His head snapped up, his gaze meeting her widened eyes.

"Wait!" She squirmed to the side, until the head of his penis wasn't tucked into her cleft. "T-too fast! You know I can't have sex!"

Forehead against hers, he rasped, "I want inside you, Bett. More than I've ever wanted anything in my entire existence." Gripping her waist, he dragged her right back under him. "But I know we must wait."

"I'm trusting you, and I don't give my trust easily."

"At the end of this tournament, I'll rip away your silk and bury my length so deep in you. For now, no sex. Just pleasure. It's my woman's turn. . . ."

He cupped her ass with splayed fingers, angling his hips, positioning the base of his erection directly against her clitoris. Then he tightened his arms around her, squeezing her until every inch of them seemed to be touching.

The weight of him atop her was rapturous, the heat of him seeping into her. His fingers bit into the curves of her ass, holding her still for him, holding his hardness exactly where she craved it. She couldn't rock against him, didn't need to.

She was pressed so tightly against him that she could feel his shaft throb, could feel his heart thundering against her tingly br**sts.

So tightly against him that when he moved, they moved as one.

He brought his lips down on hers once more. This time the kiss was more forceful, deeper, as if he wanted to mark her with his lips.

As she moaned into his mouth, their tongues danced and their breaths meshed. They were nearly molded together and she wanted his body closer still. Why wasn't he closer?

More moans, his hoarse groans. His penis felt like it had swelled even more. The friction grew, until she was so close. Her first orgasm with another . . .

He broke their kiss. "Gods, woman! I'm already at the edge. My fangs grow sharp."

"Um, okay." Surely he wasn't hinting that they should end this. So close.

In a ragged voice, he said, "You know what this might mean, Bett."

It means he's so aroused, he's losing control. Like her. "Just as long as we don't have sex."

"Ah, dragă . . ." He took her mouth with another hard press of his lips, more bold strokes of his tongue. She met him every one.

She was shivering, her body tensing, readying for her orgasm. On the brink of wet bliss-

Then came the tang of . . . blood.

Shocks jolted up and down Trehan's body from his head to his toes, before convening in his shaft.

He'd nicked her tongue. Zeii mea, her blood straight from the flesh. If her kiss had brought to mind mead, her blood was a glimpse of heaven.

An injection of perfect pleasure seared his veins.

Chapter 22

He shuddered, growling against her lips. The tip of his hungry tongue licked hers for more, hunting for that tiny nick.

Dimly, he remembered how taboo this was, even as he sought more. A perversion?

No, connection! Sharing her essence felt . . . pure. "Dulcea!" he groaned between kisses. "So sweet." How could this possibly be wrong? The sense of union was almost like intercourse.

But she broke away. "Y-you tasted my blood?"

A drop of crimson stained her bottom lip, taunting him. His eyes locked on it, his c**k hardening even more.

"Look at me, Daciano! You took my blood?"

He forced himself to meet her gaze. The way she stared at his eyes, he knew they must be stark black with thirst. "Yes."

In a panicked tone, she said, "Can't you see a person's memories?"

Her anxiety seemed to prick at him, paining him. "I've never taken another's blood."

"Answer the question!"

"I believe I possess that ability."

"Let me go!" She thrashed against him until he released her.

Again, I surrender my prize.

Scrambling to a sitting position, she draped an arm over her br**sts, shoving her braids out of her face with her free hand. "You'll see mine!" She was looking at him with disgust.

Deserved disgust. Any of his acquaintance would do the same. Trehan supposed he wasn't much different from a vile Horde vampire. Or from Lothaire, the furthest fallen of the Dacians.

And yet Trehan knew he wouldn't rest until he'd tasted her again.

From this night on, I'm a true vampire.

That raw, familiar feeling of violation rose inside Bettina. Her palms itched to unleash her power on him; she felt unwhole without it.

He could witness that night! At the thought, she nearly swayed. The humiliation of another seeing her like that . . . broken and naked on the floor of Castle Rune's court. Coated with blood and liquor. Their laughter still ringing in her bleeding ears.

She darted for her sarong, hastily tying it in place. The vampire's gaze followed her every movement, locked on her as she worked her top over her head. But when she scurried for her cloak, he traced to his clothes, stabbing his legs into his pants.

"This would have happened eventually, Bettina. I can't control my fangs any more than I can stop myself from hardening every time I'm near you."

In a dry tone, she sneered, "Because I'm such a tempting siren."

Brows drawn, he rasped, "Yes."

Seriously undercutting my argument! "Why did I trust you? I want you out of my sight!"

"You can't leave."

"Watch me!" She dragged her cloak on, marching for the exit. But just outside his tent, her feet froze. The rain had eased somewhat, but now the fog was thick as soup, visibility nil. At least for her.