Burning Up

have. But we must act now, before . . .”
    She bit her lip.
    He ground his teeth. “You don’t trust me.”
    “If you had my father, you would know why.” She grimaced. “And my lover once tried to rape me. So no, I do not find trust an easy thing.”
    Raniero stared at her, appalled, unable to fathom a vampire who could so abuse any Rose, much less Amaris.
    It was little wonder she was skittish.
    Unfortunately, they couldn’t afford her doubts. He met her eyes, willing her to believe. “Amaris, I swear to you on my honor—I will free you and your sister, or I will die in the attempt. I will not allow Korban to sacrifice that child, not to power his spell, not for any reason. I will not fail you. ”
     
    R aniero’s gaze was dark and utterly steady. He believed what he was saying. And she found herself believing him, despite the times she’d been betrayed.
    He was no betrayer.
    They had barely known each other a day, yet that didn’t matter. She sensed his bedrock decency with a certainty that went beyond logic, beyond experience. It was a truth that rang in the soul.
    Like magic.
    Her heart began to pound, hard thumping lunges. “Feed, then. Take my blood.” She sat up until she could straddle his chest and bend over him, pressing her bare, sweating breasts to his chest, her throat to his mouth.
    Raniero froze as if unable to believe she was yielding herself. When he spoke, his voice sounded choked. “You will not regret your trust.”
    He kissed her leaping pulse, his lips lingering and tender.
    And then he bit.
    Amaris jerked at the hot sting. It had been years since she’d fed a vampire, since she’d dared let one get this close. She’d forgotten how it felt, the hot intimacy of trusting a man with her blood, the slide of fangs into flesh, the movement of lips and tongue.
    And the surging tide of magic that rolled up from somewhere inside her, deep as bone and heart, a glittering tide that ran up her spine in shuddering waves.
    He jerked, absorbing it, drinking the power in with every swallow. She gasped as he moaned against her skin.
    Somewhere over the sound of her pounding heart, she heard a metallic crunch, the ring and rattle of chains.
    Raniero’s arms came around her, hard and sweating and strong. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized he’d broken his bonds.
    Orel would have pushed her away, rolled to his feet, and gone for the door. Raniero cradled her as if she was something precious, his hands stroking over her skin, caressing her backside, exploring the dip of her waist, sliding his fingers into her hair.
    Until at last he drew his fangs from her flesh with exquisite care, then ran his tongue over the tiny wounds. Amaris felt his magic dance across her skin, healing the punctures.
    “Thank you,” he breathed in her ear.
    She straightened, drawing reluctantly back until she could sit up astride him and meet his dark gaze. Still he stroked her, sliding his hands along the curve of her thighs, cupping a breast, rasping a thumb across an erect nipple.
    He gazed up at her with those dark, bespelling eyes. “You are so beautiful.”
    Simple words. She’d heard them before from other men, other vampires. So why did they have such power coming from him?
    “We’d better go.” Amaris licked her dry lips and tried to steady her voice. “If we’re going to free Marin, we have to strike now.”
    Raniero let his hands drop away. Her skin felt curiously chilled without them. “I know.” His gaze searched hers. “But later, when this is over . . .” He hesitated.
    Her heart had slowed its frantic pound, but at those words, it leaped again. “When this is over?”
    “When this is over, I want more of you.” His eyes didn’t falter as he stared into hers. “All of you.”
    Amaris couldn’t seem to help her giddy smile. “You’ll have me.” Then she remembered everything that stood in the way—freeing her sister, fighting their way past the Varil, Korban’s men, Tannaz, and Korban himself. “If we live.”
    Raniero’s lips thinned with determination. “We’ll live.”
     
    T he door to Raniero’s cell jerked open, and Amaris appeared around it, eyes wild, hair disheveled. “He dies!” She wrung her hands, staring at the four guards in the corridor. “Help me!”
    They exchanged a wary look. “Judging from the sounds half a sandglass ago, he was healthy enough.”
    “I think it’s some spell. Mayhaps Korban’s enemies move against him.” She glared at