Kiss of the Night (Dark-Hunter 4)

Chapter 3

Cassandra's eyes fluttered open as she felt strong, hot hands unbuttoning her flannel gown. Startled, she stared up at the Dark-Hunter who had saved her life at the club.

His midnight eyes were hungry with desire as he looked down at her.

"It's you," she breathed, her head fuzzy from her dreams.

He smiled at that and appeared delighted by her words. "You remember me?"

"Of course. How could I ever forget the way you kiss?"

His smile widened wickedly as he parted her gown and ran his hand over her bared skin. She moaned at the warmth of his palm on her flesh. Against her will, a stab of desire tore through her as her breasts tingled from his fiery touch. The calluses of his rough fingers lightly, gently scraped her swollen nipples. It made her stomach contract even more. Made her throb as moisture pooled itself between her legs, making her want even more to take his entire strength into her body.

She realized her Viking savior was completely naked in her bed. Well, maybe not completely. He did wear a silver necklace of Thor's hammer and a small crucifix.

Okay, that was pushing it. But he wore the necklace well against his tawny skin.

The dim light caressed every contour of his magnificent body. His shoulders were wide and well muscled, his chest a perfect sculpting of male proportions.

And his rear...

It was the stuff of legends!

His chest and legs were lightly covered by dark hair. His strong, lightly whiskered chin begged for a woman to lick her way down it until she could tilt his head back and continue on to his luscious neck.

But what fascinated her was the intricate Norse tattoo that covered his entire right shoulder and ended in a highly stylized band that encircled his biceps. It was beautiful.

And yet it didn't hold a candle to the man in her arms.

He was gorgeous. Mouthwateringly so.

"What are you doing?" she asked as he traced circles around her breasts with his hot tongue.

"I'm making love to you."

Had she not been asleep, those words would have terrified her. But all thoughts of fear and everything else scattered as he cupped her breast in his hand.

She hissed in pleasure and expectation.

Gently, he massaged her, rubbing his callused palm against her taut nipple until it was so tight that she wanted to beg him to kiss her. Beg him to suckle her.

"So soft," he whispered against her lips before he claimed them as well.

Cassandra sighed. Her body burned with an astounding intensity as she ran her hands over his bare, broad shoulders. She'd never felt the likes of them. Well formed and perfect, they rippled with his power and strength.

And she wanted to feel more of him.

He moved his hand away from her and reached for her braid. She watched him study her hair as he loosened it. "Why do you wear your hair like this?" he asked in that intoxicatingly deep, accented voice.

"The curls tangle if I don't."

His eyes snapped fire as if he thought her braid were some kind of abomination. "I don't like it. Your hair is too beautiful to be bound."

He ran his hands through her freed curls and his gaze instantly turned tender. Soft. He brushed her hair with his fingers until it covered her bared breasts. His breath fell against her skin while he teased her nipples with her curls and his touch.

"There now," he said, his Norse accent smooth and lilting. "A more beautiful woman, I've never seen."

Her body molten, Cassandra could do nothing but watch him watch her.

He was stunningly handsome. Masculine in a barbaric way that made the woman in her thrum with primal need.

It was obvious this was a dangerous man. Basic. Hard. Unyielding.

"What is your name?" she asked as he dipped his head to nibble her neck. His whiskered cheeks prickled her flesh, raising chills all over her as he tasted her.

"Wulf."

She shivered as she realized the source of this midnight fantasy. "Like Beowulf?"

He smiled hungrily, flashing her a brief glimpse of his long, canine teeth. "Actually, I'm more like Grendel. I come out only at night to devour you."

She shivered again as he gave one long, deliciously wicked lick to the underside of her breast.

Now this was a man who knew well how to pleasure a woman. And better yet, he didn't seem to be in a hurry to finish, but rather took his time with her.

If there was any doubt before, that alone told her this was a dream!

Wulf ran his tongue over her soft skin and delighted in her murmurs of pleasure as he tasted her salty-sweet flesh. He loved the warm, soothing feel and smell of this woman.

She was delectable.

He hadn't had a dream like this in centuries. It was so real, and yet he knew it wasn't.

She was only a figment of his starving imagination.

Even so, she touched him in a way he'd never before known. And she smelled so good... like fresh roses and powder.

Womanly. Soft.

A tender morsel just waiting for him to sample her. Or better still, devour.

Pulling back, he returned to her hair that reminded him of the color of sunshine. The fiery gold strands captivated him as the curls wrapped themselves around his fingers and tugged at the edges of his stone heart. "You have such beautiful hair."

"So do you," she said as she brushed his hair back from his face.

She scraped his whiskers with her fingernail as she traced the curve of his jaw. Gods, how long had it been since he'd last had a woman?

Three, four months?

Three, four decades?

It was hard to keep track of time when it stretched out interminably. All he knew was that he had long ago given up the dream of having a woman like this under him.

Since no woman could remember him, he refused to take decent women into his bed.

All too well, he knew what it was like to wake up after sex and have no idea what had been done to him. To lie there wondering how much of it had been real and how much had been a dream.

So, he had relegated his encounters to women he could pay for their services, and then only when he absolutely could stand his celibacy no more.

But this one had remembered his kiss.

She had remembered him.

The thought made his heart soar. He liked this dream, and if he could, he'd stay in it forever.

"Tell me your name, villkat."

"Cassandra."

He felt the word rumble under his lips as he kissed the column of her throat. She trembled in response to his tongue stroking her flesh.

And he loved it. Loved the sounds she made as she returned his caresses. She ran her hot, eager hands over his naked back and paused her right hand over the brand on his left shoulder.

"What is this?" she asked curiously.

He glanced down at the sign of a bow and arrow. "It's the mark of Artemis, the goddess of the hunt and of the moon."

"Do all Dark-Hunters have it?"

"Yes."

"How strange..."

Wulf couldn't stand the flannel barrier anymore. He wanted to see more of her.

Wulf lifted the hem of her gown. "This should be burned."

She frowned. "Why?"

"Because it keeps me from you."

With one tug, he pulled it over her head.

Her eyes widened for an instant, then turned dark with her own passion.