Christine Feehan 5 CARPATHIAN NOVELS

by Christine Feehan

  MaryAnn tried to push away from him, but his strength was too much. All she could do was thrash wildly beneath him in an effort to escape his wicked mouth, which only incited him more.

  That’s it, sivamet, burn for me. Go up in flames. Scream. Become mine completely.

  His voice was a rough whisper in her mind. His mouth suckled as his tongue assaulted her. It was too much, too fast, her body too sensitive.

  I can’t. You’re going to kill me. Maybe not kill, but certainly destroy everything she had been, remaking her into someone else, someone highly sexual, someone who would need his hands and mouth and body for eternity. It was frightening to be so out of control, to have her body taken over, to have endless sensations build and build relentlessly. The second climax rushed over her, and she screamed his name, a plea, either to stop or for more, she honestly didn’t know.

  No, ainaak enyem, I am loving you the only way I know how. I am giving you everything I am and taking everything that you are.

  He heard the growls of pleasure rumbling in his throat, knew the sound vibrated through her sheath, just as it vibrated through him. Her womb spasmed. He tightened his hold and took more, demanded more. This time he thrust his tongue hard and fast, pressing against her ultrasensitive spot while he drew the sweet honey from her body, lust and love gripping him so strongly he shuddered with it. His marauding mouth flung her into a third orgasm. She let out a keening wail.

  Manolito, please. Please, please do something. Anything.

  He rose above her, his features harsh with lust, his eyes filled with love. The combination was almost her undoing. Her heart seemed to stop for a moment, then began to pound so hard her chest ached. He lifted her hips again, dragging her over the thick bed of flowers so he could rest her legs on his broad shoulders, the pulsing head of his cock lodged in her entrance.

  She held her breath, everything inside her focused completely on that one burning spot. The knot of nerves throbbed in anticipation. He surged forward, the thick length of him driving through the tight, silken muscles already so inflamed and swollen that the friction threw her into an even harder climax that didn’t seem to stop. He buried himself completely, feeling the velvet walls contract and squeeze, the rippling sensations so strong he groaned with the need for control.

  There was none. There could be none. The scent and feel of her tight sheath surrounding him, milking him, drove him past all sanity, and he plunged into her over and over, pistoning long strokes into her, letting the fiery sensations take him completely.

  Manolito. There was fear in her voice. In her mind. She clutched at his shoulders, nails biting deep, head thrashing back and forth as she lifted her hips to meet his sensual assault.

  You are safe, sivamet. I’ve got you safe. Relax for me. Let me take you riding the clouds with me.

  He clenched his teeth, trying to hold on when every part of him wanted to let go, to explode into another dimension altogether. There was no longer shame or pain or other worlds around him or in him. There was only MaryAnn, his other half, and the sanctuary of pleasure she provided.

  Let go, päläfertiil. Fly with me.

  MaryAnn felt him then, in her head, sharing his body’s pleasure, sharing her pleasure, so that their minds heightened the experience even more. Every deep stroke sent shock waves coursing through her, through him. Every thrust sent the lightning streaks racing through them. Sweat glistened on their skin as they reached together, each one wanting the other’s ultimate pleasure.

  He drove his cock deep, hard, into her pulsing, silken sheath. She was strangling him, her muscles tight and swollen from the multiple orgasms, sending fire streaking through his body. Impossibly, he felt his erection grow, locking down inside of her as his balls drew up and hot seed jetted into her depths. Pulse after pulse while his body shuddered with the power of the eruption, pleasure consuming him, shaking him.

  Beneath him, she screamed, her release tearing through her, her eyes glazing over, her face stretched taut with shock, the orgasm almost too intense to bear. The leaves above her head glittered like silver stars, and the edges of her vision narrowed until she could only see him. His shoulders and chest blocked out the world around them as he began to lean forward with infinite slowness over the top of her.

  Manolito allowed his incisors to lengthen. His body was still hard, still locked in her body. The movement of his body pressed the thick hard length of him against her most sensitive spot. She shook. He let her see it coming, wanted her to know what he was doing. “Be still,” he whispered when he felt her tremble, when he saw her eyes widen in what might have been fear. “I would never harm you, MaryAnn.”

