Because this time she'd know he wasn't Cas.

"It counts as five boons," she said. Then she'd have only two left after this, and her greedy gaze could be appeased to an extent. His back was plenty to start out with.

"Three," he countered.

"Four."

"Agreed," he said.

Okay, only three left. With straightened shoulders, she turned toward the tub. I can do this. As she approached, she realized the water was sudsy and steaming, concealing his body from just below those developed pecs down.

Which was a good thing. It was.

She knelt behind him, beginning to remove one glove.

He turned sharply, twisting to watch her, as if he didn't want to miss even this small unveiling.

Flustered again. When she began to roll it down her arm, she did feel like she was stripping-for him. By the second glove, his eyes were flickering.

Once her arms were bared, he handed her a cloth and soap, and their fingers touched. Another current seemed to leap between them. He glanced up quickly, as if to gauge if she'd felt it too.

Whatever he saw appeared to satisfy him. At length he gave her his back.

In the steam, a few locks of his hair grew tousled about his neck. Black, black hair that gleamed like jet. His leather tie caught her attention. "You don't want to remove your crystal?"

"Never," was all he said.

She wondered where he'd gotten it. Had a former lover given it to him? "Fine." She assumed a businesslike demeanor, unwilling for him to know how much this prospect alternately excited and dismayed her. Soaping up the cloth, she rubbed it across smooth, taut skin from one of his shoulders to the other.

Repeat. He wasn't the only one who could be methodical. One shoulder to the other. Repeat.

Had that movement been a bit more leisurely? Perhaps; his muscles flexed in response.

He'd killed with those muscles. He'd killed for her.

Inward shake. Another sweep of the cloth. "Do you always have unwilling females bathe you?"

"You're a first in many regards." Without warning, he snagged the cloth from her. "Continue without it."

"Why?" Was that her voice sounding so breathless?

"You enjoyed touching me last night." He stretched his long arms along the sides of the tub. "It's my hope that you will again."

"This was your plan? You think to seduce me like this?"

"Yes."

How could one word hold so much confidence? She swallowed, but did continue running her palms over his shoulders and neck.

Yes, she'd always had an artist's eye. She looked at things in terms of relief and shadow, color and contrast. Because of the nature of her work, she paid attention to form and function.

And now she could see the shapes she'd only felt. She could take her time registering the utter might of his body.

The raised muscles around his shoulders. The indentation above each of his bulging biceps. The strong fingers now clutching the side of the tub.

She couldn't decide which of her senses Daciano appealed to most. Tactile, visual? Not to mention his vampire scent. She wasn't even surprised to find her slick palms slipping lower down his back, exploring him.

Outside, the rain began to pour, the wind to howl. Inside was all sultry warmth and glowing firelight. Her eyelids drooped to half-mast, then slid shut as she lost herself in sensation-the texture of his skin beneath her sensitive fingertips, the unyielding form of his sculpted back, the heat rising from the water, from his very body.

For her work, she honed and tweaked, iteration after iteration, until she found her creation faultless.

I wouldn't change an inch of his body. Not one single inch.

As she wondered if she could grow addicted to this . . . this exploration, she kneaded his neck. He exhaled a relaxed breath, sinking back into her hands.

She went up on her knees to reach farther forward-and possibly to steal a peek. But the water still concealed him. All she could make out was a shadowy shape at his groin, that enticingly large shape she'd stroked. Had it pulsed in the water?

How titillating. She would give karats to see it.

Too late, she realized she'd dipped her palms over his shoulders, down past his collarbone. She was officially tending to his "front."

Relaxed no more, he grew tense as a spring trap, even as his knees fell wide.

Instead of alarm, excitement coursed through her. Her hands slipped lower.

His knuckles went white as he gripped the side of the tub. The metal began to bend under the pressure. . . .

Don't drag her into the water . . . don't force her hands down.

Last night Trehan had restrained himself-barely-and had been rewarded with her desire this eve. Tonight he must do the same.

Bettina wasn't immune to him, and he was one step closer to seducing her. Which meant he needed to deny instinct once more, and use his mind to win her. Remember the plan!

Again, easier said . . .

