There he found confusion and terror. A deep fear of not being fully human and a desire to prove that she was. He could find no intent to kill herself. She had simply wanted to prove him a liar, deceiving her into believing she could not reenter her own world. She had wanted it to be so.

He stretched out beside her, gathering her weary body into the protection of his arms. She had reason to be afraid of him. He was demanding things of her she had no conception of, making her feel things she wasn’t ready for. The intensity of her sexual feelings alone was disturbing to her, so much so that she wanted to run from him.

He rested his chin on her head and stroked her silky hair. It disturbed him that she had some crazy idea of going to a human doctor to be cured. Anything but stay with him. On some level he was hurt, but mostly he was amused that she would think she could defeat him, outsmart him. She was so determined. He admired her for that.

“You just need time, piccola. I am sorry for the clumsy way I have handled this situation. My only excuse is my fear for your safety.” He knew she could hear him, but she didn’t respond. He hadn’t really expected her to do so, but he tightened his hold a bit. Sleep now, Alexandria, the healing sleep of our people. Sleep deep. He took no chances, gave her no choice. He wanted her under, away from her own mind, away from the terrible drain of her thoughts and fears.

Chapter Thirteen

Aidan woke with his body raging at him. Not with the compulsion for nourishment, the need for blood that was always with him, but with stark, urgent arousal unlike any he had ever experienced. He groaned aloud. Beside him, Alexandria lay in slumber. She was pale, her hair spilling over both of them, binding them together. He wanted her. He had to have her. If he stayed beside her for one more moment, he would be unable to stop himself from claiming her.

He leapt away from her as if burned, his skin hot, painful, searing. He swore softly. How could he feed her in this condition without the act turning into something erotic and wild? Inside, the beast, always wild and untamed, roared for her. Hungered. Needed. It had no logic, only that heavy, relentless ache growing more merciless every day.

He ran an unsteady hand through his unruly hair. The situation was explosive now. There was no way to supply her with her life’s blood without claiming her body. Yet after what had occurred earlier, he knew she needed more time. The beast within was raging, and he could no longer control it. Marie had believed he could. She had faith in him. But she did not know the demands of the Carpathian male, the heat rising between mates. She did not know how close he had come to turning.

He groaned aloud again and turned away from the figure lying so still on his bed. In his lair. He flinched as the word entered his mind. The beast was becoming more dominant. And the only way to control it was to merge with his lifemate, let her gentleness, her light, guide him away from the darkness spreading a stain across his soul.

He cleaned up before he woke her, dressing with care in a soft silk shirt and black trousers, hoping an old-world elegance would enhance his appeal. He secured his long hair at the nape of his neck. The shirt he left open at the throat, more because he was having trouble breathing than to be sexy.

As he sent his mind to wake her and watched her take her first breath, his body hardened with such an intensity, he found himself swearing again. He could feel sweat trickling down his chest and lower, between his legs. She stretched, her body moving sensually under the quilt. He thought he might burst. Her tongue moistened dry lips, left them glistening and inviting. He closed his eyes against the sight, but he could smell her, hear the rustle of the sheets.

Alexandria sat up slowly, disoriented. She had vivid images of an erotic dream, hands on her breasts, a mouth pressed to hers, fingers moving in her, then a hard, aggressive body blanketing hers, pinning her down. Her body ached with need, craved his touch. She squirmed, felt the creamy invitation calling, beckoning, tempting him. She opened her eyes—and met Aidan’s hot golden stare across the room.

Danger. It was there in his carved features, in the intensity of his eyes. She remained perfectly still, not taking her gaze from the predatory creature watching her. She was afraid even to breathe. If she moved, if she sighed, he would be on her. She sensed it, knew the erotic dream was his, knew his control was fragile and that he was battling his every instinct.

“Get out of here, cara mia,” he whispered hoarsely. The velvet roughness of his voice felt like a tongue lapping at her sensitized skin. “Get out while you can.” Red flames seemed to light the gold of his eyes, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. His muscles bulged with the effort to remain stationary.

She wanted to go to him, to soothe him—or to enflame him further, the consequences be damned. Her body was on fire, a living, breathing flame nearly out of control. It was only her shyness that prevented her from tempting him further. Her shyness and her fear. She rolled off the bed and fled, running as if seven demons were behind her. Running from herself even more than from Aidan.

Behind her Aidan stood as still as a statue. If he moved he was afraid he might shatter with pain, with need. He could not hold out much longer. God help them both if she did not come to him soon.

Alexandria slowed down once she was in the safety of the tunnel. She could feel Aidan still in her mind, still reaching for her, calling to her. She could taste his kiss, feel him touching her. She closed her eyes and leaned against the rock wall for support. Her legs felt like rubber, refusing to take another step. She wanted him. Not with a sweet, gentle longing, but with a savage, wild need that demanded hot, clawing sex.

She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the thoughts she had, the images taunting her. She made her way up the stairs, grateful that Joshua didn’t see her. Her shower did nothing to alleviate her hunger, did nothing to wash away the feel of Aidan or the rich, spicy taste of him. The hot water running down her skin, between the swell of her breasts, down her stomach, to her tight blond curls, only served to heighten her sensitivity. She had to fight the urge to call Aidan to her. She ached for him, needed him, her body all liquid heat and throbbing with desire. She had to call him to her to stop this aching. She needed to feel his mouth on her skin, his hands on her body. She needed him in her, an urgent, wild mating that would go on forever.

And then she remembered his words. He could make her his slave. He could make her do things she had never even pictured. Well, she was picturing them now. Where did the images come from? “Damn you, Aidan. Damn you for doing this to me.” She turned up her face to the spray and shut herself off from him. She heard the echo of his despairing cry, the roar of the wounded animal, the growl of the hunter who had missed his prey.

Without him in her mind to feed her own hunger, the terrible urgency lessened. It did not go away entirely, but real hunger crept in. She was pale and needed nourishment. She needed him. With an unladylike oath, she dressed in jeans and a ribbed top and headed for the sitting room next to her bedroom. It was to become her studio. She found that Marie or Stefan, obviously on Aidan’s orders, had already purchased supplies for her. They were top quality, things she had never been able to afford before. Ordinarily she would never accept such a lavish gift, but the artist in her thrilled to the beauty of the tools.

She heard Joshua before he came looking for her. Home from school, he was laughing with Stefan in the solarium, then chatting with Marie in the kitchen over cookies. Alexandria found herself happy and sad at the same time. Joshua needed the company, and the older couple displayed genuine affection for him, but she was sad that her relationship with her brother was changing, that he would no longer rely solely on her.