His hands framed her face, thumbs brushing her frantic pulse. Each light caress sent flames dancing through her body. Her gaze once more reluctantly found his, her eyes filled with a kind of hopelessness.

“Of course I know what the cost is to you, little one. I feel your reluctance, your revulsion of our feeding habits.” His hand slid to the nape of her neck, drew her close.

“I’ve tried to make the adjustment,” she protested. “I need more time.”

“I know that, Shea. I should have found another way to help you heal. I am trying to find out what kind of lifemate you have. I want to be what you need, someone you can respect and love, not someone who imposes his will and takes the expedient way out. There are ways, little love, to feed you without revulsion.” His mouth found her pulse, felt it jump under the velvet rasp of his tongue.

His lips moved to her chin, the corner of her lips. His voice was husky, aching. “Want me enough, Shea. Want me with more than just your body. Let me into your heart.” His mouth fastened on hers, not gently but wildly, hungrily. The hunger was in his eyes when he raised his head to look down at her. “Open your mind to me. Want me there, as you want me in your body. Want me coming to you wild with a need only you can satisfy. Take me into your soul and let me live there.” His mouth was roaming every inch of her face, the column of her neck, the hollow of her shoulder.

His body burned and ached and needed. His heart tuned itself to the rhythm of hers. His mind was a haze of desire, erotic pictures, and sensual needs. It was filled with tenderness and love, an intensity that scorched her as much as the hunger in him. The heat of his mouth found her breast through the thin cotton of her shirt, claimed her. His body reacted savagely, painfully, his jeans tight and uncomfortable.

Jacques dragged her closer, the storm in him, around him, a part of him. “Make me whole. Shea. Do not leave me like this. Want me back. Need my body in yours. Have to touch me as I have to touch you.”

Shea could feel it in him, the raging, wilddesire, the dark, sensual hunger. His eyes held so much need, there was no way she could possibly refuse him. Her hands were already sliding over his defined, sculpted muscles, the wildness in her erupting every bit as stormily as the weather around them.

Her mouth fed on his; her hands pushed at his clothes, at hers, to rid them of the unnatural encumbrances. She couldn’t get close enough to him; skin to skin was not going to do it. Jacques drew her shirt over her head, tossed it aside, nearly bent her backward to feed hungrily at her breasts. His hands slid up and down her sides, her narrow ribcage, the tiny waist.

“Let me into your heart, Shea,” Jacques murmured along the creamy swell of her breast, against the frantic rhythm beating in tune to his. “Right here, little one, let me in.” His teeth scraped her satin skin, his tongue caressed and stroked.

He dragged the jeans from her waist, pushed them down the curve of her slender hips. Dropping to his knees, he circled her hips with his arms, nuzzled the silk panties, burrowed deep. Shea cried out his name, and the wind whirled the sound and roared it back to her, surrounded her with him, with his scent and the strength of his desire.

“Want me, Shea. Like this. Like it is meant to be. Just like this. I have to have you. Out here in the middle of this storm. I have to have you right now.” He ripped the silk panties aside, clutched her to him, feeding on flowing, honeyed heat. Her body rippled with pleasure, and she writhed against his attacking mouth, but he didn’t stop, instead sending her over and over the edge.

Shea could only grab hold of his thick charcoal hair with her fist and hold on as the world rocked under her feet and the rain crashed to earth. Jacques somehow managed to do away with her shoes and drag the jeans from her body. She stood naked in the driving rain, so hot she was afraid the water would sizzle when it hit her skin.

“Do you want me, Shea?” This time his voice was hesitant, as if for all his strength, for all his power, one word from her would bring him crashing down. He was kneeling at her feet, his beloved face—so ravaged by torment, so beautifully male, so sensually Carpathian—staring up at her. He was lost without her; it was there for her to see. Raw. Stark. His total vulnerability. For just one moment the wind seemed to cease, and the storm held itself still as if the very skies were awaiting her answer.

“You can’t possibly know how much I want you, Jacques, even if you’re reading my mind.” She pulled him to his feet, leaned forward to brush his lips with hers. “I want you in my heart. I always have.” Her breath was warm on his chest. Her tongue tasted his skin, felt the answering jump of his heart. Her hands went to the buttons of his jeans, then slowly freed him from their tight confines.

A whip of lightning cracked across the sky, and for one moment his profile was lit up. His dark body, the taut muscles and his terrible need of her, was revealed starkly in the night. His eyes never left her, black and intense and so hungry. Shea’s arms circled him lightly, and she touched her mouth to his flat, hard stomach. Jacques jumped as if she had burned him. Her palms followed the carved contours of his buttocks, lingered for a moment as if memorizing him. Then she was on her knees, her hand cupping him, stroking and caressing the velvet shaft. Her every movement sent a shudder of pleasure dancing through his body, a rush of flames leaping to engulf him.

Jacques caught a fistful of her red hair, soaked and darkened by the driving rain. He urged her forward, thrusting his hips aggressively, consumed with need for her touch. She was laughing softly, tauntingly, as the heated, moist interior of her mouth slid over him. He groaned and held her to him, lifted his face to the wild storm.

“You have to mean it, Shea. You cannot do this and not mean it.” The words were torn from him, raw and hurting, as if from his soul.

She tightened her hold on him, followed his unintentional thrusting, deliberately enticed him further. He dragged her up, buried his face in her neck, breathing deeply to maintain a semblance of control. Hands spanning her waist, he lifted her.

“Put your legs around my waist, love.” He was biting her throat gently, his teeth urgent, his tongue easing every ache.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, settled herself over him, felt the hard thickness of him pushing aggressively for entrance. He felt far too big, so hot she was afraid both of them would go up in flames. Before she could ease herself over him, he thrust upward, spearing her, filling her so completely that she cried his name. The sound was lost in the violence of the storm raging around them.

The rain ran down her face, off her pale shoulders, down her full, gleaming breasts to form beads at the peaks of her rose-colored nipples. Jacques caught the water in his mouth, his body thrusting hard into hers. Flames burned them, consumed them, leapt between them. She was fiery heat gripping him, holding him to her, drawing him deeper and deeper into the magic of her spell.

Jacques’ mouth found hers again, a little brutally, feeding voraciously, dominantly, laying claim to her, branding her for all time. “Open your mind to mine.” The whisper was once again against her throat She felt his mouth at the hollow of her shoulder, his teeth, the heat and beckoning hunger. “Give me your mind, Shea. Let me in and keep me there.” The whisper was a sorcerer’s web. He was weaving a spell so strong, she had no thought to deny him anything.

He surged into her body, pushed through the barrier into her mind, and claimed her heart. At once everything was different. He felt her pleasure, so intense she was nearly on fire with it. She felt his pleasure, reaching for the very stars, his body gathering strength, his wanting her fulfillment above his own. He wanted the world for her, ached to have her love him as he was, damaged and broken and nearly a madman. She could see into his soul, the barely leashed beast always striving for dominance, never quite conquered. She could see his fear of losing her, of being forever vampire, loathed and hunted by his own kind. And she could see his terrible need to protect her, keep her safe, and his need to please her. He wanted to earn her respect and love, be worthy of it. He made no effort to hide the demon in him, dark and ugly, so hungry for revenge, so in need of a keeper.