Hän ku vigyáz sívamet és sielamet. Keeper of my heart and soul. He whispered the truth into her mind as his tongue slid over her pulse. He felt the slide of his teeth, and then he bit down, sinking deep, connecting them.
She cried out and threw her head back, angling her neck toward him to give him even greater access. Her breasts moved restlessly against him. Her arms slid up his chest to wrap around him, to hold him to her. Sandu, she whispered his name in his mind.
Nothing had prepared him. Not the earlier taking of her blood. Not hearing of lifemates from any who had them. The moment his teeth hooked into her vein and rich blood poured into him, her blood, meant for him, designed for him, his world became a different place. He was aware of her as a woman. As feminine. Her curves. Her sex. Her blood was an aphrodisiac, a siren’s call beckoning to everything masculine in him.
His body reacted to hers. His heart did. His soul did. Her blood, freely given, rich now with the mixture of her awareness of what he was and that she was his lifemate, was a fireball rushing through his system, drowning him in sensation. She moaned again, the sound sensual, adding to the erotic feeling, settling like a wicked punch in his groin.
Temptation and caution warred for a moment, and then he lifted his head reluctantly, his tongue sweeping across the two little holes that were his marks on her. His claim. He would need more blood, but he had taken enough for an exchange and to heal his wounds.
Sandu caught Adalasia’s chin and tipped her face up to his. She lifted her lashes slowly, her eyes slumberous, sexy. His body responded to his temptress in spite of his wounds. He gave her plenty of time to pull away from him, waiting, letting her know his intentions. Her eyes searched his, and then, as his lips descended toward hers, those incredible lashes lowered again, and his mouth was on hers.
Kissing Adalasia was like taking her blood. First the soft sensation of her lips, the heat of her mouth, the velvet of her tongue, then her taste wrapped in fire. He had been unable to identify her specific fragrance and taste until that very moment when she was wrapped in his arms and fire was rushing through his veins. The world spun and the ground moved. Magic. He didn’t create it, she did. He could kiss her forever. Taste her forever. That subtle blend of Camelot rose, orange blossom, wild plum and clove. He had her now. That oh-so-subtle trail that she left on his skin and in his mouth was now in his lungs and heart. Imprinted forever on his soul.
He lifted his head, running the pad of his thumb over her lips. “With regret, we’ve got to stop. I’ve got to heal these wounds.”
Adalasia nodded. “I think that would be best.”
He didn’t move. He couldn’t. He held her to him, her body molding perfectly to his. “I’ve made quite the mess of your clothes. My blood is all over them. You aren’t exactly the fainting type, are you?”
“No. I always thought it might be a good idea. My father had a booming voice, and when he was angry, he would yell very loud. Really, really loud. I used to think it would be a great idea to faint like the characters did in the Sherlock Holmes books I read. I seriously tried it, but nothing happened. Then my mother told me about the corsets they wore. She also told me my father just had a very loud voice, and he was really a grumpy bear, and he made her laugh when he was like that. I realized she would raise one eyebrow and just look at him when he yelled. I copied her, and I got so I liked that much better than trying to make myself faint.”
Sandu laughed. “How old were you?”
“Twelve. I practiced the eyebrow thing in the mirror until I got it down.” She tilted her head to show him. “You can expect to get that look quite a bit.”
“What kinds of things did your father yell about?” Sandu asked. He managed to let her go, knowing he needed to heal the wounds in his body. “Yelling doesn’t really accomplish anything. I’ve never really understood why humans do it.”
“He would lose things all the time, and when he did, he yelled at himself. He spoke several languages, and he was very colorful in the way he reprimanded himself. I didn’t appreciate how funny it was until my mother told me about the grumpy bear thing.”
Sandu sank into the armchair. “This won’t take long, Adalasia.”
“Tell me what you’re doing. How you’re healing them.”
“Carpathians heal wounds from the inside out. The ones on my thighs look bad, and they bled quite a bit but are not that deep. Abascus tore chunks from my shoulder and neck and managed a couple of times to penetrate the armor in my chest. Those are the worst and deepest wounds. I will have to be meticulous about fixing those.”