By Christine Feehan
They have been masters of the darkness, looking through eternity for a mistress of the light...WOULD SHE locate MAGIC younger Savannah Dubrinsky used to be a mistress of phantasm, a world-famous magician able to spell binding thousands. yet there has been one--Gregori, the darkish One--who held her in terrifying thrall. Whose chilly silver eyes and heated sensuality despatched shivers of possibility, of wish, down her narrow backbone. With a depressing magic all his personal, Gregori--the implacable hunter, the mythical healer, the main robust of Carpathian males--whispered in Savannah's brain that he was once her future. That she have been born to avoid wasting his immortal soul. And now, the following in New Orleans, the hour had eventually come to assert her. To make her thoroughly his. In a ritual as previous as time . . . and as inescapable as eternity.
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Additional resources for Dark Magic (The Carpathians (Dark) Series, Book 4)
For a long moment his silver eyes moved over her pale, bruised face, studying her intently, clearly debating whether to allow it. A storm began to gather in her eyes, and reluctantly he shifted back to give her room. "Easy, bébé," he said softly, slipping an arm around her, his breath warm on her neck. The feel of his hair-roughened, iron-hard arm wrapped around her bare skin sent a shiver down her spine and set warmth curling in the pit of her stomach. She detested that warmth, the way her body tuned itself to his, the way her mind struggled to ignore her firm resolution and sought to touch his.
He felt her gasp at his invasion, and he paused to allow her body an opportunity to adjust to his size. She was holding her breath, waiting for the terrible, tearing pain. Her fingernails dug into his back, and she made a small sound of protest against the weight of his chest. But she felt only ripples of fire, a storm of intense pleasure washing over her, consuming her. "Relax, Savannah. Relax for me. You were meant for me, created for me. " He feathered kisses from her temple to her throat, his hips moving in a gentle, coaxing rhythm.
His blood surged and pounded. Little jackhammers began to beat at his skull. "I am listening to every word you say, ma petite," he murmured, lost in her softness, in the scent of her. He wanted her with every fiber of his being, every cell in his body. " Soon the fire would start, and there would be no choice for either of them. His blood would call to hers with such an urgency that she couldn't ignore the summons. His mind would slip easily in and out of hers, the psychic link so strong it would bind them close even over great distances.
Dark Magic (The Carpathians (Dark) Series, Book 4) by Christine Feehan