Dark Demon

Dark Series Book 16

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Acknowledgments

Special thanks to Dr. Christopher Tong who is a continual source of information. It was his brainchild to use the Carpathian language as the proto-language of the Hungarian and Finnish languages. Dr. Chris Tong (www.christong.com) is fluent in several languages, did undergraduate studies in linguistics at Columbia University and graduate studies in computational linguistics at Stanford University. He has also studied the world's great spiritual, mythic and healing traditions for the past thirty years (and personally participated in several of them). He is also the founder of The Practical Spirituality Press, and the author of several books on «practical spirituality.» Thank you, Mary for speaking Hungarian and giving us a place to start!

Chapter 1

Natalya Shonski drew the pair of black leather trousers up over her legs and settled them on her hips where they molded to her body. Leather helped prevent injury during battles and she was certain she would be running into trouble tonight. As she pulled on the soft leather camisole, she glanced around the meticulously clean room she'd rented. The inn was small, but colorful with tapestries on the walls and bright patterned covers decorating the bed. Her weapons were laid out with great care over the beautifully woven quilt.

She began to slip various weapons into the specially made compartments and loops in her leather pants. Throwing stars with razor-sharp edges. Several knives. A belt that provided her with room for more weapons and extra clips for the twin guns she fit snugly into the harness under each arm. She put on one of her new peasant blouses and donned the brightly colored fur vest the local women wore for warmth, effectively hiding her arsenal.

The long skirt not only hid the leather pants, but also helped her to blend into the local population. She'd chosen a colorful one, rather than the severe black kind the older women often wore, and tied a scarf over her tawny hair to further disguise herself.

Satisfied she looked as much like a local as possible, she shoved two Amis sticks into the well-worn loops on her backpack and opened the doors to the balcony. She had deliberately chosen a room on the second floor. Her many enemies would find it difficult to approach unnoticed while she could escape easily to the ground below or go up and over the roof.

Natalya rested her hands on the balcony rail and leaned out to survey the countryside. The small village was nestled at the bottom of one of the tall jagged peaks that formed the formidable Carpathian Mountains. Numerous small farms were scattered across the green, rolling hills. Stacks of hay dotted the meadows and led the way up the mountain to the timberline. Above the heavy forest were rocky peaks, still glistening with snow. She felt as if she'd stepped back in time with the simple homes and the rustic way of life, yet she felt as if she'd come home. And that was truly odd. She had no home.

Natalya sighed and closed her eyes briefly. More than anything in the world, she envied these people their families. Their laughter and children and the love shining in their eyes and on their faces. She longed to belong somewhere. Be needed by someone. To be treasured by one single person. Just to be able to truly be who she was, share a real conversation…

Her fingers found deep grooves in the railing and she found herself rubbing the polished wood, the pads of her fingers stroking along the grooves almost in a caress. Startled, she examined the scores in the hardwood. It looked as if a large bird had dug talons deep into the railing, although the marks were old and the innkeepers kept the intricately carved balcony polished and free of splinters.

She inhaled the night air and stared up toward the top of the mountain. Somewhere up there was her goal. She had no idea what drove her to come to this particular spot, but she trusted her instincts. She needed to climb to the top and find whatever it was that wouldn't let go of her. Thick mist hid the mountaintop, enveloping the peak in an impenetrable

cloud. Whether the cloud was natural condensation or a preternatural warning made no difference. She had no choice but to climb the mountain, the compulsion driving her was far too strong to ignore.

Natalya took a last look toward the swirling white mists and headed back into her room. There was no point in putting it off. She'd spent the last week mingling with the people in the village, establishing friendships with a few of the women and getting a feel for the area. She found she needed human companionship although her life was very solitary. She enjoyed the time spent with the local women and had gleaned quite a bit of information from them, but she was always saddened that her friendships could never go beyond the surface. It made for a lonely life and she yearned to belong somewhere, to let someone like the innkeeper, Slavica Ostojic, know who and what she was just so Natalya could have the luxury of being honest with someone she truly liked.

The hallway and stairs were narrow, leading to the sitting room below. The room opened into the dining hall on one end and a bar on the other. Many of the locals drank beer in the evening and visited together after a hard day's work. She waved to two or three people she recognized, her gaze automatically scanning the rooms, noting exits, windows and above all, new faces. Several men sitting at the bar glanced at her. She catalogued the lined faces, the friendly smiles and assessing glances, filed them away just in case she met up with them again.

