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His fingertips brushed her cheek with all the intimacy of a kiss. “You are sure? You will drink from me?”
Her heart skittered, and she knew that what he asked of her was even more intimate than sex. But she wanted it—despite everything that still loomed between them, she wanted him. “I will.”
“Thank you.”
“Luke, about your blood—you said it strengthens me. Will I live longer, too?” she asked, teased by the allure of more time with him.
He shook his head. “No, Sara. I am sorry. If I could have you with me forever, I would.”
“But you can,” she said, her mouth dry, her words surprising her. Surprising her more because she only then realized how much the idea tempted her.
“No.” The word came out so harsh she cringed. “Do you think I would wish that horror upon you? To see you succumb to the tumult of the serpent? Do you think I can bear to think about your body, bloodied and battered, as you fought? And if you died before you were even given the chance to fight?” He stood and paced between the couch and the wall of shuttered windows, his fears and memories driving him. “For you to survive the bloodletting, I must control my own serpent, and that I cannot promise.”
He saw understanding in her eyes. Compassion. “You were young then. You have control now. You drank from Annie and she survived. And you turned Tasha, right?”
He bit back a bitter laugh. “Control?” He recalled the way he’d been lost when Annie’s blood had flowed. The serpent had burst free, reveling in the blood, dancing in the power. He’d almost lost control. Taken too much, and Annie had nearly died because of it.
And he’d done so because he had imagined that it was Sara in his arms.
“I did not know Tasha,” he said, trying to make her understand. “I did not love her. Not as I loved Livia. Not as I love you.” He cupped her face, wishing he could have her always, but knowing he couldn’t risk it. Nor would he want her to suffer the horror of the change and the Holding. “The serpent latches on. It wants what it desires, and it would take all. It is strong, and I cannot guarantee that I am stronger. Not then. Not with my mouth on your vein.
“No,” he continued, taking her hand. “The change is not for you. Never for you. But my blood. Sara, I would share my blood with you, and I will swear to protect you always.”
She nodded, overwhelmed.
“Then drink,” he said, and sank his fangs deep into his wrist. She hesitated only a moment, then she looked up at him, her eyes locking with his as she lifted his wrist to her mouth, pressed her lips down upon him, and drew in his blood.
The tug of pleasure that went through him was instantaneous, and he drew his head back, his body already hard, his need for her desperate. He reached for her, his hand clasping the back of her neck. He held her tight as she drew him in, as he met and merged with her, and gave of his strength.
Mine.
Hunger rose in him, but not the vicious hunger of the beast. Not the serpent. On the contrary, she soothed the darkness, brought him under control even as he lost himself utterly in the sweet pleasure of Sara’s lips upon his skin.
“Enough,” he said, pulling away. Her skin glowed from the power of his blood, and he could feel her desire, her arousal, the connection between them vivid and sharp.
“I need you,” she whispered.
“I cannot wait,” he said as he pulled her shirt up, desperate to feel her skin against his, to plunge inside her. To ravage.
“Don’t,” she said, the passion in that single word bringing him close to losing it.
He needed no further encouragement, and he made quick work of the rest of their clothes, then thrust inside her, his palms pressed on either side of her, his eyes on her face, watching as passion rose within her. Within Sara.
Mine.
Yes, he thought, as the world exploded around him, she was well and truly his.
And he was hers, as well.
* * *
The creak of the automatic shutters opening startled Luke, so intent had he been on the computer screen in front of him.
He and Sara had spent the day in front of the computer and on the telephone, searching for a lead, a clue, anything that would lead him to Caris, to Stemmons, to Tasha.
“This,” he said, tapping the screen. “I think I may have something.”
Sara came over, her hand casually on his shoulder as she leaned in to read the screen. “What is it?”
