She lay panting, and he breathed hard. He released her neck as well and rested his head on her shoulder.

Finally his upper self let go of her arms. She brought them back slowly to surround the primary Lucian who now lay slack on top of her, the weight of him sublime.

She felt his rejoining vibration and afterward how much more solid he seemed as he lay over her chest, still joined to her, his hips keeping her legs spread wide.

She petted the back of his head over and over.

She felt wonderful, extremely well used, but what poured from Lucian distressed her.

I was so into this, but did I hurt you?

Claire chuckled softly.

He leaned back, scowling at her. “Why are you laughing?”

She didn’t want to use her voice just yet, but glided her fingers through his hair as she spoke within his mind. You forget that I siphoned your power. Maybe if I’d been only human just now, but no, Lucian, you didn’t hurt me.

He shook his head. “That doesn’t seem possible. I was out of control.”

She slipped her finger between the crease of his scowl then rubbed up and down the familiar worried line. She sighed heavily.

She knew he didn’t understand himself at all.

“Put me to bed, Lucian. That’s all I want right now, because I’m exhausted.”

Concern swept over his features as he pulled out of her. He reached for a napkin and pressed it between her legs, then he held her close against him and they were flying, a very short flight to a massive, literally cavernous bedroom. He’d left much of the cave in its original shape.

“Shower first,” she whispered as he drew close to the bed.

“Right.”

“You left a lot of yourself inside me.”

She felt his chest swell and sensed a very strong male satisfaction. She chuckled again, but sleep began to work at her consciousness. She made short work of a shower, dried off, then headed straight to bed.

He showered after her and she might have recalled the bed dipping when he climbed in, she wasn’t sure, because she fell into a deep and profound sleep.

As Lucian lay beside Claire, he didn’t understand what had just happened, but he felt extraordinary. This woman did something for him that he couldn’t quite explain, except that he felt more like himself than at any other time in his entire life.

She’d begged to see all that he was, so he’d shown her the part of him that liked control. Yet not once had she seemed afraid of him, or worried that he’d hurt her, not even when he’d split into his two selves. His secondary self had held her in place, and he’d enjoyed her body thoroughly.

He also felt instinctively that she wouldn’t have done this with anyone else. At the same time, he couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone other than Claire.

He lay awake for a long time, watching her sleep. She had a sprawling style, her arms wide, her lips parted.

He’d never spent this much time with one woman, ever. He knew who he was and he’d avoided close relationships. He’d proven the truth of his nature by splitting and pinning Claire down while he took her, drinking from her. Yet it had all seemed so natural.

What’s more, she’d loved it. That’s what the chains had said to him, that she’d loved how he’d controlled her and made love to her.

He wanted to do it again.

And again.

He rolled onto his back, sliding his hands beneath his head. He’d left the ceiling of the cavern in a natural state. He liked the jagged edges of the rock, which tended to reflect his state of mind more often than not.

His chain vibrated softly against his upper chest and to the sides of his neck. The sensation eased him, in the same way the recent sex had. For one of the few times in his life, he didn’t feel so alone—and damn him for liking the way it felt.

He also realized that the remnant of his blood-madness had disappeared during the experience.

After a while, he fell asleep.

Much later, when he woke up, he sniffed and groaned because he smelled bacon frying. What was it about bacon sizzling in a pan?

Coffee, too.

He threw the covers back and hopped from bed, then paused and looked back at the bottom sheet. He rounded the bed, his heart beating hard in his chest as he pulled back the covers on Claire’s side. Even though she’d assured him that he hadn’t hurt her, he still worried that somewhere in working her up, he’d gotten too rough.

But when he saw that her portion of the sheet remained unstained, with no sign of blood, he breathed a deep sigh of relief.

You okay? Claire was suddenly in his head.

Fine. At least he was now.

You felt worried there for a moment, through the chains I mean, almost panicky. Any sign of blood-madness?

He actually touched his chest, then his gut. I’m good, thanks. And he was. He felt almost normal, or at least as normal as the son of a psychopath could ever really feel.

All right then. Breakfast in ten minutes.

He went into the bathroom and shaved, then showered. He donned jeans and a snug black T-shirt, no shoes. He liked feeling the cool smooth marble of the tiles on his bare feet.

When he walked into the kitchen, Claire had her auburn hair brushed to a shine and drawn away from her face, revealing strong sculpted cheekbones. Her complexion glowed, maybe from the sex or perhaps from the power she siphoned. Either way, seeing her tightened something deep in his chest.

He glanced at the place mats set on the island, right over the area where he’d taken her.

She smiled. “Thinking good thoughts about last night? I am.” She chuckled.

Damn, he loved that she wasn’t embarrassed. Maybe she’d had a lot of experience, but he didn’t like thinking of her with other men. He stopped a growl from forming in his throat.

“Thanks for cooking.”

“You’re welcome. And you were right, your fridge was well stocked. You have steaks in there, and a nice imported beer.”

He smiled. “Yes, I do. Standing orders.”

She poured scrambled eggs into a sizzling pan, and toast popped up from the toaster. She buttered the bread, stirred the eggs. “Pour us some coffee. It’s a nice, hearty French blend you have there. Love it.”

He poured two cups and took them to the place mats on the other side of the island. But his gaze remained fixed to her backside, covered in a fresh pair of jeans, something she must have discovered in one of the guest rooms.

“You went on a hunt, I see.”

“I did. I borrowed some clothes and I like these leather flats. Very nice. Do you have women here often then?”

“Nope. They belong to my housekeeper. Apparently, you’re about the same size.”

“Will she mind?”

“Don’t worry. She has a generous spirit and I’ll compensate her.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, still stirring the eggs. “She pretty?”

“She’s one of the finest people I know, but I’d never use her like that. Besides, she’s married to one of our university professors.”

He felt her surprise as she gently scooped eggs onto a couple of plates. “I didn’t know you had universities.”

This time he refused to be offended. “Only three on as many continents. Not everyone is cut out for study.”

“Did you attend?”

He snorted. “Gabriel insisted on it, and every fifty years I had to take a new degree. Some of them at human universities, night courses, naturally.”

“Naturally.”

She put the toast on the plates as well as the bacon, then brought them over to the island and set them on the place mats. He waited for her to sit down and get comfortable before diving in.

“Go ahead.” She laughed this time. “I know you’re starved. I can feel it through the chains. You can take from my wrist afterward as well, if you want.”

He met her gaze and blinked a couple of times. She’d offered him blood, just like that. “You sure seem to have adjusted to things quickly. I can’t tell you how many times you’ve surprised me.”