Dark Carousel

by Christine Feehan

  "See me, sielamet," he insisted.

  Once again her gaze jumped to his face as he planted one knee on the bed, easily lowering her with one arm, proving his strength. He was as naked as she was, his suit gone and his body hard and powerful, all rippling muscle and driving cock. He never stopped moving and each brutal thrust jolted her body, setting her breasts swaying and lightning radiating from her very core to every single nerve cell in her body, inflaming them.

  Her mouth moved over his chest, while her nails scored down his back as he pushed her higher and the wild tension coiled tighter and tighter. She needed . . . so much. That taste in her mouth refused to leave, making her crave him, like some terrible addiction. She nuzzled at the heavy muscles, licked at the spot where she'd left her mark. His hands tightened on her and he groaned softly.

  She had the sudden urge to bite him, to leave her mark on him in the way he had her. Before she could, his hand was suddenly in her hair, jerking her head back, and his gaze blazed down into hers.

  "You feel this? What we have?" He didn't stop moving, thrusting hard, burying his cock in her over and over, deeply and roughly, as if he wanted to stay inside her for all time. "Charlotte, sielamet, you have to feel this. You have to know this is real between us. The start of us."

  She took a breath. There was no looking away from his eyes, so dark with lust and passion. His desire raw and possessive, but so much more. The more caught at her, robbed her of what little air she'd managed to draw in. He looked at her as if she were the only woman in the world. No one had ever looked at her that way and the thing was--she believed him.

  It was incredibly naive and silly to believe a sophisticated, very wealthy, gorgeous man who was photographed with countless women on his arm, but she did.

  "Charlotte." He tugged at her hair, a reminder to answer him. All the while his cock slammed home hard, jarring her, sending fire streaking through her and building that volcano inside her so high she thought she might implode. "Do you feel it?"

  "Yes." She hissed the word, her need audible.

  "Yes what?"

  "Yes I feel it," she admitted softly, because it was the stark truth. "The beginning of you and me."

  Satisfaction etched into the handsome face, and gentled the blaze in his eyes.

  She couldn't lean in to kiss him, because he still had a fistful of her hair. The sharp bite in her scalp drove her a little mad for him. "You are so beautiful." She gave him that because she had to. She had to tell him. It wasn't just his physical looks--and truthfully, he'd been gifted far beyond the normal--it was what she found in his mind.

  He had a protective streak a mile wide. Maybe more. The children on his property, the older couple, Emeline, even his partner and his partner's woman, all were family to him. He had added to that growing list Genevieve and Lourdes, and especially her. She was his number-one priority, but he would never let the others down. She couldn't see beyond that, but that trait, that unswerving loyalty and protective instinct appealed to her as nothing else could.

  Then she couldn't think. Couldn't talk. He changed the angle of his hips and the friction was exquisite. Perfect.

  "With me," he ordered softly.

  She did exactly as he demanded and she wasn't certain she had anything to do with the decision. It was his voice. The buildup until the tension was unbearable. Wanting to please him. Wanting him to give her that much pleasure. At the sound of his low command, her body came apart, taking his with it. The burn was fierce and unrelenting. She keened his name as the firestorm swept through her, her gaze held captive by his. She saw and felt the pleasure sweeping through him, pure bliss, throwing them both into a place they drifted together, a kind of paradise she found there in his eyes.

  They remained locked together for some time until reality began to encroach. She heard the sound of a child's laughter. Little Lourdes. Charlotte loved her laugh. The murmur of Genevieve's voice, soft, teasing, imploring her to finish eating or she'd make the child do the dishes. More laughter. Lourdes didn't buy it. But hearing them meant they were close to the kitchen, and she was stark naked. More, she'd had unprotected sex again.

  "Don't." It was an order. His fist tightened in her hair. "I told you, you will not get pregnant. I'm clean and so, obviously, are you. We're together. A new beginning. I'm not going anywhere, so let yourself enjoy what we have when we manage to have it. Lourdes is already asking for you in spite of your friend trying to distract her."

