Dark Storm

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Dark Storm Page 24

by Christine Feehan


  His gaze bored into hers, compelling her to get every last drop, the intensity of desire sending a shiver through her body. Why in the world would she find his declaration hot? And why couldn’t she stop devouring the fragile flower, craving that spicy taste. The petals, soft velvet, held his scent. She felt surrounded by him with each stroke of her tongue, drawing that nectar into her body.

  “Hand it to me.” He didn’t take his eyes from hers.

  Reluctantly she took one last lingering lick along the stigma and handed him back the flower. Holding her gaze, he dipped his head, his mouth in the bloom. His tongue found the filaments and ovary, devouring the nectar collected there. She’d never seen anything so sexy in her life. Her entire body went hot.

  “Your taste is addictive.” His gaze burned into hers. Blatantly sexual.

  A flood of liquid heat added to her discomfort. Tension coiled in her belly, slithered through her deepest core until she crawled with need. She pressed her lips tightly together as he took his time obviously savoring the inside of the flower. His gaze burned over her, those tiny flames growing hotter and wilder as he ate out the night flower.

  By the time he lifted his head, his eyes were glowing. “Kneel up for a moment.”

  She didn’t think to question him, too caught up in his sexual web. Whatever the pull of lifemates, the physical attraction between them sizzled and she didn’t want to miss one intoxicating moment.

  She knelt.

  He nodded approvingly. “Sit back on your heels and open your thighs.” As he gave her the command, he held the flower cupped in both palms, solemnly, as if it was of great importance.

  Heart pounding, she complied. He placed the flower exactly at the junction of her legs, petals whispering against her open, jean-clad thighs.

  “Tied vagyok.” His gaze for the first time left hers, to drift possessively over her. “Sívamet andam.” The flames in his eyes leapt high, while the multifaceted diamonds glittered and burned. “Te avio päläfertiilam.”

  His softly spoken words sounded beautiful, but more, she recognized a ritual quality to the presentation and knew he was telling her something important to him. Her entire body had reacted to those nearly whispered words. His voice was a weapon, she decided, especially when he spoke in his own language. The tone was as hypnotic as the words and she found herself straining to understand. “In my language please,” she asked.

  “Tied vagyok means . . .” He frowned, searching for the words in a language he’d just acquired. “‘Yours I am,’” he said simply.

  Her heart jumped. This amazing warrior, so beautiful, so protective and sexy was hers?

  “Sívamet andam would be, ‘my heart I give you.’” He touched her face gently, tracing her cheekbones, her jawline and chin and then back up to the curve of her mouth, as if memorizing every detail.

  Blood surged hotly through her veins. She felt him inside of her, a part of her. Riley pressed her lips tightly together. Something important was happening, but she didn’t know what. She didn’t want to say or do the wrong thing. A part of her wanted to run. She had no doubt Dax believed exactly what he was saying—he was giving her his heart. He was larger than life. One of the heroes from a movie who could save the world. She thought of herself as . . . ordinary. Here in the rain forest where there was no one else, she probably looked like a great find, but there was an entire world waiting for him.

  “There is only one lifemate for our species, Riley,” he said.

  Her entire body clenched. Wept. Electricity sang in her veins. She wanted to believe that she could have him, but truly it was absurd. They barely knew one another. He was from ancient times. She was caught in some kind of intense dream she didn’t want to wake from.

  “What does te avio päläfertiilam mean?” Was that her voice? So husky and sensual?

  He frowned, concentrating, trying to come up with a suitable translation. “You, wedded wife, my.” He shook his head. “‘You’ is equated to lifemate. Wife is your closest word. Your marriage ceremony is the closest to the binding ritual I can find in Gary’s memories. I am saying you are my lifemate.”

  She blinked at him. “Is this a marriage ritual?”

  He shook his head, a flash of white teeth sending another surge of desire skittering through her body. His teeth looked strong, straight and just pointed enough that she found herself a little frightened, which only added to the exhilarating experience.

