The Mark on her back shot a renewed blast of pain—or maybe it had never stopped doing so—but whatever the case, she felt it.
And along with the shock of hurt came an unlikely sense of satisfaction. If Lucifer disapproved, then there was something good about it.
And it all had ceased being just about her some time ago.
“Shhh,” he said. “Don’t…say anything.”
“Are you hurt? What can I…”
He covered her mouth with his, his lips warm and firm, fitting over hers with a softness that made her want to weep. His hands glided up her unclothed body, gentle and yet possessive.
“Belial,” he said, pulling away suddenly, his face hardening. “He?—”
“He’s dead,” she replied. “Chas….” She shook her head and pressed her swollen lips together.
“I would have killed him myself. Watching him—” His voice trailed off and he looked at her, his brown-blue eyes deep and filled with grief. “I knew what Cezar was going to do. I tried to stop him, Narcise.”
“By Fate, Iknowyou did,” she replied wildly, consumed by her own guilt and shame. “Giordan, there wasnothingyou could have done?—”
“I would have done anything?—”
“But you alreadydid,” she wept. “You alreadydid. And I didn’tseeit. I didn’t see it.”
He gathered her close, but she could feel the trembling and weakness in his powerful arms. She pressed a kiss over one of the wounds on his shoulder, tasting the remnant of luscious, warm, clean lifeblood. Desire and affection rushed over her, and he shivered beneath her lips.
“You need to feed,” she told him, pulling away, putting aside her own needs and desires. “You can hardly lift your arms.”
“No,” he murmured. “I only need you, Narcise. I never thought?—”
“Please, Giordan. Allow me.” She raised her arm and offered it to him, at the same time as she admired the smooth planes of his chest, dusted lightly with dark hair. “Just as you did for me.”
He shook his head. “I can’t. Narcise. I can’t.” He turned his face away, his mouth tight, his nostrils flaring as if he drew in her scent, but tried to force it away at the same time.
Something sharp and hard stabbed her in the heart. But he fed on Rubey. She knew he did…she’d scented and smelled the proof.
If he loved her, why would he not take what she offered? Her heart thumping, an uneasy churning in her insides, she looked for something to cut her skin…just as he had, when she’d demurred his same offering, ten years ago.
A lifetime for some. But just a flash in the life of a Dracule.
“Please,” she said, wanting to help him, and at the same time, wanting to erase the remnants of Belial that had been imprinted on her.
She raked her arm over the corner of her bedside table, and it did enough: leaving a slender red line that burst into shiny pearls of lifeblood.
“Narcise.” He sucked in his breath and she put her arm there…but even then, he turned away. “I can’t. You don’t understand…I’ve changed. I can’t.”
But then he shuddered, deep in his middle as he pulled in a breath. His belly and torso flinched against hers, and all at once his mouth was on her…closing around her arm.
His tongue slid along the slender wound, leaving a moist, hot trail in its wake, and Narcise’s desire blossomed fully inside her, shooting low and deep.
She rolled and pressed against him, jolting delicately when he slid his fangs into the soft side of her arm. The rush of her blood into his warm mouth, his slick tongue tasting the lifeblood was as pleasurable for her as sinking her fangs into his vein.
She tasted his salty skin, felt the racing and pounding of his pulse as it beat with her own. His eyes were closed, his face taut with relief as he drank?—
Giordan abruptly pulled up, thrusting her arm away and lurching off the bed. He fumbled at the table, grabbing a small bowl from it just in time to vomit inside.
Narcise went still and cold. Did he hate her so much that he couldn’t….
Slowly she eased away from the warm place on the bed, the last remnants of her pleasure evaporating, leaving her shaky and confused. His back was to her, that broad expanse with shifting muscles…and a Mark that had turned white. It covered his shoulder and down his back, smooth and light—as if he’d been tanned around it.