  His teeth sank deep right in the same place he had marked the swell of her breast. She cried out as the pain gave way to another erotic shift. Her body pulsed and wept around his, tightening with exquisite rhythm. She wrapped her arms around him as he took her blood, holding his head to her, giving him everything she was.

  When he finally lapped his tongue across the spot, closing the wound, he kissed her gently. Strangely, he had the desire to bite her again, to sink his teeth in the hollow of her shoulder and lap at the sweet-tasting liquid of life. Resisting, he slowly withdrew from her, savoring the feel of her sheath reluctantly giving him up. He rolled over, pulling her on top of him so that she was lying stretched across him like a blanket.

  He lay beneath her, feeling the imprint of her body over his, the soft mounds of her breasts, her nipples pressing into his chest. She was soft, wet flesh, silky smooth with her lush curves. He could feel her heart beating, feel the heat between her legs, hear the sound of her blood rushing hotly in her veins. Her fingers settled in his hair. She was perfect. The moment was perfect.

  “I dreamt of you last night,” she murmured, lifting her face to nuzzle his throat. Her tongue teased his pulse point, her teeth nipping at his skin. “I dreamt of your body in mine and screaming your name. It was such a beautiful dream for a while.” She licked at his skin again, her tongue lingering on that small spot. “But then the wolves came…” She trailed off and kissed his throat, pressing her lips to that spot, wanting more, much more, hungry for the taste of him. Her jaw ached with the need, her teeth feeling longer and sharper as her tongue slid over the edges. She nuzzled his shoulder, nipped again.

  Beneath her, Manolito went still. His hands settled around her arms like vises, and he jerked her up. His black eyes held such danger, such menace, she turned, searching the canopies of the trees for a reason. His stillness brought her attention back to him.

  “What?”

  Very slowly he put her from him and sat up, shoving his hands through the wealth of black hair. His gaze went back to her, cold and hard and utterly menacing. His mind was gone from hers, leaving her shivering, rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

  “Manolito, what is it?”

  “I dreamt of you last night,” he said softly in a tone that raised goose bumps up and down her flesh. “I dreamt of my body buried deep in yours, of things I did to you and you crying out with pleasure. And then the wolves came…” Just as she had done, he trailed off.

  She sat up as he had done, drew up her knees, wishing she could don clothes as easily as he was doing now. “Sharing a dream bothers you? Why? Don’t you think it can happen, especially as we’re so connected?”

  “Carpathians do not dream.” He pulled his hair back and secured it with a leather tie. “We sleep the sleep of the dead. Our hearts and lungs shut down to rejuvenate. Our brains do the same. We cannot dream.”

  She wasn’t certain what he was telling her, but her mouth went dry and her heart picked up a harder, faster rhythm. “You probably dreamt it as you awakened, or went to sleep.”

  “How do you explain my tolerance to the sun? I have been unable to walk in the early morning light for centuries. Even with clouds and severe storms, the sun hurt my eyes, and my body grew leaden. Yet I stayed with you until almost noon. Explain that to me.” His voice was low and harsh, whipping at her
with some unspoken accusation. “I rose with the sun out, yet my skin did not burn or blister.”

  “How can I explain such a thing? I know little of Carpathians and lifemates. Perhaps once you have your lifemate, that too is restored to you.” She dragged her blouse to her and slid it on. “You ruined the buttons.”

  Impatient, he waved his hand, and she found herself, not in her own clothes, but a cotton T-shirt and jeans. Jeans. Not the dress he’d asked her to wear for him, but the trousers he didn’t like. She swallowed fear, trying not to cry as she began to braid the long, thick mane of hair, needing something to do to escape his cold gaze. They’d just shared something few, if any, would ever experience in a lifetime, and he was rejecting her, pushing her away. It felt like a slap in the face.

  “You were going to bite me,” he said. “I saw it in your mind.”

