Carpathian 17 - Dark Curse

him. This woman writhing and moaning, pleading with him to give her everything. He wouldn\'t feel a thing when he took her offering, but maybe, if he took her life at the same time, he would have that one moment...
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    Christine Feehan: Dark Curse
    Her head snapped around and her gaze locked on him. There wasn\'t the instant look in her eyes he had come to expect-woman spotting attractive male. She looked like a predator, gaze burning, mouth firm. Her body was all woman, dressed in layers of clothing, a high-necked dark sweater with long sleeves that covered her wrists.
    A pair of dark leggings that ran into serviceable boots covered shapely legs. A wraparound skirt was cinched at her small waist with a wide leather belt and hugged the fitted leggings but gave her ease of movement and a long, warm cloak hung from her shoulders to her knees.
    There was something familiar about her, as if they may have met before. Try as he might, he could not look away from her. Always with women he had the upper hand, drawing them to him with his looks and dangerous air, yet he had the feeling this woman wasn\'t at all consumed with desire for him.
    Again he had a visceral reaction deep in his gut. A need for her to want him. Come to me now. Offer yourself to me . There was shame in using the gift of his voice to entrap and enthrall her, it would have made the fantasy better to have her come to him of her own accord. Afterward he might even be able to convince himself she wanted him, but not like this, with compulsion.
    Her body jerked. Her chin went up and the bright eyes smoldered. As if she knew . She began to walk toward him. He moved into deeper shadows, his heart pounding. He could already taste her in his mouth, feel her soft skin sliding against his. His blood surged hotly.
    She was of average height and his size dwarfed hers, but she had womanly curves and looked strong. She moved with fluid grace, not at all stumbling and halting as if fighting a compulsion. For a moment the clouds parted and light spilled across her face. His gut knotted.
    Stop! Go back. Get inside. He had to save her. His hands shook-actually shook-and damn him forever to hell, his body stirred, hot and hard and aching for her, when in all his years he had never had such a response. Her life-her very soul as well as his-was in danger. Even as he warned her, he took a step toward her. Wanting her.
    Needing her. If he touched her, if he got too close, they would both be lost.
    A frown flitted across her face. She pressed her palm to her body, down low and halted, looking confused.
    Lara stared hard at the tall, wide-shouldered man coming toward her. He was the most classically beautiful man she\'d ever seen in her life. His face was raw masculine beauty, his eyes so dark they were nearly black, yet when he turned a certain way, they glowed like rubies, causing a chill to race down her spine. He moved with unbelievable grace, his body flowing, ropes of muscles rippling subtly like a giant jungle cat on the prowl.
    She didn\'t have reactions to men, no matter how hot they were. Her body remained as cold and as frigid as the ice chambers she\'d spent the first few years of her life in, yet looking at this man, everything changed. Her breath quickened. Her pulse raced. Her stomach somersaulted and even her womb reacted, clenching hotly.
    But so did her birthmark. And her birthmark heralded the arrival of one thing-vampire.
    The problem was, the mark seemed to have a short in it. One moment it burned with scorching heat and the next it went cool and lifeless. She had the blade of her knife up against her wrist, concealed by her long sleeve, the handle securely in her fist. She wasn\'t taking any chances, no matter how hot he was.
    And then there was his voice. Velvet soft. Pure seduction. A night melody of dark promises, one moment beckoning, the next rejecting. The first time he spoke his command she had been certain he was a vampire drawing her to him to allow him to feed on her. The next moment he seemed to be trying to warn her off, yet he continued forward, his black eyes drifting over her face as if he owned her.
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    Christine Feehan: Dark Curse
    Nicolas couldn\'t stop walking toward her-as if he, not she, was the one under compulsion. He was going to have to call to Mikhail for help to save her. But he was so far gone, it was possible he would engage in a battle with the prince over her. And Mikhail couldn\'t be risked, not if their species