Even now her dainty hands glided over his collarbone, her graceful arms lightly draping over his shoulders.

Even now her breaths fanned over his damp ear. Each exhalation made his cock jerk hungrily beneath the water.

Chapter 21

His Bride was teaching him much about himself this eve, awakening him even more. He'd never known how sensitive his ears were. Or his shoulders. Or the back of his neck. . . .

When she'd begun kneading his muscles, he realized his plan had worked all too well. She was lost to sensation.

A sensual little sorceress. His Bride was o comoara. A treasure.

Comoara mea. My treasure.

Was she leaning forward to get a look at his shaft? She'd felt it; now she must want to see it. Though he wasn't often the subject of scrutiny, he was about to be.

Zeii, I want to show it to her. The idea aroused him unbearably; his hips began to rock. Would his be the first one she'd seen hard? Definitely the last one.

Should he take himself in hand and present it . . . ? The notion faded when she rubbed her palms lower than before.

This had been his plan. His seduction. Now he could barely think. Was my chest always this sensitive-

She grazed his nipples; he hissed, bowing his back for more, clenching his fists on the sides of the tub.

When his fingers dug furrows into the groaning iron, she went still.

He'd frightened her, ruining this-

She grazed them again.

"Bettina!" he roared, bucking his hips uncontrollably. For a brief second, cool air met his upthrust cock.

She gasped at his ear, making him shudder. She'd seen a glimpse. How would she react? What would she do next?

She leaned in closer, until the side of her face was touching his. Her lovely unmasked face. Skin to skin. Panting, she eased forward even more. When the corners of their lips were flush, his parted in surprise.

Though it was torture, he went motionless. What will she do next?

He held his breath. His cock pained him as never before. His body began to quake-

Then came one sly dart of her little tongue . . . the lightest dab at the edge of his mouth, just inside his parted lips.

Thought fled.

With a roar, he traced to his feet to seize his prize.

The vampire's hands shot out for her.

"Wait!" Bettina cried as she tumbled from her knees to one hip.

He froze. Gradually, he straightened. Between ragged breaths, he said, "I'd never hurt you, Bett. Never."

She frowned up at him. That thought hadn't crossed her mind. If she'd feared him, then she wouldn't have been trying to tease him to distraction-so he'd thrust his hips and show her his erection again.

Her one fleeting glimpse as it'd breached the surface of the water left her beset with curiosity. With desire.

In lieu of thrusting, his standing completely naked in front of her worked too.

Oh, my gold, how this works.

He must've realized she had no fear of him because he put his shoulders back, must've realized that she'd craved this view because he lifted his chin.

"You want to see your male?" he grated, masculine pride suffusing his tone.

"My male?" A male. This male . . .

I'm staring up at a naked, fully aroused vampire. Blooded and in his prime.

She felt giddy, as drunk as she'd been during their first encounter. The sight of him like this not only aroused her, it delighted her.

The fire was to his right, illuminating his glistening skin, shadows and light at play. Under her gaze, every sinew of muscle contracted, rippling. Water streams licked over every mighty rise, over every rigid fall.

Drops sluiced down his chest to his navel, meeting at that dusky trail of hair leading down, down.

When her gaze followed, he said in a gravelly voice, "This is what you do to me, Bett." His accent was thicker than she'd ever heard it.

She was transfixed by his erection-again, giddy. Her peek had been just the tip of the iceberg. So to speak. At the thought, a laugh escaped her.

Which made him scowl and cross his arms.

Had she actually tried to convince herself that she would view him as a subject of study?

Uh-huh. For my art.

She couldn't even think that with a straight face.

"Strange little sorceress," he suddenly murmured in a wondering tone. "You're . . . happy."

She gave an absent nod and began lovingly taking in every detail of his manhood.

Crisp black hair circled the base. Just below it, his heavy sac tightened before her eyes. The shaft was veined, the skin so taut. The engorged head strained toward her, as if toward her parted lips.

What would it be like to feel that firm crown at her mouth, like a plum warmed in the sun? She grazed her fingertips over her lips as she imagined it. Would the vampire shudder and groan if she pressed her tongue against him there?

