Tariq took the step, coming right up behind her, and pressed his chest to her back. She should have moved, put more space between them, but she couldn’t. Her feet refused to cooperate with her brain. She melted inside. Melted into him. A part of her screamed that she wasn’t in the least acting professional, and he had women throwing themselves at him all the time. She was one among hundreds—maybe thousands.
His hands came down on her shoulders. Big hands. Strong. She felt his palms and fingers like a brand pressed into her bones. He bent his head so his mouth was against her ear. Close. So close that when he spoke his lips brushed her skin.
“You haven’t taken a breath in over a minute. Why is that, sielamet? Why do I have to remind you that you still need air?”
Oh God. She was in such trouble. Terrible trouble. She couldn’t stop herself from leaning back into him. From turning her head, giving him access to her neck. Electrical impulses sang along her skin while every cell in her body craved him. Like a drug. The need was so strong she found herself trembling. Her pulse pounded in her neck, and seemed even stronger in her clit. She felt her blood thicken. Turn molten.
He murmured something in her ear and she closed her eyes. The language was ancient. He’d said so. It sounded so different. A single phrase. Joŋesz éntölem, fél ku kuuluaak sívam belsö. She knew French, but his language was so completely different she had no idea what he said to her. She only knew that when he uttered that phrase with his accent and his low, sensual voice, she wanted more. Her world narrowed until there was only him. Only Tariq Asenguard. Genevieve had gone to bed, and there was no one to save her from herself and her reckless impulses.
His hand swept her hair over her left shoulder, leaving the right side bare. She felt his breath as his arms closed around her waist and he moved her deeper into the shadows. She could barely think with her need. His body was hot. Strong. All masculine, making her aware of the differences in them and just how fragile she was in comparison. That should have frightened her, but instead, a thrill shot through her.
He whispered again, this time in a mixture of his language and English. “Fél ku kuuluaak sívam belső, I have waited so long for you. I cannot wait one more minute. Tell me I do not have to. Give this to me, sielamet.”
She would give him anything when he used that voice. She found she couldn’t speak, lost in a dream world. His fist was suddenly in her hair, pulling her head back a little roughly, the spike of pain searing through her body straight to her sex so that she clenched and spasmed, was damp and needy. His hand in her hair kept her head back and to one side so that his lips skimmed down her neck. Scorching her. Setting her body on fire. Melting any thought of resistance.
His mouth settled over the pulse pounding in her neck. His teeth scraped back and forth in a sexy temptation. She wanted him to kiss her there. She wanted him to bite her. Just the thought of his mouth on her skin, leaving his mark on her, heightened the growing need coiling deep inside.
“Te avio päläfertiilam. Éntölam kuulua, avio päläfertiilam. You are my lifemate. I claim you as my lifemate.”
He spoke firmly as if taking a vow, yet his voice was mesmerizing, just as his mouth moving over her pulse was. She didn’t know what his words meant, but she liked them. She knew they meant something to him, and all she needed, all she wanted was to keep his mouth moving on her. Each time his teeth scraped over her pounding pulse her sex clenched harder and wept with need.
“Ted kuuluak, kacad, kojed. Élidamet andam. Pesämet andam. Uskolfertiilamet andam. I belong to you. I offer my life for you. I give you my protection. I give you my allegiance.”
Her eyelids felt so heavy, but she forced them open to look at his face. His eyes blazed down into hers, little flames leaping inside the pupils. So dark. So mysterious. Beckoning her. She wanted him. It was that simple. His words seemed to draw her even closer to him, as if by uttering them, he had woven tiny threads between them, unbreakable and sacred.
Staring down into her eyes, holding her captive with that hand in her hair and his mouth on her pulse, he continued. “Sívamet andam. Sielamet andam. Ainamet andam. Sívamet kuuluak kaik että a ted. Ainaak olenszal sívambin. I give you my heart.”
Her heart jerked in her chest at that declaration. She wanted his heart. For a moment, the sane part of her objected to the terrible need building inside her, but he continued translating for her, and his low, mesmerizing voice, so darkly sensual, robbed her of her ability to think clearly. She could only want. Only need. Only feel his breath and his mouth and those terrible, wonderful teeth scraping against her skin, each time sending shock waves straight to her sex.