One pair of eyes flicked over her face, giving her pause. The perusal was quick, but it was thorough. He was reading her in the same way she was reading him. He certainly noticed the backpack with the double Amis sticks and her ornate walking stick. Natalya turned away with a quick smile for the owner of the inn, grateful she could make her exit gracefully. If there was a sentry watching, she didn't want him to know her plans.

«Slavica.» She took the innkeeper's hands in hers. «Thank you so much for the wonderful meal.» She spoke in English because Slavica worked hard to perfect her language skills and always practiced. Deliberately she led the woman away from the bar to a more secluded spot in the sitting room where prying ears would not be able to overhear their conversation. «I'm heading up into the mountains and I'm often gone for days at a time while exploring. Don't worry about me. I'll return eventually. Give me a week at least before you panic.»

Slavica shook her head. «It is after sunset, Natalya. Here in the mountains and forests there can be…» She hesitated searching for the right word-«unrest. It's better if you explore during the day when the sun is bright and there are people around you.» She looked up and met her husband's eyes across the room and smiled.

Natalya instantly felt a pang of envy. She loved to watch the innkeeper with her husband, Mirko, and their daughter, Angelina, together. Their love for one another was always so obvious in the small little glances they exchanged and their many touches as they brushed by one another when they worked.

«I've gone out every evening and you've never objected,» Natalya reminded her. «And

nearly all of those times were after sunset.»

Slavica gave her a faint smile. «I feel the difference tonight. I know you will think I'm superstitious, but something is not right this evening and it is better you stay here with us.» She patted Natalya's arm. «There is much to do here. Mirko will play chess with you. He is quite good. Or I will teach you more about the local herbs and how to use them to heal.» Slavica was a trained nurse and renowned for her healing skills throughout the district and for her knowledge of the local healing herbs and how to use them. The subject fascinated Natalya and she enjoyed spending time in Slavica's company while the woman imparted her knowledge.

Natalya shook her head, regret lingering in her heart. Slavica was the kind of woman that made her ache to be part of a family and community. «Thank you, Slavica, but I have protection.» She pulled the cross hanging on the thin silver chain from where it was hidden beneath her shirt. «I appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine.»

Slavica started to protest, but stopped herself, pressing her lips together firmly. She simply shook her head.

«I know what I'm doing,» Natalya assured her. «I'm going to slip out through the kitchen if you don't mind. I've got food and drink enough for several days and I'll be back in the middle of next week if not sooner.»

Slavica walked with her through the dining room. Natalya risked another glance at the man sitting at the bar talking to Mirko. He seemed absorbed in the conversation, but she didn't trust him. He had shown interest in her and it wasn't the interest of a man looking for a woman. She had no idea what it was, but she wasn't going to take any chances. She gave a small nod toward the man. «Who is he? I haven't seen him in here before.»

«He travels through this way many times on business.» Slavica's expression gave nothing away. «He's very quiet and I don't know what his business is.»

«Is he married?»

The innkeeper looked alarmed. «This man is not for you, Natalya. He is welcome here as all travelers are, but he is not for you.»

Natalya didn't dare risk another glance in the man's direction. He was far too observant and she didn't want to draw his attention. She walked through the dining room into the small kitchen. There was the inevitable sheep's cheese and baskets of potatoes. «Don't worry, I'm not looking for a man.»

«I have seen the yearning on your face and in your eyes when you look at children. When you see married couples,» Slavica said gently. «You wish for a family of your own.»

Natalya shrugged carelessly, avoiding the other woman's gaze, not wanting to see the compassion she knew would be there. Was she becoming that obvious? When had it

become so difficult for her to hide her feelings beneath her carefully cultivated «flip» personality? «I like traveling. I wouldn't want to be tied down.» It was a blatant lie and for the first time in her life, she knew she had given herself away.

«It is natural to want a family and a man for yourself. I waited to find the right one,» Slavica counseled. «Even when my parents and neighbors thought I was too old and would never find him, I thought it better to wait than to make a mistake and tie myself to someone I didn't want to spend my life with. I waited for Mirko and it was the right thing to do. We have a beautiful daughter and this place and that is enough. We're happy together. You understand, Natalya? Don't give yourself away to just any man because you think time is running out.»

Natalya nodded solemnly. «I understand and agree completely. I'm not feeling desperate to find a man, far from it. I'll see you soon.» She pushed open the kitchen door, gave a cheery wave toward the frowning innkeeper and hurried out into the night.

