"You think you can take my will again," she said. "It's not going to be that easy."
"Holly, think. I'm not worth your freedom. No one is. Let me go."
"Like hell, Caravelli." Holly bit the inside of her lips, keeping them steady.
He said nothing, just gripped the wall as if that alone would keep him on his feet. His eyes were growing dark, the gold fading bit by bit.
How can I trust him? He used his power to save me, but he still made me his slave.
The answer surprised her. Because I have my magic. I can make doorways out of more than one kind of prison. I can take a myth and make it real in every way.
Holly turned in to him, rising on her toes. She pressed her lips against his, grabbing the energy from the stones around her and putting a rush of the Castle's power into the kiss, into the words she spoke. "So I Choose you, Alessandro Caravelli. With free will and sound mind, I want you above all others to be mine."
As she spoke, Holly felt a burst of energy between them, the very heat of her emotion. She was feeding him her love.
His cold lips suddenly flooded with warmth. He pushed away from the wall and folded his arms around her, deepening the kiss into a sensual act of devotion. "You Choose me?"
Holly grinned, unable to contain herself. "I wanted you long ago, but I didn't realize you were up for grabs. Otherwise I would have flung you over my shoulder and carted you off to my cave long ago."
"I was afraid of hurting you, and with good reason."
She stroked his face, her thumb tracing the arch of his mouth. "If you're my Chosen one, you can't mark me again."
"I don't need to. I don't need your blood. You'll feed me in other ways." His amber eyes were hot and greedy. "As I will feed you, cara."
He was standing straight, but Holly could tell he was far from healed. In her happy estimation, it was going to take a thorough session of lovemaking to set things to rights. She knelt and picked up his sword, passing him the hilt. "In that case, you look like you could use a good meal. You know, I have a rather nice place nearby. Shall I carry you off?"
She bent and retrieved The Book of Lies.
"I count on it." He sheathed the blade with a suggestive slither. Then, with unexpected speed, he swept her off her feet and into his arms. "But your love gives me strength. Tonight I am driving."
Holly conjured a fire in the fireplace, using magic to create heat from the power of the Castle itself. Alessandro filled a kettle from the waterfall and hung it over the fire. There were tiny cakes of hard, herb-scented soap, and plenty of towels. As the damp air warmed, they stripped off their filthy clothes and used the marble basin to wash.
First Holly bathed Alessandro's wound. The gash had finally ceased to bleed and closed with a slight push of magical energy. Then it was her turn. The ghoul bites had healed with magic, but she still wanted their slobber off her flesh.
Alessandro pressed Holly to him, his soap-slicked muscles hard against the sensitive flesh of her breasts. Hot and hungry, his mouth found hers, the faint taste of soap strangely exotic as they kissed, man and woman, with no marks but the oldest bonds of nature between them.
Soap swirled away as they used the chill waterfall to rinse. Holly caught his lip with her teeth, tugging. A pleased growl rose in his chest, the vibration tickling her skin. She shivered, part cold, part anticipation, and made him give a low, intimate chuckle. The sound turned Holly liquid inside.
Alessandro dried her face with the softest of the white towels they found, working his way down her arms and back, saving the most erogenous parts for last. It was a possessive ritual, a little rough in his eagerness to claim each toe and elbow with strokes of the thickly woven cloth. Holly closed her eyes, feeling the towel like a tongue on her flesh.
He pushed her down on the old, worn velvet of the seat closest to the fire, her damp skin sticking to the soft fabric as they moved. Alessandro's hair hung down his chest in dark, damp curls, water making glistening rivulets over his skin. So help her, Holly began to salivate. He leaned over to press his lips to the tip of her shoulder. He was warm now, but she still felt gooseflesh rise on her skin, driven by the desire rearing like madness in her blood.
He ran his tongue up her sensitive inner arm, his teeth resting lightly at the crook of her elbow. As he moved to look at her, his eyes flashed the yellow of the hunter poised above his prey.
A new chill took the air from her throat. "I thought I didn't tempt you that way anymore."
He kissed the skin, his fangs just denting the soft flesh. "I am what I am. I will never steal your will again, I do not need to consume your blood, but that does not mean I will never want to taste you. My venom cannot addict you now, but that doesn't mean it's not there for your pleasure."
His mouth fastened onto hers, his tongue demanding new secrets. The faint taste of fennel brought a welter of erotic associations. Her hands ran down his lean flanks, feeling the muscles tighten, feeling the hardening of flesh.
He was recovering nicely.
Holly's power stirred, humming against his, another layer of pleasant arousal. Her skin was beginning to burn with wanting, as if it had suddenly grown too small.
They slipped between the sheets of the bed, the smell of old lavender wafting from the linens. Grateful for the warmth of the covers, she snuggled close, letting him cherish her curves and hollows with slow delectation. She was wet with need, aching and greedy.
"I have waited hundreds of years to hold a woman like this," said Alessandro. "To make love for its own sake, without the struggle to keep myself in check. To make love with only pleasure in mind."
"Do you think you remember how?" she teased, feeling the press of him against her thigh.
"I am old, not senile," he said acidly, but his smile was wanton.
Fingers wandered up her belly to play with the secrets of her navel, dipping in, exploring, toying with her. He traced the areola of her breast, the touch almost more suggestion than contact. Her nipple contracted, every nerve sparking with heavy fire. His lips fastened on the swollen nub, spreading the blaze of need through her belly.
OK yes, he knows it all, she thought as he moved his attention to her other breast. His mouth was busy, but so were his fingers, unfolding the petals of her sex and finding her slick and ready, but, damnably, he was in no rush. The pressure grew harder and more evocative, stroking against her swollen, eager folds. Holly reared against him, suddenly past words.
She reached for him, finding what she wanted. She ran her fingernails over his most sensitive places, letting the suggestion of pain salt his obvious pleasure. His ragged intake of breath told her all she needed to know. The sound made her nipples ache for the return of his clever mouth.
Trembling with the need for control, he finally grasped her hands, pinning them above her head. The old mattress swayed as he moved above her, poised for his conquest.
Her power, full and free, reached out and balanced his, strength for strength. His darkness would never overwhelm Holly's brightness; nor would she ever banish his night. No need for either of them to hold back now.
His hands released their iron grip, slowly, patiently sliding down her flesh, tracing the flare of her hips, cupping the mounds of her rich femininity. He kissed her right there, the suggestion of his lips and tongue making her part and arch in welcome.
He entered with a deep stroke, filling her, stretching her, holding still for a long moment before either of them could bear to move. Then, unable to wait another second, she thrust her hips again and again, finding the position, the rhythm, drawing him in inch after thick, delicious inch. Discomfort danced with sensuous hunger.