Green rushes moved at the edges of the pond, whispering like spirits about their peculiar nighttime visitors.

Even as she caught her breath at his arm around her smooth back, the other crooked beneath her legs, she chided herself. She wasn’t a green, fresh girl. Hell, she’d practically raped him less than a day or two ago, taken him places he’d never been before.

But he wasn’t afraid of her. Not in the least. Though it was a vague, bestial memory, she remembered latching on to his arm. Even then, she’d seen the will to survive in his eyes, but no fear. Nor did he appear to have a fascination with danger. He was just . . . he was like this billabong. A couple weeks ago, it had likely been a dry bed. But the rain came, and now it was this, a quiet pool in the moonlight, wildflowers and grass springing up on the banks, creating a thing of beauty. No big fuss about it, though it was a miracle.

It simply was. Like him. And like him, it would disappear again in the normal cycle of things.

When he let her legs down, her feet touched the cool mud of the bank. She kept hold of his shirt. She easily could have reached up and kissed him then, wanted to, but more than that, she wanted to see what he wanted. So she stood there, staring up at his face in the moonlight. Then she changed her mind, couldn’t wait. “Dev,” she murmured. “Kiss me.” Cocking his head, he studied her features, then his hand came up again, this time to slide beneath her hair, cup her jaw, pass a thumb over her cheek, the corner of her mouth. “You make things in me hurt, love. Hurt so bad I think I’d rather take a gut shot.

But here I am, anyway.”

“A true masochist,” she whispered. “Vampires have a sadistic streak, you know. Maybe you’re attracted to the pain I can give you. And not only to your body.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He’d bent closer now, though, and her lips parted, her heart accelerating. God, kiss me. Danny could have closed the gap, but maybe she wanted the torture as well, because waiting for him to make that decision was a delicious longing that bordered on an ache in her vitals.

“But then again,” he murmured, a breath away, his eyes dominating her vision, “if I could freeze this moment, I’d stare at you naked in the moonlight, your mouth waiting for my kiss, your body swaying toward me. I’d be willing to stand in front of something like that forever, without ever going one step forward or back.”

“Well, time does go on,” she managed. “Dev, are you trying to make me beg?”

“You’ve put me on my knees often enough, love. Truth, I haven’t been off them since the first time I saw you.” The green in his eyes had become stormier, increasing the need within her even more as his voice dropped to an active stroke along her nerves.

“The man who enters Aphrodite’s temple has to take a bit of time to contemplate her, you know. Worship the very miracle of her existence, before he dares to touch her. She’s uppity that way.”

The scholar. “God, you’re a strange one,” she whispered. “Damn it, kiss me, Devlin.” With that appealing tug at his lips, he bent his head and pressed them upon hers. He curved his arms all the way around, one high on her back, the other low on her hips, bringing her full against him, hard, lean male, the muscular planes of his body, the cool metal of his belt buckle, the impression of the knife he wore on his hip. Smelling of sweat and blood. Emitting a relieved sigh into his mouth, she whimpered in soft approval as he buried his fingers in her hair to deepen the kiss. His tongue was wet heat, stroking along hers, making her press closer, feeling his stiffening reaction to her naked body against his clothed one. She wanted him now, wanted him inside her, filling her, a basic hunger, no matter how weakened his body was. One part of him was obviously able to handle it.

Vampire sensuality was always filled with delicious power games, teasing, a buildup of need until the culmination was explosive, on the edge of violence. She loved it, but perhaps because the past twelve hours had been brimming with violence and power, and she’d brushed so close to the end, bringing him to that edge with her, she didn’t care about any of that now. There was only this, an overwhelming need to have him.

“Dev, fuck me.” Her voice was hoarse, almost as guttural as when she’d been mad with bloodlust. This seemed no less intense.

He glanced around, and before she could ask him what he was about, he’d lifted her onto his front, hitching her legs around his hips. Despite the shaking she could feel in his limbs, he staggered the few short steps to a mature gum leaning over the billabong, the cascade of rain from its branches likely one of the reasons a pool formed here.

She clung to his shoulders, pressing her face against his neck. She was filthy, she knew. She didn’t care, because he didn’t seem to care. She didn’t have to be beautiful, polished or in control. He’d saved her life. Kept her alive, and not judged her for who or what she was. If she ever did contemplate having a fully marked servant, she wasn’t likely to find a better one.