After the warmth of the inn, the air outside was cold, but she was prepared for that. She walked briskly along the narrow road leading toward the mountain trail. An empty horse cart passed her and she called out asking for a ride. The farmer hesitated and then stopped for her. Natalya caught up the hem of her skirt and ran to catch up before he could change his mind. Most of the locals used the horse carts rather than cars. They were simple vehicles, a wagon on tires pulled by one or two horses. They were used for everything from transportation to hauling great sheafs of hay.

«Thank you, sir,» she said as she tossed in her walking stick and climbed aboard. She settled herself toward the back of the cart, not wanting to make the farmer more uncomfortable than he already seemed to be hauling a strange woman around.

To her surprise he spoke. Most of the older married men were quite reserved around younger, single women. «What are you doing out this late? The sun has gone down.» He glanced nervously around him.

«Yes it has,» she agreed, avoiding the question. «You're out late as well.»

«It isn't good,» he said. «Not this night.» He kept his voice very low. The concern in his tone was unmistakable. «Better you should allow my wife and I to put you up for the night. Or I could take you to the inn.» He was looking up at the moon, at the clouds swirling over it, partially blocking the light and it was clear he didn't want to turn back. He shook the reins to speed the horse up.

Natalya glanced up at the sky and the boiling clouds that had not been there minutes before. The heavy mist obscuring the top of the mountains spread like bony fingers, reaching up toward the moon and lower for the forest. Lightning edged the mist in golden arcs. Thunder rumbled in the distance, centered mainly over the mountain.

She slid her hand inside her fur vest and touched the handle of her gun. «The weather

changed fast this evening.» And it wasn't natural.

«It happens that way in the mountains,» the farmer said, clucking at the horse with urgency. «It's best to take cover until things settle down.»

Natalya didn't reply. She had to get to the top of the mountain. Had spies let her enemies know she was close? Were they waiting for her? She turned her attention to the countryside passing by so quickly. Was there movement in the shadows? If so, she had to lead trouble away from the farmer. They had traveled far past the perimeters of the village and well out into the rolling hills where farms dotted the landscape.

She stayed alert, watching for signs of an impending attack, her senses flaring out into the night, reaching for information. She inhaled, taking the night air deep into her lungs, working to unravel the stories the wind brought her. The wind carried the stench of evil. The whisper of movement in the forest. The scent of wolves, restless beneath the moon. Her chin lifted. So be it. She didn't go looking for fights. She was, in fact, usually the first to walk away, but she was tired of being pursued, of looking over her shoulder every minute of every day. If they wanted to fight, she had come prepared, because this time she wasn't going to turn away.

The fanner pulled the cart onto a narrow lane. The horse slowed to make the sharp turn and Natalya jumped off, waving at the farmer as she hurried away. He called out to her, but she kept going, walking briskly up the hillside toward the timberline.

The moment she was certain she was out of the farmer's sight, she stripped off the brightly colored skirt and blouse, folding them along with the scarf and tucking them into her backpack. The double Amis sticks went into loops at the back of her belt for easy retrieval. Her entire demeanor changed as she gripped the familiar walking stick. She strode with tremendous confidence, weaving in and out of the hay sheaves until she was clear of the farms. A walking path led up the mountain, a trail for goats, not humans, but she took it because it was the most direct approach.

She crossed through a field of alpine flowers, the blossoms everywhere as she pushed through the high grasses toward the slope of timber. The moon was almost completely hidden by the darkening clouds, and the closer she got to the forest, the louder the thunder boomed. Flowers and grass gave way to bushes and scrub. Large boulders dotted the slope. A few heartier flowers had managed to find their way into the crevices. The trees were small and very scraggly, but as she wound her way through two more switchbacks, the vegetation changed completely, growing fuller and taller.

Natalya had studied the Carpathian Mountains. She knew the range was one of Europe's largest homes for carnivores, rich with brown bear, wolves and lynx. The mountains stretched across seven countries in Central Europe and the heavily wooded forests were one of the last refuges left to Europe's rare and nearly extinct birds and larger predators. Although home to millions of people, the Carpathian Mountains boasted huge tracts of land that remained utterly wild and dangerous.

She paused to examine the pristine forest surrounding her. The area received twice the rainfall of surrounding regions and the amazing forests and green hills gave evidence of the amount of water that fed the river systems below. The vivid colors of green drew her into the coolness of the forest almost as a compulsion would. Why did she know this place? How had she dreamt of it? How did she know that when she took the path on her left, which was no more than a deer path, it would lead her deep into the interior and she would find the faint trail that would take her to the very top of the mountains, right up into the swirling mists where few people ventured to go?

