. nothing.
He was feeling emotion now, and the first of it, rather than wonder, was anger. A slow, smoldering rage that boiled in his gut when he looked at the stubborn woman. There was no telling her actual age. Mages had longevity and aged extremely slowly. Undoubtedly, she was born in the wrong century. More than one wrong century. She was mage, a mortal enemy of his people. Already she had proven her treacherous nature. More, she kept her lips pressed together, denying him when she so obviously knew he was her other half.
He leaned down very close, taking in the delicate scent of her. She smelled like peaches and cream. Like heaven. Strands of her hair caught in the dark stubble on his face and his stomach did a slow roll at the feeling of silk against his skin.
His lips brushed her little shell of an ear as he admonished her. “I am your lifemate. Your lord. You belong to me. It does not matter in the least that you fight me on this. You will learn obedience, and you will learn treachery is a very dangerous game to play.” He punctuated each word with his tongue, touching her skin, claiming every spot he licked.
He didn’t want her answer. He only wanted one thing and he took it. With no warning, he sank his teeth into her neck. She cried out, the sound like music, shattering the silence of the night. Bright colors struck at him, glowing and shimmering behind his eyes. Her blood filled his mouth, delicate and pure, a ruby drink designed for his taste alone. It was perfection. Exquisite. The tang beyond anything he’d ever experienced.
He knew he was changed for all time. Addiction took hold. He would always need this. Waking. Sleeping. Every moment he thought of her. Her taste would be in his mouth, on his tongue. His muscles, organs and bones would cry out for her blood. She had been created just for him and he was nearly drunk—no, euphoric—at the idea of a lifemate. Especially one who would give him trouble at every turn. He would enjoy being with her nearly as much as he would enjoy taking her blood.
It took effort to connect back with reality and realize she was struggling, trying to push him away from her. You will obey. He pushed the command deep into her mind. There was a shield there. A very effective one. Her psychic shield was strong, but it hadn’t been formed with a lifemate in mind. Nor had she been prepared for a Carpathian warrior as old and as skilled as he was.
Fuck you and the bird you flew in on.
There was pure defiance as well as a hidden note of fear. Good. She would need both to survive and he was going to make certain she did.
That is unacceptable language for my woman to use, especially on me.
In one smooth move, he rolled her over forcing her facedown on the hard rock, trapping her arms beneath her. One silent command and he had stripped the bag from her body, leaving her in her jeans and tee. He brought his hand down hard on her bottom. Over and over. He wasn’t gentle about it.
“You are getting off lucky in spite of your cries and pleas. You helped steal from the prince of the Carpathian people. That isn’t even your worst crime.” He put a little more power into his smacks on her rounded bottom. “You deliberately tried to deny me, your lifemate, what is mine. You belong to me. I’ve lived a life of honor. I’ve risked my life to save every species over and over, century after century. You knew, just looking at me, and yet you childishly and stubbornly refused to open your mouth and give me back emotions and colors.”
She sobbed softly, no longer struggling or trying to get him off her back. She lay beneath him, accepting his punishment, her small body shuddering. Abruptly he rolled her over again and pulled her into his arms, looking down at her tear-streaked face.
You will take my blood now. He pushed firmly past her strong shield to force her obedience.
She tilted her head up, her hands going to his shirt. It was already open in preparation and she swept the two edges apart as she pressed her mouth to his chest, right over his heart. Her lashes were wet. Her incredible skin was splotchy red from crying. She hiccupped twice, as if she