Carrick's hand closed over hers and he pulled her close to him. Not gently. He breathed in her scent... so fresh and enticing, like ripe cut honeydew fruit; sweet, the colour of sunlight. Did he remember what it was really like, the taste of honeydew? He must have tasted in once, in his youth, in some campaign against Persia or its allies to the south of Greece... but whatever it had tasted like then, it couldn't be as sweet as her blood would be now.
He looked intensely into her eyes, drinking in the sweet eagerness with which she offered herself. His mouth closed over hers in a slow but hard kiss, forceful in the way he pressed his tongue between her lips.