Kiss of a Dark Moon

by Sharie Kohler

  Spots filled his vision. Swallowing a curse at the pain, he massaged the back of her head, holding her in place, and ground out, “Let me help you.”

  She made a whimpering sound and gradually ceased her struggles. His hand descended to her back, his palm rubbing a circle over the thin cotton T-shirt. He could feel each and every tiny bump of her spine beneath his hand—the sensation erotic, tantalizing. The tension ebbed from her. Her body relaxed in his arms, turning from the angry, smoldering heat of moments before to a different kind of heat. Like the warm welcome of a flickering fire on a cold night, she lured him.

  “Good,” he breathed, his lips almost brushing her mouth as he spoke.

  The sweetness of her breath escaped her lips and he sipped at it, drinking it inside him. She trembled in his arms. Unable to stop himself, he feathered a kiss over her quivering lips. She jerked as though stung. Hunger twisted inside him, and he followed her mouth, claiming her lips, pulling her flush against him.

  She sighed, parting her lips wider for his questing tongue. Animal hunger erupted in him at the sound, at the sugary taste of her—the very hunger he’d spent a lifetime holding carefully in check. He may have not lived life as a monk, but he was careful never to get carried away with a woman. Never until recently. Until Kit.

  And Kit wasn’t mortal anymore…

  A dangerous thought in itself. If he allowed himself to think along those lines, she would be on her back and he would be parting her thighs before he could stop himself.

  With a groan, he broke the kiss and pulled back to look at her, relieved to see she was Kit again. Well, almost. The wild anger may have fled, but in its place something else simmered. Her green eyes glowed brightly; her mouth was parted, lips glistening invitingly.

  He slid his leg off her and put more space between them. She didn’t want this. Not anymore. And he couldn’t stomach her hating him anymore than she already did. He wouldn’t take advantage of her. Not when she wasn’t fully herself. Hell, but then she never would be. Not entirely. Not like before.

  His hands flexed at his sides, but he willed himself to remain normal. Human. Tension thrummed through his muscles. Instinct swamped him, demanding he take her, make her his. She was part of him now. The same. A dovenatu.

  She thought him a monster. He knew it. Had seen it in her eyes, heard it in her voice. Damned if that didn’t wound him. Damned if the dark side of him didn’t want to spread her legs beneath him and hear her cry out for him—a monster—as he took her fast and hard.

  Desire coursed his blood…and anger: anger at himself for being drawn to her when he had no right.

  “Rafe,” she sighed, her wide eyes fixed on him.

  The sound of his name on her lips sent a lick of heat twisting through his gut. He couldn’t resist. Not her. Not when he remembered how good it had been between them the last time.

  She scooted near, closing the space between them, fed, he knew, by the hunger he had awakened in her. He knew what she wanted. The beast in her had been roused and demanded satisfaction. She didn’t have the strength or experience yet to deny herself this.

  Neither did he.

  Rolling her onto her back, he hovered over her. He stared down at her, her hair a puddle of sun-kissed gold around her face. His mouth went dry. Dark need burned a fierce path to his belly. Only the thin barrier of her T-shirt hid her nudity. Only that thin shield barred him from total access to the body that had haunted his dreams for nights.

  A soft sound escaped her lips. Her green eyes appeared a bit unfocused, dazed. Calling himself a bastard that he would do this to her, fresh after her Initiation, he grabbed the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it up over her head in one quick motion.

  His breath escaped in a hiss as he devoured the sight of her small, pert breasts, the dusky nipples, the gentle slope of her belly. It was too much. The sight finished him, made him tremble like a new foal.

  He greedily drank in the sight of her, bringing one hand to her breast. She followed his gaze.

  A growl sounded from deep within his chest, and something hot and animal erupted low in his gut. His gaze ran the full length of her body, roaming over the sleek lines and gentle curves.

  He laced his fingers with hers and pinned her hands above her head, watching the rise and fall of her breasts.

