She saw the thousands of physical wounds. He’d been alone, or he’d been with Fen, and sometimes, rarely, another hunter she didn’t know. Mostly, he’d been alone. He’d lived lifetimes, through history, and he’d always been honorable, no matter the circumstances. He’d saved lives and never asked for anything for himself—except her. His lifemate. He’d held on, hoping someday he would find her.

“When I was trying to find you, Dimitri, I felt empowered. I felt as if I was a partner to you, someone who could give you every single thing you needed and deserved. I knew you needed me and I knew that I could be exactly what you needed.” She sighed. “But then we came here to the Carpathian Mountains and I began to have doubts.”

The pads of her fingers went still, remaining over the burns on his neck. He found it amazing that in those raw indentations, he could feel the concentrated power of her healing ability, and yet she was expressing her reservations about whether or not she could be a partner to him.

A thousand arguments rose in his mind, but he stayed silent. She needed to be able to talk to him without misgivings that he might not really listen to her. As much as he wanted to reassure her, this was her moment, not his.

“I kept thinking, what have you really gotten in a lifemate? I’ve only lived nineteen years. I couldn’t hope to know the things you know. How could I possibly match you intellectually? I’m smart, I know I am. I’m only nineteen, but I already have several degrees. Still, what I know about any one subject is a drop in the bucket compared to your knowledge.”

Dimitri felt her fingers moving again, smoothing over the burns around his throat. She settled back on her heels and followed the chain links wrapped around his shoulders.

“I kept wondering, what exactly do I have to offer you?” Her gaze jumped to his and color flushed beneath her skin before her eyes went back to her work. “I’m afraid of physical contact—intimacy—you know that. It isn’t news to you, but I just keep thinking I’m not bringing you anything at all. Not only do I not know the first thing about pleasing a partner, I find the entire idea repugnant.” She paused. Took a breath. “Or I did.”

He was grateful for that small admission. He knew, better than she did, that she was beginning to respond to him. She loved him, and her body had begun to respond to his touch. He felt it with every touch, every look. As they spent time together, he knew, if he was patient and careful, allowing her to take the lead, she would come to want his body as much as he wanted hers. It was another expression of love, she just had to come to realize that herself.

“I don’t know the first thing about pleasing you, Dimitri, and that bothers me. I don’t know how I’ll react when you make love to me. What if I freak out?”

He wanted to assure her it wouldn’t matter. They would stop until she was ready, but again he remained silent, waiting for her to tell him everything.

“I don’t even have my virginity—that was lost long ago,” she added sadly.

That was too much for him. He had to respond, but when he opened his mouth, she shook her hand and laid a finger across his lips.

“This is difficult for me. One of the things I valued most in our relationship was that we could talk about anything. My past, yours, sex, all of it. But we weren’t face-to-face. We weren’t skin to skin. I want to be as comfortable just like this as I was all those times we talked telepathically,” she explained. “So I need to tell you this.”

She linked her arms around his neck and leaned close again, using the healing saliva from her tongue to bathe the worst of the burns around his chest. He closed his eyes and just let himself feel her skin moving over his and the intimacy of her mouth against him. Her br**sts tantalized him, swaying against him. His body was already hard, as it was nearly every moment around her, but he found the ability to feel anything at all was a miracle, let alone such intense desire.

His love for her was all encompassing; if that meant giving her time, he had all the time in the world, now that they were bound together. Whatever she needed, he would provide, and if that was time, it was a very small price to pay, in his mind, for her to be truly comfortable with him.

Skyler ran her hand down his chest, very lightly, just a brush really, but it set his blood on fire. Her palm brushed his thick cock. Again, it was the lightest of touches, but it sent a shock wave through him.

“I know you want me. How could I not? The crazy thing is, Dimitri, I need you to want me. I do. I need to know that you think I’m beautiful and desirable and even sexy. I dream of the time that I can touch you, and love you without reservation or hesitation.”

Once again she sank back on her heels and looked at him with tears swimming in her eyes. He lifted her chin with his thumb and finger, waited until she lifted her long lashes before he leaned in to sip away her tears. Very gently he took her hand and formed it around his heavy erection. No doubt his size was intimidating when he was fully aroused, but she’d seen him naked several times now.

Her palm was warm as she curled it around his girth, her fingers one by one bending to make a fist, trying to close. He kept his hand over hers, light, so she could pull away the moment she needed to. Her heart beat so hard in her chest, he could almost see it beneath her pale skin.

He tapped his chest. “Feel my heart. Hear it. Follow the rhythm of mine.”

The tip of her tongue moistened her lips, sending another rush of heat surging through his veins, straight to his groin. His c**k jerked in reaction, grew hotter, swelling even more in her hand. Her thumb slid over the sensitive head, smearing the pearl of liquid. He knew she wasn’t trying to tease him, she was trying to get to know his body, to feel comfortable with it, but her touch was killing him.

Her breathing turned ragged—small little gasps as if she couldn’t get enough air. Her body flushed with color. He very gently placed his free hand over her heart, feeling it race beneath his palm.

“For me, you will always be sexy and desirable. Knowledge of technique or practiced art is never going to be sexy to me. The desire to give me pleasure, to please me in the same way I want to please you is what makes you sexy to me, csitri. I can feel that desire in you with every touch of your hand. Even now, your fingers stroke over my shaft instead of pulling away.”

He stifled a groan of need. Her fingers brushed back and forth, but in that slow, leisurely way of hers, as if somehow she was imprinting the shape and feel of him into her very bones. She was naturally sensual. Given the right circumstances, she would grow in confidence and trust in herself and him, allowing that sensual part of her freedom.