Carpathian 17 - Dark Curse

couldn\'t think anymore, swaying to the throbbing music on a rising tide of desire, in a hazy fog of sexual enthrallment.
    He bent his head again, this time to nuzzle her neck, his tongue touching the pulse pounding so frantically.
    Ordinarily she would have instantly retreated, but the small series of licks accompanied by the gentle scrape of teeth sent her temperature soaring. Flames danced over her skin, centered between her legs and filled emptiness so that her body craved more. His lips were unbelievably warm and firm, his teeth a torment, wracking her body with longing. She could barely breathe, her heart pounding loud enough for both of them to hear.
    Nicolas recognized the danger the moment he stepped in close proximity to other men with Lara. The binding ritual wasn\'t complete. She could still slip away from him. The call of the demon rose to a wild, demanding roar. He saw every shift of the eyes, the way the men watched her as they moved together in perfect rhythm across the dance floor. He scented the heightened sexual awareness.
    Lara didn\'t realize how alluring she was, a mixture of innocence and fantasy. Her skin glowed, her eyes classic bedroom eyes, large and soft and enthralling. A man could drown in her eyes-he was drowning. And having other males in such a close environment was triggering the beast. He could feel it clawing at his gut, making demands to claim his life mate, make her irrevocably his. More than that, his own fears of losing her heightened his animal instincts, the primitive side of him that demanded he take what was his. He was walking a thin line, trying to court her as she deserved and at the same time, remain stable when his life mate was just out of reach. It was never easy for a male to balance civility with his own predatory nature and coming to the inn made for a volatile situation he hadn\'t counted on.
    He drew a deep breath into his lungs and scented-Lara. Her feminine call sent blood pounding in his groin.
    The feel of her soft breasts nestled against his chest nearly drove him mad. He was desperate to hold her, to touch her, to touch all that satin skin. Each moment in her company had escalated his need of her. Need had built so slowly at first, and his desire to court her had kept him from realizing how the fire in him had grown and spread until it was a storm threatening his control.
    His shaft pounded with blood and his hammering heartbeat. His need was brutal now, a continual, unrelenting demand that was merciless. His erection wasn\'t going away anytime soon, not even if he had the opportunity to bury himself deep in the haven of her body. And through it all, each time he looked at her, each time her Page 121

    Christine Feehan: Dark Curse
    shy gaze met his, it tripped a strange sensation in the region of his heart.
    He wanted to be equally as tender as he did violent. He wanted her to want him with every cell in her body, in the same frightening way he needed her. He had had an utter misconception of life mates, or maybe it was just different with Lara. He had thought she would save him from the darkness and the chemistry would be good, that they would have several lifetimes to find a way to love one another. He hadn\'t expected her to touch him in places that he thought were stone cold. He hadn\'t expected to feel such tender, protective emotions so fast or so strong, but she was really light to his darkness, in all the ways he hadn\'t expected.
    His lips drifted over her pulse, as he inhaled her scent. Her long silky hair slid over his face, a few strands tangling in the shadow along his jaw. He pressed her hips into his body, massaging the terrible ache that refused to go away. Touching her wasn\'t enough. Even now he could feel his teeth lengthening and sharpening as his entire being demanded he assuage the hunger rising in direct proportion to his sexual needs.
    He was on the very edge of his control.
    Eyes glowed with red flames. His teeth touched her pulse, scraped back and forth in a mesmerizing rhythm.
    He was close-so close to taking what belonged to him, making her his, yet she had been willing to escape into death rather than be forced.
    He had never experienced such raw, primitive lust, welling up, a fever of hunger so sharp and brutal he could barely think straight. His soul, long ago punctured with holes until there was only darkness there, black and ugly and filled with death, she had spilled shining light across and somehow, by some miracle, he