  “When the ritual binding words are said, that is equivalent to your marriage vows—but more. That cannot be undone. This is more like . . .” He broke off, clearly searching Gary’s memories for an analogy. “This ceremony is important for us both.”

  He rubbed the bridge of his nose, a gesture she found endearing. “I’ve courted you in the way of my people and this ritual ensures fertility and acceptance.”

  Her heart jumped again. Her body burned. “Fertility?” Her voice sounded squeaky even to her own ears.

  “Our women don’t have many children in spite of the longevity. This flower is important to our preserving our future.”

  “It is?” She glanced around her, keeping her voice low. Their conversation seemed so intimate—so sexy. As always, she and Dax were secluded away from the others. When he arrived, he always seemed to find a way to isolate her before waking her.

  “You need to repeat the words back to me,” he said, his voice dropping an octave lower.

  He shifted to his knees, opening his thighs wide. Her breath hitched in her lungs.

  “Take the flower in both open palms and place it . . .”

  “I get it,” she said hastily, color creeping up her neck and face.

  She tried to pull her fascinated gaze away from the impressive bulge in the front of his jeans. The material was stretched taut, looking as if at any moment it would give way. She’d never been so enamored, sexually frustrated or interested in a man. She’d even dreamt of him. The erotic dreams only added to her shyness with him.

  Very carefully, so as not to bruise the petals, she scooped up the flower and, cupping it carefully in both hands, she transferred it to the vee between his open legs. The sides of her hands brushed along his thighs. She could feel his powerful muscles and the tremendous heat emanating from his body. Her hands shook, so she deposited the flower quickly and placed her moist palms on her own thighs.

  “You say the words back to me,” he encouraged.

  She had listened intently to the accent and the words, but saying them aloud to him instead of Gary was intimidating. Not only that, but did she mean them? Was she his? She enjoyed being with him, was intrigued by him and felt safe with him. He had a sense of humor, was intelligent and was a walking god of sensuality. She didn’t feel alone anymore. Everything about him appealed to her—but could she trust it? Did she have the ability to hold a man like Dax? When this adventure was over, what would they do?

  Dax leaned toward her, his breath warm on her face, a whisper against her lips. “Ainaak sívamet jutta, which means ‘forever to my heart connected,’ is exactly what you are. All these doubts of yours must be laid to rest. There is no other for me. You can turn me away, but you will be condemning me to a half-life. You possess the other half of my soul. You have only to touch my mind, Riley, and you will know me far better than others will know their partners in their lifetimes.”

  “Don’t you think this is happening too fast?”

  “I am not familiar with your society or culture,” he admitted, “but in mine, we have certainty. You are my other half. There can be no mistake. You restored my emotions and the color to my life. Your soul completed mine. My heart calls to yours. I crave the taste of you and I burn for your body. There is no doubt in my mind.”

  How could she not respond to that? He made her feel beautiful. Intelligent. The only woman in the world. Sh
e wasn’t ready to give that up. In any case, what did she have to go back to? Her parents were gone. There was nobody. But . . .

  She leaned closer to him, over the flower, her mouth scant inches from his. “I want to do this. I really do, but I’m not certain what you want of me in the future. I have no idea what your world is like, other than vampires, dragons and things with big teeth occupying it.”

  His gaze moved over her face, branding her, claiming her, burning his possession into her. “We’ll take it a day at a time until you’re comfortable. I’ll explain everything to you as we go along. Anything you’re not ready for, I don’t mind waiting. It’s important to me that you want me in the same way that I want you.”

  She studied his expression. He felt right to her. For once in her life she was going to let her heart overrule her mind. She bit her lower lip and nodded. Instantly his gaze dropped to her mouth. Her stomach muscles bunched and fingers of arousal teased her thighs. If he could do that to her with just a look, what could he do when he was really touching her?

