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  • Home > Christine Feehan > Dark Series > Dark Blood (Chapter 43)     
    Dark Blood(Dark #26) by Christine Feehan
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    Branislava moved slightly, her eyes suddenly opening, showing that gift of green emeralds. She smiled at him, a soft, loving smile that stole his breath and pushed need and hunger into his body.

    What is it? Do you have need of me?

    The Carpathian paralysis was at its heaviest and yet she managed to return to him. Again, he was a little in awe of his luck. I’m just wondering how a man of war like me could be so lucky as to get a woman of grace like you.

    Her long lashes swept down, but not before he saw the pleased amusement in her eyes.

    I am the lucky one, Wolfie, and I am well aware of it. Sleep. You need to rest.

    She called him Wolfie when she loved him so fiercely she felt a little overwhelmed by it and had to lighten the moment. He found himself smiling. Happy. Content. Except for the fact that he was awake when he should have been fast asleep. There was just a nagging feeling of unease. He knew he had no choice but to check it out.

    Branka, I’m going to walk around a bit and make certain everyone is safe. Continue to rest. I’ll return as soon as I’ve made the rounds.

    A small frown came over her face. He couldn’t help but rub his finger over her full, pouting lips. Her lashes fluttered, but she didn’t lift them. Answering wings fluttered in his stomach, teasing his groin into growing in length and girth.

    You’re Carpathian, you can’t go out this time of day.

    I’ve always been able to go out this time of day. Why should anything be any different just because the ancients acknowledged me?

    Her little frown deepened. His heart did a slow somersault in his chest and this time he smoothed the line between her eyes.

    I forgot about the Dark Blood lineage. They are the only ones to be able to do such a thing. Combine that with your Lycan blood and there you go. Not a good thing when your lifemate can’t do the same.

    Her petulant tone made him smile. And why is that? he asked her, bending down to brush his mouth gently across hers.

    Who knows what trouble you’ll get into without me.

    He laughed softly, once again finding himself happier than he’d ever been in his life. It mattered little the circumstances surrounding them, the danger or the battles, only this fiery woman lying curled so close to him.

    He cupped her breast, his thumb sliding over her nipple. She shivered and her nipple peaked. He had known that even during the time when Carpathians couldn’t move, she would respond to his touch. He was fascinated by her body, the shape of her, those soft curves, all that silky satin skin.

    Mmm, she whispered. Your touch always makes my body sing.

    She was more than half asleep to say something like that to him. His smile broadened. I like the way your body sings for me. Have you ever dreamt of making love during the time you cannot move? Your body seems so alive to me.

    To tease her, he ran his hand down her flat stomach to the junction between her legs. There was smoldering heat when the rest of her body felt cool to his touch. I do believe you’re dreaming of me. He cupped her mound and felt the small rush of liquid response.

    She gave a little sniff of disdain, her lips curving into a smile. Not really. A wolf man? Why ever would I do that?

    Because, my darling woman—he bent his head again to draw her breast into the heat of his mouth—if you dreamt of another man and responded like this, wet and ready with your fire growing, I would have to hunt him down and kill him. He flattened his tongue, stroking and teasing, using the edge of his teeth while he suckled, showing her the wolf lying in wait.

    She laughed softly, the sound vibrating through him, teasing his body like the touch of her fingers. You’re such a big bad wolf sometimes.

    You have no idea just how bad a wolf can be. Here you are lying so helpless, and I have no problem taking advantage of you.

    His teeth nipped his way down to her belly button, his tongue easing the sharp sting. His sank one finger deep into her waiting body, feeling her readiness, that eager reception he always anticipated.

    Should I be afraid? I believe my body belongs to you. It is saying so right this minute.

    Her laughter teased at his groin, as if her mouth was so close to him, breathing warm air over the burgeoning shaft and sensitive head. He could have sworn he felt the brush of her tongue over him. His cock jerked and he circled his girth with his hand, already on fire for her.

    You’re playing with fire again, she said softly, intimately, into his mind. Her tone was pure seduction. A temptress with her body calling to his and her mind touching him with her fingers and tongue and mouth.

