onto her, but he was unable to stop it. She didn't run from him, however. She moved forward, wrapping her arms and her scent and the light of her soul around him, cradling him as if he were a hurt child. "She killed her before we had Joined, leaving me behind. She took everything from me, my heart, hope . . . life. All that was left me was suffering."
Concern washed over him like a soothing balm, her warmth touching all the dark places of his heart, and even though he knew she kept a little piece of herself back from him, he was stunned with the realization of what she was giving him.
She gave him compassion, heartfelt human compassion, the sweetest of all gifts that he could have received. He accepted it, acknowledging what it cost her, knowing she didn't want to feel emotions for him, but also knowing they shared a bond, even if it was only one of blood.
It was too much for him. He turned his face into her hair, his arms sliding around her to hold her body tightly to his, needing to feel her, needing to taste her . . . just needing her. His mouth was hot on the flesh of her neck, of her shoulders, his mind filled with the satisfying knowledge that she wanted him with the same need. How can you taste so good? No other woman has tasted this way. You drive me wild with hunger.
Vampire, she said, trying to rally a resistance in her own mind, but that faded almost instantly into awareness of him. Bloodsucker.
Tormentor. Temptress.
You killed that woman, she accused, trying one last attempt to convince herself.
She killed everything I was.
She bit gently on his ear, her lips caressing his jaw. I can feel what she did to you. I can feel the agony. How can you live with so much pain inside you?
I don't live. I merely exist. Christ, you are so sweet, he murmured, wanting to claim those luscious lips. So good. I want you, mi corazon. I want your heat. I want the sweetness that resides within you.
Go ahead , she told him, her body moving against him in a way that he knew would spell disaster. If she rubbed her belly against him just one more time, he was going to disappoint them both. Take it, Alec. I want you to.
He nipped at the skin of her shoulder, wanting more than anything in the world to drink from her, to join himself to her in the most elemental way a Dark One could experience, the hunger chewing him up inside, a fresh torment added to an already miserable existence.
You've lost too much blood, he said, his mouth moving along her shoulder to her neck, moaning to himself at the temptation the beat of her pulse posed. I want it like I've never wanted anything, but I will not harm you again.
She made a wordless noise of protest, her body twining against his as she clutched his back, clearly offering herself to him.
No, mi querida, I cannot allow you to do this.
She tensed for a moment, and he knew she misinterpreted him. Mi querida . . . "my beloved."
Does that word bother you? he asked. I did not mean it as you believe.
No, it's just . . . no. I don't mind.
He was mildly puzzled by the shadow of something she kept hidden from him, but the scent and feel and taste of her claimed his full attention. Christ, how I want you. You are so smooth; you taste so sweet.... God give me strength, I can't resist you unless you make me stop.
She hesitated but, after a moment of struggling with herself, admitted, I don't want you to stop.
Alec couldn't keep from kissing her, his mouth brushing against her lips in a way that he could feel made her mindless with pleasure. Her fingers dug into the cloth of his jacket as his tongue traced her lower lip.
"Cielito," he said, and she melted against him, her damned hips grinding against him with urgent little movements. Mi cielito lindo, let me in. If I cannot have your blood, I must taste you again.
I'm hardly heaven, and definitely not beautiful, she told him, but parted her lips nonetheless. He reveled in the taste of her as his tongue swept in, finding all her secrets, tasting her sweetness. Her breasts strained against him, her hips moving restlessly now, and when she touched his tongue with