her face. Soft kisses. He turned her over. She was aware of that on some level. The mattress firm against her back. His body stretched out beside hers. One leg flung over her thighs, pinning her down as if even then he wanted to hold her to him. One arm possessively around her rib cage, palm cupping her breast. With her every breath he was there, in her lungs.
Still she drifted. Floated. The ripples decreased in strength, but the bliss didn’t diminish in the least. She nuzzled him. His lips immediately found hers.
“Odamasz it. Džinõt t’śuva vnirt. Tsak odamasz. Sleep now. For a short while. Just go to sleep.”
There was no denying him. Not before when his body was in hers and not now when she was exhausted and needed sleep. She let her lashes fall and snuggled closer against him.
Tariq held his lifemate as tightly as possible to him without disturbing her. He wanted to know what she dreamt. He wanted to be inside her body as well as her mind. He wanted to know every single detail about her. He’d been careful to be respectful and not attempt to read what wasn’t offered, not while she was awake. She had some kind of barrier, a shield that had allowed her to resist Fridrick’s compulsion. She’d known Fridrick was trying to force her obedience. He didn’t want her to equate him with the undead.
He touched her mind as she slowly drifted down from the high of their union. She was floating in subspace. Happy. The sensations in her body still occupied her mind . . . along with thoughts of him. Of making him happy. Of being his woman. He loved that she wanted that. He wanted to make her happy. To be her man. To please her.
She had a strange reaction to his language as if just the sound alone resonated with her. He knew she couldn’t understand meanings, but each time he spoke in his language she had complied immediately with everything he’d asked for. He’d bound her to him, and that meant even if she attempted to flee, she wouldn’t get far. She would need him every bit as much as he needed her. He had exchanged blood with her. He could talk to her mind to mind, an intimate connection between just the two of them, far different from the common pathway most Carpathians used.
It would take three blood exchanges to bring her fully into his world, and he was tempted to complete that exchange in one heady night. She tasted like . . . paradise. Her body was paradise. A miracle he hadn’t expected. He had come up with the idea of the nightclubs in order to entice women to come to him, in an effort to find his lifemate, yet he had given up any real hope of finding her. His search had gone on far too long. The temptation to have her immediately by his side for eternity was strong, but he wanted more from her than simple obedience. He wanted her to choose him.
In some way, she already had. He hadn’t fogged her mind completely. Not once. Not even during the blood exchange. When he’d first taken her into his arms, she had gone to him willingly. He’d created a slight haze to make that first exchange easier for her, but he hadn’t taken her will. She had complied without a hint of reluctance. She’d felt the pull between them nearly as strongly as he had.
Tariq stroked back the thick mass of hair. It was soft. Glossy. Shiny. Very wavy, like water rippling over rocks in a river. She was beautiful. Her curves were enticing and he couldn’t stop stroking caresses over her body. He had to touch her. Everything about her appealed to him. Her scent. Her shape. The sound of her voice. The way her mind centered on him and stayed there. Her eagerness to please him.
He kissed the shell of her ear. Traced it with the tip of his tongue. In her sleep she shivered and moved closer to him, turning her head slightly to offer him better access.
“Do you need me?” she asked softly, moving her body against his.
His breath caught in his throat. She was exhausted. Most likely sore, feeling his brand deep inside of her, yet she was offering herself to him—if he needed her. He would always need her. Always want her. So generous a woman. His heart jerked in his chest.