She moved fast along the path, using a light, ground-eating jog that took her through the brush quickly. She had to make it to the top of the mountain and find the entrance to the caves before sunup.

The forest grew more dense, the plants more exotic and lush as she hurried through the seemingly impenetrable trees. Swaying branches interlocked overhead, blocking most of the moonlight. Natalya had no problem seeing where she was going. In addition to excellent night vision, she'd always had a sense of radar that prevented her from running into obstacles.

She moved through the forest swiftly but with instinctive caution, fully alert, aware of the smallest of rustlings, the silence of insects and the faintest of scents that would indicate she wasn't alone.

Her mouth went suddenly dry and her heart rate increased. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled with unease. She was being stalked.

Behind her shadows slipped around the trees in an effort to surround her. Natalya continued jogging at the same steady pace. As she ran she transferred her grip on the walking stick to the familiar grooves at the top of it in preparation for a fight.

The first wolf sprang at her out of the cover of brush as she crossed a small stream. Natalya didn't slow down, but met the charge with a practiced swing of the thick walking stick. The crack was audible; the wolf yelped and leapt back as she swept past. She whirled around, drawing the sword smoothly from the stick and casting the deceptive sheath aside to face the wolf.

«If you wish to fight me, brother, do so. I have places to go and you are delaying my travel.» She murmured the words aloud as she glided toward the animal, deliberately stepping into the wind so it could carry her scent to the pack.

The wolf sniffed the air and backed up, suddenly wary. The pack members milled around in confusion. Natalya growled low in her throat, the warning of a wild, dangerous animal. Her vivid green eyes began to swirl with intense blue, going almost opaque as she bared her teeth at the pack. Streaks of midnight black and bright orange-almost red banded through her hair. The wolves broke off, loping away from her. Only the alpha female looked back, snarling and showing her displeasure at the unfamiliar scent. Natalya hissed a warning and

the female fled after the pack.

«Yeah, that's what I thought,» Natalya called after them, sliding the sword back into the scabbard. She waited to make certain the wolves were gone before continuing up the mountainside, moving steadily toward her goal.

She cleared a downed tree covered with moss and fern and slid to an abrupt halt as a man sauntered out from behind a tree directly in front of her. He was tall with dark hair, very handsome, his shoulders wide and his smile dazzling. Natalya scanned the area with every sense on high alert. He wasn't alone, she was certain of it.

She dropped her pack on the ground and smiled at the man. «I expected you a good hour ago.»

He bowed from the waist. «I am sorry to be late then, lady. I arrived here to prepare for your coming.» He opened his arms wide to encompass the area around them.

«It wasn't necessary to dress in your Sunday best,» Natalya said. «Although the alternative is rather disgusting.»

A flicker of anger rippled across the man's face, but he hung onto his smile. His teeth weren't so white and appeared pointy and sharp. «Please put down your stick.»

«Do you think I'm going to make it easy on you? I'm not really happy with you, Freddie boy.»

This time the anger stayed. Brown stains appeared on his teeth. «I am not Freddie. Who is Freddie? My name is Henrik.»

«You don't get out much do you? Haven't you ever watched the late night movies? Freddie's a regular star. A very ugly mass murderer, much like yourself. I really don't care what your name is. I care that you persist in following me and I'm damned tired of it. So take your best shot, Freddie boy, and let's get it over.»

Henrik's breath came out in a long hiss of anger. «You will learn respect.»

Not bothering with a retort, Natalya launched her attack, freeing her sword as she sprang at him. The sword arced through the air slicing toward his neck.

Henrik dissolved into vapor, streaming away from her, a shriek of rage echoing through the forest. He faced her several yards away. His thick black hair was gone to be replaced by long white very disheveled strands.

«I should have known you'd be a sissy. Vampires are supposed to be such bad asses, but you're all such babies. You wanted a fight.» Natalya continued to goad him. «I've got things to do tonight. I don't have time to play your little games with you.»

«You go too far. I don't care what the order is. I'm going to kill you,» the vampire snarled.

She smirked at him, giving a small salute. «Nice to know you can think for yourself. I thought your puppet master had you too well trained for free thinking.»

