my blood will do to you."
She leaned back a little so she could see his face. "What will it do?"
"Enough of it will make you as I am, a creature damned for eternity, doomed to live forever in darkness.
You do not want that, my sweet."
He did not mention that to make her as he was he would first have to drink from her, take her to the point of death, or that she would then have to drink his accursed blood to return from the abyss of eternity.
"Surely a little would not harm me," she remarked, repulsed yet intrigued by the thought of tasting his immortal blood.
"No." A tremor of excitement tightened his loins as he imagined her teeth at his neck.
"Will you help me out of my gown, my lord?" she asked, her eyes shining with mischief.
"It will be my pleasure."
"I hope so, my lord," she retorted, and turned her back to him so he could unfasten the tiny cloth-covered buttons that began at the neck of her gown and ended just past her waist.
He was surprised to find his fingers trembling as he began the task. He lowered his head, kissing her nape, the shallow vee between her shoulders, as he removed her gown and undergarments until she stood before him wearing only her wedding slippers and stockings.
Dropping to his knees, he removed her slippers, then slid his hands over the curve of her calf. He paused to massage the hollow behind her knee, then his hand moved up the length of her thigh, lingering there a moment before he slowly drew the stocking from her left leg. Then his hands moved to her right leg and began all over again.
Rhianna shivered with pleasure as his hands caressed her calf, her thigh. His hands, though cool, caused her insides to flame with desire.
When he stood up, she began to undress him, her hands eager, curious, as they rid him of his coat, his vest, his cravat and shirt.
She grinned as his breathing increased in tempo with every item of clothing she tossed aside. He was trembling visibly by the time he stood naked before her.
Head tilted to one side, she regarded the man who was now her husband. He was tall and lean, broad-shouldered and slim-hipped. His skin was the color of pale cream, unblemished, save for the half-healed burns on his left cheek and hand. His legs were long and straight, his stomach ridged with muscle. Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt her cheeks flame, as her gaze skimmed over that part of him that made him a man. For some reason, she hadn't expected him to be so well-endowed.
Rayven basked in the warmth of Rhianna's gaze upon his naked flesh. The touch of her eyes was like fire, chasing away the cold, the darkness. It had been over four hundred years since a woman had looked at him with longing instead of terror...
He glanced at the bed, and into his mind came the image of the last woman he had taken to his bed.
Even now, after more than four hundred years, he could see her clearly, her brown eyes open and filled with horror. Her body, drained of blood, had been almost as white as the sheet upon which she lay. The drops of bright red blood that had fallen from his lips had added a garish note of color to the macabre scene.
His desire shriveled at the memory.
"What is it?" Rhianna asked. "What's wrong?"
He looked down at her, his eyes filled with torment and a deep-seated fear. "Rhianna... I cannot..."
She knew immediately what he was afraid of. Slipping her arms around his neck, she drew his head down and kissed him.
"It will be all right, my lord husband," she murmured. "I'm not afraid."
"Rhianna..."
She kissed him again, her hands gliding over broad shoulders, sliding over his chest, each touch a little bolder, until he was on fire for her, until his fear was smothered by the love he felt for this woman who had taken him into her heart, into the very sanctuary of her soul.
He carried her to the bed and placed her reverently upon it. For a timeless moment, he stared down at her, imprinting her image on his mind against the time when she would be gone, and then, gently, he lowered himself over her and sheathed himself within her welcome embrace. She was warm wine and honey in his arms, intoxicating and sweet, and he knew if he lived