Into the Shadow by Christina Dodd Read Free Book Online Page B

voice of her midnight lover, yes, but low, furious, intent. ‘‘Standing down there while the mountain got ready to kill? Don’t you know Anaya’s reputation? Didn’t Mingma tell you the mountain would destroy you for trying to conquer it? No person has ever climbed it, built on it, or studied it and returned whole and unchanged. Don’t you know the scent of evil when it fills your lungs?’’
    I smell it now. But she was too terrified—too smart—to say that. ‘‘You should have left me.’’
    ‘‘Yes, I should have. But I couldn’t watch you die.’’ He breathed hard, his chest rising and falling like that of a man in agony. ‘‘Not you. Never you.’’
    He might look like the devil, but he sounded as if he cared . And he kissed her with all the desperation of a caged animal, loosing his passion like an avalanche on her.
    Yes. This was her lover. She recognized his taste.
    But they’d never kissed like this. He dragged her into his embrace, held her fiercely. What had previously passed between them might have been a passionate game compared to his current need. He consumed her, swallowing her breath, her will. He burned her with his fever, and behind her closed eyes she saw eruptions of crimson and gold, flares of exploding heartbreak. Off balance, she clutched at him, the babbling stream behind her, his madness beckoning her on . . . and she kissed him back.
    Because they were alive. She’d never been so alive. This man, who had shown her delight above all else, had saved her from death, brought her here to this perfect place, and now he wanted her. Wanted her.
    Welcome to hell.

Chapter Six
    Karen forgot about her lover’s strange, dark, shiny eyes and remembered only his skill. Lifting herself onto her toes, she slid a leg around his hip.
    He grasped her bottom, whirled around, and, without moving a step, placed her in the grass. His hands went to her fly, lowering the zipper, pulling her pants and panties down to her knees. He growled in frustration when her boots brought him to an abrupt halt. He removed one easily, but on the second the laces were knotted, and in the depths of his black eyes she saw a flash of red. Red like fire. Red like the flames of hell.
    With a jolt, reality returned.
    She tried to sit up.
    ‘‘No!’’ In one efficient movement, he stripped her pants off her bare foot.
    The ground, lush with grass, was shockingly cool.
    He spread her legs—and stopped. And stared. Stared as if he’d never seen a woman before.
    Certainly she had never so boldly revealed herself. She tried to use her hands as protection, but he caught her. ‘‘No,’’ he said again. He transferred both her wrists to one hand and used the other to open her to the light and the air. His fingers trailed down the center of her, a swift, light caress that brought every female nerve to high alert.
    ‘‘I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,’’ he whispered. He swirled the tip of one finger inside her. ‘‘Pale and pink, swelling as I touch you . . .’’
    Involuntarily she tightened, holding him there.
    He closed his eyes, his face a study in the agony of desire.
    Then he came alive with urgency. He unzipped and stripped his jeans down to his knees.
    Briefly she saw his erection, sturdy, wide, demanding.
    He opened her, lay on her, thrust inside.
    ‘‘No!’’ She tried to sit up.
    Why, she didn’t know—she needed him as badly as he needed her—but this . . . this was too much, too sudden, not glorious lovemaking, but a frenzied affirmation of life.
    She wanted to stop.
    She needed to come.
    He scooped up her thighs, used the crooks of his arms to spread them wider, higher, and thrust again.
    ‘‘Damn you!’’ She was helpless against his strength, helpless to stop the blaze that entered her bloodstream and slid through her veins. She grabbed at his arms, digging her nails into his leather jacket, and used that leverage to lift herself over and over, small movements that collided with