Christine Feehan 5 CARPATHIAN NOVELS

by Christine Feehan

  He lifted his foot and let her slip off his shoe and sock, her fingers lingering on his skin, stroking his ankle and up his calf, before going to the next shoe. She set them aside and knelt up to reach for the waistband of his trousers. Her jersey top slipped further down to pool around her waist, leaving her breasts exposed. The cool air tightened her nipples even more, but MaryAnn found it erotic to be kneeling in front of him, half-clothed, her breasts spilling out while he stood waiting for her to undress him.

  Manolito’s breath caught in his lungs. She was so beautiful, looking up at him that way, so seductive she was lucky he had enough control to give her whatever she wanted, because right now, he wanted to just lift her up and bury himself in her. She wanted to play. He watched the tip of her tongue moisten her full lower lip, drawing his attention to her mouth. She was inches away from the thick bulge in his trousers. He was separated from paradise only by that thin layer of material, already stretched to the maximum.

  He closed his eyes briefly as he felt her fingers dance around the opening and then slowly peel the material aside. His erection sprung out, large and pulsing with need. Her cheek brushed the ultrasensitive head as she drew down his trousers, urging him to step out of them. Her fingers brushed back up his leg, inside his thigh, and then she cupped his balls in her hands. His breath left his lungs in a long rush. His cock jerked as she blew warm air over him, her lips barely brushing the broad tip.

  He caught a fistful of hair and tugged, drawing her head up. “Lie across the bed for me.”

  “But I wanted…”

  “I’ll give you what you want. Do this for me.”

  Slowly, his gaze holding hers, she sank down onto the mattress. He pulled her legs across the bed sideways and gently pressed on her shoulder until she slowly lay back, her head at the very edge of the bed, hair falling toward the floor. Very gently he removed her boots and set them beside his shoes. The feel of his strong hands moving down her calves sent little tingles of excitement racing through her bloodstream. He tugged at her jeans until she lifted her bottom and let him slide them off. She was left draped across the bed with her top pooled around her rib cage.

  Manolito moved around to the side of the bed where her head was, caught her shoulders and tugged until her neck was off the bed and her head was tipped back. Her breasts thrust invitingly into the air, her nipples twin tight peaks begging for his attention.

  MaryAnn’s heart jumped. She felt a little vulnerable and exposed in this position. The rainbow lights played lovingly over her body, almost spotlighting her. She could feel the moisture gathering between her legs, and every single nerve ending was alive with anticipation.

  He spread his legs, taking a wide stance as he towered over her. His cock was engorged, thick and long, his balls smooth and tight. “Reach back for me,” he instructed, his eyes on her mouth.

  Her body trembled with the sudden desire to please him. To have him. To make him burn for her. He made her feel so sexy and wanted, with just a look, a brush of his gaze. She reached both arms back to cup his balls, to draw her fingernails lightly over his tight sac to memorize the texture and shape. The air left his body in a hiss and she smiled, running her tongue along her teeth. He wanted to be in control, but the brush of her fingertips, the light squeeze of her hands, the small flick of her tongue as she brought him to her mouth told her she had far more power over his body than she’d first thought.

  He murmured something graphic, stepping even closer, his hands finding her long, curly hair. “Slide down a little more now, meu amor. That’s it. That’s what I want. You can take so much more of me this way.”

  Her head was back, throat arched, breasts thrust upward, her body laid out like a feast. To stay in control, he circled the base of his shaft with one hand and pushed the head against her waiting mouth, teasing her lips. Her tongue flicked out, and she did a long, slow lick, curling it at the end, like she was scooping ice cream out of a cone.

  She made him wait. A heartbeat. Two. The world stood still. Time faltered and his heart lurched. Her mouth engulfed him like a silken glove, slid over his cock, her tongue swirling under the head and up over it, teasing and darting around while she suckled.

