Page 80 of Dark Seduction

She rode his thrusting length and she came again and again, weeping, but so did he. He had wanted to taste her life for so long and he had been right. Nothing could be as potent, as good. He wanted her riding his manhood this way forever—tonight was forever—and he drained her and came, time and again, while she whirled away, lost in her own pleasure and his. Aware that she kept wanting even more, as desperately as he did, he gave her orgasm after orgasm, allowing no respite.

More.

Aye.

Ecstasy crushed them both.

And Malcolm felt invincible. Total comprehension began. He had more power now than ever before and there was no more to take. This woman had given him everything—this beautiful foreign woman whom he loved. He came, roaring savagely a final time.

He thrust himself away from her.

Shaking from so much passion and power, Malcolm knelt over her prone body and instantly felt her slipping away. Sanity was returning, and horror began.

Claire had nothing left to give.

He’d taken it all.

They rushed into the chamber. Royce seized him, flinging him away from Claire. He was far stronger than Royce now but he let him push him aside. He straightened by the window, breathing hard, sick with fear. Aidan flung a cover over Claire as MacNeil bent over her.

What had he done? And to Claire? He could not lose her now! “Is she alive?” he demanded thickly.

“What the fuck have ye done?” Royce roared at him.

“Is she alive?” Malcolm cried.

MacNeil did not look at him. “Aye, she is, but barely.” He had his hands on her, sending her life.

And Malcolm felt her return to this world. Her eyes fluttered and she murmured his name. “Malcolm?”

He was overcome with relief. She was alive. Their gazes held and she smiled at him before her lashes fluttered closed.

He had almost killed her.

The beast had raged freely, his intent murderous and evil. The soulless beast…

Royce slammed his hand onto Malcolm’s shoulder, forcing their gazes to clash. “Which brother be Moray’s spawn?” he said cruelly.

Malcolm flinched, but Royce had every right to wonder now.

She had opened her eyes again. She looked weak, disoriented and confused, but she sent him another beautiful smile. Did she not know what he had done? How could he have done this?

She should be afraid of him!

He was afraid of himself.

“Dinna move,” MacNeil told her. “Ye have yer life but yer weak.”

His horror and self-loathing must have shown because Claire said softly, “Malcolm, it’s all right. I am not dead.”

He could not respond. Malcolm turned and strode from the room.

MALCOLM SHRUGGED a leine on as he went downstairs. The image of Claire as she lay half-naked on the floor, as still and as white as a corpse, was engraved on his mind. He wanted it there. He had come close to killing her. He had taken her life.

He felt violently ill deep inside of himself, in his heart, in his soul. He strode into the hall, aware of Royce on his heels. He was determined to ignore him. He went to the sideboard and drank from one of the decanters, but no amount of wine could change what had happened—or erase the taste of Claire’s life in his body and the unbelievable ecstasy of experiencing it.

Malcolm felt Royce’s stare burning into his back. He slowly turned, grinding down his jaw. There was no one he hated in that moment as he hated himself.

“I see ye lickin’ yer lips.”