Carpathian 12 - Dark Melody

way he could communicate, mind to mind. 'I need you so much, Corinne,' he sighed against her pulse, his breath warm and intimate; so much.' There was something very dangerous in him – she could feel it in his enormous strength, in the possessive way he held her – but his need was so great, she couldn't think straight, couldn't think to deny him, not even for her own self-preservation.
    The answer was shimmering in her mind, in his mind. 'I want to be whatever you need.' There were no words spoken aloud, yet he heard her acceptance of him, of his differences, of his wild, untamed nature.
    It echoed in her mind and in her heart. He murmured her name softly, his sacred talisman to guide him back from the precipice of danger, the whisperings of madness she could not hope to understand.
    His mouth moved over the slender column of her neck, touched her ear briefly, while both of them seemed to drown in a rush of molten heat. He could feel her body molding itself to his, responsive, inviting, enticing. She moved restlessly in his arms, and his body reacted with a hot surging of blood, creating a painful ache that would not go away.

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    Dayan closed his eyes and gave himself up to the luxury of feeling. His mouth moved up her throat to her chin, nibbled lightly before settling over her mouth. At once there was that curious sensation of the earth shifting beneath his feet, of the ground rocking, falling away from him until there was only Corinne. He felt every sensation – the satin softness of her skin, the silk of her hair, the hot need of her mouth as he took possession. She clung to him as the storm of need and hunger washed over them, as his mind filled hers with his hungry desire, with dark, erotic images and the ever building fire in his blood.
    Her mouth was a silken haven he was lost in, his blood roaring in his ears. Dayan held her tightly, possessively; she was his only refuge after a thousand years of utter loneliness. He lifted his head so that his mouth could drift in a dancing flame of heat and light over her skin back to her irresistible pulse. It beckoned him in an age-old call. She could hear his voice, a soft murmur, a whisper of sensuous command, and her blood quickened, heating in answer. His tongue caressed her skin, his teeth nipped gently, teasingly, erotically, and then she gasped as white-hot lightning arced through her, sizzling, streaking through her blood so that she was on fire. His mouth moved against her and he held her even tighter, fitting her to him almost as if they were making love.
    It was like a dream, hazy and unreal, sensuous and erotic. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Corinne felt weak, unable to move, yet she didn't want to, cradling his head to her, her hands in his wealth of hair, giving herself up to his hot, seeking mouth. She closed her eyes, the illusion of being made love to so real she could almost feel him touching her intimately. His voice was in her head, and somehow she felt his desire, the hunger in him, his intense pleasure. She never wanted him to stop.
    Her fingers slipped from his hair and her hands fell limply to her sides.
    At once Dayan lifted his head, breaking the connection between them. Curiously, she felt warm liquid running from her neck along the creamy swell of her breast. She didn't lift her heavy lashes to examine the cause, not wanting to break the magical spell of heat and desire. He lowered his mouth to pursue the liquid trail so that her entire body responded, clenching with pleasure. Corinne smiled that he could make her feel so much without any real effort.
    "I left my mark on you." It was a black-velvet whisper that moved through her body with the same heat as her blood. "I could not help myself." He nibbled and teased the corner of her mouth until she obediently opened for him. There was a faint coppery taste as his tongue swept inside, claiming her for his own. Before she could give it any thought, he had taken possession of her soul, her body, so that she was no longer a thinking woman, but a living flame of need and hunger.
    His hand came up to cup the weight of her breast, his thumb caressing her nipple through the thin material of her blouse. Flames raced through her bloodstream. His mouth left hers, his teeth nibbling her chin, down the side of her neck and along her vulnerable throat so that she arced closer to him. A soft moan escaped her as