by it.
With a smile of reassurance, she took him by the hand and led him to the bed. Drawing back the covers, she sat down on the mattress and drew him down beside her.
"Love me, my lord." She caressed his cheek. "I think I shall die if you don't kiss me."
She regretted her choice of words as soon as they left her lips. Though unspoken, she heard Rayven's reply echo in her mind: And you might die if I do.
She pressed herself against him, loving the touch of his bare skin against her own. He fell back on the mattress, carrying her with him, his arms locking around her waist in a desperate embrace, his mouth closing over hers, his tongue teasing hers.
Desire unfurled within her, like a flower opening to the sun. Threading her fingers through his hair, she kissed him with all the love and passion in her heart. Her hands skimmed his body, boldly exploring, learning anew what made him smile, what made him groan with delight.
She gazed into the depths of his eyes, felt the heat of his desire sear a path to the very core of her being.
With a low groan, he rolled over, carrying her with him until she lay beneath him.
Eyes blazing with a clear black flame, he buried himself deep within her. The world seemed to tilt as their bodies merged. His hands caressed her, igniting fires of pleasure where they touched. He whispered her name, his voice rough.
She cried out as she was swept into a maelstrom of sensations - the cool sheets beneath her, the heat of Rayven's kisses, the smoothness of his skin, the fire in his touch, the husky sound of his voice as he whispered to her in a language she did not understand. And always she had the feeling that he was holding back, that he was afraid to let go for fear of hurting her.
She called his name as the waves of ecstacy crested in an explosion of heat and color, closed her eyes as rivers of pleasure rippled through her.
She felt Rayven's teeth at her throat, felt him convulse one last time. Joy rose up within her as shudders of delight wracked his body. He sighed deeply, and she felt the tension drain out of him.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked gruffly.
"No, my lord." She forced him to look at her. "I love you, Rayven. Please don't let your fear of what might happen ruin what we have."
"Rhianna, you don't understand..." How could he tell her how it was, how closely the lust for blood was tied up with his desire, that he would never be free of the fear that plagued him, that he would ever be afraid that the hunger would overpower his self-control, that one night his control would shatter and he would drink and drink until he had destroyed her.
"I love you with all my heart and soul," she said again, more forcefully this time. "Please believe that."
He rose up on his elbows and stared down at her. Was it possible that his love for her was stronger than the hunger, that his love for Rhianna would protect her from the blood lust? Maybe she was right, he mused. One small sip of her precious blood quieted the hunger stirred by his desire.
"I'm not afraid of what you are, my lord. I believe in the power of our love, but you have to believe, too."
Her words soothed his troubled soul as nothing else could. Rolling onto his side, he cradled her in his arms and held her tight.
"I pray you are right, beloved," he murmured.
"I know I am. I love you."
"And I love you." He pulled his cloak over the two of them, then drew her into his arms once more.
It had been centuries since he had dared to pray, but now he closed his eyes and beseeched the God of his youth to protect the woman who rested so trustingly in his arms, even if it meant protecting her from himself.
Chapter Twenty
They had been in London for almost two weeks the night Rayven rented a carriage and they went for a drive through Hyde Park, down Rotten Row. It had once been known as the route du roi, Rayven informed her. The king's path. The park had once been owned by Westminster Abbey, he added, but Henry VIII had closed it off, stocked it with deer, and kept it as a royal chase. Charles I had opened it to