Carpathian 17 - Dark Curse

against his chest. \"Listen to the wind blowing through the trees, päläfertiilm . Hear the music of my soul calling to yours.\" He stroked back the silky fall of her hair and gently turned her face to his chest. His shirt melted away, leaving the heavy muscles exposed.
    \"When you take blood from your life mate, it is an offering, a gift. You are not hurting me, just the opposite. I feel great physical and emotional pleasure from the exchange. The giving of blood is an offer of life, my life for yours, the sharing of the same skin, as we do physically when we make love or physically when we merge mind to mind. A true offering is erotic with a life mate. Between warriors it is literally a gift of life. The truth of a blood exchange is far different than the corrupted concept Xavier made it.\"
    Lara closed her eyes to better hear the velvet seduction in his voice. Although he had used the word
    \"exchange\" she knew he had no intention of taking her blood, although the desire beat at him. She wanted to succumb completely to that voice, to her life mate, to give him back something when he was struggling to find a bridge between them. If he could give her a gift of such magnitude, she could find it in herself to be as equally courageous.
    In truth, it wasn\'t that difficult. His body was hot and hard. His arms-enormously strong. His heart beat a steady rhythm and her heart followed his lead. She felt light and feminine, her body aching, inner muscles tightening and arousal teasing her thighs and feminine sheath. Her breasts ached for attention.
    Lara let herself drift on a tide of rising desire. She nuzzled his chest, his bare skin beneath her cheek, before lifting her lashes to look into his eyes. She felt stunned by the raw hunger there, the sheer intensity of his need.
    Her mind sought and found his as her pulse pounded and blood surged hotly in her veins. The rush of heat took her by surprise. Her teeth felt sharp, her body edgy. The sound of his heart thundered in her ears, the ebb and flow of life through his body filled her with excitement.
    For a moment she was repulsed by her own nature, the need rising to take the essence of his life from him, but his gaze was so hot, so hungry, his hunger fueled her own. She closed her eyes, nuzzling his chest, her lips sliding over his bare skin, tasting. Her tongue darted out, a leisurely foray over the muscle. His body jerked.
    Against her bottom she felt his shaft, steel-hard, thick and rigid, pressing tightly into her.
    A soft moan escaped her throat. She moved against him restlessly. He felt male. Strong. He felt like her other half. Her body smoldered with heat. Longing rose, a helpless desire to taste him-every inch of him. A tidal wave of need swept over her, taking her with it. She lapped at his hot skin. Once. Twice. Her teeth lengthened more in anticipation. Her mouth filled with a tangy spice.
    She bit down gently, a small experimental bite. He shuddered in response, his arms tightening possessively, his shaft jerking. She opened her eyes once more, locking her gaze with his, drowning in his hunger. She sank Page 96

    Christine Feehan: Dark Curse
    her teeth deep. Nicolas threw back his head and moaned sensually, a husky sound that sent tremors through her body.
    And then the addicting taste of him flooded her senses. Power. Energy. A rush of lust so strong her body shook. He simply gathered her closer, one hand supporting her head, holding her to him. Power soaked into her organs and tissue, sizzled through veins and arteries to center in her most feminine core to pulse there with rising hunger.
    Everything about him was more vivid, every one of her senses was sharper, so that when she inhaled she drew him into her lungs. She heard the rhythm of his heart calling and her heart answered.
    He whispered to her in her mind, his voice slightly husky, so sensual she began to play erotic images in her head-in his head.
    Nicolas groaned again, fighting for control. He had wanted to show her a sensual experience, but she was pushing the limits of a centuries-old restraint. Lara. O jelä sielamak. Light of my soul, you have to stop before it\'s too late and there is no going back .
    He didn\'t want her to stop. His hand slid up her rib cage to cup the weight of her breast in his palm. One thought and her clothes would be gone. He could have her, be inside the haven of her body, take them both all the way to paradise.
    Her hips moved, she pressed back against him,