And how could he keep from hurting her little body when he did it? Tonight he'd felt her inside, had discovered how tight she was - there was no way he could fit into her without causing her pain.
He tried to push aside the doubts. Ignoring the ache in his shaft, he lay back and dragged her warm body to him. He exhaled with pleasure when she slid her smooth leg up over his knees and draped her arm over his chest - exactly as he'd imagined them sharing this bed.
He knew he would be unrelentingly aroused through the night, but he would savor it, relishing her touches, the way she was already squeezing his chest in sleep. All night he would get to enjoy the scent of her hair. He could feel her heart beating against him, and he eventually lost himself in the soothing rhythm... .
Near dawn, he shot upright in bed. Leaning over her side, he planted his hand across her body, caging her in protectively, eyes darting.
No one was there - just the wind.
She murmured in French and turned to him trustingly. His Bride was now so fragile, so... mortal. No longer was she invulnerable to harm. He would be endangering her just by keeping her with him.
The Woede now knew he had a weakness. They would be relentless trying to capture her. In their minds, she equaled Rydstrom's crown. Conrad would gladly give them the damned information if he could pull it up, but they'd never believe he wasn't simply withholding it - not until they were threatening her.
Before, Tarut's curse had constantly shadowed him - now it had become a thousand times more imperative to destroy the demon.
Conrad had been given his dream. Was some force out there even now seeking to take it from him? If he even remotely believed in the power of the curse, then how fair was it to stay with her? Or was the damage already done? If he deserted her now, then he could be leaving her vulnerable to attack... .
In any case, Conrad wouldn't consider her safe until he was in possession of Tarut's head.
Forcing himself to set her away, he traced downstairs. He knew a crude protection conjuring that would guard her at least while she was here. By the front doors, he dipped his fingertips in the crumbling plaster, using it as chalk to inscribe the ancient lettering. Once he felt confident no trespassers could enter their home, he returned to the bed.
Conrad would remain here only until sunrise. After that, he'd begin providing all the things she apparently lacked: food, clothes, women's things...
As he pulled her back into his arms, he thought back over the hectic night. In the past, Néomi had looked at Conrad like he was a hero and had called him a protector, even though she knew many of his sordid secrets. She'd told him she believed in him.
Tonight he hadn't disappointed her.
He'd never forget the absolute conviction in her eyes when she'd said, "Now I understand what you were." She'd been so sure of him that she'd already appeared proud.
But she didn't know of his secret fantasies of taking her neck in a frenzy.
I'm the worst threat to her.
Even in the midst of the mind-numbing pleasure she'd given him tonight, he'd experienced fear for her, for the dangerous things she made him feel.
If you care for her, you'll let her go now, his long-dead conscience whispered. And yet he found his arms squeezing her closer to him. Mine.
30
When he returned from errands that morning, Conrad heard the shower going. He made out her soft sighs under the sound of the water.
Tossing away the bags of items he'd purchased for her, he postponed his plans to discuss how she'd been changed from ghost to mortal. In seconds, he had his clothes off, then silently traced into the tiled stall with her.
Her eyes were closed, and she was leisurely exploring her body. Licking drops of water from her lips, she cupped her br**sts, as though relearning them.
Making himself as quiet as if he were hunting, he stared, riveted. Her raven hair was pulled over her shoulder, draping her pale breast, her hard nipple peeking through it.
He didn't think he breathed as her fingers skimmed down her flat belly and her legs parted for them. But he had to wonder if she would hear his heart slamming inside his chest.
When her dark nails glinted in the light as she began delicately stroking her sex, he bit back a groan and fisted his suddenly aching cock. She focused on her clitoris, briefly slipping her finger inside, as if to gather moisture for her rubbing.
He marveled at the expression of building ecstasy on her face. He wanted to see her look up at him like that when he entered her. Abandon. Never in all his years had he seen anything as awing as this female pleasuring herself.
But even as he realized that he could watch her and learn how she liked to be touched, he resented that she hadn't waited for him.
He'd satisfied her last night, so why hadn't she? Perhaps he needed to remind her why she should have.
When her moan turned nearly constant, he stopped her before she could come.
Just before she climaxed, she heard Conrad rasp, "Ah-ah."
Her eyes flashed open. He was in here with her, and she'd never heard him?
At once, her gaze was drawn downward to his jutting erection. The last time they'd been in the shower together, his manhood had been splendid. Erect, it was mouthwatering. She knew from last night that he'd grow so slick along that wide head... .
Yet when she reached to stroke his length, he seized her wrists behind her, yanking her body into his.
They were both breathing heavily as the hardened peaks of her br**sts rubbed against him, and his stiff penis pressed against her belly.
"Why didn't you wait for me?" He had that intense, dangerous air about him.
"I woke... the sheets were rubbing over... my ni**les." She shivered.
"If you have these needs, I want to satisfy them."