A silent snarl lifted his lip, revealing his white teeth. Deliberately, Jacques stretched, a slow, languid movement designed to reacquaint himself with his muscles, with his strength. His body was still a little sluggish, but it was alive again. As he moved, he felt the softness of Shea’s body brushing along the hardness of his. His body responded, a sweet ache unknown to him for centuries, now ever present. He turned on his side and stared down into her still, pale face.

His body hardened aggressively. His hand went to the buttons of her shirt, his fingers brushing against her cool, creamy flesh. His heart jumped, and his breath caught in his throat. Such exquisite torment. He’d had no idea anything could be so soft. As he pushed her blouse from her shoulders, he leaned close to her ear. “Wake, little red hair. Wake needing me.” He kissed her eyes, took her mouth, tasting her first breath, his hand closing over her breast to feel the way her heart raced into his palm.

Blood rushed, a symphony of sensation sending heat and need and an urgent ache coiling through Shea. Jacques’ mouth was magical, reverent, a slow seduction, while his hands traced the contours of her body. He could feel her awakening, her mind opening to his. Her emotions were mixed—longing, need, a reluctant caring for him, overpowering fear of what she was, and a deep sorrow. He brushed his hand down her face to trace every beloved line already committed for all eternity to his mind, to his heart. Her face was damp. Jacques bent his head and followed the trail of tears down the slender column of her neck. Her skin was warm honey flowing up from melting ice, the combination irresistible. His tongue swirled over her pulse, and need slammed into him so hard that his body clenched painfully. Shea made a sound, a soft moan somewhere between despair and acquiescence. Her body was arcing into his, pressure and hunger building to drown out all good sense.

“You are safe with me, little Shea.” Jacques used his voice, a blend of heat and velvet. He was willing to utilize every weapon in his arsenal of centuries of experience to bind her to him. “I need you.” His body moved restlessly, aggressively, his mouth finding the hollow of her throat while his hand slid down her narrow ribcage, fingers splayed possessively across her flat stomach. “I know you are afraid. I feel it in my mind. Let yourself feel what I am feeling. There is no doubt, no other love for me. I know you are my other half. Give yourself into my keeping.” His beautiful husky voice rasped softly, slightly hoarse as the fire began to spread. Flames were leaping, hunger rising, and the beast inside was fighting for freedom. Dark purpose began to swirl as Carpathian instincts fought with the man.

The effort to control the wild cravings, the need for dominance, a frenzied, heated mating, his stamp of possession, was riding him hard. He found her mouth a little desperately, pushed further into her mind, not waiting for complete acceptance, afraid it might never come. Her mind was a mixture of tears and sorrow and smoke and flame and burning desire.

Jacques.Hisname was a whisper echoing in his head. Her hands were on his, stopping him from pushing the jeans from her hips.

He deepened the kiss, possessive, erotic, deliberately sharing the urgent hunger, the burning desires in his own mind. You gave me back my life, Shea. Give me my soul. I need you, only you. Make me complete again.The tension went out of her hands enough that he could slide the jeans from the curve of her hips, down her legs, exposing the beauty of her body to him, to his exploring hands.

Shea heard Jacques’ swift indrawn breath, felt his heart jump, his body savage with need, his mind a red haze of burning hunger. The intensity of his emotion was overwhelming to her, threatening to her. She closed her eyes, her arms creeping around his neck, knowing she could not find the strength to refuse such a terrible need in him. Anyone else, but never him.

He inhaled deeply, breathing her scent into his lungs, his hands moving slowly over her body, taking his time with her, fighting off the beast raging to possess her. He had already hurt her too much, taken from her parts of her life he could never give back. He wanted her first time with him to be beautiful, to be as right as he could make it.

“Don’t cry, love,” he whispered softly into her throat, his mouth resting over her pulse, his tongue stroking the frantic rhythm. His body clenched; pain and hunger rose until it beat at him, at her. His teeth scraped her neck, a sweet torment for both of them. He nuzzled her breasts, marveling at how soft she was, how perfect. Her bones felt small beneath his seeking hands, yet her muscles were firm and her skin like satin.

He was trembling now, a shudder of effort to hold back his wild nature, a fine sheen of sweat bathing his body. Sensations and textures danced with swirling colors and heat. After centuries of no emotion, no feeling, after seven years of damnation and pain, Jacques would never forget the feel of this moment. The way she looked, smelled, and felt to his touch, the reluctant love, the sorrow, the matching hunger and desire in her mind was forever etched into his soul.

Shea felt the change in him, in the way his hands caressed her thighs, the absolute conviction in his mind. She felt his fierce hunger, the burning in his body, his urgent need. His body blanketed hers, imprisoned her, his knee effectively parting her legs. Her body clenched hotly as he pressed against her, hard and insistent. Her heart jolted in sudden rebellion, but his mouth was on her breast, driving out sane thoughts. With every hot pull of his mouth, moist heat throbbed and beckoned him deeper until he met innocent resistance.

His mouth reluctantly released her breast, found her pulse, where his tongue swirled erotically. “You are my lifemate.” His teeth scraped her soft, creamy flesh. Liquid heat bathed him invitingly. “I claim you as my lifemate. I belong to you. I offer my life for you.” His hands found her small hips, cupped her in his palms. His body was a relentless, savage ache of burning hunger. “I give you my protection, my allegiance, my heart, my soul, and my body. I take into my keeping the same that is yours. Your life, happiness, and welfare will be placed above my own for all time.”

“Stop it, Jacques,” Shea whispered desperately, feeling every word, every breath weaving them so tightly together that she couldn’t tell where he left off and she began.

“You are my lifemate, bound to me for all eternity and always in my care.” His teeth sank deep; his body surged into hers. White-hot pain exploded over both of them, leaving shimmering flames leaping high and hot.

Shea’s cry was lost in her throat. She wrapped her arms around his head and cradled him to her. Welded together, body, mind, and heart, her life flowing into him, his body took command of hers. He moved—a slow, careful test of her response to him. She was hot and tight, the friction threatening to engulf him in the frenzied, uninhibited sexual mating of a Carpathian male. With effort he controlled himself, savoring the sweet, hot spice of her blood, the velvet fire gripping his body.

He moved gently, tenderly, a long, sure stroke designed to coax her, to calm him. Her muscles clenched around him, and he surged forward, buried himself deep in her very core, his mouth drawing the essence of her life into his keeping. The world narrowed, receded, until she was his breath, his heart, the blood flowing in his veins. There was no darkness, no shadows, only Shea’s body with its heat and flowing colors and leaping flames.

Shea’s soft little keening cries were muffled against him, yet they echoed in his mind. His body craved hers, more and more, harder and faster and deeper. He drove on and on, reaching for the stars, the universe, reaching for the meeting of their souls. Her blood fed his insatiable hunger, no taste ever better, so erotic and perfect that he indulged himself, giving himself up to lust and greed and wave after wave of unbearable pleasure.