Carpathian 12 - Dark Melody

Shamelessly he "pushed" her, needing to know. The man was dead. Dayan could feel that. He read it in the lingering sadness in her eyes. She had cared for another man enough to bring his child into the world. Who was the man?
    He captured her outstretched hand, her left hand, found the circle of gold, the symbol of human marriage, the mark proclaiming she belonged to another man.
    The thought triggered the dangerous aggression of his species, and Dayan fought down the rising beast.
    He would not chance frightening her. His thumb rubbed over the ring almost absently, back and forth, a gentle caress, persistent. Insistent. He brought her fingertips to his lips. All the while his black gaze focused completely on her, staring directly into her eyes.
    His look was hypnotic. Strangely exhilarating. Corinne's breath caught in her throat as his teeth scraped along her finger, his mouth warm and moist. Butterfly wings brushed at her stomach. His teeth tugged gently at her gold wedding band. The sensation was so erotic, she shivered. She stared up at him for a long moment, completely fascinated, before remembering to pull her hand free.
    "Tell me about your baby, honey," he commanded, his voice low, almost purring.
    He touched her mind very gently, with great care. She was fighting the compulsion to tell him what he Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    wanted to know, but she was human and he was an ancient, one in a long line of dominating males. He was far too strong for her to resist.
    Corinne pressed her palm protectively over the baby.
    The wind whipped down the street, gusted leaves and debris into whirling eddies. Unknowingly, she moved deeper into the shelter of his body. "I grew up with Lisa and her brother John." She stopped speaking abruptly, her throat closing on the name.
    John. The name pierced him like a knife. The way she said it, the pain reflected in her eyes, told him how much the man had meant to her. John. Dayan had never liked that name. He didn't want to hear any more; he didn't want to hear the sound of her voice when she said that hated name.
    Corinne twisted her wedding ring nervously. "The three of us had a difficult childhood, so I suppose we were closer than most. John and I were… different." She stole a quick look up at him from under her heavy dark lashes. She didn't want to explain to him what that word meant. She didn't know him, didn't know why she seemed to trust him when he was a virtual stranger to her. She didn't know why her body seemed to know him. Crave him. Corinne shoved her wayward thoughts away, concentrating entirely on how much she could tell him… or not tell him.
    Dayan examined her mind, wanting an explanation of "different." He caught a hastily censored picture.
    Telekinesis. She could move objects with her mind. Of course, she was psychic. She would have to be psychic if she were his true lifemate. Dayan had no way of explaining to her exactly what a lifemate was.
    How could he reveal to her he was of another species? That he had been on earth a thousand years?
    That he needed blood to survive?
    Dayan watched her fingers turn that small gold band. With every touch, every stroke, his stomach knotted tighter and tighter. He tried to force his gaze back to her face, but that small betraying movement fascinated him.
    Corinne shrugged her shoulders. "To make a long story short, John and I were married and he was murdered a few months ago. I didn't even know I was pregnant. I haven't said anything to Lisa because… well…" She hesitated, searching for the right words.
    That brought his dark gaze back to her face. She felt the impact of his focused stare all the way to her bones. His hands covered hers, stilling the nervous play of her fingers over her ring. Her heart leapt, a curious sensation that alarmed her.
    His black eyes never left her face. Not once. And he still hadn't blinked. She felt almost as if she were falling forward into those strange, hypnotic eyes. What difference did it make if he thought she was a basket case? She hadn't asked for his sympathy, nor did she want it. She wasn't telling him the story for sympathy. Why was she telling him her story? Her chin lifted and she looked at him almost defiantly. "I have a heart condition." He could run like a rabbit and she'd be very happy. He was a complication, a fantasy, the worst sort of "bad boy," and she wanted no part of him.
    Dayan touched her mind very gently. He caught