  She rotated her hips and opened her legs, cradling him between her thighs. Such a primal invitation enflamed his desire to have her, to give up the fight and fall—to descend into the very depths of the abyss he had spent a lifetime fighting.

  There was no fighting it, no strength left in him to resist.

  “I won’t be gentle.” He couldn’t be.

  Releasing her hands, he grasped the smooth and supple outside swell of one hip. His breath hitched, catching in his throat as he slid his hand around, cupping the taut fullness of one cheek.

  Her gasp reached his ears, different than any sound he’d ever heard, ripped from some place deep in her throat where animal pleasure hid. “Good.”

  His fingers flexed, digging into the roundness of her ass, forcing her closer, rubbing her wet heat against him. He pressed his full length against her, moaning at her softness, her silken limbs, her warm body.

  Her wide eyes locked with his, the green of them glowing like precious gemstones in the firelight.

  Dipping his head, he scoured her neck with his teeth. She groaned, and he bit down, reveling in the savage shudder that tore through her and reverberated through him.

  Closing his eyes, he trailed the backs of his finger along the sleek flesh of her back, over each tiny bump of her spine. He wanted to skim his mouth over each and every one.

  His hands continued their exploration, roaming every inch of her. The delicate shape of each rib. The soft curve of her belly that quivered under his fingertips. His hands grazed the underside of each breast, testing their slight weight. He brushed open palms over her hard nipples. Her breathing grew harsh, arousing him nearly as much as the silky feel of her.

  Past stopping, he closed a hand over each breast, gripping the firm, petite mounds, squeezing, kneading, rolling the distended peaks.

  The beat of her heart vibrated against the palm of his hand in sync with his own, and he lowered his head to kiss where her heart beat, worshipping the life forever bound to his own. The life that he had come so close to losing.

  She would have no gentleness. She tugged on his hair. Her desperate keening filled the air, sharp and animal-like, knifing through him, making him burn, banishing the sane, mortal side of him that whispered for him to stop, to love her with slow, easy thoroughness.

  Her hands grabbed his forearms, her nails cutting his flesh in a pain that bordered on pleasure.

  “Rafe,” she whimpered, begging, pleading.

  A strangled laugh rose up in his throat. He was powerless to resist. Releasing her breasts, he delved one hand between her thighs, brushing feather-soft curls damp with need. He tested her readiness, stroking the folds of her sex, already slick for him.

  Her fingers dug like talons into his arms, and she leaned forward, resting her damp forehead against his chest as he worked his fingers feverishly along those folds, back and forth, back and forth, each time brushing closer and closer to that tiny nub. Finally, he landed there, rubbing his fingers over the pearl in fast, little circles. Her body tensed, and she released a loud, shuddering cry.

  He drank in her rapturous expression, branding that look in his mind, knowing he would never forget it. Then, as the waves of her climax were still rushing over her, he parted her legs and put his mouth to that exquisite pleasure point and sucked, tasting her desire.

  Arching her back, she came up off the carpet, releasing a cry. His eyes devoured the breasts quivering above him, shuddering golden orbs, as another climax tore through her.

  She collapsed back on the carpet, her body panting and humming from her release. He never took his eyes off her as he stood to tear off his clothes, his movements eager and clumsy as a boy.

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nbsp; Her eyes lifted to his, the clouded green searching, questioning.

  He shook his head, one boot hitting the floor, then the next. His pants followed, then his shirt.

  Naked, he stood over her. Her eyes flitted over him, surveyed the broad width of his chest, nostrils flaring wide at the evidence of his lust, smelling his hunger, just as he smelled hers. A heady steam on the air.

  He held her gaze, waiting for her to object, wondering if he could stop himself if she did, praying that he did not have to find out.

  He was past reasoning, past caring about all the reasons they couldn’t do this.

  He would have her again. Like this. He’d finally descended into the abyss, to the darkness his mother had always warned against.

  Kit was right about him. You lack control, a conscience.

  But not even that could stop him now or make him regret what he was about to do.

  CHAPTER 23

  She should stop him, this…herself.

