Carpathian 13 - Dark Destiny

tongue, the insatiable hunger had been appeased for once and the continual torment inside her had lessened. She had never felt so sated by anything.
    "I'm dancing with you," he answered easily, pulling her closer to him.
    Their bodies were pressed together, their clothing the only barrier between them. With each gliding step her breasts pushed into his chest, her nipples becoming sensitized from rubbing against his shirt. His muscles were taut and defined as he whisked her around the floor. More than anything, she was aware of the thick, hard part of him pressed against her stomach as they moved together. Floated together. It frightened her, yet fascinated her. Her own blood seemed to pool, low and thick, so that she throbbed and burned with an unfamiliar need.
    Their feet barely touched the ground. She had never danced in her life, yet her body followed every movement of his flawlessly. As if she had been born to partner him.
    "Close your eyes, give yourself up to the music." To me . He whispered the temptation in her ear, his hand moving over her back, tracing her spine. You have not fed, Destiny. Why have you come to such a place hungry? Do you think to punish yourself ?
    It was too close to the truth. She had come to remove MaryAnn's memories, to violate the trust of a woman who was inherently good.
    You are not evil. He whispered the words against her skin, even as they brushed in her mind. His tongue swirled over her pulse. Tasted. Lingered. Her entire body clenched in reaction. You are Carpathian, a race in harmony with nature. A protector of mankind. You do not kill wantonly or lightly .
    He was killing her. With hope. With dreams. With things she dared not reach for. Trust was something she could never give one of his kind. He made her feel things she didn't want to feel. Made her long for things impossible for her to have. Every ounce of self-preservation shrieked at her to wrench herself out of his arms and run for her life. Instead, almost helplessly she nuzzled closer, found his beckoning pulse with her mouth.
    I could kill you, she breathed. Drain the blood from your body right here . She wanted him to know she was undecided. His fate was undecided. That her fingers curling in the silk of his shirt meant nothing.
    That her body molding itself to his didn't matter. That she had control. She had power. His voice was sheer magic. It washed over her, into her, wrapped itself around her heart and soul, but none of that Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    mattered. It would never matter.
    Yes, you could. The words purred in her mind, a blend of heat and smoke. Take what you need, I offer freely . He nuzzled her hair again, his breath warm against her cheek as he switched to speaking, his voice low and soft. "Each rising I wake with your pain crawling through my body. I wake with your sorrow in my mind." His hands found her hair, bunched silken strands in his fist. "It is my right to care for you, to be your solace. If you seek my death, little one, if that is what you need for your own survival, so be it. I would give my life for yours and never look back." I am willing to give my life to you .
    There was intimacy in his voice. There was tenderness. There was honesty.
    Her eyes burned with her effort not to see him. Not to hear him. Not to trust him. Not to need him. Heat beckoned. Seduced. Her tongue lapped at his pulse. She felt his reaction. Not fear. Hunger. Sharp and terrible. Erotic hunger so strong his muscular body shuddered. Hardened. Grew hotter. His breath left his lungs in a rush of anticipation.
    Nicolae whirled her into deeper shadows, away from prying eyes, blurring their images so that there seemed to be a veil of haze between the couple and the rest of the people in the place. She was in his arms at long last, fitting perfectly. Belonging. He willed her to feel it, feel their deep need of one another, even as he acknowledged her terrible struggle. She had survived the abomination of her childhood by choosing solitude. By never trusting. He knew what he was asking of her. Not even asking. Demanding.
    Trust. Such an easy word. Such an impossible quality. How could he ask or demand such a thing of Destiny? She had been taught never to trust. Her life had depended upon it. Her very soul had depended upon it.
    Nicolae allowed his lashes to drift down, his head to rest over hers. His heart fragmented. He knew his own power, his enormous strength. But he