Dark Peril Page 0,64

other women felt. Part of someone else. Cared for.

"I wouldn't," she murmured.

"Wouldn't?" he echoed.

"Remove my scars. They're part of me, part of who I am now. I don't like being angry, and killing makes me sick. After a while I wonder if I'm as bad as they are, but in a way, you're right about the scars. I didn't break. I didn't let him use me and turn me into something weak and helpless. I honored my mother and stepfather's memories, as well as those of our friends and my two younger brothers." She ran her fingers over her arms, for the first time seeing her skin differently. A tribute, not something so ugly.

"You are a gift, Solange. An amazing, priceless gift." He swept her wet hair aside and brushed a kiss along her neck.

Without another word he lifted her into his arms and stepped out of the basin. She opened her mouth to protest. The water had been a cocoon of heat. For the first time that she could remember, she had been sheltered and comforted, and she didn't want it to end. But there was something implacable about his expression. The lines were etched deep. His eyes were again a deep blue, and there was a hint of possession there she felt secretly thrilled about.

The cavern should have been cold, and Solange was prepared to shiver, but the air was warm. He had seen to her comfort once again. He set her on her feet in front of him, produced a soft towel out of the air, in the strange way Carpathians could produce clothing, and began to gently rub the droplets of water from her body. She found herself unbearably shy all over again.

He stood so close, his body heat enveloping her, his gaze drifting over her body as though it belonged to him. Hadn't he actually used those words? He was slow and methodical, taking his time, using the corner of the towel to rub her arms dry, but then he suddenly leaned in and flicked a drop of water from the tip of her breast with his tongue. She jumped as streaks of fire rushed to her feminine channel, setting off a spasm of need. His mouth moved to the bite mark he'd previously healed. The punctures were sealed, but this time he lapped at the damaged tissue until she no longer even felt the mark on her.

"You don't have to do that." She shivered, not from the cold, but from his sensuous touch.

"You are wrong, kessake," he corrected. "No other man can put his mark on my woman. He cannot harm her in any way. I have to heal you or I cannot live with myself." She let him. She didn't know why she let him. His touch should have been disturbing, and perhaps, because it was arousing, it was--but she didn't care. She had never experienced anyone's attention before, let alone that of a man who focused so completely on her well-being. He made her feel special and beautiful, almost like a fragile flower there in the rain forest. She wasn't, and they both knew it, but for those few minutes when he was lavishing such care on her, she didn't want the moment to end.

A fairy tale. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the experience. The perfect man, a warrior with changing eyes, the absolute calm in the center of a storm. He thought her beautiful when she was a perfect, dreadful mess. But he made it so. Somehow, Dominic made it so.

He paid attention to detail, and each time he found a bruise or an angry scratch, he bent his head and used his mouth to heal it. The act was erotic, although she guessed he didn't intend it that way. He was focused on her health, not on her shape. His tongue found a puncture wound on the small of her back, several more near her buttocks. His hands held her hips motionless as he attended to each separate wound.

Solange worked hard to control her breathing. She was grateful he had moved behind her so she didn't have to admire his physique, because, to her, he was perfection. She had no idea what could possibly happen after this encounter with him, but she'd take this moment and keep it in her heart forever. He made a complete circle until he was standing in front of her again. This time he leaned down and brushed a kiss on