promise to behave myself.” There was a slightly humorous drawl to his voice, as if he knew that just saying the words, admitting his desire for her, would send heat coursing through her body. As if he knew his desire was contagious.

Dayan placed her in the middle of the large double bed and bent over her, his black eyes moving over her face intently. Her palm pushed against his broad chest in alarm, an effort to restrain him. Her eyes were enormous in her face, apprehensive. The ritual words beat in Dayan’s head; his very body strained with the need to bind her to him. She was his lifemate, she belonged with him, and he needed her desperately. He had been alone for so long, so many centuries. She was here. In the same room with him. Corinne.

She lay very still, like a small wild thing caught in a predator’s stare, afraid to move. She couldn’t look away from those black eyes, the intensity, the terrible naked need. She wanted to hold him, to banish that stark, lonely look for all time. Her palm, the tiny barrier between them, trembled as she stared up at him, mesmerized by his vulnerability when he seemed so invincible. “Dayan.” She whispered his name – a soft sigh really, or was it an invitation? She didn’t know, so how could he?

Dayan captured her hand, brought her fingers to the warmth of his mouth. “You have nothing to fear, Corinne. I would never do anything that might harm you or the child. I cannot help wanting you, but until it is safe, I think we will both have to suffer.”

She found herself smiling as she moved over to allow him to stretch out beside her. Why she trusted him so much, so quickly, she couldn’t fathom, but it didn’t matter. She liked being beside him, felt comforted by his very presence. He was solid and warm, his arms strong as he pulled her to him, fit her into the curve of his body. She shivered, more from his close proximity than the cool night air, but she liked the way he instantly drew a comforter over them even though she knew he wasn’t cold.

“Are you going to tell me what you found at our home?”

“Are you going to believe me?” He asked the question quietly, but she could feel him waiting in the darkness for her answer.

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