  She pushed back away from him until her back was against the railing. “Was I? I wanted to, yes. But then, I saw that you intended the same. You took my blood and wanted me to take yours. You wanted to bring me fully into your world, and you wouldn’t have asked me. You were going to make the decision without my consent.”

  “You are my lifemate. I do not need your consent.” There was dark emotion flickering in his eyes. Little amber lights began to glitter through the pure black obsidian.

  Anger pulsed through her. “You know what? I don’t need your consent to leave, and I’m going back to the house.” She stood up, and her hands gripped the rail when he stood up, too. He towered over her, looking every inch a predator.

  “Actually, you do need my permission. And you will stay here and hear what I have to say. I want to know the truth, MaryAnn.”

  She narrowed her gaze on him. “You wouldn’t know the truth if it bit you in the butt.”

  “You did bite me. And I took your blood on several occasions.”

  She tilted her head at him. “Is that my fault? I didn’t ask you to. In fact I didn’t even know the first time you did it.”

  “What are you?”

  “A very pissed-off woman.”

  He stepped closer to her, so close she could feel the heat of his anger. “You are werewolf. And you are infecting me with your blood.”

  15

  MaryAnn stared at him for several long seconds, and then she began to laugh. “You are totally crazy.”

  Manolito didn’t look in the least amused. If anything, his expression hardened even more. “I am not crazy. I smell the wolf in you, and if you are honest with yourself, you can smell it all over me.”

  She shook her head, but the laughter faded. “This is insane. I know Carpathians are shapeshifters. I’m not. I’ve lived my entire life as a human being. My parents aren’t werewolves. I doubt such a thing exists.”

  “Why would you doubt it when you have seen jaguar-men and vampires? When you know the Carpathian people exist? Why should you have trouble believing in werewolves?”

  Perspiration beaded on his forehead. Carpathians sweated blood, she noted. He brushed at his temples.

  “Then where are they? And if they really exist, and I’m one of them, why didn’t you recognize it sooner?” The sweating blood thing was eww, and she so wasn’t becoming Carpathian. She’d much rather be a wolf!

  “Because I have not seen or heard of the lycans for centuries.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “So let me get this straight. You were all in love with me and ready to turn me into a Carpathian when you thought I was human, but now it’s different because I might be turning you into something else.” She raised her chin another inch in challenge. “What you mean is, it’s perfectly okay for me to give up who and what I am, but not so much for you.”

  He frowned at her. “I was born to be Carpathian. It is who and what I am.”

  She pressed a hand to her churning stomach. “You hypocritical male chauvinist, Neanderthal, asinine idiot. I must have been out of my mind to think I could live with someone like you.”

  He waved her opinion of him aside. “We are lifemates. Of course I will do whatever is necessary to complete the conversion and bring you to my side completely, but I have to study this problem from every angle. I have never heard of a werewolf and a Carpathian mating. The blood of the wolf is as powerful as the blood of the Carpathian.”

  “I don’t shapeshift.”

  “The wolf lives within you, part of you. It is not the same way I take another form. The wolf is your guardian and will emerge when needed. You have felt him close to you. That is why you have flashes of memory. And it is why both of us can take the early morning sunlight. Only my eyes were affected by the sunlight, not my entire body. You have not burned in the sun in spite of the fact that my blood flows in your veins. The change should have already begun to take hold.”

  “And you think I’ve known all along and somehow have tricked you? If there is a wolf in me, now is the time for it to come leaping out. I just might go for your throat.” Furious, she shoved at his chest to move him out of her way. “You should hear yourself. Do you really think I’d want to spend the rest of my life with a man who has no regard for my feelings?”

  “I have every regard for your feelings.”

  “Right! Which is why you accused me of ‘infecting,’” she spat the word in a fury, “you! Like what I am is some taint. Some disease. You know what, Manolito De La Cruz? You deserve to be stuck in hell. And I’m an idiot for even thinking a relationship with you could be anything more meaningful than hot sex.”