  “Do you remember the words I said to you?”

  She nodded slowly, took a deep breath and jumped off the proverbial cliff, praying he’d catch her. “Tied vagyok.” Her lashes veiled her eyes. “Yours am I.”

  The flames in his eyes leapt, revealing desire bordering on lust. His chest rippled, all those delicious muscles beneath that thin cotton shirt of his. She felt as if she was free-falling through a storm of glittering diamonds.

  “Sívamet andam. My heart I give you.”

  His eyes blazed fire. She felt his gaze burning right through her skin to her very bones, branding her. Her heart matched the rhythm of his. Her breathing followed his. She swore her pulse found his. She felt him breathing in and out. Felt the blood rushing through his veins. She heard his heartbeat in her head.

  “Te avio päläfertiilam. You are my lifemate.”

  The moment she uttered the words, Dax poured into her mind. Warm. Filled with strength. He was both gentle and tough. Courageous. Images flashed through her mind, his memories, his youth, his centuries of hunting, his stark, utter loneliness, even when he traveled with Arabejila, believing he would never have a woman of his own, believing he had failed his best friend and that friend’s daughter. Her heart ached for him. She wanted to be the woman to comfort and love him.

  “Now, pick up the flower again and come sit between my legs while I braid the vines and small flowers in your hair. While I braid your hair, you feed me one petal as you eat one. Once this is done, our courtship ritual will be complete and you will have indicated your willingness for me to continue with our relationship.”

  Riley frowned at him, but without a word scooted closer, turning to face away from him. Her heart pounded with the enormity of what she was doing. She was no young girl to jump into a relationship because she was overwhelmed with physical attraction, and yet she seemed too helpless to stop herself. She wanted him. Craved him. And every minute in his company just seemed to amplify her needs.

  He reached out and pulled her into the junction between his open legs, back against him, until she was so close, every muscle seemed imprinted into her skin. He radiated heat, his warmth surrounding her like a blanket. She pressed her lips together as he gathered her long hair in his hands, dividing it into three sections.

  A shiver of arousal went through her. She was burning up. Needing him. Was it the flower? The ceremony? His taste? Or the man? Everything was blending together into one potent aphrodisiac. His hands were in her hair and every gentle tug sent electricity arcing and snapping through her. Her need of him bordered on obsession. She broke off a petal and reached behind her with it.

  Their eyes met. A flood of liquid heat dampened her panties. She had the sudden urge to reach back and pull his head to hers. The flames in his eyes leapt and burned. His lips parted—those perfectly sculpted, tempting lips—and she placed the petal in his mouth. His white teeth bit down, and her stomach clenched in response. Deliberately, eyes still locked with his, she put a petal in her mouth. His taste burst on her tongue, hot and masculine, shattering her every idea of the hunger between a man and a woman. She felt almost desperate for him.

  Still locked with his gaze, she saw that same heady combination of lust and hunger flaming in his eyes and then something else crept in—something dangerous and feral. He looked all at once predatory. Beneath his skin she caught the faint lift of scales, almost as if a beast lay in wait. He turned his head slowly but she knew he was aware of everything and everyone around them. Only then was she aware of the approach of Gary and Jubal. Disappointment and frustration rushed through her.

  “Another petal for both of us.”

  His voice was husky. He was just as affected as she was and that made her feel better. He didn’t want their time together alone to end any more than she did. She put another petal in his mouth and crushed a second in her own. The second petal only seemed to increase her desire. Knowing Jubal and Gary were approaching fast should have taken the heat out of her skin and the hot surge from her veins, but nothing seemed to dampen her desire for Dax, not even company.

  Riley was grateful for the night, although the full moon seemed to turn night into a soft glowing day. She managed to place the last petals into Dax’s mouth and her own just as Gary and Jubal reached them.

  “Good evening,” Dax said pleasantly.