  His hips jerked. A sound escaped, something suspiciously close to a rough growl. Pleasure burst through him, rushing like a drug through his system. More than pleasure. Love. With his cock in her mouth, he doubted he should have been feeling anything but lust, but maybe love drove his lust for her, because he couldn’t imagine another woman more beautiful, or sexier. He couldn’t imagine feeling this desire, so intense it was a wild storm crashing through him, for anyone else. His breath exploded out of his lungs. His body shuddered as the fire raced up his spine.

  She ran another long, slow lick up and down the shaft, watching him, watching his reaction. He felt her in his mind, sharing the fire, sharing each wave of sensation she created as she drew him back deeper, her mouth hot and tight.

  His hands bunched in her hair. His hips thrust forward, using his own hand to keep each forward movement short as he filled her mouth. Her tongue was a velvet rasp as she licked the underside, and then she was suckling again, drawing him deeper. Her eyes remained locked on his, tearing at his heart, his soul, as he watched her swallow him, watched raw desire heat her gaze.

  She took him into her mouth, a long, slow draw, keeping her mouth tight, her tongue flat while she applied pressure and then whipped her head up fast, meeting his thrust, taking him deeper, so that streaks of fire spread through his groin.

  MaryAnn felt her body going up in flames. Her breasts were swollen and aching, begging for attention. The junction between her legs throbbed and was drenched with heat. He was making rough sounds of pleasure, each one vibrating through her, so that the walls of her sheath contracted and rippled and begged for mercy. He was tugging at her hair with each thrust as he began to lose his control, pulling her toward him as his thrusts deepened.

  “Harder,” he encouraged.

  She felt him swelling and knew by his husky groan he was close. She couldn’t move, locked beneath him, his hands controlling her head, the short, tight movements as her mouth moved up and down his shaft. He directed the arch of her neck, allowing her to take more of him.

  “Relax your throat for me,” he instructed, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. “Yes. Like that. Like that. Squeeze down.” The thrusts were faster now, short and hard, but he used the leverage to go deeper, the tugs on her hair sending pulses of pleasure shooting through her body.

  “You have to stop, sivamet.” His voice was hardly his own, so gravelly, on the edge of desperation. Because he couldn’t. Because even though he locked her down in the traditional way of his kind, he couldn’t leave that hot, moist cavern, so tight as she suckled at him. It was such a carnal pleasure to indulge in, to be indulged. “Stop before it’s too late.”

  Traditional way of his kind. Where had that thought come from? Why did he have such a desire to hold her still while he plunged in and out of her incredible mouth?

  MaryAnn wanted him, all of him, was desperate for him. She felt like a woman on the brink of sanity, starving for what he had to offer. His cock thickened. Jerked. Grew hot and full. There was something terribly erotic about lying all sprawled out, held tightly in place, knowing she was pushing him past all control, even as he was controlling her. She knew it was the wolf. She scented the musky call of the male wolf as Manolito thrust hard, his hands rough now, his cock jerking, the hot jets of semen exploding into her. It was the way of the wolf to dominate, and looking up at him, she could see the amber lights flickering in the black depths of his eyes.

  He reached for her breasts, his fingers tugging at her nipples while her mouth pulled at him. Without warning, he simply bent over her, his long body covering hers, and buried his face between her thighs. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Her body bucked and writhed as his tongue stabbed deep. She was forced to turn her head and release him, and all he did was crawl up her bod
y and pull her hips up to his marauding mouth. Her vision blurred. Her body belonged to him. To his hands and mouth and the long, muscled length of him.

  I want your heart and soul.

  The whisper would have stolen her last defense if she’d had any. You have them.

  You are safe in my keeping. And she was. As long as he lived and breathed, beyond that even, he would protect and cherish her.

  His tongue found slick heat, warm honey, and he indulged himself, holding her there easily while he took what he wanted. Her hips bucked, her breath came in sobs, as he devoured her. Her body was primed for him, already shuddering with her first climax, and he was throwing her into the second one with the dancing of his fingers over and in her. She cried out his name, music to him, the soft, ragged, breathy sound, barely audible when she ground against him in an attempt to get relief. Her releases only added to the pressure building, forever building until she was chanting, Please, please, please.