The branch above her head cracked and broke off, rocketing toward her head like a missile. Natalya leapt forward, going on the offensive, ramming the sword straight at Henrik's chest. The branch slammed into the ground exactly where she'd been standing.

The vampire parried the sword away with a sweep of his arm. He was enormously strong and the contact sent violent vibrations up and down her arm so that for a moment everything went numb and the sword slid out of her hand. She kept moving, spinning nearly in midair, already reaching for her guns. She drew both, rapidly firing as she raced at him, the bullets slamming into him repeatedly, driving him backwards away from her.

Henrik jerked with each bullet, staggering, but staying upright. As she reached arm's distance, she holstered one gun and drew a knife, holding it low, close to her body as she drove toward him.

He attempted to shift shape, reaching for her with contorting arms and clawed hands. She drove the knife into his chest, deep into his heart and leapt away to keep the blood from touching her skin. She'd learned from experience it burned like acid. She'd also learned vampires could rise again and again.

She whirled around and raced for her sword. The wind rushed over her, a whirling eddy of leaves and twigs. Wings beat strongly above her head and talons materialized out of the sky, dropping at an alarming rate of speed straight toward her eyes. Natalya dove for the ground in a rolling somersault, coming up on one knee, guns in both hands, tracking the huge bird. It had already dissolved into mist. The droplets shimmered and began to take the shape of a human.

She waited. It was impossible to kill a vampire without form. Already Henrik was stirring, tugging at the knife buried in his heart. He called weakly to the new arrival. She heaved a sigh. «Die already! Sheesh, the least you could do is put yourself out of your misery and get it over.»

«Good evening, Natalya.» The voice was hypnotic, almost mesmerizing.

«Well, if it isn't my good friend Arturo.» Natalya faced the vampire with a false smile. «How nice to see you again. It's been a long time.» She gestured with her gun toward the writhing vampire. «Your little sissy partner is making so much noise. Would you mind finishing him off so we can talk without the background music? If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a whiney vampire.» Deliberately she continued to goad Henrik, knowing the angrier the vampire, the more mistakes they made in battle.

«You haven't changed much.»

«I've gotten meaner.» She shrugged and grinned at the newcomer. «I'm losing my tolerance for your kind.»

Arturo glanced at the bleeding vampire clawing at the ground. «I see that. He is rather loud, isn't he?» He walked over and yanked the knife from his partner's heart and tossed it aside, nudging the vampire with his toe contemptuously. «Get up, Henrik.»

Henrik managed to stagger into a standing position. He shrieked and hissed, spittle and blood running down his face. «I'm going to kill you,» he snapped, glaring at Natalya.

«Do shut up,» Natalya said. «You're becoming so repetitive.»

«You will not escape this time,» Arturo said. «You cannot best Henrik, me and the wolves. Do you hear them? They are on their way to assist us.»

«You take all the fun out of fighting because you never fight fair,» Natalya complained. «You have no honor.»

Arturo smiled at her with his perfect white teeth. «What is honor after all, Natalya? It is worth nothing.»

Vikirnoff Von Shrieder knew the moment he entered the heavy woods that something evil waited there. The warning came in the silence of the forest, the way the earth shuddered and the trees cringed. Not a single living creature moved. It mattered little. He was a hunter and he expected danger to find him. It was his accepted way of life and had been for centuries.

He took a step and stopped abruptly as the grass shivered beneath his feet. He looked down, half expecting to see the stalks shrivel. Was the forest shrinking from direct contact with him? Had it sensed the darkness shadowing him with every step, with each breath he took? Nature could very well be naming him monster-vampire, a Carpathian male who had deliberately chosen to give up his soul for the momentary rush of power and emotion a kill while feeding brought.

It was a choice, wasn't it? Had he made a decision and was no longer aware of whether he was good or evil? Was there even such a thing? The thought should have distressed him, but it didn't. He felt nothing at all even as he contemplated the idea that he was no longer fully a Carpathian male; that the predator in him had consumed all but some small spark left in his soul.

He dropped to his knees, his hands digging through layers of leaves and twigs covering the forest floor and plunging deep into the rich, dark soil beneath. He lifted his face to the night sky. «Susu,» he whispered aloud. «I am home.» His native language rolled off his

tongue naturally, his accent thicker than usual as if somehow by just being in the Carpathian Mountains he could go back in time.

After so many centuries of exile in service to his people, he had finally returned to his birthplace. He knelt in utter silence waiting for something. Anything. Some flicker of emotion, or remembrance. He expected the soil to bring peace, to bring him serenity, to bring him something, but there was the same barren void he woke to every rising.

