Dark Promises (Dark 25)

"Of course you can have children. When you are converted, a woman of your age is just coming out of her teens. Our children mature at around fifty years. You are the perfect age."

With a surge of adrenaline, Trixie shot up, dragging herself away from Fane, rolling out of the bed, clutching at the pillow. When he sat up, she bashed him with it. "I. Will. Not. Be. Having. Children." She bit out each word from between her teeth. She smacked him with the pillow again for emphasis.

He made a muffled gurgling sound, and she pulled the pillow up in order to make certain she hadn't done permanent damage. In any case, she was smacking the wrong portion of his anatomy. His blue eyes dancing, he burst out laughing.

"Woman, you have a penchant for violence." He caught the pillow, preventing the next blow.

She loved the sound of his laughter. He sat up as she tried to wrestle the pillow away from him. His laughter caught at her insides, making her heart melt and her stomach turn over in a slow somersault. She found herself trapped between his muscular thighs. They were like twin oak trees. Strong. Very defined muscles. Her gaze dropped to his groin. The smile faded from her face. He looked . . . delicious.

"You really are beautiful, Fane," she whispered, holding the pillow for protection. How could she walk away from him? From his need? His hunger? From everything he was offering to her? Without thinking, she wrapped her fist around his thick, silken shaft. So hot. Scorching hot. His cock jerked in her hand. Pulsing. Alive. So thick and long she wondered how he could have managed to get inside her.

"Trixie. I will take care of you. I will cherish and protect you. Your attitude is a trait I very much enjoy. When I have had enough you will know. The thing you need to remember about lifemates is that both parties need to make the other happy. It is a need."

She licked her lips, her hand sliding up slowly to the crown of his cock. He fascinated her. When she did that, keeping her fist tight, but gliding so slowly, the muscles in his abdomen rippled in response.

"Gabrielle was crying her eyes out. When her lifemate came in he looked as if he might murder her," she pointed out. "He was the scariest man I've ever seen, and his look didn't change when he saw his woman's tearstained face."

"Aleksei will see to her happiness, Trixie," Fane said gently. He wrapped his hand around hers and moved her fist into a deeper rhythm. His breath turned ragged. "He cannot abuse her. They have things to work out, but they will do it because there is no other alternative. Their bond is strong. I can feel it when I am with them both."

He reached up and caught her braid, tugging until she sank to her knees on the ground. He had carpeted the floor in a deep sheepskin so the position was comfortable. She was beginning to forget what they were talking about. It had been important, but right now, there was his hunger beating at her. His desire. His need. She found he was right, she wanted--no, needed--to satisfy him.

His hand in her hair urged her head forward. She licked her lips. Touched the crown right where there were two droplets beading and instantly the taste of him burst through her mouth. Swamping her with that craving.

We can have babies fifty years from now, a hundred, he said softly, intimately, pushing the thought into her mind. We need time to explore each other.

I raised my family. I did that already. He had to know. And yet when she made the protest, mind to mind, and knew he heard, something in her flinched away from making that a deal breaker. She had never raised children with a man. A strong man. A man who would stick with her and help her. She'd never had that. She'd wanted it in a long forgotten dream, but she had accepted that she would never have it.

She licked at the soft--hard--beautiful crown, savoring the taste of him. I've never done this.

You do not have to do this now.

His hand remained in her hair, his fist surrounding hers while she glided her hand up and down, watching and feeling the shudders of pleasure whipping through him. She loved that she was doing that to him. She loved that she could. He was powerful and large. He was beautiful. And yet it was her making him feel this way. The deeper she was in his mind, the more she knew how he felt.

He let her in. Not a small way, all the way. She saw the darkness in him. She saw his ability to battle. To kill. She saw the cost to him--the bleak loneliness--and she identified with him. He'd done his duty. He'd chosen to do his duty--just as she had.

He needed her. She bent her head and took him in her mouth, feeling the rush through her bloodstream and unable to tell whether it was his rush or hers. He wanted her. Her. Trixie Joanes. At her age. He wanted her with every single cell in his body. All of her. He saw inside of her. He admired her. Respected her. He liked her attitude and even her outrageous attacks on him. He didn't just like them. He loved them. She made him laugh. She made him think. More, she did this for him--created fire. Created paradise.

