Dark Carousel (Dark #30) - Christine Feehan Page 0,73
and believe that I’ll catch you. Let me have you in this lifetime and all the ones to come.”
He made his plea, his lips against hers, so that she felt each word sliding inside of her. Going deep. Her heart beat loudly. Hard. Followed the exact rhythm of his. She . . . wanted . . . him.
“What happens if I agree?”
“I take your blood for the third exchange. You take mine and you’ll go through the conversion. I’ve asked Maksim what happens. Blaze went through it. He said it was tough to watch, terrible on her. He also said if you embrace it, know for certain you choose it, it isn’t as bad. I’ll be with you and taking as much of the pain and fear away as possible, but honestly, it will be tough.”
She counted five heartbeats. Took a breath. Drew him into her lungs. “You want me to do this? To feel pain?”
His thumb slid over her cheek again, traced her high cheekbone and then moved lower to press into the small indentation in her chin. “Absolutely not, sielamet. The last thing any man wants for his woman is for her to feel pain. I would do it for you if I could. I will stay with you every moment and shoulder as much pain as your body allows me, and in the end when I can, I’ll send you to sleep so you won’t feel all of it, but unfortunately, to bring you into my world, I have to take you out of yours.”
She swallowed, visions of horror films rising. “Like a vampire.” One hand slid up the wall and then she circled his wrist with her fingers—or tried to. Her fingers wouldn’t go around his wrist so she just dug in and tried to pull his hand off of her throat.
“Not like a vampire. Are you going to lie to me and tell me it wasn’t erotic when I took your blood? You participated, Charlotte. You wanted what I had to offer because you recognize me. You know what I am to you.”
Looking into his eyes—eyes that were twin blue flames—she knew she was lost. She was his. But what he wanted . . . What he demanded was terrifying. Giving up what and who she was to become something else. She shook her head. “I’m not that brave or strong.”
His lips slowly curved into a smile. His mouth was beautiful. Tempting. When he smiled it was even more so. The smile crept up to warm the blue of his eyes, turning the flame hotter and brighter, dazzling her. “Charlotte, you were willing to face down a serial killer with a can of wasp spray you had in your purse. You stepped in front of your friend Genevieve, and you tried to protect me, a total stranger to you. Do not tell me you don’t have courage. Only a woman of great courage would do the things you did.”
“Or a crazy one,” she muttered, unable to pull her gaze from his sinful mouth.
He brought his mouth down on hers with exquisite gentleness. A barely there brush. A whisper of a caress. Heat spiraled through her instantly, and she needed more. He gave her more, his tongue teasing along the seam of her mouth, and she opened for him, needing his kisses. Melting into his body. There was no denying he belonged to her. Not when he kissed her. Not when his arms drew her so tightly against him, nearly crushing her, yet at the same time offering his protection, his shelter. Making her feel precious and cherished. And wanted.
You will still be you, Charlotte. You are incapable of becoming a vampire. No woman of the light could possibly do so.
The words didn’t matter as much as the emotion pouring into her. His emotion. Intense. Real. Hers. He was hers. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t altogether human or that he lived in a world of violence. She lived there, too. She’d lost her brother and her mentor. Genevieve had lost a boyfriend and her beloved grandmother.
Charlotte linked her fingers behind his neck and held on, kissing him back. Giving him everything.
Yes. Her breath hitched. It was a momentous decision. One she knew she couldn’t take back and it was terrifying, but being without him was even worse. But not yet. I have to make certain I still take care of Lourdes. And I’m still very, very scared.