She blushed. She felt the color rising steadily, and no matter how hard she tried to stop it, it swept up her neck and into her face. She had been looking. Speculating. Maybe even admiring. “I was naked. You were lying beside me and we were both naked.”
“That is common practice, I believe, when one goes to ground, especially to heal wounds.” He looked totally unrepentant.
“I told you there would be none of that.” She gestured with her chin toward his erection.
He laughed softly, pure male amusement. “I do not think we have much chance of controlling certain portions of my anatomy. You will just have to be understanding and pretend not to notice.”
Her eyes widened. “How am I supposed to not notice
that?
”
“Well, fine, then.” He sighed heavily. “I guess you can notice, but there will be no touching.” His voice lowered an octave. “Or stroking.”
For some insane reason her breasts ached and her body throbbed. It was his voice. The thought of his hands moving over her body, cupping her breasts... She could picture his thumbs teasing her nipples into hard peaks, could
feel
it. Her mouth was unexpectedly dry, and her incisors threatened to lengthen. Destiny backed a few steps farther from him. She
wanted
to feel the weight of his erection in her palm, the thick hardness of his desire for her. She wanted to kiss him, to see the desire flare in his eyes. She wanted to stroke him.
“Stop it.” His voice was husky. “I mean it, Destiny. I am your lifemate, not a saint. You cannot have erotic images in your head and expect me not to react to them.”
She did have images in her head—her hands moving over his body, her mouth trailing kisses. She closed her eyes, wanting to shut out the pictures, but they were still there and her body was still in need. Hot and heavy and burning for him.
“What did you do to me?” She glared at him accusingly.
“I healed your wounds; I did not take advantage. You know that.”
“I’ve never felt this way before in my life!”
“That is a relief. I doubt I would be happy if you had wanted many men, Destiny.” There was the merest trace of laughter in his voice.
“I’m glad you’re finding this amusing.”
“Come here.” He held out his hand to her. “Let me feed you. You have been to ground for two risings and have not fed.”
Her chin went up. “Neither have you, and you gave me blood before we went to ground. I can find my own prey.” She felt strange. Divided. Wanting to be close to him. Wanting to run from him. He made her feel out of control. And vulnerable. She hated feeling vulnerable.
“Why would you prefer to feed from humans when you can have the blood of an ancient to sustain you? Can you not feel the effects of my blood? Your suffering is far less on this rising.”
“Don’t tell me my suffering is far less.” Her eyes flashed at him, glinted a red fire in the darkness of the chamber. “I can handle that kind of pain. I know what to do, how to cope with it. “
I don’t know how to cope with you.
She didn’t wait to hear what he had to say. She bolted from the cave, fleeing as if pursued by demons. She knew exactly where she was going. To the church. Where she always went before feeding. Where she could find some semblance of balance. Of peace. She had entered the church and it hadn’t fallen down. A bolt of lightning hadn’t come out of the sky to incinerate her. She had touched the priest. And she wanted to look into a mirror again.
You look fine. I do not think you need to become vain. You have enough bad habits.
Nicolae was laughing at her again, but she didn’t care. There was something new and unexpected in her life. She found she was looking at the world differently. The stars were glittering like gems over her head and she couldn’t help noticing and appreciating them. The wind blew gently over her body like the whisper of a lover’s voice. It cooled her body, ruffled the silk of her hair. Lightened her heart.
For the first time in years, her blood wasn’t burning her from the inside out. For the first time in years, she hadn’t awakened with the thought of killing. She was wide awake, and her mind was filled with Nicolae. As hard as she tried, she could not extinguish the tiny ray of hope growing deep within her.
The church doors were unlocked, and she knew before she pulled them open that Father Mulligan was inside, hearing confession. With her acute hearing she could distinguish soft words and the strangled sob of a woman as she spoke with her priest. In the pew close to the confessional was a big bear of a man. John Paul. His head was bowed, and Destiny could see his big shoulders shaking. Tears slid down his face.