  Manolito raised his head and pulled her around to him, lifting her upright into his arms, pushing up with his body while he held her until he was standing. “Wrap your legs around my waist, MaryAnn.” His voice was rough and mesmerizing.

  “I don’t have any strength.” She didn’t, her arms and legs heavy, her body still shaking from the series of orgasms. Even so, she locked her fingers on his shoulders while she circled his body with her legs.

  “I have the strength for both of us. Just hold on, sivamet.”

  She locked her ankles and closed her eyes as he lowered her over him. The broad head of his cock drove through her soft, tight folds, the friction on her already-sensitive nerve endings making her cry out and bury her face against him. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered. “It’s too much, every time, too much.”

  How could she survive when her body was already in meltdown? Her need seemed unrelenting, the pressure building and building as he withdrew and her muscles tried to grip and hold him to her.

  Manolito caught her hair and pulled her head up so he could find her mouth with his. He needed to kiss her. To feel part of her, to be inside of her. He looked into her eyes and saw need there, hot and yet filled with such love. His heart jerked in his chest, and he kissed her again, using a gentle rhythm to entice her to ride him. His hands gripped her bottom, lifting her, showing her, feeling the silken heat flash through him when her muscles clamped down.

  So hot. A searing fire streaking up his cock and spreading to every inch of his body. The primitive need to possess her was a dark lust that wouldn’t—couldn’t—be stopped. Heat, lust, love, passion and arousal all mingled together as the bite of her muscles clamped around him and silken walls tightened until he was strangling somewhere between pleasure and pain.

  Manolito shifted again, tipping her back onto the bed so he was bent over her, watching them come together, watching her body stretch impossibly to accommodate his. The sight of her body accepting his was so erotic it shook him. Her tight sheath was velvet soft but scorching, so that he lost his ability to think, to control, until he was pumping into her, deeper and deeper, while the white-hot pleasure burst around him.

  She rose to meet every drive of his hips, every thrust and surge, urging him to a harder, faster ride, until he felt her release ripping through her like a firestorm—catching him up in the vortex, sucking and milking while streaks of lightning raced over his cock and he exploded deep inside her, jet after jet pulsing while her body gripped him hard. He lay over her for a long while, gasping her name, stroking her back, fighting for control when his body no longer belonged to him.

  Gently he lifted her all the way onto the bed and lay down beside her, his legs too weak to hold him up any longer. She burrowed close to him, her arms around his neck, her breasts pressed against him, body still shuddering with pleasure.

  “I think I am alive,” he said, faint humor in his voice.

  “I’m not.” She was tired. Exhausted, but every time he shifted, her body reacted.

  He moved against her, his mouth trailing down her throat to the swell of her breast, and she held her breath as she felt his incisors prick her skin. Instinct was taking over and she wanted what he was offering. She arched closer, but he merely flicked her breast with his tongue, pulling back as he rolled over.

  It was too late for him. He had taken her blood numerous times, so much so that he knew the infection raged in his body. His Carpathian blood prevented him from feeling too many of the effects, but still, the wolf was in him now. But MaryAnn, it wasn’t too late for her. He just had to maintain control at all times. Making love to her was the most dangerous of times because the need, the craving for her blood was on him all the time.

  She lay in silence for a long while, listening to the combined rhythm of their heartbeats. Finally she propped herself up onto her elbow, levering up onto her side so she could look at him. “Manolito, I’m in your mind and I can feel your need to convert me. You don’t just want to do it; every instinct you have is demanding it.”

  His fingers curled around the nape of her neck. “That matters little to me. Your safety and happiness are more important than anything else.”

  “Riordan said you could still turn vampire.”

  “You misunderstood.” His fingers began a slow massage to ease the tension out of her. “We are bound together. I cannot turn. I will choose a life with you, whether it is here or in your beloved city of Seattle.” He flashed her a smile. “See? I am beginning to be able to read your mind at will, too.”

  “What does that mean? I don’t understand.”