    Hunger was savage. Tearing at him unexpectedly the way it often did when he was close to her. The scent of her called to the wolf in him, and his body reacted with urgent, brutally hard need. He plunged two fingers into her tightness, trying to prepare her when he knew he would join them fast and hard.

    I am always ready for you, my love, always. I look at you and my body drips with welcome. My breasts cannot wait for your mouth and hands. I am more than ready.

    Zev didn’t waste any more time. He parted her thighs and moved her body so he could slide into her fiery sheath in one, fast forceful surge, burying himself to the hilt. He went so deep he felt her womb, that warm, snug place she would carry their child. Despite the hour of the day, her sheath was hot vibrant silk, moist and ready for him, opening reluctantly and then clamping around him like a tight fist of pure fire.

    His breath hissed out as he began to move, locking her hips in place while he pounded his body into hers, burying himself over and over in that scorching blaze. She couldn’t move, couldn’t stop him from doing anything to her body, and the wonderful thing was, she didn’t want to. He could touch her anywhere, kiss her, taste her and just explore, and his woman gave herself into his keeping.

    He gave himself up to sheer feeling, letting the sensations pour over him and into him. There was a kind of wonder in being able to always be what he was—a wolf, an alpha, a predatory animal claiming his mate. Branislava never objected to the wild pounding or rough handling, matching him flame for flame.

    This time, because she couldn’t move, there was a sense of power mixed with lust and love, an intoxicating combination. The knowledge that she trusted him implicitly, that she would allow him to use the sanctuary of her body during this hour, was the most sensual of all.

    His hands moved over her, stroking and kneading her body, feeling the answering response as her muscles clamped down around him tight. The heat built and built until even the ground seemed to glow with a red-orange hue. He lifted her buttocks and surged forward again and again, driving into her so that each stroke sent her breasts swaying.

    Her mouth formed a small round O and her eyes glazed. He could see the marks of his possession on her skin, all those nips and bites, the press of his fingers, marking her, claiming her as his own. Satisfaction rose along with a primitive need to possess her. A wolf chose his mate wisely, and Branislava would always be his choice. His destiny.

    You are becoming more wolf by the moment, she hissed, her mind chaotic with the building pleasure. His hands seemed to be everywhere, bringing her body to life when the sun had drained her of all strength. He had magic in him, a beast bringing mind-numbing pleasure bent on her destruction. And she was more than willing to give herself up to him, to allow them both to burn in her fire.

    His thrusts were strong and the rhythm a fierce pace, a machine driving through her soft folds, feeling like a steel piston covered in velvet. She knew the meaning of velvet over steel now. The friction turned her body into a firestorm, hot and needy and seeking the wind to fan the flames. She felt him swelling more, an amazing feat. It seemed impossible to accommodate him and yet, there was always more pleasure, a never-ending coiling of tension building in her until fear skittered down her spine and she feared he might tip them both over the edge to insanity.

    A good way to go, he observed, leaning down to bite at her breast and then suckle strongly. I could just eat you up. I’ve thought about it enough times. I could spend hours devouring you and all that cinnamon-honey that really belongs to me.

    She squirmed at that thought, her sheath flooding him with scorching hot liquid. I’m not arguing with you. You get anything you want, you know I’m crazy mad about you.

    He laughed softly. You’re crazy mad about what my body can do to yours.

    Okay, that was the truth as well. And right now, she desperately needed him to give her release, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t bring her hips to his. He was using his arms now, bracing himself as he pounded into her. She could almost hear the flames crackling around them. The glow in the soil deepened.

    Zev. Just his name. Her miracle. The man who could remove every ugly bit of her past and replace it with such blissful experiences and memories. I need . . .

    I know what you need, amoureux, I’ll always know. He moved in her, against her, filled her, the friction building over her most sensitive spot until her body seemed to go up in flames, the orgasm tearing through her like a crown fire, leaping from her groin to her belly, up to her breasts and bursting down her thighs.

    Zev threw back his head and howled like the wolf he was as her body took his with it on that fiery ride of sheer bliss. He stayed locked with her a long time, sharing one body, one skin, complete in each other.

