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old, that someone had lovingly made for a child. Not hers, he guessed by the blue color. A boy. Someone she loved, by the look of it. A faded picture of a woman in a wooden handmade frame, a woman who must have been her mother, sat on a shelf. She had the same amazing eyes. A hand-carved comb of the finest wood. He touched each item. Read the memories imprinted there. A brother--no, two brothers. The comb had been made by her father. He frowned. Not her birth father. The man she loved as a father. All gone. Every one of them.

He lifted his head and looked at her, his gaze colliding with hers. "Come here to me, Solange. Right here." He pointed to a spot right in front of him.

She looked startled. Her eyes went dark. Her heart began pounding again, filling the small chamber with its frantic beat.

Chapter Seven

Can you come to trust a man once again? Can you come to love an old one like me? Let my strong arms protect you, let me sing you to sleep. Let my song bring you healing, like the earth and the sea.

DOMINIC TO SOLANGE

Solange's heart nearly burst out of her chest. Tremors ran up and down her body, and icy fingers of fear slid down her spin. Dominic filled the room with his power. She couldn't look at his face, not those piercing eyes that could change color like a storm. She actually wrung her hands together. The distance between them seemed to be miles, although it was only a few steps. It might as well have been miles. Men weren't supposed to be like him--except in dreams. She could handle him in dreams, but this was crazy. What did he want from her?

He waited. He always seemed to be waiting so patiently for her to make up her mind. He never raised his voice, his tone soft and compelling. She stared at his chest for a long time before she could make her frozen foot step forward. One. She counted to herself. Two. He seemed to loom larger than ever. Three. She could see the muscles ripple beneath his shirt. Four. Head down, refusing to meet his eyes, she took the last step to stand in the exact spot he'd indicated. It was the best she could do for him.

"The dawn is approaching fast, p?l?fertiil--lifemate. I need to make certain I have adequately taken care of you."

Her stomach somersaulted. What did that mean, "Taken care of you"? She licked her lips, trying to get enough moisture to do more than squeak. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself if she could find a way to move. She felt paralyzed.

He caught the hem of her shirt and simply pulled it over her head before she had a chance to stop him. She gasped and covered her generous breasts with her hands, her face going from bright red to nearly a translucent white.

"Your bath, Solange," he reminded.

She swallowed twice. "I can undress," she blurted. It was a blatant lie. She couldn't take off her clothes in front of him to save her life.

"And deny me the pleasure of doing it for you?"

She stared mutely at his chest. He would see her. There was nowhere to hide in the small cavern. He took her wrists gently, and pulled her arms down and away from her body. A blush spread from her toes all the way to her face. She could feel warmth running under her skin, and worse, moisture gathering between her legs. The cool air in the cave teased her bare breasts, so that her nipples reacted, forming hard nubs that drew his attention. He took a breath, his gaze drifting over her with a hint of possession. "Why would you hide your breasts from me? Are they not part of my woman? Do they not belong to me just as she does? Is my body not yours?"

She heard a strangled sound emerge from her throat, but it was the only sound she could get out. She felt mesmerized by him, standing there trembling while he stepped close, so close she felt the brush of his chest against her sensitive nipples. With every breath she drew the scent of him into her lungs. If she raised her head, she knew she would see those fierce green eyes instead of his calming blue ones. He was every bit as aroused as she was, his heat setting her