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down the length of her neck, finding a sensitive hollow just below her collarbone.
    Lightning zigzagged through her, setting her blood on fire with a need she’d never even dreamed possible.
    When she was young she’d thought passion was a sweet, giddy emotion. She’d certainly felt it often enough among the nymph males who were renowned for their beauty. Then, she’d been captured by the slavers, and desire had become dark and ugly and terrifying.
    Something to be avoided at all cost.
    But now . . .
    Now this vampire was revealing that physical need could be thrilling and consuming and so intense that she was shaking from the power of the sensations pulsing through her.
    â€œElijah,” she croaked.
    â€œHmm.”
    â€œWhat are you doing?”
    He chuckled, his hands skimming down her back before slipping beneath her shirt to tease the tense muscles of her stomach.
    â€œProving I do not see you as a child.”
    â€œBut . . .” She forgot how to speak as his hands skimmed up to cup her bare breasts. Nymphs never needed to wear bras. “Oh.”
    He pressed his lips directly to her ear. “Do you like that?”
    Like?
    Her breath left her in a rush as his fingers teased the tips of her nipples to stiff peaks. Her toes curled in her shoes and her fingernails dug through the expensive silk of his shirt.
    Dear god. It was nothing short of paradise.
    â€œI can’t think,” she breathed.
    â€œ Bon .” His lips nuzzled up her throat and along the line of her jaw. “Just feel, mon ange .”
    That was the problem. She was feeling too much.
    The exquisite brush of his fingers over her sensitive breasts. The tantalizing press of his erection against her lower stomach. The silken glide of his tongue over her lips.
    It was overwhelming.
    She shivered. “This is madness.”
    â€œThe most delicious madness,” he murmured, kissing a path toward the side of her face she always kept turned.
    Immediately she was jerked out of her sensual haze, a sharp-edged panic making her shove her hands against his chest.
    â€œDon’t.”
    Elijah stilled, seemingly caught off-guard by her reaction. Then slowly he lifted his head.
    â€œValla, look at me,” he commanded softly.
    â€œI can’t.”
    â€œDo you trust me?”
    It was a ridiculous question.
    They both knew that he was the one and only person in the entire world that she trusted.
    Still, she knew that her answer was important.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThen look at me,” he urged.
    It took a long minute to gather her courage. Then, with a frustrated sigh, she tilted back her head to discover him regarding her with a somber expression.
    â€œHappy?”
    His hands shifted to stroke her neck lightly. It was a gesture of reassurance from a vampire.
    â€œTell me what you see.”
    â€œFishing for compliments?” she tried to tease.
    â€œI want you to look into my eyes.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause I want you to see what I see.”
    She found herself peering into the dark, velvety depths of his eyes. Not because he commanded. She no longer took orders from anyone. Especially not from an arrogant, sexy, overly possessive vampire.
    But because she truly needed to know what he saw when he looked at her.
    A pathetic victim in need of his constant care?
    A scarred nymph he pitied?
    Or Valla. A woman who he desired?
    â€œWhat do you see?” she whispered.
    â€œA strong, beautiful survivor,” he said, his voice low and hypnotic. Not vampire-mind-control hypnotic. Just deeply compelling. “A woman who could so easily have broken, but instead fought to reclaim her life.” He paused, his gaze deliberately moving to study the silvery scars. “I admire you more than you will ever know.”
    Her hand instinctively lifted to touch her ruined face. “These . . .” He captured her hand, pulling her fingers to his lips. “Are a testament to your