Page 75 of Dark Shaman: The Lost Treasure
Tamira knew he'd traveled extensively, that he spoke at least eight languages fluently, that he could discuss obscurephilosophical texts as easily as modern science. But of his family, his homeland, his journey to becoming what he was? Nothing.
"What are you thinking about so hard?" He traced a finger along her jawline. "I can practically hear the gears in your head turning."
"I'm trying to solve a puzzle named Elias."
"Why? I'm much more interesting when I am being mysterious." He leaned in to kiss her, a clear attempt at distraction.
She allowed it, melting into the familiar heat of his mouth on hers. He knew exactly how to angle his head, how much pressure to use, when to tease with his tongue, and when to take. The intimacy between them was growing too fast, too much for the short time they'd been together, and yet it felt like coming home.
Like it was meant to be.
But it couldn't be. She was immortal, he was human, and anything they had could only be a fleeting moment in her never-ending life.
His hands began their morning exploration of her body, and she marveled again at how he seemed to have memorized every sensitive spot, every touch that made her gasp. No fumbling and no awkward moments. From that first night, he'd handled her body like he'd been studying her for years.
"Elias," she breathed as he moved down her throat, marking a path she knew by heart now.
"Shh," he murmured against her skin. "Let me."
She understood what he meant. Let him lead. Let him worship. Let him avoid conversation by using his mouth for otherpurposes. She should protest, should demand to take over, but the truth was that she loved this—loved being the sole focus of his attention, loved the way he seemed to derive as much pleasure from giving as receiving.
By the time he entered her with one smooth thrust, Tamira had abandoned any pretense of thought. This was what he did to her, what he'd been doing all week—reducing her from an old, cynical immortal to a woman drunk on passion.
They moved together in a perfectly synchronized dance.
In five thousand years, through countless lovers, she'd never found a partner who completed her so perfectly. His stamina equaled hers, never flagging when she needed more, never pushing when she needed gentleness. Last night they'd made love twice before dinner and once after, and he'd been as eager the third time as the first.
It wasn't normal for a human. She'd had enough human lovers to know that for a fact. Even the young, most virile human males needed time to recover. But not Elias.
He shifted angles, hitting that perfect spot inside her, and all coherent thought scattered like dust in the wind. Her climax built like a gathering storm, inevitable and all-consuming. When it crested, she cried out his name and felt him follow, his release triggering aftershocks through her body.
If only he had fangs and venom, the experience would be complete, but she wasn't greedy, and she thanked the Fates for giving her Elias even if she could enjoy him only for a few decades, and even though he could never give her the venom bite.
Afterward, they lay tangled in each other's arms, breathing hard, their skin cooling in the climate-controlled air. This was usually when he'd start to pull away, some obligation, real or manufactured, calling to him.
She waited for it, counting heartbeats.
"I wish I could stay here all day," he said right on cue.
"Then stay."
"You know I can't. I need to tend to my medicine garden."
"Heaven forbid your plants should suffer for want of their devoted gardener." She tried to keep her tone light despite the disappointment, but she couldn't keep out the sarcasm.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead before extracting himself from her embrace. "The plants are delicate in these early stages, and the monsoon rains are too much irrigation. I need to watch the new batch, especially the feverfew and goldenseal I just got from the mainland. If they take root, I'll be able to expand my healing repertoire significantly."
She watched him pad naked to the bathroom, cataloging the lean strength of his body.
When he emerged a few minutes later, she sat up against the pillows, sheet pooled at her waist. His eyes darkened as they traveled over her exposed breasts, but he began dressing as he did every morning.
"You could at least pretend to be reluctant to leave," she said.
He paused buttoning his shirt. "I am reluctant, but I have duties to perform. As long as the lord of this place doesn't provide the harem with a proper physician, I'm all these people have, and allI know are medicinal herbs. I don't even know the names of the pharmaceuticals in the clinic or what they do, but I can read the dates, and I know that most of them are expired. Does that make saying goodbye to me easier this morning?"
"No," she admitted. "But it soothes my ego."
He crossed to the bed and cupped her face in his hands, kissing her deeply. "Your ego needs no soothing. You know exactly what you do to me. If I had my way, I'd never leave this bed."
