Love At First Bite Part 40

It wasn't an answer. Not really. "Do you love me?" she repeated.

He looked away from her. She thought he wouldn't answer; then he glanced back into her eyes. "You know I do."

Her heart pounded in her chest. Joy rose inside of her, because she knew he wasn't lying to her. He wasn't trying to deceive her.

At long last, she had what she wanted. Bravely, Anne reached down and pulled her shirt and chemise over her head. She stood before him bare to the waist.

"Show me you love me," she said.

The fire in his eyes flared. His gaze roamed her naked flesh. Everywhere he looked, her skin heated. Her nipples puckered in the cool night air.

"Jesus, la.s.s," he whispered, his voice low and raw sounding. "You're beautiful. Your skin is like fine porcelain-so pale and smooth I wonder if you'll break if I touch you."

"I will not break," she a.s.sured him, her own voice breathless. "Touch me and see."

Merrick's eyes locked with hers. He reached out and touched her cheek, caressing her gently before lowering his hand to her breast. She fit into his hand as if she were fashioned for him alone.

She gasped softly when his thumb brushed across her sensitive nipple. He bent forward, kissed her neck, then moved lower until his tongue performed the same tantalizing dance that his thumb had a moment earlier. Anne twisted her fingers in his thick hair. Her knees nearly buckled when he took the straining peak into his warm mouth and sucked. He straightened, gazed into her eyes, then picked her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing.

Their blankets were spread for the night and he took her to his, lowered her gently, and knelt beside her. "What do you know of matters between men and women, Anne?"

"Nothing much," she answered. "My aunt didn't speak to me of such things. My maid told me there would be pain my first time with a man."

Merrick ran a finger down her arm. "I don't know about being with a woman her first time. But I know there can be pleasure

between us. Are you willing to go through the pain first?"

He offered her one last time to regain her senses. Anne didn't want to regain them. She did trust him. She had to trust him. There could not be love without trust.

"Yes," she answered. "I trust you, Merrick."

Slowly, he pulled his shirt over his head. Anne hadn't seen him without a shirt, and she quickly surmised it was something she wanted to do often in the future. His skin gleamed in the moonlight. A smattering of dark hair covered his chest, tapering down into a thin line that traced a path down his corded stomach to disappear into the top of his trousers. She wanted to touch him. Wanted it badly enough to reach out and run her fingers down his chest. He was warm to the touch, as she knew he would be. She didn't know that a man could look soft and feel hard. There was no excess to be found on him. Only steely muscle and glorious tawny-colored skin.

"You are beautiful," she whispered.

"Come into my arms," he commanded. "Feel my skin against yours. Feel the differences between us."

She went willingly. The touch of her skin against his was like nothing she had experienced before. He tangled his hands in her

hair and pulled her head back. Then he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.

They sank into a kiss where mouths were fused, tongues clashed, and gentleness slipped away on the night breeze. The soft down on his chest teased her nipples and sent heat coursing to the place between her legs. He lowered her to the blanket,

mouths still joined, skin against skin. Only when her head touched the ground, cradled by his hand, did he end the kiss. Merrick stared down at her, hypnotizing her with his strange night eyes; then he bent to kiss her neck.

Lower he traveled, finding her nipple and drawing it so deep into his mouth that her nails dug into his shoulders. Her hips arched

upward as if by some uncontrollable force. Between her legs, she began to throb. Slowly his hand traveled down her body. He

came to the tie on her trousers and loosened it, then pulled the trousers down her hips and legs.

Anne was a modest person by nature. It wasn't so easy to leave the past behind in one night. But when Merrick kissed her again, she began to relax. While he distracted her with the skill of his mouth, he introduced her to the skill of his fingers.

The first touch made her jump, to have his hand there, where no man had been before. He did not soothe her with soft words but continued to kiss her, doing nothing more than stroking the curls that shielded her mound. It wasn't so awkward, Anne decided, more distracted by his tongue delving into her mouth than what purpose his hand might hold.

When she didn't resist, he became bolder. Gently, he slid his finger into her cleft and rubbed a place where all her sensation must surely lie. Anne gasped and tried to close her legs.

"Don't," he said softly. "Don't shut me out. Let me bring you pleasure before I bring you pain."

Her face flamed with embarra.s.sment. "I-I'm wet there for some reason."

He smiled and gave her a soft, quick kiss. "If you weren't, I wouldn't be doing my job. You're wet there so our bodies can join.

