CHAPTER THREE
"And I thought vampires wallowed in luxury," Selene shook her head. "This is ridiculous." Her eyes swept the room, literally bursting with the oils, unguents, salts and lotions so beloved of those who have nothing more urgent to do than to lavish beauty upon themselves.
"Yeah," Michael followed her gaze. "This is really something. I don't know what half of this stuff is for." He turned on the water and before he thought better of it, found himself testing the temperature. But what was heat or cold to someone who could not be damaged in any permanent way?
He laughed under his breath and tried to answer Selene's questioning expression, "I didn't want it to be too hot, but…" His voice trailed off and he couldn't think of any way to tell her what he was feeling. He shrugged and said in as offhand a tone as he could muster, "I guess it doesn't matter anymore, does it?"
"Michael, I really am sorry,"
"No, don't be. You didn't start the war. This isn't your fault."
He turned his attention back to the running water and was suddenly nervous. He wanted her so acutely that his muscles knotted and cramped. The moment was huge in its implications and he was still young enough a man to not trust himself enough to make himself plain without becoming awkward. He could feel the change in the atmosphere as if his lust had walked into the room. Unnerved, he straightened up and murmured something in his father's tongue. It was his way of stepping back and putting formality to his thoughts, he always switched into the language of his forefathers when lost.
"Az rendben van, ha nem tud mit tenni," Selene answered. She stepped forward and put a hand to his cheek. His mouth flooded and his blood thundered in his ears; he swooned. Hell, he thought, there aren't any rules for this. At least it won't matter if I am too rough, his fevered brain hissed. He began to say something witty and her mouth closed on his. So Michael Corvin, with the slow and gentle manners of his mother and her sisters, tried to show Selene what it meant to revel in her human side.
We are not in a storage container, hiding from the sun in some garage. This time will be different, he silently vowed. He was not hurried, with infinite care and grave sensuality he kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her throat. He took Selene's hands and kissed her fingers, kissed her palms.
He helped her peel off her stained and ruined clothes. His thoughts became erratic. Did vampires wear any color other than black, he wondered briefly. Shining like a pale pillar of granite, Selene stepped into the spray and he followed, pulling his shirt over his head. It fell in a wet heap at his feet and he kicked it aside. He leaned back against the tile and let the water wash away the filth.
"Come here," he said softly. She moved toward him and he embraced her. He kissed the top of her head. What he wanted was to shove her into the wall and ravage her until he couldn't stand up anymore. Instead, he began picking bits of rock and wood from her hair. Never in his life had he shown a woman anything but tenderness. Violence and strife were as alien to him as vampires and lycans had been a week ago. He had no real idea how to approach Selene, a woman for whom violence was tangible.
Selene opened a jar and a rich, heady scent filled the air. She frowned in concentration as she covered Michael in its contents. He was burning and freezing and again words failed him. When her fingers brushed his stomach and moved lower, he gripped her hands and choked, "Don't." He took the jar from her hands and set it behind her head.
Could there be a neutral point to start from once you had swallowed another's blood? He was standing at the precipice of a great height and without warning, he jumped. He grasped Selene's shoulders, hard. She made no sound and it goaded him. He wanted, needed some response other than her frigid manner. He wanted to know that somewhere within her iron core was a place he could reach. He had to know this. Otherwise he was indeed dead and his body hadn't caught up with his soul just yet.
He tangled his hands in her dark hair and kissed her again and again. He kissed her harder, clasped her to him. She remained unmoved. Desperation began to color his thoughts. "Let go," he whispered. "Let it go. There's nobody here but us." She shook her head but he didn't know what she meant.
"I'll bet you haven't seen any vampire movies either, have you?" he asked. She looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "Ahhh, then I know what to do." He slit the skin over his heart and looked her steadily in the eye, gauging her reaction. Her eyes ignited into a brilliant blue as his blood overflowed and spilled down his chest. She stared as it dripped onto his knee and her features hardened.
"Selene," he said clearly. "Selene…drink."
She snarled and obeyed.
His head snapped back so hard he heard the tile crack. He began to gasp as if he were drowning, which of course, he was. He clutched at the wall behind him and slowly slid down, pulling Selene with him. Her fingers dug into his flesh and her teeth sank into him. A pleasure so intense it bordered on pain flooded through him. Points of light burst in front of his eyes and he bit the inside of his cheek. Blood began to course down his chin. His head rolled to one side and his hair fell into his face. Selene rose up and kissed him. Her lips were slippery and hot. He tasted his own blood and her wild arousal. He wanted to reach out for her but his hands would not move. His eyes widened in panic and Selene lowered her mouth to his throat and bit him again. His veins exploded into flame and he cried out in tortured exaltation. He was dying and couldn't find the strength to stop her or the desire to even care to do so. He lost all concept of time and the color seemed to slowly leak from his vision.
Selene swallowed and raised her head. She smiled savagely. "Tell me you want it," she demanded as his vision cleared. All of his revulsion temporarily burned away. He wrenched himself up and seized her. He tried to push her down under him with quaking hands but the raining water caused them to splutter. He shook it out of his eyes and managed to turn the closest faucet off. "Oh, shit," he cried, "Shit! This is boiling."
"Does it really matter, Michael?" Selene leered as his blood ran from the corners of her mouth. Instantly he decided that in his world, it did not. He turned her jaw away from him and locked onto her, drinking in great, burning draughts. Her breasts were crushed against him and Michael could literally feel her essence revive and sharpen his desire. He swallowed and withdrew. He rested his head against her shoulder, heaving for air as if he had run a great distance. Billows of steam rose around them. When he felt steadier, he stood and offered her his hand. He held her at arm's length and began to bathe her luminous, ice-white skin. Selene's pupils were caverns and her irises glowed. All he was conscious of was her eyes and the low, throbbing hum that her blood had begun within him.
Hesitantly, Selene reached out and touched Michael's shoulder. Lucian's teeth had left long, silvery scars, which she traced with her fingertips. The sensation was exquisite. Michael groaned and stepped closer to her. She began to trace the scars with her tongue. She explored his body with animalistic intent...breathing him in, tasting him, rubbing her face against him and running her hands up and down his thighs. Michael's normally mild eyes darkened into blackness and he growled deep from within his chest. Her hand closed over his erection and he grasped her wrist. He put his hands around her waist and lifted her up. As he did so, her legs wrapped around him. He pushed himself inside her, deeply. Slowly they began to move together. Their bodies were slick with steaming, streaming water and blood. Michael hit his head on a shelf and several jars and bottles crashed down between his feet. Shards of glass cut into him. He scarcely felt them and pushed aside the interruption with annoyance, as he would a cloud of tiny midges flying before his eyes.
They moved with a powerful rhythm. Selene was breathing so forcefully that he could see the rise and fall of her ribcage. Michael watched her face, fascinated. He had to reach her, must know he had some meaning to her. He could not accept it if she merely considered him a means to an end, the catalyst for physical release. He said her name but she didn't answer. He said it again as her fingers bit into him. Then, her attention suddenly focused on him. Her pubic hair rasped against his belly as she slowly slid down the length of him. His mind went blank. He was trying not to come, trying to show her that he'd do this forever if she'd let him when she began to shudder, her legs as strong about him as a vice. She touched his face and he felt the world fall away.
