He held out his hand to her. «I have been alone, too.»
She wanted to make him understand the enormity of the decision. Did he know what it would cost her? Did he know how terrified she was? Did he have any idea how bad she was going to be at a relationship?
His smile widened, giving her a flash of his white teeth. He leaned down and brushed a gentle kiss over her mouth. There was no way to save herself from her treacherous heart. She had already committed to him. She had fallen for his smile. His gentle nature. His iron will. Everything about him drew her. Even his stubborn streak and that absolute boyish sense of humor. Everything.
There was more danger to her here, in this man, in this moment, than from the most powerful master vampire imaginable, or from the most ferocious of battles. Loving him too much, as she would-maybe already did-might destroy her. She could put her physical body back together, but not her heart, not her soul-not the very essence of who she was.
«Trust me, beloved. I know I am asking more than any other has dared to ask, but look into the soul we share and trust me.»
Ivory kept her gaze locked with his. His eyes. His gorgeous, wild, midnight blue eyes that held so much. All for her. Only for her. So much hunger. So much desire. So much love. Her mouth trembled as she placed her hand in his and let him lead her into their bedchamber. Her heart pounded so loudly she was certain he could hear it.
Razvan closed the door on the wolves, leaving them settled in the larger memory room. He waved his arm to set lights flickering on a hundred miniature candles set into small indentations in the rock wall. The flames danced, throwing shadows across Ivory's face. Her skin looked porcelain, rose-petal soft and inviting. Her eyes were enormous, burnished gold, liquid and frightened like a wild creature trapped by a predator, looking at him with a mixture of longing and innocence that was both intoxicating and irresistible.
He reached behind her and pulled her thick braid over her shoulder to release the tie, his fingers tunneling through the silky strands to loosen the tight weave so that her hair tumbled around her face and cascaded down her back. The texture of her hair, so soft, the strands running through the pads of his thumb and fingers, brought the smoldering embers into a slow burn. She didn't flinch or turn away from him, nor did she lower her gaze from his.
There was courage in Ivory, an abundance of it. Courage he knew was a huge part of who she was. Ivory didn't give up. If she committed herself to him, she would give everything to him, hold nothing back. He loved her all the more for that trait, that absolute unswerving characteristic that made her a dangerous hunter, but would also make her a fiercely loyal partner and a fantasy lover.
He wanted to take his time, explore every inch of her, every secret shadow and hollow, every intriguing, mysterious feminine curve. He could barely breathe with wanting. His hands moved to the buckles of her vest. He knew each buckle intimately, having committed them to memory earlier-the leather straps with the double holes-the tiny crosses embedded in the steel of each metal clasp and the three metal rivets on each side of the buckle and strap, also embedded with a cross-the cross that represented her faith and shining soul.
Of course either of them could have removed her clothes with a single thought, but he wanted the pleasure of unwrapping her. He wanted to take his time and offer her every single moment of pleasure he could give her-build her need from a smoldering ember into a raging firestorm.
She didn't move, but he felt her sharp inhale and her breasts rose and fell against his knuckles as he worked the straps apart and pushed the material off her shoulders for a slow unveiling of her magnificent body. Her breasts spilled out. Soft. Enticing. So tempting he cupped the soft weight in his palms, all the time watching her face.
He saw the swift pleasure overtake her, the flush of color, the slight glazing of her eyes as his thumbs brushed over the taut peaks of her nipples. Holding the twin soft mounds in the palms of his hands felt like a miracle, the sensation beyond his fantasies. He'd given up those dreams long ago-so long ago he couldn't even remember if he'd ever had them-yet she stood before him, her soft feminine curves a gentle weight in his hands and her enormous eyes looking at him with such trepidation . . . and anticipation.
He brushed a kiss over her forehead, then down to the corner of her left eye. A small shudder went through her body. He kissed the tip of her nose and the corners of her mouth. Her lips parted slightly. Hunger welled up in her, swamping him so that for a moment his mouth hovered a scant inch from hers while he fought for control.
He took her breath first, drawing it deep into his lungs, and then he took her mouth, his lips settling over hers, absorbing the shape and texture, the soft firmness, the building heat. His tongue slid along that slightly parted seam, the small invitation.
Ivory's breath caught in her throat. He was leading her down an unknown path of temptation, and she was just too far gone to resist. His kiss was sinful, his mouth a wicked excitement that filled her with such need she couldn't stop her response. He whispered something, sexy, nearly imperceptible, as his tongue swept into her mouth, exploring the hot recesses, running seductively over her teeth and claiming her body for his own.
She knew that was what it was. A claiming. Taking her body and making it his own. His thumbs brushed across her nipples and she nearly cried out, the sound strangled by the lump rising in her throat. Streaks of fire raced from her breast to her clit and her womb clenched. He kissed her over and over until she felt delirious, but one part of her was always focused on his hands. On waiting. On needing.
She stood there with him fully clothed, his dark, streaked hair pulled back so that he looked in control while she was naked from the waist up with her hair tumbling in every direction, a wild, wanton bundle of nerves that finally understood that her destination was this man. This journey she took with him, no matter how frightening, wasn't being taken alone. He had allowed her to lead the way in her field of strength. He was asking her to give herself up to him, just as he had done for her.
He wanted her trust. Wholly. He wanted her to give him everything she was or would ever be without pride or ego, trusting he would cherish her gift for all time. His kiss had been a match, lighting something deep inside her that flared up now, something feminine and alive and needy beyond belief. She wanted to please him. She wanted to be his solace. His pleasure. His everything.
Her tongue slid along his, dancing and teasing, as she pushed her aching breasts deeper into his palms, needing that next brush of fire. His kisses were addictive, burning hot until she knew passion was spinning out of control and her mind was hazy with desire. He bit at her lower lip and the sting sent a lightning strike sizzling through her belly straight to her feminine channel. Even her thighs quivered, her body going into meltdown.
His teeth scraped along her chin, his tongue swirling over the small dip there and traveling down to her throat. He took his time, even though she was melting right there on the floor. His mouth moved over her throat, those wicked teeth scraping gently, sending a sinful lash of spiraling heat sliding from belly to thigh.
She could barely breathe, waiting. Knowing. In the grip of a desire far too strong to ever withstand. He lowered his mouth and took her breast with the same slow heat he'd taken her mouth. His warm breath came first, so that she felt him all the way through her breast and deep under her skin. Her breath just stopped as she strained toward him. His tongue flicked her nipple and she whimpered. Then his mouth drew her deep, suckled, and she cried out, throwing her head back, her arms cradling his head to her, holding him close. Her fingers curled into fists, bunching his hair while her toes curled in a matching reflex.