"Ah, Bettina, your eyes go light," he rasped. "Have you looked your fill?" Were his legs quaking?

My fill? No. Not at all.

Planes, textures, colors? Proportion! His body taken all together was a tableau of perfection-a masterpiece she needed to appreciate more fully.

One that was making her wetter than she'd ever been in her entire life.

He inhaled deeply, and his body shot even tighter with tension. Could he tell how he affected her? Of course, he would scent her.

What would he do next? She wished she had more experience with these things.

"The way you look at me, woman . . . I could come under your glittering gaze. I wager my merry sorceress would like to see that."

She'd only felt it in her hand before. Form and function. She thrilled to watch her creations work, to perform as intended. She wanted to see this part of him . . . release. "Now that you mention-"

He scooped her up. In an instant, she was weightless, traced to his bed.

"Oh! What are you going to do?"

His words like a growl, he answered, "Pleasure you." He covered her with his big wet body, wrapping his brawny arms around her as his lips descended to hers.

And it felt wondrous.

This time she didn't break away, didn't deny him. When he touched his tongue to the seam of her lips, she parted them, letting him taste her.

She knew there was a reason she shouldn't be in bed, kissing a naked vampire, but her thoughts were still scrambled from the sight of him.

Against her lips, he said, "Zeii, I've craved your kiss, all this long day. Craved more of what I found in your bed."

"Was last night really the first time you . . . ?"

"Came?" he groaned the word. "First time in centuries."

"Did it . . . did it feel good?" Was I too clumsy? Too inexperienced?

"Ah, gods, female, it felt very good." He licked at her lips. "Your soft little palm wrung me dry. I can't even look at your hands without getting hard." With that, he took her mouth totally, those firm lips claiming hers. Sensuous flicks of his tongue coaxed hers to meet him.

She did eagerly, but he kept their kiss slow, fierce-devastating. How could he be so good at this after so long without?

Each stroke of his wicked tongue drew her ardor to the fore, making her wild for him. She wriggled her body closer to his, to his warmth and palpable strength.

Were his hands busy at her waist? Ah, her sarong. Oh, gone!

His kisses stifled any halfhearted protests she could have managed. Had he just wedged his hips between her thighs?

Yes! That glorious shaft pressed over her panties, its length like a brand from her mons past her navel.

More kisses, more movement. Her arms were over her head. Wrists briefly in his fist? A whisper of sensation on her breasts?

He'd removed her top? Yes, cool air tickled her nipples-until the hot, slick skin of his chest shoved against her naked breasts. She moaned into the kiss.

When he hooked a finger around the side of her thong, she comprehended that it was the only barrier left between them. She jerked her head back. In a strangled voice, she said, "Vampire, my panties!"

"Off! Yes, dragă . . ."

"No, they stay!"

With a rumbling sound of disappointment, he flexed his hips. His erection rode over the silk, over her mons, leaving utter pleasure in its wake.

"Doesn't matter. I'm still going to make you come, female." He gave another thrust that rubbed right over her clitoris. As she cried out, he said, "And when you do, I want you to moan my name."

His deep-toned voice and commanding words were like a stroke over every part of her. The hot pressure of his shaft was heavy on her clitoris. She rocked against it for more heat, more friction.

More anything. Desperate, she undulated her hips-just as he drew his back. His penis slipped down to prod right at her entrance, stayed only by the silk.

His head snapped up, his gaze meeting her widened eyes.

"Wait!" She squirmed to the side, until the head of his penis wasn't tucked into her cleft. "T-too fast! You know I can't have sex!"

Forehead against hers, he rasped, "I want inside you, Bett. More than I've ever wanted anything in my entire existence." Gripping her waist, he dragged her right back under him. "But I know we must wait."

"I'm trusting you, and I don't give my trust easily."

"At the end of this tournament, I'll rip away your silk and bury my length so deep in you. For now, no sex. Just pleasure. It's my woman's turn. . . ."

He cupped her ass with splayed fingers, angling his hips, positioning the base of his erection directly against her clitoris. Then he tightened his arms around her, squeezing her until every inch of them seemed to be touching.