Want me back, Trixie. He breathed the invitation into her mind.

She felt his tone, that mesmerizing voice, like the touch of his fingers on her skin. She liked what she was doing to him, liked the way his body shuddered with pleasure and his mind was consumed with it. She knew, as she experimented with her tongue, just what he liked the most. Being in his mind was an amazing gift. She knew what to do. She could follow his mind, the erotic images and the pleasure streaking through him. His taste was so familiar, so perfect, and she wanted more. She wanted it all.

Want me back, Trixie.

She looked up at him as she took him deeper, as she rolled her tongue beneath the crown and felt his response. Watching his eyes. Those beautiful sapphire eyes.

Say it. Say you will come into my world with me and allow me into yours. Say it. Tell me you want me that much, han sivamak. My beloved.

She couldn't give him up. She knew she couldn't. He was a gift. He thought she was a miracle and she knew he always would, but what he didn't get was that he filled her. That empty place where she'd been hollow for so long. For all her life. A place where she knew no man loved her or ever would. He did. He would. This beautiful, amazing man.

I want you that much.

The moment she gave him that, he reached for her, tugged her up and over him, so that she straddled his lap. His hand went between her legs to assure himself she was ready for him and he all but slammed her down over his cock. The breath left her lungs and she cried out, shocked at the streaks of fire racing through her. Then his mouth was once again at her neck and this time, there was no haze, no veil. Just his mouth and his teeth, biting down right over her pounding pulse.

She cried out at the blistering pleasure surging through her. At the feel of his mouth pulling strongly, taking her blood. It didn't feel gross. It wasn't in the least frightening. It was entirely sensual, and all the while, his body moved in hers. His hips rose while his hands guided her to a faster rhythm.

Ride me, sivamet. Just like this.

She wrapped her arms around his body, lifting herself up and gliding down, a tight, hot spiral that sent flames racing through her. Through both of them. His pleasure was so acute, she could barely breathe with it. She wanted to give him more.

He lifted his head just enough to swirl his tongue over the pinpricks on her neck. He kissed her neck, her shoulder, and then kissed her mouth. She tasted that nectar, an ambrosia she couldn't get anywhere else. She loved the taste.

Give me more. Give me all of you.

He sounded like pure temptation. Sinful. Beautiful. Heaven. He brought her mouth to his chest.

There, beloved. Take all of me. There is no part of me that is not yours.

She felt the beads bubbling up, those deep crimson drops, better than any wine she'd ever tasted. Him. All Fane. Hers. She drank. Deeply. All the while, his hands dug into her hips and he took over the pace, filling her. Filling the hollow spot deep in her soul. Filling her mind where all that loneliness resided. Taking it all away.

I will cherish you for all time, Trixie, he whispered into her mind. When you are ready for another family, you have only to tell me

and we will do that together. Anything you want and I can provide, it is yours.

His hand moved in her hair, tugging, telling her she'd had enough, and she did just as he had done--swirled her tongue over the small laceration as if she could close it, or as if she needed one last taste.

Fane rolled them, keeping them connected, her under him so that he could watch her face as he moved in her. She was so beautiful. He loved that she had lived life. That she'd known sorrow and happiness. That she'd lived her life as fully as possible and taught those she loved to do the same. She understood loneliness. She needed him in the same way he needed her.

He took her over the edge and went with her, and then stayed there, deep inside his lady. Feeling her beauty. Feeling her contentment. Loving that she relaxed beneath him, trusting him.

He kissed her over and over before he rolled to his side, tucking her close, his hand splayed over her soft belly. "This will not be easy. Andre told me, the conversion is difficult, but I will get you through it, han sivamak, trust me to get you through it."

She made a lazy circle with her fingertips on his abdomen. "Conversion?"

"From your world to mine. We cannot be apart. During the day, I cannot be in the sun. A paralysis overcomes me. It is getting close to dawn and we will need to be in the ground."

Trixie blinked at him. She went very still. "I can't sleep in the ground with you, Fane. I would suffocate."

"Not if you go through the conversion first," he pointed out. "You will become as I am. You will be able to see your family, Trixie, have no fears of that. We can make adjustments . . ."