When Darkness Comes (Guardians of Eternity #1)(35)

"No, Dante," she gasped.

As if sensing she wished to have him inside her when she came, Dante guided her back to her knees and positioned her so that he could slowly penetrate her softness.

Abby sighed in relief as she pressed herself ever deeper, knowing that nothing had ever felt so right as having him within her.

For a moment she merely savored the full sense of completion. But as he remained unnaturally still, she reluctantly lifted her heavy lids to send him a puzzled gaze.

"Dante?"

"You started this seduction, Abby," he rasped. 'You can finish it."

With a slow smile, she placed her hands upon his chest and slightly lifted her hips before sliding back down.

Dante moaned, his fingers convulsively clutching her hips. "My God, you are going to kill me. Again."

Abby moved, pulling herself higher before plunging downward. His hips arched off the sand-covered ground, a pained frown forming on his forehead.

Abby smiled with heady satisfaction, thoroughly enjoying the knowledge that Dante was completely at her mercy.

For this moment he was hers. As intimately tied to her as if they were one.

One soul, regardless if he possessed one or not.

One heart, beating or not.

One body.

With slow, deliberate motions, she tormented them both to the edge of frenzy, refusing to increase the pace even as he gasped out a plea for mercy.

Only when she realized that her muscles were inevitably tightening to an explosive release did she give in to his broken commands and allow him to grasp her hips so he could pump himself forcefully within her.

He gave a shout of joy at the same moment she violently convulsed about him.

For a moment out of time, she floated in pure bliss, pressed against the impaling flesh until with a low moan she collapsed against him in utter exhaustion.

She was shaken by the force of her pleasure. But oddly comforted by the arms that encircled her to press her close against the hardness of his body.

It was as if she had been thrown from the top of a skyscraper, only to discover she was being caught in the safety of Dante's embrace.

Perhaps sensing her tumultuous emotions, Dante softly stroked her tousled curls and placed a comforting kiss on her brow.

"Are you all right, Abby?"

She snuggled against his strength. "More than all right."

"And you aren't considering any wanton staking?"

"Not at the moment."

"Good." He gave a soft chuckle as his lips absently smoothed over her temple. "Unlike most vampires, I enjoy my passion without pain, bloodshed, or the threat of imminent staking."

Lazily tilting back her head, she met his glittering gaze. "What about Sasha?"

A decidedly smug smile curved his lips. "I've told you there's no need to be jealous, my sweet. I put Sasha in my past the moment you arrived on Selena's doorstep."

Her heart gave a jump even as she regarded him with a frown. "I don't believe you."

He arched a brow, his unworldly beauty starkly pronounced as the rosy dawn outside the cave began to dispel the gloom.

'That Sasha is in my past?"

"That you even noticed me when I arrived on Selena's doorstep," she clarified in dry tones.

His fingers traced aimless patterns over the bare skin of her back, his expression softened with amusement.

"Oh, I noticed. How could I not?" His lips twisted with a hint of self-derision. "From the moment you arrived, I was plagued by that damnable purity. It taunted me until I couldn't get you out of my thoughts. I knew I was going to seduce you even before I knew your name."

She gave a choked laugh at his outrageous arrogance. "Could you possibly be a little more full of yourself?"

He shrugged. "There are some things that are inevitable."

Abby paused. She wasn't much of a philosopher. Hell, she didn't even know what a philosopher actually did. But she did know that inevitable or fate or providence were not words in her vocabulary.

"No, there is no such thing as inevitable," she said firmly.

"Why do you say that?" he demanded, more curious than offended.

"Because if fate was set in stone, then I would be a drunken whore working the streets for a cheap bottle of whiskey."

Her tone was light, but she felt him stiffen beneath her, his fingers pressing into her skin.

"Don't say that," he rasped.

She pulled back to regard him with a somber expression. "Why not? It's true enough. My parents were both alcoholics who shouldn't have been allowed to have a dog, let alone six children. My father spoke with his fists and did us all a favor when he forgot to return home after a drunken spree. And my mother left her bed only long enough to get a fresh bottle of whiskey. My brothers took off as quickly as they could, and I was left alone to watch my mother die. What sort of destiny do you think was waiting for me?"

With a firm tug of his hands, he pressed her back against his chest, his chin resting on the top of her head.

"Destiny has nothing to do with where you came from or who your parents might be," he said fiercely. "Destiny comes from the heart, and the soul. You could never be anything less than extraordinary, Abby Barlow."

Wrapped tightly in his arms, she did feel extraordinary. She wasn't the grubby little girl who roamed the streets because she was terrified to go home. Or the teenager who kept people at a distance because she didn't want them to know the truth of her family. Or even the tedious, rapidly aging woman who struggled just to keep a roof over her head.