of her touch as she caressed his hard length with strokes before wrapping her fingers around him to enclose his hard flesh in a tight fist.
Razvan lifted his head and looked at her with dark, hungry eyes. "What are you doing?"
"A little exploring of my own."
He leaned back until his hip brushed the wall of the basin to steady himself. Her touch left him weak, his body shuddering with need.
"You could always sit," Ivory suggested, her voice silky, "as this may take some time. I am very thorough when I explore."
Swallowing hard, Razvan sat up on the very edge of the smooth rock, allowing his legs to dangle in the pool. His erection throbbed against his stomach, rock hard and growing by the moment. When she cupped his balls and leaned down for her first tentative lick, his breath exploded from his lungs. When her mouth took him, he was lost in her body, in her mind, in everything she was to him.
Razvan fisted his hands in her hair and held on, knowing this was the beginning of a wild ride with his beloved lifemate.
CHAPTER 16
"What is this?" Razvan looked over Ivory's shoulder, his body watched her work.
He had awakened that evening with the feeling of her fingers caressing his skin. The wonder of having Ivory in his life, in his bed, his soul merged with hers, was beyond anything he could ever have imagined. Their lovemaking had been gentle and tender and then turned ferocious and wild.
Hunting had been fun together. They had watched the rising moon burning across the snowcapped mountains, pouring silver across the midnight blue skies to spotlight the sparkling snow layered across the meadows and hanging in the trees. They flew through the sky together, high above the trees, wing tip to wing tip, the wind ruffling feathers, both caught up in the freedom of the owls soaring, wheeling and dipping, performing acrobatics just for fun because they could.
Somersaulting with her, talons linked, Razvan knew that everything he needed was here, in this one woman. She had saved him with her smile. With her inner beauty. Her soul. She had become his own personal miracle. He wasn't altogether certain the earth had healed him. She had. With the colors she had provided, bringing life to his world. With the joy she had restored, so that each moment meant something to him. She had replaced the shadows in his eyes, in his heart, with love. She had replaced the darkness in his soul with light.
He swallowed hard, his chin nuzzling her shoulder as he peered at the book she had open as she studied her books in her workroom. He could see she had written in the ancient text and he read the words to himself, frowning over them.
The mage walks forth as the Hell Gate closes Lightning strikes with his first order Energy spirals from his fingertips A spell does form upon his lips Tall and dark, handsomely slender His silver eyes burn like lighted embers A power, a presence one cannot explain A drawing feeling that will not leave the brain A longing, a yearning that burns like fire To be wanted and taken with heated desire The mage walks forth unfolding his arms His victim comes quietly, succumbed by his charms The embers of passion burst forth in flame As the mage draws heart's blood from deep within Consuming all, leaving no remains The victim languishes in untold pain The mage, having taken body and soul, Now turns from the broken to seek one who is whole The pattern is set, the ending the same The mage needs heart's blood to be whole and remain
Razvan's stomach lurched, and just like that his world spun away from him, collapsing into images of blood and screams and death. He dropped his arms and stepped back, turning away from her. "Why would you write such a vile thing? Why would you give him such honor as to set him down on paper and give him to history?"
Ivory turned at his low tone, caught his arm and stepped in front of him. His eyes were filled with horror. Nightmare memories. His were not the nightmares that evaporated because the mind played tricks, his were made of true memories that would last an eternity. She had inadvertently conjured up the images of his past.
"It is not to memorialize him. I have to hold his image when I work. The image I saw, so that I know him,