Immortals After Dark 03 - No Rest for the Wicked

hauntingly fine creature.
    And his body had awakened for her.
    “You know what is happening to me?” he asked.
    She swallowed, backing away farther. “You’re changing.” Her blond brows drew together, and in a barely audible whisper, she added, “For... for me.”
    “Yes. For you.” He crossed to her until she stared up at him. “Forgive me. If I had known this was true, I would have searched for you. I would have found you somehow—”
    “No... ” She swayed on her feet, and he laid one palm on her slim shoulder to steady her. She flinched but allowed the touch.
    He realized then that, just as he was changing, so was she. He thought he saw silver flash in her glinting eyes. A swift tear dropped down her cheek.
    “Why do you cry?” Women’s tears had always wrecked him as a mortal, but hers made him feel as if a thousand knives twisted inside him. When he brushed her hair back, he sucked in a ragged, unpracticed breath. Her ear was sharply pointed. Up closer, he could see the smallest fangs.
    Sebastian didn’t know what she was, and he didn’t care. “Please do not cry.”
    “I never cry,” she whispered. Frowning in confusion, she patted the back of her hand against her cheek and drew it down to see that it was wet from a single tear. Her lips parted, and she stared, first at the tear, and then at her sharply curling fingernails, which were more like elegant claws. Her gaze darted back to him, and she swallowed as if with fear.
    “Tell me what troubles you.” He had a purpose now: to protect her, to care for her, to destroy whatever threatened her. “Bid me to help you, Bride.”
    “Not a Bride to one of your kind. Never—”
    “But you’ve made my heart beat.”
    She hissed back, “You’ve made me feel .” He didn’t understand the meaning of her words or her reactions during the next several minutes as he gazed down at her, greedily learning her features—the sweep of her thick lashes when she glanced down, the full red pout of her lips. Waves of emotion shimmered in her eyes and seemed to pain her. Her body shook. As abruptly as they’d started, her tears dried.
    Then she smiled up at him, a heartrending curling of her lips. Her eyes were merry, darkly teasing. Nothing had ever aroused him so much as that look, and he wondered how much more he could take. But her smile faded far too soon. She shuddered violently, lowering her forehead to his chest.
    Just as his aching erection was becoming impossible to deny, she lifted her face, and her expression had changed once more. A flush tinged her high cheekbones, and her lips subtly parted. Her fingers clutched at his shoulders. As she gazed at his mouth, her tongue dabbed at her bottom lip and left no question about what she was thinking of doing.
    She was... aroused. For him. He didn’t understand what was happening to her—or to himself.
    His eyes widened, then narrowed, when she placed her delicate arms around his neck. I could touch her... She would accept my touch... His shaft had never been this hard. He wanted to bury it inside her so badly he’d give anything.
    She tilted her head, still staring at his mouth. “I miss this... ,” she murmured in a whiskey voice. He didn’t have time to ponder her words, because she tightened her arms, bringing their bodies together. He groaned to feel her breasts pressing against him. They were so full and plump—he knew they would fill his palms perfectly.
    Christ, he’d suffered centuries without contact with others, much less touch, and now he was feeling his Bride, soft and pliant in his arms. He was afraid he was dreaming. Before he lost his nerve, his hands dropped to her waist, dragging her more firmly against him. “Tell me your name.”
    “My name... ?” she murmured absently. “My name is Kaderin.”
    “Kaderin,” he repeated, but it didn’t fit her. As he stared down into her shimmering eyes, he thought the name was too cold, too formal, for the creature in his arms. “ Katja,” he rasped, surprised to find that his thumb was slowly brushing her bottom lip. The urge to kiss her was overwhelming. “Katja, I... ”—he began in a rough, breaking voice, and had to swallow to continue—“must... I must kiss you.”
    At his words, the dark hazel of her eyes turned completely silver. She seemed to go into a trance. He was not so far gone as not to notice this stunned reaction, but her full red lips were glistening, beckoning him.
    “I used to love being kissed,” she