Carpathian 20 - Dark Slayer

hips with his. Little sparks ignited everywhere and the world seemed to spin away even further.

    His hands slipped into that silky fall of hair cascading down her back. Each new exploration of her skin and body added to his rising pleasure, further intensifying it.
    You are the most incredible woman ever born . He meant it. He let her see the truth of his statement in his mind, in his heart.
    He’d never imagined such feelings, of the strength of emotion and the intensity of his physical reaction to her.
    His body had been used by Xavier, yes, but he hadn’t been present, only witnessing the degradation at a distance. He had never experienced pleasure from the joining, only sorrow and regret when he could recall the emotions. And now that he had emotion in abundance, he felt distaste and shame at the memories, along with sorrow and regret. He hadn’t expected . . . this —the wonder and beauty of love blossoming right here in his garden along with his flowers. Had he been in the real world he might have scoffed at the poetry singing in his soul, but here, in his dream, in his memories, the words were perfect, fitting the way he felt.
    Her body shuddered against his, and her hands came up to grip his arms. He felt the sudden hesitation in her, the simultaneous urge to pull him closer and push him away. She was as unused to trusting, to sharing herself as he was—maybe more. The needs slammed into them like the vicious punch of fists, overwhelming her. It mattered little how gentle his touch was, the desire burned hot and unexpected, a firestorm out of control.
    She stepped back, shaking her head, her fingers pressed against her trembling mouth and his dark eyes blazing with heat. She looked confused and a little shocked, as if she hadn’t expected
    to
    feel
    anything
    other
    than
    physical
    pleasure—certainly nothing quite as intense as what had happened between them. It always surprised him that Ivory, so confident in herself as a warrior, was not as sure of herself as a woman.
    He cupped the side of her face and ran the pad of his thumb over her soft, exquisite skin. Abruptly everything in him stilled.
    â€œIvory, look at your skin.―
    The lines that had been raised over her body, jagged and thick, were now white and smooth. They were still there, segmenting the seams of her body, but without the thickness that had marked them. The white lines cut through her body much like a jigsaw puzzle, and always would, but now they were smooth and soft, a part of her skin rather than raised scar tissue.
    Ivory touched one of the lines just above the swell of her breasts. “This is the combination of the healer, the Carpathian blood and the soil. Amazing. I thought those hideous scars would be there forever.―

    â€œThey were not hideous.― He bent his head and brushed his lips over a smooth white line bisecting her body.
    Ivory’s womb clenched and she went damp. The brush of his hair against her skin felt like sin. How could he move her the way he did? Crawl inside her heart so that she felt weak when he was close? She had taken such care not to let anyone matter. Nothing could matter but destroying Xavier. It was her one purpose. Her only purpose.
    She felt her fingers move in that thick fall of luxurious, striped hair. So dark the color made his eyes a piercing cobalt, so white it played over his lined face, making him look older and much more distinguished than most Carpathian males. She clenched his hair in her fist as her gaze drifted moodily over his face.
    Razvan was so serene. Deep inside where there should have been rage at the atrocities committed against him, she found only peace and acceptance. His will was the strongest she’d ever encountered in centuries of battle, yet he felt no compulsion to force it on others. He stood there looking at her as if she was the very moon, a goddess, beautiful beyond comparison, his gaze hungry, his body urgently demanding hers, yet he didn’t push her beyond where she was willing to go. There was no ego. No sense of demand in him, simply a quiet strength, a rock she found astonishingly peaceful and sexy.

    There was a scant inch between them now. Whether she had moved or he had, she couldn’t really say, but it seemed necessary to taste him again. She ached to feel the heat, the sweep of his tongue sliding against hers, the fire that blazed the moment they came together. Her heart