Manolito lifted his hands, and MaryAnn leaned forward to tangle her fingers with his. The movement put pressure on her most sensitive spot, and she nearly fragmented right there, but his hands dropped to her hips and locked her down tight on him, preventing movement. His gaze held hers. Hot. Aroused. Glittering. The intensity sent another wash of heat rolling through her. Commanding.
She knew what he wanted. The idea should have filled her with fear, or dread, or even disgust, but instead, it excited her, excited her wolf. She could feel her teeth, sharp now, pressing her for a taste of him. Manolito. The other half of her soul. He slid one palm under her hair until his fingers could curl around the nape of her neck and pull her down to his chest. Seated on him, her body throbbing with pleasure, she licked at the spot just above his heart.
The rush of his blood through his veins called to her. His male scent. The musky scent of the wolf and the heady fragrance of sex in the air-all combined to make her head spin. Her tongue darted out again, flicked over his skin. His cock gave an answering jerk. Her muscles tightened around him. She waited, listening to the steady beat so close to her ear. Rapid. Excited. Anticipating.
Her teeth sank deep, and the taste of him, the incredible gift of life, flowed into her. His harsh breathing deepened. His cock thickened, stretching, invading, sending fiery waves through her body. Her muscles spasmed, and he groaned, adding to her heightened pleasure. He tasted-like power. Hot and sweet and filled with sex. Who would have thought he could taste so good?
His body began to move in hers. Long, slow strokes, almost lazy. Steel encased in velvet riding between her legs, thick and long and driving her slowly insane. He was everywhere. In her. On her. Flooding her mouth, her body, enveloping her in a cocoon of love. His hands urged her hips up so that she concentrated on the fiery sensations as he nearly retreated completely. Then he forced her back down, holding her to the lazy pace so she could take enough for a true exchange.
The ride was the most sensual she'd ever had. His hands slid over her bottom, massaged, made small circles, stroked the long, velvety line between her buttocks, and then he'd urge her up again, in that slow, lazy rhythm. She moaned and swept her tongue across his chest to close the small wound. Her muscles were pulsing around his shaft and her breath came in gasping sobs. She looked down into his eyes.
He was staring back at her. Manolito De La Cruz. His eyes were the blackest of night in color, with streaks of amber, like small lightning bolts. And she could drown in the amount of love she found there. He didn't try to hide it, wasn't in the least shy about letting her see.
He held her hips and did a long, slow circle as he brought her down, so that the breath was driven from her body and the tight knot of nerves screamed at the intense sensation. Her stomach rippled with the fiery burst and her womb spasmed.
«Of course I love you. How could you not know?»
Her throat ached and tears burned behind her eyes. «I never thought I'd find you. I never thought I'd feel a love like this of my own.»
«I will make certain you feel it with every breath you take,» he said. Tightening his fingers on her hips, he drove his hips upward, filling her so full she cried out his name, her nails digging into his shoulders.
She thrust back against him, driving down, her body shuddering as mind-numbing pleasure exploded through her, as she felt his brutal release, the sudden swelling, the hot release so deep inside triggering wave after wave until she fell forward into his arms, exhausted, lying on him, locked to him, unable to move.
He held her to him, his lips in her hair, staring up at the crystal ceiling. «I have lived for centuries, MaryAnn, and never once did I believe it would happen to me. I don't think any of us really believe it will happen.»
There wasn't enough air in her lungs to speak, so she pressed kisses to his throat, and then laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes, listening to the rhythm of his heart.
«I've looked into my heart and soul, and honestly, I think a man of our species is meant to claim his lifemate regardless of whether or not she is in love with him. I have destroyed so many vampires, and I think, given the choice of becoming wholly evil, murdering and preying on the innocent, or staking my claim and allowing my lifemate time to grow to love me-I believe it is the only recourse open to us.»
She patted his chest. «Perhaps you might consider courting your lifemate first, getting her to fall in love with you and then claiming her.» Her stomach suddenly cramped. With a small gasp she rolled off of him to lie on her back.
Manolito put his hand on her belly, feeling her muscles cramping. She cringed and pushed his arm away.
«You feel too heavy. And it's hot in here. Maybe you should open the door and let the night air in.»
He rolled onto his side, careful to keep his body from hers. «The conversion is starting. You felt a part of what Luiz went through. I want you to stay merged with me at all times, MaryAnn.»
«There's no need for both of us to go through this. It was my decision.» A blowtorch seemed to flash through her middle, so that she gasped and clutched her stomach. Beads of perspiration dotted her forehead.
«I'm not asking you. I won't survive just watching. I have to be an active participant and so does my wolf.» He leaned close, took her hand in his. «Do you understand? Did you hear me?»
Her eyes were enormous, already glazed with pain, but she nodded. «My wolf,» she gasped. «She's trying to shield me. You have to make her stop. We both need to…» She trailed off as a convulsion picked up her body and slammed it back to the mattress. She curled into the fetal position, reaching for his hand. «Make him talk to her. She can't fight this. It will destroy her, but she doesn't want me to suffer.»
Manolito didn't want to leave her, not even for a moment, but she was panting, nodding, trying to hold on while the pain wracked her body. She went to her knees, leaning over the side of the bed, vomiting over and over.
It was happening fast, almost too fast. He reached for her, but the convulsions started again. In her mind, he could feel her wolf rising, trying to protect her. The wolf had no thought of saving herself. She was a guardian and MaryAnn was suffering.
His wolf was a part of him. There had to be trust between them, and neither wanted his mate to bear the pain. Manolito kept his mind firmly merged with MaryAnn's, trying to shoulder the agony himself, but he let go of his physical body, allowing the wolf to take over.
MaryAnn thrashed, desperate to ease the pain, and her hand collided with thick fur. She turned her head and the wolf lay beside her. His eyes stared into hers. Deep amber with thin black lightning bolts through them. Beautiful eyes. Beautiful fur.
Let go. Let her come out. She heard the words echo through her mind as she convulsed again, as the pain burned up through every organ and into her very brain.
She might die.
I will not allow it. If you do not, she will not survive. Can you feel her fighting? She will never accept what is happening to you without guidance.
I don't know how to help her.
I do. Let her come out.
He was every bit as arrogant and protective as Manolito. She didn't know if she could bear the pain in the small confines of that space, but she didn't want to take the chance that her wolf would die. She forced herself to let go, even though the sensation was worse; she couldn't cling to anything, had no anchor to hold on to. She heard her desperate scream, and then Manolito was there, in her mind, calming her, whispering to her. His wolf was there as well, murmuring reassurances.