Inferno of Darkness (Order of the Blade #8) by Stephanie Rowe

her belly, shocked to discover that the warmth was coming from her injuries. It was a pure heat, a healing energy. Had he done that? Had he reached her? Deep satisfaction thrummed through him, and for the first time in his life, he began to understand the allure of a sheva . He finally began to comprehend the need to bond with a woman and offer her the kind of protection that only a soul mate could give. Suddenly, the urge to make her his reverberated through him, and the protective runes on his arms seared his flesh, as if his soul was fighting the constraints that he himself had put there so indelibly.
    "Come," Elisha whispered, tugging at his shoulders. "Kiss me, Dante. I need to feel your kiss."
    He responded to her plea willingly, bracing himself above her as he kissed her. What had been a savoring temptation quickly became a dark, pulsating need for more. A quiet seduction wasn't enough. A kiss would never satisfy what was building between them. His kisses grew deeper, more demanding, more ruthless, and so did hers. He let his hips lower and groaned as he felt the heat of her skin against his. Her nipples were taut against his chest. Her belly was soft beneath his cock. Her hips undulated in an invitation that every cell in his body screamed to accept.
    He slid his knee between her thighs, sliding his hand to grasp her calf. He bent his head to her breast, grazing his teeth over her nipple as he raised her leg and wrapped it behind his lower back. She gasped, gripping his shoulders as she writhed beneath him, her back arching in a desperate invitation for more.
    Finesse deserted him. Class was no more. Seduction was hopeless. The need to possess her was too great, too deafening, too desperate. It was more than lust. It was a towering inferno of such need that it crawled through every pore of his body, driving him with relentless ferocity. He grabbed her other leg and wrapped it around him, his control shuddering when she hooked her ankles behind his back, relinquishing all her defenses, turning herself over to him completely.
    He grasped her hands and pinned them above her head as he moved over her, searching her face, needing to see those violet-blue pools fastening on him, only him. Her thick eyelashes framed her hooded gaze as she watched him intently, as if she needed to see him as much as he needed to see her. "My Elisha," he whispered as he moved his hips until he was pressing against her entrance. "Mine."
    She shook her head, twisting restlessly beneath him, her breath coming in shallow gasps. "No one owns me," she said. "No one. No matter what binds me. No matter what shackles hold me. No matter what I am compelled to do. I am the only one who holds my heart."
    With those powerful, brave words, Dante felt his world shatter. The anguish and courage in her eyes touched his very heart. He kissed her fiercely, then pressed his lips to her ear. "Then I shall not seek to own you," he whispered. "But I give all of myself to you. I am yours. Forever." Then with one swift thrust, he buried himself inside her.
    She gasped, her belly contracting at the invasion.
    He pulled back, meeting her gaze as he began to move inside her. Slowly, ever so slowly, he withdrew, and then drove again, never breaking eye contact with her. The vulnerability in her eyes was agonizing, but at the same time, the trust shining in them made him want to go down on his knees before her and proclaim his loyalty to her.
    Suddenly, watching her wasn't enough. He needed to taste her, to touch her, to connect them on all levels. He bent his head and kissed her again, driving deeply, his whole body shaking with the depth of his need for her. Never had he felt like this. Never had he wanted a woman so badly. Never had he understood what it might be like to fall to the sheva bond, or to even want to. But in this moment, with Elisha in his arms, he simply wanted the world to stop and hold this moment suspended in eternity.
    Despite what she said, Elisha was