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Needing her. If he touched her, if he got too close, they would both be lost.
    A frown flitted across her face. She pressed her palm to her body, down low and halted, looking confused.
    Lara stared hard at the tall, wide-shouldered man coming toward her. He was the most classically beautiful man she'd ever seen in her life. His face was raw masculine beauty, his eyes so dark they were nearly black, yet when he turned a certain way, they glowed like rubies, causing a chill to race down her spine. He moved with unbelievable grace, his body flowing, ropes of muscles rippling subtly like a giant jungle cat on the prowl.
    She didn't have reactions to men, no matter how hot they were. Her body remained as cold and as frigid as the ice chambers she'd spent the first few years of her life in, yet looking at this man, everything changed. Her breath quickened. Her pulse raced. Her stomach somersaulted and even her womb reacted, clenching hotly. But so did her birthmark. And her birthmark heralded the arrival of one thing—vampire.
    The problem was, the mark seemed to have a short in it. One moment it burned with scorching heat and the next it went cool and lifeless. She had the blade of her knife up against her wrist, concealed by her long sleeve, the handle securely in her fist. She wasn't taking any chances, no matter how hot he was.
    And then there was his voice. Velvet soft. Pure seduction. A night melody of dark promises, one moment beckoning, the next rejecting. The first time he spoke his command she had been certain he was a vampire drawing her to him to allow him to feed on her. The next moment he seemed to be trying to warn her off, yet he continued forward, his black eyes drifting over her face as if he owned her.
    Nicolas couldn't stop walking toward her—as if he, not she, was the one under compulsion. He was going to have to call to Mikhail for help to save her. But he was so far gone, it was possible he would engage in a battle with the prince over her. And Mikhail couldn't be risked, not if their species was to survive.
    Go ! He warned her again, his voice low and firm, but he failed to bury a compulsion in his tone. As much as a part of him wanted to save her, the other part, standing off detached and greedy for one moment of true life, of feeling before he ended his existence, couldn't quite be noble enough to help her escape.
    She turned her head, her gaze searching the shadows and rooftops for danger. He was almost on her when she turned back to him. Up close she was so beautiful. Breathtaking really. Her skin looked exquisite. Her scent was faint and alluring, drawing him. He felt almost in a trance, if that were possible for one such as him.
    His fingers circled her wrist like a bracelet, light, yet made of steel.
    She moved then, whirling around, into him, her elbow connecting with his sternum. Nicolas barely felt the blow that would have rocked a human. Suddenly his arms were locked around her and his face was buried in the thick mass of her hair. It was soft. Heaven.
    The blood in her veins ebbed and flowed like the tide, pounding through her, making him know he and she—were alive. Not existing, but living. Standing there in the beauty of the night with the scent of the forest surrounding him as he took his last feast.
    The whispers in his head turned to a possessive roar. This one was his alone. He didn't hesitate, he lowered his face to her shoulder, nuzzling the sweater aside to expose the bare flesh of her neck and the pounding pulse there. He made no effort to calm her, or put her under a compulsion. The adrenaline in her blood would heighten the experience, give him a rush of feeling so that he would always retain this moment. He sank his teeth deep and took the essence of her being deep inside him.
    "Let go of me, you bastard," Lara snapped, shocked at the sudden pain, shocked that after all those years of swearing to herself no one would ever— ever —take her blood by force, she was locked in the