Jesus, was it like this for all vampires when they found their third mark? As impossibly romantic and illogical as the way humans claimed to fall in love? Damn it, she would be rational. She could give him the second mark now, only the second mark, and that would be best for them both. With the second mark, she could restore some of his strength, because bloody oath, he was going to try to fulfill her wishes, and if he fucked her, she’d likely kill him with the effort.

Best of all, she’d be part of his consciousness, and she could allow him into hers when she chose. He was already bound to her, in ways neither of them had expected. So it was a simple, additional step. He didn’t even know he carried the first mark, anyway.

He brought her up against the sloping angle of the tree, and oh, holy hell, the bark was a blessing. Despite herself, she wriggled, and a relieved sigh escaped her lips. “This is why bears do it,” she observed.

“I assume you mean scratching their backs on trees.” His lined, tanned face was filled with that familiar touch of laughter, but determined desire as well. “Let me see if I can help. I’d thought I’d start by scrubbing your back, but . . .”

“Later.” She felt the heat of him touch her thigh when he opened his trousers. Then he found her opening, already eager and wet for him. “Oh, God, now.” She constricted her arms around him, brought him in, and cried out as he sheathed her fully, that turgid, enormous length. This time he didn’t hesitate, just pushed all the way into her womb, in a way that was burning pain and pleasure at once, because it told her he’d missed her. He was matching her need. No foreplay or fondling. This was simple, needful fucking, two bodies who’d brushed too close to death, now with one goal in mind.

He pushed against her, thrusting in and dragging out, raking her up and down a handspan of the tree’s length, intensifying the ecstasy and discomfort at once. When he drove her harder, she cried out, encouraging him, wanting him to pound her against the tree, wanting to feel the unyielding power of his body, knowing he didn’t fear hers. She bruised with the forceful grip of her fingers.

She remembered how he’d removed the rope from her neck, so gently, but lingered there on her collarbone with that intriguing look in his eye. She imagined him bound to her in a similar way. Her collar on his throat, the visible knowledge that he belonged to her, willingly. It had to be like that, for it to be the way it should be between a vampire and her servant.

He was flagging, as she knew he would. Despite a great heart and tremendous strength, Devlin was human. Too much blood loss and lack of sleep were taking their toll. He should have passed out by now. His hand gripped her waist hard, leaning them both into the tree for support, but she saw from the set of his jaw he’d keep going until he dropped.

The second mark would allow her access to that delicious mind, all the twists and turns of it. Take away some of his emptiness. If she asked, he wouldn’t agree to it, not consciously, but she knew in her heart he needed it. Wanted it.

She reared up, curving her arms around his shoulders, bringing her in close to his throat as he pushed closer to the tree in response, sandwiching her between it and him, to work her in smaller, more intense thrusts that had her body vibrating, jerking with the movement, her clit rippling with every contact. He liked doing a woman rough, she’d felt it in him from the first. It was so powerful, his need, that she could imagine any woman being a little intimidated by it. Had his Tina been able to take his dark hungers, take him fully into her body without discomfort? Or had he coddled her, leashing all of it back because he loved her so? Had those dark needs even existed before he lost her, before he learned the price of his soul?

She gasped against the side of his throat, the pulsing life there as he changed his angle. When she sank her fangs into his throat, the wild rush of the blood, pumping hard during physical exertion, sprayed into her mouth so that she had to use her tongue to control the flow. Holding that pressure, savoring the taste of him on her tongue, she released the silver flow of the second marking into his bloodstream.

He caught one hand in her hair again, holding her head there, telling her he liked it, liked her feeding from him. He needed her to need him. Needed a woman to care for.

She closed her eyes, letting the swirl of thoughts flood her mind as his taste had flooded her mouth, the way his seed would soon be flooding her body. Savored all of that, past, present and future. He thought no mortal woman safe with him anymore, with the violence of the needs he had. The rage in his soul was so great it made her tremble. It was so carefully layered—not like the strata of the earth carved by wind and water, but like bricks. A brick wall, constructed by human hands. He stayed in the desert because he was afraid people might break that wall and he wouldn’t be able to control the rage.

With the mark came the renewal of strength, surging through him so rapidly she felt it like glory. He slammed her against the tree hard enough to catch her breath in her throat. She began to work her hips on him, taking control, drawing him up with her, refusing to leave him behind, joining him to her climax the way she’d just taken another step to join him to her mind.