Carpathian 12 - Dark Melody

her face, drinking her in.
    Devouring her with his eyes. That recording had been their one mistake. It had not occurred to them that technology would one day be able to identify individuals by voice. Fortunately, few of the records had been produced. They had quietly set about tracking down and destroying every copy. Obviously, they hadn't succeeded. "Well, have you heard of them? Did you use their name deliberately?" Corinne demanded, the mystery uppermost in her mind. "You have to hear this recording, Dayan. I've studied music all my life and I have a great ear. I'd swear it was you playing lead guitar."
    "That's because it is me," he answered truthfully, allowing a mischievous smile to light the dark depths of his eyes.
    Corinne blinked up at him. "So that would make you at least a hundred years old. You're so very well preserved, Dayan."
    "Thank you." He bowed slightly from the waist with a curiously Old World elegance that suited him.
    "You're welcome, although if you're thinking of a relationship, I'm afraid it's out of the question. I can't possibly go out with a man who's a hundred years old."
    His smile widened until his white teeth gleamed at her, taking her breath away. He reached out to brush a stray tendril of hair behind her ear, his fingertips lingering against her skin in a light caress. "When I look at you I can barely breathe," he admitted starkly, melting her heart. "You are so beautiful."
    Corinne took a deep breath, trying hard not to allow the wild color to creep up her neck into her face.
    Someone had to be sensible. She tried not to look at him so she could think more clearly. "Dayan, I'm very pregnant."
    "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."

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    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