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“I will not fall in love with you,” she said. “I can’t let myself. I won’t.”

“That’s all right. I’ll love you enough for the both of us.” He surged inside of her, filling her depths.

“You don’t know me.” She nipped at his shoulder and then sucked on his collarbone. The taste of his skin made her tongue sing, that special scent condensing in her mouth.

“Yeah, I do.” He pulled back, his eyes regarding her with an animal’s conviction and clarity. “I know you kept me safe when the sun was out and I was defenseless against it. I know you cared for me even though you were afraid. I know you fed me from your kitchen. I know you are a warrior, a survivor, a wahlker. And I know your voice is the loveliest sound my ears have ever heard.” He kissed her softly. “I know all about you, and everything I see is beautiful. Everything I see is mine.”

“I’m not yours,” she whispered.

The rejection didn’t faze him. “Fine. If I can’t have you, then you do the taking. Have all of me, part of me, a small piece, whatever you want. Just please, have something.”

She reached up to his face, stroking the perfect planes and angles of his cheeks and jawline.

“Don’t you fear pain?” she asked.

“No. But I’ll tell you what scares the hell out of me. Losing you.” He looked at her lips. “Now do you want me to pull out? Because I will.”

“No. Stay.” Mary kept her eyes open and brought his mouth to hers, slipping her tongue inside of him.

He trembled and started to move in a steady rhythm, penetrating and retreating, each time the thick head of him teetering on breaking their connection.

“You feel…so perfect,” he said, punctuating the words with his strokes. “I was made to…be inside of you.”

The luscious scent coming from his body intensified as his pumping did, until all she could feel was him, all she could smell was him, all she could taste was him.

She called out his name as she climaxed, and she felt him go over the edge with her, his body shuddering into hers, his release as powerful as his thrusts had been, his orgasm pouring into her.

When he was still, he rolled them over so they were on their sides. He gathered her close, so close she could hear the great beating heart in his chest.

She shut her eyes and slept with an exhaustion to rival death.

Chapter Twenty-nine

That evening, as the sun fell and the shutters rose up from the windows, Mary decided she could get used to being pampered by Rhage. What she couldn’t handle was any more food. She put her fingers on his wrist, stopping the forkload of mashed potatoes coming at her.

“No, I’m stuffed,” she said as she lay back against the pillows. “My stomach’s about to burst.”

With a smile, he picked up the tray of dishes and put it on the bedside table, then sat down next to her again. He’d been gone for most of the day, working, she assumed, and she’d been grateful for the sleep she’d gotten. Her exhaustion was getting worse by the day, and she could feel herself sliding into sickness. Her body felt as if it were struggling to maintain its regular processes, little aches and pains cropping up all over. And the bruises were back: Black and blue marks were blooming under her skin at an alarming rate. Rhage had been horrified when he’d seen them, convinced he’d hurt her during sex. It had taken a lot of talking to get him to realize they weren’t his fault.

Mary focused on Rhage, not wanting to think about the illness, or the doctor’s appointment that was coming soon. God, he didn’t look any better than she felt, although he was keyed up, not grinding to a halt. The poor man couldn’t settle down. As he sat beside her on the bed, he was rubbing his thighs with his palms, looking like he had a case of poison ivy or the chicken pox. She was about to ask him what was wrong when he spoke up.

“Mary, will you let me do something for you?”

Even though sex should be the last thing on her mind, she eyed the biceps that stretched his black shirt. “Do I get to pick what it is?”

A soft growl came out of him. “You shouldn’t look at me like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want