It's to welcome me in, so don't shut me out."

Anne willed her body to relax. She'd never imagined what all intimacy with a man entailed, but she rather thought it would be a quick affair, both only exposing the necessary parts to complete the act, then quickly righting their clothing and going to sleep. Necessary parts stuck in her head.

"Am I allowed to touch you, as well?" she asked. "I mean, wherever I wish?"

He lifted a brow. "Curious?"

"Yes," she answered.

He bent and kissed her again. "My body is yours tonight." He suddenly stood, slipped off his boots, then reached for the ties of

his Cossacks. Ann turned on her side, placed a hand under her head, and watched him. She thought he took an abnormally long time to untie the fastening of his trousers. She might have even thought he was stalling, that he might be more modest than he pretended to be, but then she realized she was holding her breath, her eyes glued to the ties as his fingers leisurely undid them, and what he did he did for her pleasure.

Finally the ties were loosened and he slid his trousers down his hips, past his legs, and stepped from them. He straightened and stood before her naked. She supposed her eyes widened-resembled two twin moons. Whispered words from the ladies at the fair like "stallion" came to mind, and with good reason.

"Do you like what you see, Anne?"

She glanced up at his face. Shadows hid his features, but his eyes still glowed blue. Slowly, her gaze ran the length of him again. Past his broad shoulders, his muscled chest and flat abdomen, to the member jutting proudly, and rather impressively, away from his body. His hips were slim, his flanks smooth; his muscled legs were long and dusted by dark hair.

"Yes," she whispered. "Whatever your bloodline, you are a fine specimen of a man."

He came to her, bent beside her. Even though his eyes were on fire, his touch was gentle. He kissed her softly-teased her lips until her arms slid up around his neck and her fingers twisted in his hair. He lay beside her and pulled her into his arms and the contact of flesh against flesh, male against female, warmed her body and crashed through any defenses still standing. Slowly, he traced a finger down her body from neck to navel, and then lower.

"I want to touch you, and taste you, and make you mine... forever."

She wanted that, too. To be claimed by him, to claim him in turn. Bravely, she reached out and touched him, let her fingers slide down his broad chest, his flat stomach, to wrap around his s.e.x. He jerked slightly and Anne quickly s.n.a.t.c.hed her hand away.

"Did I hurt you?" she whispered.

"No," he a.s.sured her. "Just took me a bit by surprise."

Again she reached out and touched him. "Is it always so... so...?"

"No," he a.s.sured her again. "Although around you, yes, most of the time."

She wanted to ask him more, but he bent toward her and kissed her again. Anne was innocent, but not so innocent that she didn't understand that he was finished talking. He moved lower and kissed her neck, then lower. While he teased her nipples with his teeth and tongue, his hand slid down again to her woman's mound, and she did not shut him out. He stroked her there as he had done before, stroked her until she bit her lip and moved with and against the pressure of his fingers. A force built inside of her-a desperate need-a hunger she had never felt before.

Her breath now came in ragged gasps. Her nails dug into his back, and beneath him she bucked as if she had no control over her body. He increased the pressure, and when he slipped one finger inside of her she nearly came up off the blanket.

"Easy," he said against her lips, and Anne thought it was the same tone he used to calm skittish horses. The pressure stopped and she wanted to whimper-to beg-but for what she still wasn't certain. Gently, he spread her legs with his knees, then settled between them. Instinctively, Anne tensed beneath him, but he kissed her, distracting her sudden trepidation, and when he made no further move, she began to relax, to savor the feel of his mouth moving over hers, his tongue delving into her mouth in a rhythm her hips wanted to match for some odd reason.

His hand slid between them again and he took up the torture. He'd told her she was supposed to be wet there, and Anne was glad of it or she would have been terribly embarra.s.sed. He used that wetness, rubbing her sensitive nub until she thought something inside of her would burst. Then she felt him poised at the entrance to her woman's pa.s.sage.

He was big there, just like the rest of him was big, and she felt him stretching her with the tip of his member. He moved a little ways inside of her and she gasped with the pressure. He gasped, too, but it was a different sort of distress, she thought.

"d.a.m.n," he whispered. "You shouldn't feel this good. I'm trying to go slow with you, Anne. It's d.a.m.n hard to do when you feel like this."

