Dark Tarot (Dark Carpathians)

“Can you imagine what it was like to feel a demon growing in me? Something worse than the undead. Something evil, something that loved the battle and the killing. A beast that grew to need it.”

She turned in his arms, sliding over his straining cock so that he groaned at the sensation of silk against steel. Accelerant pouring over flames. Her belly pressed against his, her thighs straddling his. Her breasts crushed up against his chest, nipples two hot points of fire as she slid her arms around his neck.

“Sandu.” Her mouth left a trail of fire from his throat to his jaw. “Not evil. Your demon is not evil. You believe that to be so, but I’m telling you he’s not. Nothing about you is evil.” She kissed under his jaw and nibbled her way around his neck to lick at his pounding pulse. “You’re beautiful the way you are, a fighting machine when you need to be.”

Her mouth was distracting him, but he needed to tell her. She had to know what she was to him. “You came for me when I was locked in a place of torture and torment, Adalasia. Where there was no hope. Only pain. Agony. Weakness and temptation. You came for me.”

“I wasn’t alone, Sandu. I could never have gotten you out of there alone.” She whispered it like some terrible confession against his throat.

He heard the ache in her voice. The need and hunger. He also heard the small note of guilt and shame. His gut clenched at the thought she would feel in any way as if she were ashamed because she couldn’t get to him by herself.

“What matters to me, Adalasia, is that you came for me. You have that kind of courage, even knowing what you were facing.” He whispered the truth to her. As he did, he stood, caging her in his arms so that she was skin to skin with him.

On the floor, where before there had been dirt, Adalasia had fashioned a carpet of fur, thick and sensual under his bare feet. His body moved, hot and aggressive, against hers. He bent her back over the bar of his arm so that her full breasts jutted up toward him and her wild mane of dark hair fell like a silken waterfall toward the floor.

His tongue lapped at those curves, rasped over her erect nipples and then the undersides of her breasts before tracing the way down the deep valley toward her belly. His long mane of blond hair spilled over her, brushing her shoulders and the upper curves of her breasts so that she jumped, her gaze leaping to his.

“Tet vigyázam,” he whispered against her belly, transferring his hold to her hips as he went to his knees in front of the woman he worshiped. Telling her he loved her was far easier in his own language. Showing her with his body was even more so.

“Sandu.” Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he continued on his journey of exploration, kissing and nipping with his lips and teeth, creating a path from her belly to her mound.

Sandu caught her thighs and widened her stance, looking up at her to see her throat move convulsively, her breath turn ragged and the muscles in her belly ripple with need. He brushed his hand gently, tenderly, from the inside of her knee up to the heat of her weeping entrance, his palm barely there. Just whispering along her skin, following with his lips. Kissing her. Blazing that trail. Creating a line of fire.

She reacted with soft cries and one hand fisting in his hair when she felt his breath on her clit, on her slick entrance. The other hand had fingers digging into his shoulder, her nails little pinpoints of pain that added to the building hunger already raging in his body.

Every time I touch you like this, I feel as if I have been given a miracle. He switched his attention to her other thigh, not wanting any part of her body to feel neglect.

Sandu. His name was a protest when he took his mouth from her entrance.

He smiled against her inner thigh and continued scraping his teeth up her leg toward his ultimate goal. You are so impatient, Sivamet. We have all night. I want to take all night.

I would not live through all night.

He bit down gently on her inner thigh, up high, close to her clit. Catching her hips in his hands, he held her still. She was in continuous motion, unable to stop her restless movement, seeking the heat of his mouth. Her unique fragrance called to him, and he couldn’t help circling her clit with his tongue and then lapping at the drops leaking from her sheath. That flavor, all Adalasia and all for him.