  She went to the edge of the deck and, gripping the rail, looked down. She’d jumped once, but now it seemed a very long way. The thing inside her, the wolf, he suspected, stirred, recognizing her anger. She swallowed the sudden fear in her throat and turned back to him, her heart pounding hard enough for him to hear it. Her own head was beginning to hurt, a buzzing sound, like thousands of insects driving her crazy, reverberated through her mind. Her skull felt too tight, and her brain began to pulse and throb in time to the surge of blood rushing in her veins.

  “You know.” He made it a statement. “You were fully aware of my taking your blood. You wanted to take mine. You wanted the taste of me in your mouth. Hot and sweet and bursting with life. That is not human behavior.”

  “You made me want that.” It came out in a whisper. She pressed her hand to her churning stomach. Between rage and fear she should have found some kind of balance, but all she felt was disoriented, swinging back and forth.

  “I did not. I did not force your compliance. The call of the wolf was on you.”

  MaryAnn turned away from him, her heart pounding. Everything was making sense. It shouldn’t be. She couldn’t accept what he was saying. She didn’t want a wolf inside of her. She didn’t even know what that meant, or how it was possible. “Take me back.” She didn’t look at him, couldn’t face him. She felt very alone. “I want to go back now.” Feeling alone made her angry all over again. When he’d faced his worst moment, she had stood with him, but he rejected her. Rejected her.

  “You have completely closed yourself off from me.”

  “You idiot!” She wanted to leap across the deck and smack his face. Was he really that obtuse? Taking a deep breath, she forced herself back under control. “Did you hear me? I asked you to take me back.” Because she was going home. As fast as she could get back to Seattle, where life was normal and she didn’t have wild cravings for idiot men from centuries gone past.

  “MaryAnn, neither of us has a choice. We have to work this out.”

  Her chin came up, dark eyes glittering at him. “I have a choice. I refuse to have my life taken out of my hands. You rejected me when you thought I was changing you from being a precious Carpathian. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve forfeited every right to me as your lifemate. I asked you to take me home. And I was polite about it.” She wasn’t feeling so polite now. Her nails were digging into her palm. The buzzing in her head grew louder. Her mouth felt coated in copper.

  “I did not reject you.”

  “
Really? Well, as far as I’m concerned, you’re a coward. You want me to take all the risks. You want me to become something unknown and frightening, and I have to accept it because fate somehow decreed we should be together. Well, I refuse to be with anyone who insists on me risking everything, but he won’t risk anything at all. Take me home now.”

  It was a command, a compulsion, and for the first time, she realized she had not just thought it—or said it. She had thrown the command into his mind, furious with his double standard. Furious with herself for letting him take her over. More frightened than she’d ever been in her life, because she suspected there was no turning back and that even if she made it home, whatever was inside of her would refuse to quiet.

  She was psychic, just as they all had said. She had been using her ability all along, without being aware of it. She looked up at him, and her breath caught in her throat. He was looking down at her, black eyes glittering with menace. He was every bit as furious as she was, and much more frightening.

  “I said no. You are not going anywhere.”

  She leapt at him, raking at his face with her long fingernails, missing him only by a scant breath as he grabbed her arms and gave her a hard shake. “Do you think to command me?” He shook her again. “Me? Your lifemate? You dare to try to influence my mind? To attack me?”

  Who was she conspiring with to try to trap and kill him? She had deceived him. Even as the words slipped out, even as he entertained the idea that she would harm him, he rejected the thought.

  What was he doing and thinking? Had he truly lost his mind? Was he the coward she called him? He had gone into battle with the vampire without flinching. No one had ever questioned his courage, yet he was bullying his lifemate when she needed love and reassurance. He was accusing her of things the innocence in her eyes, in her mind, belied.

  Was this his true personality? Or was it some manifestation of the wolf mixing with his Carpathian blood? Both species were dominant. Both demanded instant obedience, the wolf perhaps more. Who knew what secrets that elusive society had kept? It was obvious they had gone underground and still existed, but he had no way to understand what was happening—the thick mane of hair, the increased sense of smell, acute hearing, the driving need to keep his mate beside him, his scent all over her.