Dark Promises (Dark #29) by Christine Feehan

to—was every bit as dishonorable as becoming the undead.
    He closed his eyes and drew her to her feet, his hands gentle. He had to let her go, and there was only one way to do so. One. He wasn’t going without memorizing every inch of her. Without holding her body against his. He deserved at least that much. He didn’t want to see her eyes. He didn’t want to know she hated him with every breath she took. Or that she wanted another man.
    He was going to do what every ancient in the monastery had refused to do because they felt it was wrong. It was cowardly. Somehow, some way, they had to be strong enough to overcome that terrible darkness shredding their souls. He had vowed to live until they figured out how. He didn’t have that choice now. He would meet the dawn and free his lifemate to find her way in the world. Perhaps the ritual binding words hadn’t worked on her as they were supposed to. In any case, he wasn’t going to look into her eyes again.
    He took his time, savoring the feel of her very feminine body. Her skin was softer than anything he’d ever touched. His hands were big. Calloused. Rough. She felt wonderful beneath his exploring palm and fingertips. He committed her to memory, and he did it slowly. From her face to her toes. Front and back. She had lush curves and he spent time shaping and committing them to his memory. He would know her blind.
    He didn’t release her from his control while he explored her body because he didn’t want her hatred and venom to take this one moment from him. He would walk into the sun with her scent surrounding him. With the feel of her soft skin on his hands and her body imprinted in his mind. He could do that.
    Because she couldn’t control her body’s reactions to his exploration, he learned every sensitive point of her. Sometimes her hips bucked against him. Sometimes her breath caught in her throat and a small moan escaped. That was all her. Not him. He didn’t feed her body’s reaction to him. He didn’t try to make this about sex or about her. It was his good-bye. His reward.
    He was as gentle as possible, knowing she detested his touch. He didn’t want her to feel worse than she already did. It wasn’t as if she was trying to seduce him and every other man around them. She had told him straight out she was in love with Daratrazanoff. Had he not been so far gone, he would have let her go, at least he’d like to think he would have. His emotions were too new, too overwhelming, and the darkness had pressed so deeply into him that there was little goodness left.
    Aleksei knew he had misread the signs outside the gate. He’d been in the monastery for well over a hundred years. He had heard her cry out and thought she was being attacked. Everything in him had him flying to her rescue. It had never occurred to him that a Carpathian woman would turn against her lifemate, but it had been Daratrazanoff she’d worried about, had even tried to fight for.
    He was sickened by her actions. By Daratrazanoff’s actions. But mostly, he was sickened by his own. Never in centuries of living had he stooped so low. No one deserved what he had done to her, least of all his lifemate. His despicable actions only served to show him how far gone he truly was. She might deserve the justice of his people, certainly what she’d done was punishable by death, but not this.
    He inhaled her scent, her amazing fragrance, and then he dropped his hands and stepped back, clothing her and releasing her at the same time. She sank to the ground, wrapping her arms around herself, her hair in disarray, her beautiful gray eyes swimming with tears, but still glaring defiantly.
    â€œDo your worst,” she hissed.
    He bowed to her, a low courtly bow. “I apologize for my behavior.”
    â€œI could put a stake through your heart and not even think twice,” she spat. “You
controlled
me. Forced me.”
    He