Page 118 of Ancient Magic

“It will come to you.” His gaze skimmed over her delicate features, lingering on the dark eyes that smoldered with an ancient power that had prevented the world from being consumed with flames. But that wasn’t the only thing he could see. There was also a sweet, utterly vulnerable woman who had been forced to sacrifice her entire life for her gifts. It was time that she be allowed to discover what made her happy, not what others wanted from her. “Right now we have more important matters to discuss.”

She stilled as his voice lowered, the air thickening with an awareness he no longer bothered to hide. Just for a second he feared that she might not be in the mood for what he desired. She had, after all, been on a road trip from hell that had ended with a life-or-death battle with a dragon. No one could blame her for needing some alone time to decompress.

Fiercely attempting to reconcile himself to the fact their night together would have to be postponed, Micha was prepared for her to rise to her feet and leave the room. Instead, she leaned forward, her expression softening with an invitation that made his unbeating heart leap in joy.

“What could be more important?” she asked.

Micha smiled as he reached for the Café Du Monde box. “Dessert.”

“Oh,” she groaned in pleasure. “That smells amazing, but I’m stuffed.”

“Who can resist beignets?” he teased, flipping open the lid. “Golden, deep-fried dough smothered in powdered sugar.”

She waved them away. “Later, I promise.”

“Later is good,” Micha assured her, setting aside the box as he held her dark gaze. “Much later.”

“What about you?”

“I’m not hungry.” His smile widened. “At least not for beignets.”

A flush touched her cheeks. “You need to feed.”

“When you’re ready,” he said, sharing his hope that she would eventually agree to become his donor. The thought of tasting blood from anyone but this female was repugnant. “There’s no need to rush. We have an eternity together.”

Holding his gaze, she reached across the table to grasp his hand. “I’m ready.”

Micha trembled. He’d put a lot of effort into bracing for her uncertainty. Feeding a vampire was not only incredibly intimate, but most creatures feared it would be painful. The fact that she sounded eager to offer her vein was making him tingle in all the right places.

“You’re sure?” The question left his lips before he could halt it.

Still gripping his hand, Skye rose to her feet. “More than sure.”

Her voice was steady, the scent of laurel leaves scenting the air. Micha readily straightened, tugging her around the table so he could scoop her off her feet.

If she was ready, he was more than ready.

In fact, he was starving.

“Let’s make ourselves more comfortable,” he murmured, using his powers to switch on soft music and dim the candlelight.

“Very romantic,” Skye assured him as he perched on the edge of the bed, with her snuggled on his lap.

“Not really.” He gazed down at her, engraving each delicate feature in his mind. Before he’d traveled to New York he would have sworn that he was perfectly content with his life. He had no interest in being distracted by lovers who would demand his time and attention. It had taken one glance at Skye Claremont to realize his life would never be complete without her at his side. “I’ve been a recluse for too long to have any skills in the romance department,” he admitted, regretting the lack of luxury. He fully intended to refurbish the entire lair once Skye was settled in.

She reached up to brush her fingers over his cheek. “Then you must be a natural.”

He bent his head to brush his lips over her mouth. “Or perhaps destiny formed each of us to perfectly fit together.”

“Agreed.” Her hand moved to cup his cheek, a sudden shiver racing through her body.

Micha froze, reminded of the first time she’d touched him. They hadn’t fully discussed what had happened in the cavern before it started to collapse. Or what it meant for the future. It’d been enough that they had survived. Now he realized he had to know.

Tilting back her head, Skye eyed him with concern. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m trying to find the nerve to ask,” he admitted.

“Ask what?”

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