Carpathian 05 - Dark Challenge

white-hot lightning. Julian's hand slid around the nape of her neck, nestling her to him as he began to walk her away from the campsite. With every step they took together, their bodies brushed against one another.
    Desari felt the burning need, too. But she also felt an inner peace, a completeness. She loved the way his body moved, rippling with power like a sleek jungle cat. The feel of his arm, so sure and strong, made her feel delicate and feminine despite the fact that she knew she was equally powerful in her own right. At the nape of her neck his fingers moved every now and then as they walked into the forest, away from the sounds of the others. She could feel him rubbing strands of her hair between his thumb and fingers as if he could never quite get enough of the feel of it. Then his fingers dropped casually to her neck, her collarbone, to move over her skin, stroking gently, almost absently, yet each caress sent liquid fire pulsing through her body.
    How had she ever been happy without him? Before him her body had never been restless and hungry as it was now. She had loved her life, her singing, yet now she thought always of him, his strange, solitary life, his loneliness, and his terrible aching need only she could fill. And he seemed to fill her life as nothing had before. She was changed for all time, just as she had feared, yet now, as he walked so quietly beside her, she had no fear whatsoever.
    Even as they walked together in perfect harmony, breathing in the fresh mountain air, listening to the forest creatures, the creak of the swaying branches, and a rushing stream nearby, Julian could think of only one thing. Before he went out of his mind, he had to bend down and find Desari's mouth with his. He wanted the taste of her lingering in his body for all time. He meant to be gentle with her—a caress, no more—but the moment he felt the softness of her perfect mouth, red-hot lava, molten and hungry, flared and consumed him. His muscles tightened to the point of pain. His arms, of their own accord, swept around her to pull her close. He imprinted his hard frame on her softer one, letting her feel his painful need, his body full and demanding, his mouth fastening on hers as if she were his very breath.
    "You are my breath," he whispered into the softness of her mouth. "You are the only reason I am still living, Desari. I intended to greet the dawn after I had completed my errand and warned you of the impending danger to you." His tongue explored the heated velvet of her mouth, then moved to the slim column of her neck. As he continued to feed the fire between them, he was moving them deeper into the shadows of the forest. His hands slipped beneath her blouse to rest on her narrow rib cage, taking in as much of her soft skin as he was able to. Julian closed his eyes for a moment, just savoring the feel of her, the rose-petal texture of her skin.
    Desari circled his neck with one arm, brushing at the wild strands of golden hair falling around his face before she slowly unbuttoned the tiny pearl buttons down the front of her blouse. As each slipped from its resting place, the blouse parted, and she drew his head down to her bare skin. Only a fine film of lace Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    covered her full, aching breasts. Her nipples were hard and pushing through the lace, her need every bit as great as his own.
    He whispered something soft and sexy in Italian, but the sound of it was muffled as he blazed a trail of fire from her throat to the valley between her breasts. She heard her own gasp, a soft cry of need as she arched to meet his wandering mouth. His tongue lapped at her nipples right through the lace, a hot, moist caress that created a hot, moist response between her legs.
    "I need you, Desari. I was empty without you. And that kind of emptiness eats away at you, consumes you until your soul is dark and ugly and all that matters is sating your hunger. But nothing fills the void.
    Nothing. Year after year you endure the emptiness until life itself is a curse hardly to be borne. And all the while the darkness, the beast in you whispers, an insidious whisper promising power from the kill, promises that wear away your belief in God, in all the things that are right and true and good. The monster inside you, so black and hungry for life, grows and grows until it has consumed everything you ever were. That is the curse borne by Carpathian males,