And having said as much, he thrust in deeper. The pain was sharp and stabbing and caught her by surprise. She didn't scream, although the gasp that emerged from her lips was more forceful than the last. Tears stung her eyes, and for a moment she wondered how he'd managed to seduce her into this position. He moved in deeper and she steeled herself for more pain. It didn't come. Not that she wasn't very aware of him, his size filling her, stretching her, but there wasn't pain, only pressure.

"Now that the pain is over, I can please you," he said. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. He kissed her deeply, while below he slowly but steadily invaded her body. He moved, and he moved in such a way that stimulated her, just as he had done with his fingers earlier. It wasn't unpleasant.

Her hips arched against him. He sucked in his breath and plunged deeper. She sucked in her breath, too, and then her body took over, her instincts, her pa.s.sion for him, and gentle wooing slipped away. His scent filled her senses and something primitive rose up inside of her. Her nails dug into his back, her teeth nipped at his neck, and he thrust deeper, harder, forcing a moan of pleasure from her. She began to tingle, then to throb where they were joined. Desperation made her move wildly beneath him. He pulled back, twisted his hand in her hair, and stared down at her, his eyes aglow with pa.s.sion.

That's when she shattered, when the pressure had built to the point it would no longer be contained. Warmth spread over her, and her body continued to buck and convulse against him, and still he moved, still he thrust, only extending the pleasure until she thought she would die from it. Only when she thought she could stand no more did he thrust deep inside of her, groan her name, and hold himself there, still, as if he were poised on the brink of death. Then she felt him shudder. She clung to him, their hearts pounding wildly against each other, bodies coated in sweat, breathing fast and erratic.

She thought it had ended, the storm that raged between them, battered them, spat them out upon the sh.o.r.e to do nothing but lie exhausted, but then Merrick groaned and rolled away from her. He doubled up, clutching his stomach.

Anne struggled to turn on her side. Her limbs felt as if they had no bones. "What is it, Merrick?"

He didn't answer, but his body jerked. Anne wasn't familiar with lovemaking, but she didn't suspect this was part of it. "Merrick," she tried again. "Look at me. Tell me what is wrong!"

He tilted his head back. His eyes glowed blue, which was not something she hadn't seen before, but as he gasped with the pain, the moonlight gleamed off of his teeth, and they did not look like they had a moment earlier. His eyeteeth had lengthened and strongly resembled fangs. She touched his face and he grabbed her wrist. Anne nearly screamed. His fingers were bent, his nails jutting from his fingertips like claws.

Staring down at his hand, as she did, Merrick quickly released her. "What am I?" he whispered, and his voice came out garbled. "What am I?" he shouted, his voice in agony as his body began to convulse and contort.

Anne scrambled away from him. She grabbed her blanket from the ground and wrapped it around her. Trembling, she watched, both helpless and terrified. What she saw taking place before her could not be real. Such things only happened in nightmares. Merrick still lay on the ground, naked, contorting, but as she watched, hair began to cover his body. His limbs shrank, his features changed, and where once a man lay on the blanket it was a beast that rose on all fours and stood staring at her in the darkness.

"Merrick?" she whispered.

The beast did not respond. Instead, it glanced skyward at the full moon. The wolf howled, and in that sound Anne heard all the sorrow and anger of a man betrayed.

The animal lowered its head and stared at Anne. It peeled back its lips, displaying impressive fangs. Loved by him as a man, killed by him as a beast. That thought floated through Anne's mind before the darkness crept deeper into her vision, surrounded her from all sides, swallowed her whole.

Chapter Nine.

The sun peeking through the trees woke Anne. She was curled in a ball, her blanket clutched around her. For a moment she couldn't remember where she was or why. She tried to move and her muscles protested. The ache between her legs brought the night before flooding back. She sat abruptly and glanced around the campsite.

Merrick sat on a log staring at her. He'd donned his trousers and sat with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, shivering. He looked human again... almost. His eyes were haunted.

"What happened to me, Anne?"

She didn't want to think about that. She wanted desperately to pretend last night had never happened... at least up to a certain point. "You turned into a wolf."

He blinked. "What do you mean? I acted like a beast?"

Anne had trouble grasping what had happened last night, much less explaining it, and to the person it happened to. She could only be straightforward. "No, Merrick. A wolf. An animal. You turned into one before my very eyes."

He ran a shaky hand through his hair; then he held his hand in front of him and stared at it. "What you're saying is impossible."

"It is possible," she countered, tugging her blanket tighter around her in the chilly morning air. "I would have never thought so...