moving restlessly against his.
She is yours.
Yes. She was his. Made for him. Shaped for him. The other half of him.
She was made for you.
Of course she had been, her body curved just so, soft and pliant hot silk moving in his arms so that he would know what it would be to bury his body deep within her, drive them both over the edge into ecstasy.
It is your right.
He had every right to her body. He owned her, body and soul, just as she did him. He could take pleasure when and where he wanted. His hand slid along her thigh, moved toward heat-his heat-she belonged to him. He knew exactly the things that would please her, would bring her to a fevered frenzy of sexual need.
Why bring the jaguar-man across? He will only turn vampire and you will have to hunt and kill him as you have so many others.
It was madness to consider bringing another male into their world when there were so few lifemates. He might try to steal MaryAnn.
He was alone with her. Naked. Showing her his body in order to lure her away from you. He wants her. He'll do anything to take her from you.
The jaguar-men had all proven to be deceivers. They did lure women and hold them captive, treat them brutally.
He touched her. He touched your woman. He saw your mark, smelled your scent all over her, yet he touched. You saw him standing over her. He was stork naked. What do you think he was trying to force her to do?
She defended him. Said he'd saved her life.
She wants him. Make her yours. Take her now. Take what belongs to you. Bring her to your side for all eternity.
He couldn't stop. He needed this. He was starving. Starving. The hunger drove him mad. Nothing could sate him but his lifemate. The rich, hot blood burst through his system with the rush of the most powerful drug.
He needed her body submitting to his, all heat and fire, sating the desire that had him so hard and hot and beyond caring of anything but sinking deep into her. He wanted to hear his name called out in a storm of need. He wanted to see her eyes glaze over with passion; he wanted to hear her beg for him to join them. He had waited an eternity through darkness and hell, and now she was there, in his arms, her body ripe and ready for his, her blood mingling with his.
Take her. It Is your right. She cannot deny you. Anything you want she must provide. Yours. Take her now before the jaguar claims her. You cannot stop now when you are so close. Take enough to convert her and she cannot leave you. Taste her. The whispers grew. Voices joined in.
For one moment, his arms tightened possessively and his body urged hers backward so that he bent her beneath him. For what? Would he take her right there with Luiz dying beside them? With Jasmine and Solange there as witnesses to his madness?
Yes. Yes. You take her now before it is too late and you lose her.
Fear rose in him. Fear that he couldn't control the addiction to her taste, that he wouldn't-couldn't-stop. He was losing his mind, and he was going to harm the one person he had sworn to care for. He shouldn't be listening, but the voices were insidious, creeping into his mind and preying on his worst fears and his worst traits.
His worst traits. The need to dominate. The need for her to see only him and no one else. The terrible need to force his will on her, so that she not only wanted to but needed to do everything he wished. He wanted her on his terms and knew he could control her through a sexual relationship. He knew her desires and fantasies, and he knew how to exact every erotic response. Not for pleasure-hers or his-but for control.
He would not only dishonor himself and everything he stood for if he took her blood and her body, if he brought her wholly into his world, but he would ruin any chance he had of gaining MaryAnn's affection. That was not what lifemates were all about. He was her lifemate and would be in every sense of the word.
The voices became louder, more persuasive. The shadows around him lengthened and grew. He caught at MaryAnn's arms, prepared to wrench her away from him, but she moved in