  “I will grow old and die as you do. The lycan have longevity as well, but not as Carpathians. When you give up life, so will I.”

  She was silent, studying his face, probing his mind. Delving deep, she found—the wolf. She had known all along it was emerging, but now she could feel its powerful presence. With that combined with his Carpathian characteristics, Manolito would be a difficult man to handle. It was fortunate she had her wolf to help guide her.

  “I want to go back to Seattle to see my family often,” she said.

  “Of course.”

  “And you will be charming and not at all bossy.”

  His eyebrow shot up. “It is always said that I am a charming man.”

  “By whom? You and your brothers?” She gave a delicate sniff of disbelief. “When we go visit, you have to act civilized and not at all like a Carpathian or a wolf. I don’t want my mother upset.”

  “Are you going to ask her questions?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet. But I do know if Solange and Jasmine stay in Brazil, wherever they are, they really need help. I think we should try to have a home near them as well as in the States.”

  “I agree, and that is a perfect solution. Jasmine wants to go to the ranch, but Solange, I think, will be a problem. And in truth, MaryAnn, I do not believe she should ever be near my eldest brother, Zacarias. He does not take no for an answer, and she would judge him very harshly, not understanding that his word had to be, and continues to have to be, law. He was what kept us all from turning vampire. The darkness is in him, and we all tread softly to try to keep from pushing him over the edge.

  She could feel his sorrow and worry for his oldest brother. He obviously loved and respected Zacarias above all others. She brushed back Manolito’s hair with gentle fingers and leaned forward to kiss him. The shadows in his eyes, the heaviness in his heart were almost more than she could bear.

  “You think you will eventually lose him.” She made it a statement.

  Manolito lay back, locking his fingers behind his head, and stared up at the sparkling crystals covering the ceiling. He sighed. “Zacarias is a great man, meu amor, highly intelligent, and he wields much power. He has stood in front of my brothers, in front of me, shielding us from the kills to allow us more time. Each kill we make our souls grow darker.”

  “Can you, Riordan and Rafael try to…” She trailed off. What was she saying? Did she want Manolito to
hunt the vampire?

  He shook his head. “He would never allow us to do that for him. He believes he is responsible for us. I already see the darkness is strong in him. I was so close to turning myself, I should know. Even when I entered the other world, the other occupants knew. After a while the darkness runs together until you no longer know if you can resist the lure to just one time feel something. Anything.”

  “But three of you have found lifemates. That should give him hope.”

  “He cannot feel hope, not his own. He can only feel our hope for him. And even should he find his lifemate, I fear he would be too difficult for a woman of today’s society to live with. Most of our lifemates are human or raised human. He is a throwback to a different era. You find me difficult. In comparison, I assure you, MaryAnn, I am a very modern man.”

  “I’m very glad to hear you say that, Manolito, because this modern woman has come to a decision, and it’s my decision to make. Mine. You have to understand that I believe I do have rights. This is important to me.”

  “What decision would that be?” He sounded wary. He was wary. He wasn’t about to free her from her obligations even if it was possible—which it wasn’t.

  “I want you to convert me. Now. Tonight. I want to share your life wholly with you.” She ignored the storm clouds gathering in his eyes. “I didn’t have a decision at any time along the way. So this is me, thinking it over, knowing what I’m doing and saying, yes, I love you and I want to be wholly yours.”

  19

  Manolito bit down on his first response, forcing the sudden fear down. Emotions were much more difficult to deal with than he’d remembered. If he converted MaryAnn, and the wolf protested, it might kill her. No one, not even Vlad, remembered the pairing of a wolf and a Carpathian.

  “Manolito?” Her fingers drifted over his face, tracing his cheekbones, gentle, filled with love.

  He swallowed the lump in his throat and turned his face away from her so she wouldn’t see him fight back the way she affected him. She shook him with her tenderness. With love. Being a lifemate seemed so simple, yet it was far more complex than he had ever considered. He wanted her conversion for himself. He had pride in what and who he was, but at the same time, he wouldn’t—couldn’t—risk her.