  "Oh, no. I've got to get up." She pushed at his chest to move him, but it was like trying to move a heavy oak tree. He didn't budge. She tried to look away, but he shook his head.

  "You're doing it again, trying to put distance between us so you can talk yourself out of what happened. Not this time. We're together. We. Are. Together. You realize you have to get over panicking every time I touch you like this."

  "I know. I do. It's just that I don't think when you're around. My brain doesn't work. I felt you carrying me, but we went through the house with me naked. Anyone could have seen us. Lourdes could have . . ."

  "I don't share. Not. Ever. We're on the top floor and no one saw me carry you here--I made certain of that. I will always protect you, Charlotte. In every way. I have clothes here you can get into, but first I need the truth about how sore you are."

  She blushed at that. Of course she was sore. He was still inside her, stretching her even though he was only half hard, but it would be embarrassing telling him that.

  "Not embarrassing. Talk to me. I don't want to take from you what you aren't willing to give me, but in matters of safety and health, I have no choice."

  She didn't understand that, but he was right. If a relationship between them was going to work out, she had to be able to communicate with him about every subject--especially sex. "I'm sore. Definitely. But I like knowing why." That was truthful and still a little embarrassing, but she managed to keep her gaze on his.

  "I can take the sting away."

  Reluctantly he opened his fist and allowed her hair to fall loose down her back. She hadn't remembered him taking the topknot out, but then she didn't remember him carrying her up to the third floor. She'd been that far gone. He slid out of her and then pressed his palm to her mound. For a moment there was intense heat. She swore she felt him moving in her. Not him. He was right there, solid and real, but when she looked at his eyes, he seemed to have "checked out." And then she blinked and he was back.

  "Still as sore?"

  She wasn't. "Oh. My. God. You have the gift of healing. Not only are you telepathic, but you actually can heal."

  "A little," he admitted. "I have a couple of gifts. I'm not as good at healing as a couple of others I know, but it gets me by." He eased off of her and stood, pulling her up with him. "The bathroom is through that door if you want to clean up, and I put clothes right there on the chair for you. You can get dressed up here."

  "Where did these clothes come from, Tariq? Because I didn't buy them." She touched the striped royal blue bra and the matching lace panties. She could never afford anything like the lingerie he gave her. The jeans were soft and fit like a glove when she drew them up over her hips. The thin camisole was formfitting, a little tighter than she was used to wearing, and emphasized her curves while drawing attention to her narrow rib cage and smaller waist. She didn't want to point out that, although beautiful, the camisole fit in a way she was certain drew attention to her hips and butt.

  "A friend owns a boutique. I called her with your sizes last night. I was worried about you going back to your house in order to get more clothes so I had some delivered in your size, Genevieve's and Lourdes's. That way, your three stalkers as well as Fridrick won't have the chance of trailing you back here. They aren't going to think to look for you here. Without you going in and out often, that minimizes the danger to everyone else."

  She hadn't thought of that--bringing danger to the others who lived there. She didn't like the very real possibility nor did she like that she hadn't thought of it h
erself. She actually felt the color drain from her face. "Maybe I should . . ."

  "Don't say it," he chastised, slipping his arm around her waist. "Fridrick and Vadim are after the children and Emeline. By being here, you haven't increased the danger. And no, I'm not reading your mind, but your expression is transparent. You aren't paying for the clothes, either. It was my decision to purchase them. I didn't consult with you, so that's on me."

  He nuzzled her neck, and truthfully, every protest died just like that, with his lips on her. He took her hand once she was dressed. Strangely, she hadn't seen him dress, but he was back in his immaculate suit as they went downstairs together.

  7

  Bella was a beautiful little girl, just as short as Lourdes, who had the Vintage disadvantage of being in the lowest percentile for height, but not so much for weight. The two little girls were instant best friends and right now they were each clinging tightly to one of Tariq Asenguard's hands and chattering a mile a minute about hunting for trolls or zombies down by the lake in very excited voices. Charlotte loved that for Lourdes. The child had lost her father and had been placed with her aunt and then moved over and over before they could set down roots anywhere.

