Carpathian 09 - Dark Guardian

exactly who she was; yet his decision might very well cause her to despise him.
    "What is wrong, Lucian? Are you sorry you made love to me?" Suddenly Jaxon was uneasy. She wasn't experienced enough to know if she had pleased him or not. She thought she had, but maybe not. He was intensely passionate. Maybe she couldn't sate his hunger. After all, he was a completely different species.
    "How could I ever be sorry for doing the one thing I have wanted more than anything in the world? Just for your information, angel, I intend to make love to you a few more times before this night is done. And no one else could ever satisfy me. There is only you for me. Not any other woman. Ever. I do not want tall elegance or long black hair. I have grown rather fond of your short blond hair and small, perfect body. You will not be getting rid of me easily."
    Jaxon smiled and lay her head once more on his chest. Deep inside her where she had felt so wonderful, she became aware of a slow, torturous clenching and unclenching of her muscles. She pressed a hand to her stomach and lay very still, trying to assess what was happening. Was this normal? It felt like cramps—no, worse than cramps—something alive moving within her body, spreading to every organ.
    Lucian's hand was on the nape of her neck, easing the tension from her suddenly taut muscles. He was very still, as if he sensed something was wrong. He didn't ask her what it was. He didn't say anything at all. He simply held her close in his arms, protectively, possessively.

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Chapter Eight
    Jaxon lay quietly in his arms, staring up at Lucian's face with wide, dark eyes. Haunted eyes.
    Terror-stricken eyes. "I feel sick all of a sudden." She sat up abruptly, pushing at him futilely to put distance between them. The terrible burning in her stomach was increasing with each passing second.
    Increasing and spreading like wildfire throughout her body. "Lucian, something's really wrong." She reached for the phone on a small end table.
    Lucian leaned around her and took the receiver from her hand. "It is the conversion taking place within your body." Once more his voice was totally without expression. "Your body must rid itself of its human toxins." He spoke in his soft, matter-of-fact voice.
    Jaxon jerked away from him, her eyes enormous. She pressed both hands to her stomach. It felt as if someone were taking a blowtorch to her insides. "What did you do, Lucian? What did you do?"
    Fire rushed through her body, her muscles contorted, and she found herself falling back to the floor helplessly in the throes of some kind of seizure. Lucian was there before her, cradling her close, his mind sharing hers so that he bore the brunt of the horrific pain as wave after wave rushed through her. Jaxon could only cling to him, terrified, as the agony crawled through her body.
    It seemed to last hours, yet in minutes the pain began to wane. Little beads of sweat covered her skin, and she felt sicker than ever, exhausted. "The fire, Lucian. I can't stand the fire. It hurts. Everything hurts."
    Even her eyes hurt.
    He waved a hand, and the flames were gone. A cooling breeze moved through the room, fanning her skin. Her nails dug into his arm. It was starting again. He felt it in her mind, the swelling pain twisting at her insides, clawing at her. Lucian was appalled at the strength of the seizures that lifted and slammed down her small body. Without his arms around her she would have been crashing onto the floor. This spasm was worse than the last one, her muscles knotting and clenching beneath her skin. She tried to say his name, to whisper it as she did when she needed an anchor, but nothing would come out, not even a croak. Inside her mind she was screaming for him.
    Lucian surrounded her, body and mind. He sent himself seeking outside his body and into hers. Her organs were reshaping, her tissues and cells contorting. He made every attempt to ease her pain, but Jaxon was very slight, very small, and the force of the seizures was tearing at her body, her muscles so strained they were hard knots. He breathed with her, for her. He held her when her body rejected its human remnants and she vomited over and over. He washed her face, removing the beads of blood she had sweated from her forehead, and rocked her when the wave of agony receded.
    Jaxon lay passively, conserving her energy. She was no longer fighting the pain, and