  Had Riley not seen his reaction she would never have known he was smoldering with desire for her and not at all happy with the interruption.

  “Where did you get that flower?” Gary asked, excitement edging his voice

  Dax frowned, the flames in his eyes growing. Clearly he didn’t like the demand in Gary’s voice.

  “Gary and Jubal came here looking for a particular flower,” Riley explained hastily.

  “It’s important,” Gary added. “That flower is extinct in the Carpathian Mountains. We’ve speculated for a while now that it’s important for the women��s ability to conceive.”

  Dax shook his head. “I’ve lost so much time. I thought, from your memories, that Xavier was the culprit behind the loss of our women and children, that it was his poisonous microbes in the soil.”

  “He definitely attacked your people,” Gary admitted, “nearly destroying an entire species over time, but he had some help along the way.”

  “The flower?”

  Gary sighed. “I think the toxins in the soil, the microbes Xavier introduced, killed off the flower. Gabrielle . . .” He stopped, glanced at Jubal and then shrugged. “Jubal’s sister is conducting research with me. Some of the ancients have returned to their homeland and when she interviewed them, a fertility ritual with this flower came up again and again. We began to believe there was something to it, so we focused on finding out what happened to it.”

  “We use satellites and computers,” Jubal added. “The good thing about being around a long time is the accumulation of wealth and knowledge so Carpathians can afford all the latest gadgets. We have a couple of kids in the community that are amazing on computers. They’ve programmed theirs to look for certain trigger words. The man who filmed the ruins on the mountain and sent the pictures to the professor also filmed the flower and posted it on his website, asking if anyone knew what it was. He thought he’d found a new species. Josef, that’s our resident genius, picked it up and we came looking for it.”

  “They can’t be native here,” Gary speculated aloud.

  “Arabejila planted them. She loved them and knew she’d end her life here. She wanted a little bit of home. They only bloom at night, and she planted them up near the village where she planned to live out her days,” Dax said.

  “Are there a lot of them?” Gary asked. “Enough that we can harvest the roots and transplant them back where they belong? Did they survive the blast?”

  Dax nodded slowly
. “I can gather them tonight with the roots intact. The larger flower carries the seeds. The dragon covers ground fast. I could be at the top of the mountain and catch up to you fairly quickly.”

  “You’ll need to pack the roots in soil,” Riley contributed. “I could go with you to help,” she offered, feeling suddenly shy. There was a part of her that was afraid of rejection, but the idea of flying across the night sky on the back of a dragon and spending more time with Dax was irresistible.

  Dax rose, reaching down to take her hand and draw her up next to him. “I would enjoy your company very much, Riley.”

  He pulled her back against his body, the movement so natural she felt as if she belonged. His body felt strong, firm, an anchor in the midst of a storm. Excitement fluttered in her stomach. He reached around her, circling her body with his arms, trapping her against his chest, his hands clasped at her waist.

  “You will have to be careful,” Dax continued, as though he hadn’t just made his claim very public. He was extraordinarily gentle, and so easygoing and natural about it, Riley could tell the movement was a gesture of ownership, but more his need to be close to her.

  “Mitro is well ahead of us,” he continued instructing the others. “And he’s making his way out of the jungle, but he needs information, just as I did. He’s been long away from this world and he’ll have to catch up. He’ll need languages and every bit of data he can accumulate to fit in easily.”

  “He’ll know you’re hunting him,” Jubal said. “Won’t he just run? It seems the prudent thing to do.”

  Dax shook his head. His thumb slid back and forth in a little caress across the bare skin of her stomach just beneath her shirt. Riley wasn’t altogether certain he was aware of that little strumming motion.

  “He’ll need blood first, and the knowledge of this century is all important to his survival. He will avoid me, and especially Riley. I think he believes she’s Arabejila, and he knows she can track him. He’ll head for a populated area, but he’ll want to slow us down. He’ll set traps to kill us and false leads to delay us.”

 

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