  The property couldn't have been any prettier. To a child of three, the trees, shrubbery and flowers along with the gleaming blue lake and fairy-tale outbuildings had to be a wonderland. There was a covered patio with an outdoor kitchen and comfortable chairs, but it was the old-fashioned carousel that caught her eye. This one was an early Herschell-Spillman Company carousel made in the United States, and it was amazing. Completely restored. Clearly it worked, and she longed to rush over and take a good look at it, but to her shock, she found watching Tariq with two three-year-olds took priority.

  "Oh. My. God. You are so far gone it isn't funny," Genevieve said. The teasing note in her voice disappeared. "Seriously honey, I'm happy for you. I am. But you have to be careful. He's . . . experienced, and you're not. You don't let people in. Especially men. I've gotten to know you very well, and you're the type of woman who will give her heart completely to one man and if he breaks it, it will stay broken. You haven't known him more than one night. You didn't take the time, and you're falling too fast. Way too fast. You've already broken every single one of your rules. You don't sleep with a man casually, and you've already slept with him."

  Charlotte ducked her head. Genevieve wasn't telling her anything she didn't already know. She even nodded a couple of times to indicate to her friend that she heard and agreed. "I know," she admitted, and risked a quick glance at Tariq again.

  He had his head turned, looking back at them as if he knew what Genevieve was saying to her. The expression on his face made him look dangerous.

  It is the beginning of us.

  She took a breath and pressed her hand to her suddenly churning stomach. It was a declaration inside her head. A decree. A red flag in the mind of a modern woman who would define him as a textbook dominant stalker type. His voice was implacable. He had flicked a glance at Genevieve that frankly chilled Charlotte.

  Bella said something and he instantly turned his attention to the child, crouching down to her level, circling her with one strong arm and nodding his head at something she said. "Of course I can take you out in the boat, but not tonight, my little Bellarina."

  His name for her sent Bella into laughter, which made Lourdes laugh. Charlotte had wanted this for the child. She was naturally upbeat and happy, but the events of the last few months had taken a toll on her.

  "Stop looking at him as if he's the greatest thing in the entire world and start listening to me," Genevieve insisted. She put a hand on Charlotte's arm. "You're getting in over your head. We met the man last night under extreme circumstances. He was heroic and gallant standing up for us. He offered a place to stay and I have to say the accommodations are perfect, and the security seems tight, but still, Charlie, we just met him. I don't know what happened after I went to bed, but it happened fast and that means he's a very smooth operator with the emphasis on very."

  Why do you allow her to go on and on? You know we are good. I am not the man she claims I am. Send her away.

  Charlotte risked another glance at him. He wasn't looking at her this time. He had taken the girls to the small playground on the property and was pushing them on swings. His home had everything they could possibly need--or want. Although his jaw was set and he looked dangerous, his voice was gentle as he answered each child when she shouted orders to him. There was even a note of laughter in his voice as the girls continued to yell for him to push them higher.

  She sighed. She was going to have to answer him and that meant speaking intimately, on that strange pathway that he'd evidently forged between them. She knew every time she used it she was bound closer to him. She didn't understand it and when she was apart from him, it didn't make sense to her, but the connection between them was stronger--and better--than anything she'd ever shared with anyone. When he was touching her, holding her, it all made sense, but then logic and reasoning crept in when he wasn't right there.

  Tariq, what can I say? Everything she says to me is the truth. She's my friend and she's trying to look out for me. As my friend, she should point these things out to me. That's what true friends do. They try to keep you from falling too hard.

  Do you believe I would hurt you? Break your heart? Sielamet, you are everything to me. I would never harm you. It is impossible for me to do so. I know this happened far too fast for you to believe strongly in it or in me, but you promised to give me a chance.

