Velvet Cataclysm (Princes of the Underground 1)

Her full lower lip trembled as she stared up at him.

“And…and that’s what you want?”

“Yes. Gods, yes. It means I will be able to control my hunger when it comes to you. I can touch you…bring you pleasure, and not submit to my need to feed. We’ll still need to be careful—I don’t want to harm you—but the crystal chamber will help me with my control.”

“I don’t believe you’d ever harm me, Saint. Making love isn’t about always being in control.”

“It has to be for me, Christina.”

The elevator door started to close. He braced it open and pulled her into his bedroom. He could count on one hand the number of women he’d invited into his private sanctuary since he built Whitby one hundred and nineteen years before. Saint couldn’t have recalled any one of their faces if he tried while Christina stared up at him with a mixture of desire and uncertainty in her green eyes.

His need swelled, confusing him for a moment. The energy he’d absorbed in the chamber had satisfied him greatly. It wasn’t the equivalent of bathing in Christina’s vitessence, drinking her blood, or plunging his cock into her last night, but he had felt energized after standing in the crystal chamber for only ten minutes.

“I want to be clear. I can’t be what you want, Christina… I can’t fulfill your fantasies. We’re still far too different to be a normal couple. I can’t feel the same way a human man could for you. I can’t give you what you deserve. But if you choose it, we can give one another pleasure. Is that what you want?”

Her lower lip trembled, but her gaze looked hot and wanting when she stared at his mouth and then dropped her gaze to his chest.

“That’s all you’re willing to give me? Sex?”

Something tightened in his chest. He stepped toward her and cupped her cheek. “I would give you everything if I could. But I’m hollow…empty. If you refuse my flesh, then I’ve nothing else to offer you.”

“Saint,” she said in a choked voice. She shook her head and a tear spilled down her cheek.

“Shhh, don’t cry,” he whispered. “I never allowed myself to hope for the possibility of being your lover, not just for one night…but for many nights to come. For me, it’s nothing less than a miracle.” He leaned down and touched her only with his mouth, rubbing their lips together softly, languorously. The tip of his tongue traced her lower lip, glorying in her singular flavor. Her tongue met his in a questing, sweet caress. His mouth closed over hers.

“There has never been a day since I laid eyes on you that I haven’t burned for you,” he said gruffly when they separated to draw air.

She encircled his waist with her arms and pressed close. Not only his nose, but every cell in his being absorbed her singular essence.

“I’ll say yes to having sex, but I’m not sure when I’m going to forgive you for ignoring me.”

He smiled as he cradled her jaw with both hands. “Accuse me of what you will, but never believe for a second that I ignored you. As easy for a fish to ignore water.” He leaned down over her. “You entranced me from t

he moment I first saw you.”

“Past time you surrender then,” she whispered.

His nostrils flared greedily to capture her scent before he fell on her mouth. He lifted her body against him and carried her to the bed. Her eyes blinked open and she started.

“What is that?” she whispered in confusion as she stared at the complicated leather harness and pulley system above the bed.

“I told you that I have to use special equipment to maintain control.”

Christina said nothing. The troubled expression she wore faded as he undressed her. When she lay before him completely naked, he just stared at her for a long moment. As he had last night, he laid his hand across her abdomen, experimenting with the idea of cherishing her without absorbing her vitessence. It felt strange to be so intensely sexually aroused and yet not feel the building compulsion to feed.

“Saint,” she whispered, holding up her arms for him.

He blinked and lowered himself, pulling her up to the head of the bed and lying beside her. She ran her hands over his shoulders and back. She threaded her fingers through his hair and pressed the tips to his skull. When she pulled up his T-shirt and slid her palm along his bare skin, he shivered and grabbed her wrist, pushing it down next to her head.

“I want to take off your clothes,” she protested.

“Not yet,” he muttered gruffly. He leaned down and brushed his cheek against the exquisitely soft skin of her lower breast. He tilted his head and ran his closed lips over the succulent curve. She groaned and delved her fingers into his hair. He continued to nuzzle her fragrant skin, entranced by the sensation of her flesh. When she took the shell of his ear between thumb and forefinger and squeezed rhythmically, he growled and sat up.

“What are you doing?” she asked when he dove for a bedside table and pulled open a drawer. He pulled out a long, red silk scarf and came up to a kneeling position.

“I’m going to restrain you. I want to touch you everywhere and your hands are driving me crazy.”

She looked doubtful, but he saw arousal in her eyes as she considered the red scarf. He coaxed her by sliding the silk in a sensual caress against the side of her waist, along her belly and over one beading nipple.