    Kiss me and let me go back to sleep.

    All over again, she sounded drowsy and sensual, enough that his cock jerked and thought about coming to life. She opened one eye and managed a small laugh. You’re insatiable. You’re lucky I love you that way.

    He thought about all the things he could do with her. She was sleepy and needed to rest and rejuvenate in the soil. And there was that strange nagging feeling he couldn’t quite put to rest, but still, the temptation of her body . . .

    ••

    “Does it ever bother you that you’re not Carpathian and everyone else is?” Travis Amiras asked Paul Chevez as they tossed a ball back and forth in the front yard of the house where the Carpathian children were housed together to better protect them while the adults slept.

    Paul was twenty, a man already filled out with wide shoulders and defined muscles. He was already battle-scarred at his young age. He’d fought vampires, helped to run a massive cattle ranch, had been shot and recently helped to save Dimitri from death by silver. Travis hero-worshipped him.

    “I’m not quite ready for that yet,” Paul said. “Carpathians age at a much slower rate than we do. My friend Josef is in his twenties, but is considered a kid. I work hard on the ranch and take care of my little sister. It would annoy me to be treated that way. Besides, I take looking after Ginny seriously. I wouldn’t want to be in the ground while she was above it.”

    Travis nodded. “I can understand that. You’ve only got one sister to look out for. I’ve got seven brothers and sisters, now that Sara has had the new baby, little Isabella.” His voice went soft when he mentioned the baby. “It’s hard for Sara and Falcon to go to ground and leave us all. They rely on me.”

    Paul nodded. “Falcon talks about you all the time. He was upset that Gary was no longer able to be with you during the day.”

    Travis shrugged. “I have to admit, I don’t like it, either. Gary is cool. He teaches us the most interesting things. Marie, the nanny for the kids, can be a little boring. She looks after the little ones and sometimes tries to boss me around. It drives me crazy.”

    “But Slavica and Mirko, the innkeepers, have that beautiful daughter, Angelina. I’ve noticed you like spending time with her,” Paul observed with a faint grin.

    Travis tried to look innocent and then broke out laughing. “She’s really cool, too. She doesn’t treat me like I’m a kid.”

    “I noticed her coolness,” Paul said. He caught the ball and looked uneasily toward the west. “Travis, let’s go inside.”

    The smile faded from the younger boy’s face. His eyes turned old and he took a long look around him. “You feel something, don’t you? Something is wrong.”

    It was still a good couple of hours before any of the adult Carpathians would be rising, and he was a little uneasy as well. He had no idea why. He was eleven, closer to twelve and already he had taken on the ways of his Carpathian adopted father, Falcon. He walked like him and wore his hair long like him. “Do you feel uneasy?”

    Paul walked up the steps to the small house. There were only two other adults with them to protect the children and he felt the responsibility heavily. He had fought vampires and Lycans, but this felt different. He wasn’t certain if it was his imagination or not until he glimpsed Travis’s eyes. The boy was psychic and very sensitive.

    “I have no idea if we’re both a little tense and our imaginations are getting away from us because of all that’s happened,” Paul admitted, “but it’s better to be safe. Let’s get the children in the sealed room Mikhail and Gregori provided. We can come back up here and scout around a little. I’ll call in Jubal.”

    “It’s weird not to have Gary with us anymore,” Travis admitted. “During the day, he always stayed close to protect us and I felt as if he could stop anything.”

    “It’s probably nothing at all,” Paul said again, although his gut was beginning to churn and he was certain there was cause for alarm. He just didn’t want the kid to panic. “Let’s get the others down below.”

    “Falcon’s trained me to fight. Peter and Lucas are way better than anyone gives them credit for,” Travis told him. “They like to pull pranks, but they’ll fight if they need to.”

    “Let them know we’re counting on them to stand in front of the others,” Paul said. “Make certain they take you seriously.”

    Travis nodded. He went into the first playroom. Marie was there with the baby and his two younger sisters, Chrissy and Blythe. Chrissy was eight and Blythe six months younger. Chrissy was reading aloud. She stopped when he entered and immediately her face fell. She went to Blythe and put her arm around her.

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