Dark Challenge by Christine Feehan

with you. Go away, and do not come back
. He was right, though. She had never felt this way before. Every cell in her body was hot and heavy and aching for release. She wanted him. Pure and simple. But that was all. It was just sex. Hot, steamy sex. Absolutely nothing else. Who would want such an arrogant jerk?
    “You.” The single word was breathed against her neck, against the pulse beating so strongly there. His body was suddenly so close, she could feel the heat emanating from his skin. Although she was tall, his large frame seemed to tower over her. Up close, she could feel his power, the intensity of his emotions. His gaze drifted over her with stark possessiveness.
    Desari stood perfectly still, afraid to move. There was something about him she couldn’t seem to resist. It was his eyes. The way his eyes burned a molten gold. So intense. So hungry. How could she resist his eyes? It was in his mind. He had been so alone. He
needed
and only she could provide. His hand moved down her shoulder to rest on her slender waist. His touch was possessive. His palm was burning a hole through the thin material of her shirt.
    Julian exerted a little pressure, taking her with him as he moved toward the tavern. She was still uncertain, her brain at war with her instincts, her emotions, the chemistry of her body. He was well aware, having now shared her mind, that Desari was no one to trifle with. She had lived centuries, had acquired tremendous knowledge and strength. This was a situation that required more than a little finesse—not his strongest point. Julian was used to having his way in all things. More than anything he believedit was his duty, his right, to protect and care for his lifemate. But Desari did not seem to follow the path of the women of his race in temperament.
    “I heard your brother refer to you as Dara. How did you come by such a name?” he asked, his straightforward curiosity completely throwing her off the track.
    “I have long been called Dara. It is a nickname. Darius said my mother often called me that,” she answered, moving with him automatically. His body was very close to hers, so that she felt the brush of his thigh, his chest, the heavy muscles coming into brief contact with her, then moving away. Her tongue touched her lips, moistening their sudden dryness. She was intrigued by the way Julian could make her feel so aware of herself as a woman.
    “Do you know what Dara means?” Julian asked softly.
    Desari shrugged. “It is old Persian. It means, of the dark one.”
    Julian nodded. “Do you remember where you came from? Where you were born?”
    Desari moved away from him, a subtle retreat from the heat of his body. What she really needed to do was run from the heat in his eyes. No one had ever looked at her as he was doing. Julian slid his arm around her waist and gathered her under his shoulder.
    She put her hand on his rib cage to push him away, but somehow her palm lingered against his thin shirt, savoring the heat of him. It drew her like a magnet, in the same way his eyes drew her. She lowered her lashes. This was insanity. But for a few brief hours tonight she would indulge her dreams, allow herself a fantasy that might have to last her for all time.
    Julian’s larger frame urged her into the small tavern. The band was playing something soft and dreamy, allowinghim to step around and take her into his arms. The moment he enclosed her against him, he knew it was right. Her body fit into his perfectly. They moved with the same rhythm, matching heartbeats, matching gliding, swaying steps. Her head fit in the niche of his shoulder; her hand belonged in his.
    “We should not be doing this,” Desari said. In spite of her determination not to allow him to control her, she couldn’t stop herself from moving in the erotic dance. His thighs were hard columns against her softer ones. He smelled woodsy, mysterious, dangerous. She inhaled, taking in the scent of his blood.
    His mouth touched her