“Aleksei.” She whispered his name, a plea, needing to touch him. Needing an anchor. He held her hands down and his face was implacable. His eyes burned into her. Seeing her. Seeing the mess that was her.
“Give me you.”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand. There is no more me. I’m so lost I don’t know who or what I am anymore. I woke and I was buried in the ground. Like death. You said Carpathians don’t dream, but I do. I have that horrible nightmare over and over and I can’t get out of it. Humans don’t take blood. They don’t crave it or need it and yet I do. But if I do this for you, on my own, without your help, there is another piece of me gone and there are already so many pieces gone, I can’t find me.”
She felt the tears on her face. She hated admitting how truly screwed up she was to him, but then again, he had the right to know. He knew he wasn’t getting a bargain with her. He knew she had forced him so close to becoming the very thing he’d hunted for centuries. She could barely look at him; her gaze kept sliding away because she was ashamed. She was humiliated. Embarrassed. She wanted him but she didn’t. She loved his body, but she didn’t know how to give him anything more than sex, and he deserved so much more.
“Keep your eyes on mine.”
“I’m trying.” She gave him that.
“Kislány.” He released her hands and rolled so that she was on top, sprawled over him, still connected. He brushed at her tears very gently with his thumb. The movement forced his cock deeper into her and she felt her sheath spasm around him.
Her heart turned over at the gentleness from him. At the sound of his voice. That wasn’t his little cat endearment. She knew it was more like the human form of baby. Or little girl. Whatever it was, it caught at her heart.
“No matter how lost you are, I will find you. No matter how many pieces are scattered or lost, I will find them for you and give them back to you one at a time. I am your lifemate. You are safe now, Gabrielle. You will always be safe with me.”
She shook her head. “How can you find me when I don’t even know who I am?”
“It does not matter, little one. I have you. You can shatter into a million pieces. You can feel torn apart and lost. I will hold you safe. You cannot go anywhere that I cannot find you. Let go, Gabrielle. Let go of what you cling to. Your body trusts me or you would not be able to fly so high. You ignite for me. When I touch you. When I kiss you. When I take you so hard, so rough, you still trust me. Let go. Give all of you to me, not just your body. I will keep you safe.”
“I don’t know if I can, Aleksei,” she whispered, more tears spilling over. “I want to give you everything. I do. I’m not being stubborn. I’m so terrified. I have been my entire life.”
“Tell me the earliest memory of being afraid.”
His voice was too gentle for her to stand. Her heart melted. She didn’t want that. She didn’t want a connection other than sex. He was too . . . everything. He was too dominant. Too scary. Too capable of losing his temper.
She moistened her lips. Her mother had a terrible temper and she threw tantrums. “I was very young.” She tried to pull up the memory. When had it first started? She had never thought to go back and figure that out. “My mother was very over the top emotionally. She would fly into a rage, kicking, hitting, throwing things, and then five minutes later be laughing and kissing us.”
That was so true. She never knew what mood her mother was going to be in. “Her tantrums never bothered my brother or sister or my father.” She fell silent.
“But they upset you, and that made you feel as if you were wrong to feel afraid.”
She nodded slowly. “When I was really little she got mad at me for breaking one of her favorite vases. I didn’t mean to. I was running and I bumped it and one of the pieces cut me. It hurt and I started crying. She was furious and she started throwing things. Breaking them all around me. Glass rained down. I couldn’t move. I was so afraid, and I got cut on my arms and my legs and feet. She suddenly snatched me up and ran into the bathroom with me and then my dad was there. I didn’t tell him what she did, because he would have smiled, shrugged and said, ‘That’s your mother, the drama queen.’”
“O köd belső,” Aleksei swore. “Your father does not want to meet me. What kind of man allows his woman to behave in such a way? It is no wonder you are afraid of becoming what you are.”
“And you,” she whispered. “You have no problems expressing your anger.”
He stroked his hand over her hair. “Do you think that I would ever harm you? We are fully bonded. I am beyond the temptation of darkness.”