  But when Kit looked into his eyes and saw the fire in his feverish gaze, the desperate need flickering in the glowing centers, she knew what he felt. Because she felt it, too. Not just her own desire. But his. On top of what she felt, she could feel his emotions, his hunger—as true as her own, as though physically linked, as though his turning her had in fact bound them.

  Bound? Right.

  She was not bound to this guy. She was not bound to anyone. And yet…

  His arms, taut bands of steel, trembled with restraint. She marveled that he—more animal than man—could restrain himself at all. The greatest shock of all was that she did not want him to.

  She drank in the sight of him: the shadows pooling in the sharp angles and hollows of his face, the play of his sculpted muscles, the dark wave of hair falling over his brow. Her gaze fell lower, eyeing his manhood springing from between his legs, daunting in its size. The hard length pulsed before her very eyes, summoning her touch.

  Her stomach clenched in response. The place between her thighs throbbed in memory of him, and her breathing grew labored. Eager for him to be inside her, to continue the incredible torment that his mouth had begun on her aching body, her eyes shot back up to his.

  “Oh, yes,” he muttered, as if he had the ability to read her thoughts. And perhaps he did. “Touch me.”

  His rough voice, combined with the desperate intensity of his gaze, would have her do anything he asked.

  Rising to her knees, she reached up and touched the center of his chest with one finger. Pressing her lips tightly in determination to take this slow, she trailed that finger down, over the hard stomach, the washboard abs, her nail slightly scraping the firm skin. His breathing grew harsh.

  Her finger dropped lower, arriving at his jutting manhood. She was close enough to take him in her mouth. Smiling wickedly, she touched the head of him, growing more aroused when a tiny bead of moisture rose to lick her fingertip.

  He groaned and buried a hand in her hair.

  Emboldened, she closed her hand around his throbbing length and gently squeezed, aroused at the soft texture of him—silk on steel in her palm. Her tongue darted out to taste him. Slowly, she licked him. Again and again, until she couldn’t resist closing her lips around him.

  “Stop.” He pulled her up. His jaw clenched, the muscles knotting, demonstrating his hard-fought control. “I can’t wait.”

  Her smile deepened, thrilled to see her power over him, to know how badly he wanted her, that he was holding himself back.

  Ready for his control to snap, she arched her spine and rubbed her bare breasts against his chest.

  Twin lights flared at the center of his dark eyes. His hands clamped down on her hips and he guided her back to the bed. She spread her thighs, sucking in a breath as he positioned himself over her.

  His breath caught in a hiss as he pushed himself in, one inch at a time. Her muscles stretched, burning in pleasure-pain at the fullness of him inside her.

  His gaze, dark and fathomless as a moonless night, mesmerized her, lodging deep in her soul as, with one final push, he was fully inside her.

  Whimpering his name, she dug her fingers into his tense forearms, urging him on, desperate for more of the wild, twisting heat swimming through her.

  Moaning, she angled her hips to take him in even deeper.

  A choked cry escaped him. Muttering her name in a garbled voice, his breath fanning hotly against her throat, he slowly began to move.

  With the throbbing burn of him deeply inside her, Kit shook her head from side to side on the bed, desperate for him to move harder, to slide in and out as fast and furious as the animal need surging through her.

  “Kit,” he gasped, warning, “We need to go slow. It may be too much, too…”

  “No,” she growled in a voice she did not recognize as her own.

  Letting go of his arms, she skated her palms down his back, skimming the smooth skin until she clutched his firm buttocks with both hands, forcing him to thrust himself deeply inside her. Hard. Savage as the burning in her blood demanded.

  Their cries mingled, filling the air. Shock waves rippled over her, convincing her that she would never again be anything except a part of him.

  His body pressed heavily upon her, comforting and thrilling in its weight. She had to move, to take. Writhing beneath him, she rotated her hips, tightening her inner muscles and clenching him, her body begging for more, for an end to the incredible fire that he had stoked within her.

  Groaning, he moved, withdrawing himself nearly out of her before thrusting back inside in a deep slam of flesh.