  She was in his mind and there was something there, a hint of danger, of warning she couldn't quite catch, as if she was missing a very important piece of a puzzle, but it was so small it seemed inconsequential. Whatever it was made her uneasy.

  I'm giving us a chance. I'm still here. If I didn't plan to give us a chance, I would have already packed up Lourdes and we'd be gone.

  She had nowhere to take her niece that was safe. Nowhere. They had enemies, and they had no idea why. A serial killer and three stalkers who went around staking their victims, so they were serial killers as well.

  They believe in vampires.

  "Are you paying attention, Charlie? Because we have to discuss this," Genevieve persisted.

  Carrying on two conversations was a bit disorienting, but what Tariq said made sense. The three men from the club staked their victims while they were alive, as if that was the only method of killing them. She shuddered and wrapped her arms around her middle. She should introduce them to Fridrick. He had admitted he'd killed Genevieve's grandmother and the others in Paris in a bizarre blood-taking fashion and then gone to the United States to kill Charlotte's brother. What is going on? How could she remove Lourdes from Tariq's home when it was the only place she'd been so far where she felt safe at all?

  "Charlie," Genevieve snapped. "I'm telling you, he's a player. That's straight. I didn't want to say it like this but you won't listen. He's going to find another woman tonight, or some other night, and bring her home and make her feel like she's the only one. You can't invest in him like this."

  He hadn't brought another woman into his home. Her sense of smell was heightened, very acute. There was no way he could have removed a woman's presence completely--especially her scent. He had said he had never brought a woman there and she believed him absolutely. Still . . . Genevieve was not wrong that she was investing too much in him too soon.

  "I'm listening to you, Vi, I am," Charlotte said. "But it's already too late. I'm so far gone on him there's no turning back. My heart is already involved. I don't know why or how this happened so fast, but I'm going to ride it out and see what happens. I would like to have you close for support no matter which way it goes."

  Genevieve sighed and then looked up to watch Tariq, now helping the girls on the slide. "He is gorgeous, Charlie, I'll give you that. If you're going to be slutty and sleep with someone within a couple of hours of meeting them, he's definitely the one to do it with. He's so
rt of . . . delicious."

  Charlotte burst out laughing. "You can't go to extremes. Don't be drooling over my man."

  "He's definitely drool-worthy. I could do a lot of perving on him."

  "Well don't." Charlotte faked a stern look. "You'll have to find someone else for your pervy ways."

  It wouldn't be difficult for Genevieve. She was a man magnet. It had surprised her that Tariq hadn't even glanced at her friend when every other man focused on Genevieve first. Always. Until last night and Tariq. That pleased her when she realized it, because it only made Tariq's attention more real. From the very beginning, he had looked at Charlotte with the look a man gives to a woman who appeals to him.

  Sielamet.

  His voice. Gentle. Male amusement. A caress. He could do so many things with that one word spoken in his language.

  There is no other woman. There will be no other woman. It is you. Only you. Always you. You are in my care and under my protection. I will cherish you for all time.

  Charlotte frowned. She'd heard those words before. Whispered to her, first in his language and then in hers. The memory was hazy, but beautiful. She felt the slide of his hair against her bare skin. Felt his mouth moving over her. Kissing her. Following the curve of her breast. She touched the mark he'd left behind, only the thin camisole covering her skin. The brand pulsed there. Throbbed. Needed. Suddenly the taste of him was in her mouth and she craved him.

  When she looked up, he was watching her with hooded eyes. His handsome face was very serious. He seemed wholly focused on her.

  What is it, Charlotte?

  I can't remember everything about last night. Just pieces of it. Pieces of perfection. His body moving in hers. The feel of his mouth on her skin. Between her legs. His taste. The memories sent heat spiraling through her.

  You were exhausted, sielamet. I should have taken greater care, but I couldn't seem to resist you.

  I didn't want you to resist me. That was the truth and maybe it wasn't such a good idea to give him that, but she couldn't help herself.