“I give you my heart. I give you my soul. I give you my body.”
Sielamet. She recognized that word. My soul. He called her that numerous times. She wanted his heart and his body.
“I take into my keeping the same that is yours. Your life will be cherished by me for all my time.”That was so beautiful. Incredibly beautiful. So much so that tears blurred her vision. And then he sank his teeth into her neck. Right into her pounding pulse. Pain seared her. Heat lashed like a whip through her bloodstream, straight to her core. The tight tension in her body increased, coiling and building until she was rocking her hips helplessly in need.
His palm cupped her breast and she felt his touch on bare skin. That didn’t make sense because she wore clothes . . . didn’t she? She couldn’t think. Only feel. Her body was a living flame of terrible brutal need.
“Please.” She whispered her plea, never wanting him to stop. Needing more. Needing him. She felt empty without him. Desperate for him. Still in a dream. A hazy, wonderful, beautiful dreamworld. In it, she could do anything, including have this beautiful man for herself.
The connection between them was real. Strong. Compelling. Her body was on fire, his fingers finding her nipples, first one, then the other, tugging and rolling, pinching hard and then stroking gently, keeping her off-balance so that need only climbed higher. The flames burned out of control. A firestorm of sheer desperation.
Then his tongue swept over his brand on her, a soothing stroke to counter the erotic pain of his bite. He turned her into him, guiding her with the back of her head in his palm. His chest, that amazing, defined muscled chest was bare to her touch. To her lips. He pressed her close while one hand came up between them. His finger stroked a line above his heart and for a moment her breath caught in her throat. She could see little ruby beads there.
“For you. Dare to be with me; dare to enter my world and stay with me. I have waited so long for you, sielamet.”
His soul. She loved that. She let him press her face to his chest. She nuzzled all that hot skin. Felt his strength. Tasted a ruby drop. It tasted like ambrosia. Nectar. A spicy, heady potion made just for her. Once her tongue had taken that single drop into her mouth, it set up a craving. His hand pressed her head closer and she took the invitation, her mouth feeding at those drops. Her hands moving over his chest, dropping lower to find his heavy, thick cock so perfectly erect. So ready for her. Her fingers closed around him, thumb sliding through the droplets there, smearing so she could begin a lazy slide with her fist while her mouth took more of his offering.
He groaned. So sexy. Her body clenched with need. His voice whispered to her, not aloud, but in her mind, more intimate than ever. “Te élidet ainaak pide minan. Te avio päläfertiilam. Ainaak sívamet jutta oleny. Ainaak terád vigyázak. Your life will be placed above my own for all time. You are my lifemate. You are bound to me for all eternity. You are always in my care.”
5
Charlotte cried out when Tariq’s fingers stroked low and sinful, building her need beyond anything she had ever known. One hand gently inserted itself between her mouth and his chest; the other pulled at her hair, forcing her head up. He swept his finger across the line on his defined muscles and the ruby drops disappeared. Her head was held in position so that she stared into his blazing eyes. He appeared pure predator. Pure male. His hands cupped the bare cheeks of her bottom and he lifted her easily, his gaze holding her captive, refusing to allow her to look away from him.
God. God. Those eyes. So incredible. The color was like gemstones, that bright and pure. And then they would blaze with power, or like now, with lust. With possession. She loved that look. No man had ever looked at her as if she were the only woman on earth. The one woman who was his beginning and end. She could barely breathe watching that expression in his eyes deepen. He focused solely on her—as if she were the world. She wanted to stare into his eyes for an eternity. Lost. Cared for.
“Wrap your legs around my waist and lock your ankles.”
Tariq issued the order in his low, commanding voice. The one she couldn’t resist. Velvet soft. A little rough, but sexy rough. His voice made her shiver, sent her stomach rolling in a series of somersaults. Deep inside she was wet, needy. Totally desperate, and in that moment she would have done anything he asked.
She did as she was told, her hands at his shoulders, fingers biting deep. His hands moved to her hips, and he backed her against a table. She wasn’t certain where she was. Not the hall. Hadn’t she just been in a hallway with him? For one moment, she tried to look around her. What was she doing? Where was she? Where was everyone else?