  Ripples of white-hot pleasure washed over her as he repeated the action, pumping in and out of her. The feel of his hardness hammering into her, the strong fingers digging into her hips, anchoring her for his assault, drove her over the edge.

  Her head rose off the bed, a scream building from deep in her throat, hovering on her lips. His frenzied stroking carried her higher, created an explosion of desire that finally wrung a wild, air-shattering shout from her lips.

  He pumped several more times, the violent sounds of their bodies coming together thrilling her in the deepest, primal way. With a deep growl, he plunged into her, stilling as he poured into her.

  A tightness gripped her chest as she studied his face. In the fierce grip of desire, the sharp lines and angles blurred, reminding her at once that he was no mortal. Rather, a dangerous animal. That what they had just done was not making love, but the coupling of two beasts. Wild and unrestrained. So wrong. Wrong in too many ways.

  Mortifying heat washed over her. Because in that moment she knew he was right: she was like him.

  The heavy fall of his dark hair obscured his eyes, yet she longed to see them, to see if the eerie bright light still glowed at the centers. A solid reminder of why she could not feel close to him. Why she could not let the best sex of her life affect her. He’d lied to her. He’d turned her even when he knew she would hate it. And now he intended to make her his captive. How could she ever trust him?

  Suddenly he looked up, tossing the hair back from his forehead, and she found herself pinned beneath his searing, cursed gaze. Flickering light filled his pupils. Did her eyes look the same?

  Sick at heart, she dipped her gaze. Squeezing out from beneath him, she sat up, hugging her knees to her chest, resisting a sudden sense of desolation.

  “Kit.”

  She turned at the hushed sound of her name.

  Sprawled naked, bold and unashamed beside her, he reached for her arm, and she saw that some of the light had ebbed from his eyes. But not all.

  She pulled back before he could touch her, an awkward flush creeping up her neck. Absurd, considering what had transpired between them.

  “Don’t,” he commanded. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

  “Do what?”

  “Don’t punish yourself for this. For us.”

  She laughed, the sound cruel and bitter, poison to her heart, but she could not stop herself. She needed to stop this.
Forget it. Forget all that had happened. Forget him. A liar. “There is no us.”

  Careful to keep her eyes on his face and not the appealing length of his body, she stood and snatched her T-shirt off the floor and pulled it over her head. “This is just a manifestation of…” Her brow tightened, struggling for the words final and cruel enough to build a wall between them. “Of my being like you. An animal of instinct. It didn’t mean anything.”

  “That’s bullshit. We did this before I ever turned you.”

  Standing, she glared down at him. “Don’t pretend this was something beautiful and romantic. Even before you turned me into a lycan, I’ve never been a Hallmark kind of girl. The truth is you lied to me from the start. And now you think you can keep me captive?”

  He was on his feet in a flash, his face blurring into all that she hated again, all that she feared.

  He grabbed her arm and hauled her close. “Cheapen it all you like, but there’s something between us. Something real. Even before you turned, it was there.”

  She shook her head violently, resisting the childish urge to fling her hands over her ears. She ripped her arm free and stumbled away. Chest heaving, she held his stare, relieved to see his face resume itself.

  “Kit—”

  Lifting a hand, she shook a finger in warning. “Don’t touch me again.”

  Turning, she fled into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard it shook the air, and covered the sound of his voice.

  Trembling, she yanked off her shirt and stepped into the shower. Twisting the faucet, she let ice-cold water rain down on her, crying out when it hit her feverish skin. She welcomed the sting, embraced the pain of it, let it cool the burn of emotions flooding her. After a few moments, her teeth began to clatter, but she felt herself again. She only wished the memory of what she had done could be wiped out as easily.

  She remained beneath the pounding water for several minutes more, washing her hair and scrubbing her body until her skin glowed red, chafed. Only the sensation of him on her flesh lingered; his hands, his mouth. Damn. Shutting off the water, she stepped from the shower, pulled a fluffy towel from the towel bar, and rubbed her goose-puckered skin dry.