Nothing. He felt absolutely nothing. He bowed his head and sank back on his heels, looking around him. What he wanted or even needed, he didn't know, but there was no flood of emotion. No elation. No disappointment. Not even despair. The forest looked bleak and gray with twisted, malevolent shadows waiting for him. The endless cycle of his life remained. Kill or be killed.

Hunger was ever present now, a soft seductive whisper in his mind. The call to power, to salvation, and false though he knew it to be, it had gained strength with every rising. He had fought battles, far too many to count, destroying old friends, men he respected and admired, watching the fall of his people and all for what? «Tell me the reason,» he whispered to the night. «Let me understand the complete waste of my life.»

Had he fed this night? He tried to recall the occasion of his wakening, but it seemed too much trouble. Surely he hadn't taken a life while feeding. Was this how it happened then? Was there no real choice, but a slow indifference pervading one's mind until one kill ran into another? Until one feeding became mixed with a kill and his indifference became the weapon of his own destruction?

He looked toward the south where he knew the prince of his people resided. The wind began to pick up speed and strength, rushing through the forest in a southerly direction. «Honor is a damnable trait and one that may not last eternity.» Vikirnoff murmured the words with a small sigh as he rose to his full height and drew back his long hair, securing it at the nape of his neck with a leather tie. Did he still have his honor? After centuries of battling to keep his word, had the crouching beast at last consumed him?

The leaves on the trees closest to him began to tremble and the branches swayed with alarm. He was a Carpathian male, born into an ancient race now on the brink of extinction. They had few women, so all-important to the males and the preservation of life. Two halves of the same whole, darkness ruled the males while light dwelt within the females. Without women to anchor them, the males were falling into the greedy jaws of their own demons.

Vikirnoff coexisted with humans, living among them, trying to maintain honor and discipline in a world where he no longer saw in color or felt even the slightest of emotions. After two hundred years, his feelings had faded and over the long endless centuries the dark predator in him had grown strong and powerful. Only faded memories of laughter and love sustained him, and then only through his link with Nicolae, his brother. Now, that too was gone, with Nicolae an ocean away.

Vikirnoff had lived too long and become far too dangerous. His fighting skills were superb, honed and sharpened in the too numerous encounters with those of his kind who had chosen to give up their souls for the momentary illusion of power, or more likely, more tragically, for a brief moment of feeling. He felt as if he were single-handedly destroying his own race. So many deaths. So many lost friends. «For what?» He asked aloud. «Moeri?» He whispered again in his own language.

He deliberately used his own ancient tongue to recall his duty, his promises to his prince. He had volunteered to be sent out into the world. It was his choice. Always his choice. Free will. But he was no longer free. He was so close to being the very thing he hunted, he almost couldn't separate the two.

The ground rolled gently beneath his feet and the night sky rumbled a menacing warning. Somewhere ahead of him was his quarry-a blue-eyed woman who he had pursued across an ocean. Between the woman and Vikirnoff was a vampire-or perhaps more than one.

Vikirnoff pulled the photograph of his quarry from its place close to his heart. He saw only in shades of gray, yet he had known she had eyes as blue as the sea and Nicolae told him her hair appeared midnight black. Blue like the nearly forgotten ice lakes of his homeland. The various shades of blue in the skies overhead. He had thought-hoped-that perhaps knowing instinctively that small detail meant he was pursuing his lifemate. The other half of his soul, light to his darkness, the one woman who could restore the lost colors and most of all, his ability to feel something. Anything at all. That hope, too, had faded over time, leaving the world a bleak, ugly place.

The air charged with electricity, crackling and snapping along with the building thunder. Cloud formations built in the sky, great towers churning upward. He drew the pad of his thumb in a small unconscious caress over the picture of the woman as he had done so many times before. He had dreams, of course, of the perfect Carpathian lifemate. A woman with this face, those eyes, a woman who would do as he bid, see to his happiness while he ensured hers. Life would be peaceful and serene and filled with joy and most of all, emotion. He slipped the photograph back inside his shirt, over his heart, where it would be protected. He couldn't even sigh with regret. He didn't feel regret, or despair. Just the endless emptiness.

You have to stop! The words swirled in his mind, a telepathic link of unexpected strength. Your emotions are so incredibly strong I can't imagine how you don't recognize they exist. You're devastating me, ripping my heart out. I can't afford this right now. Control your emotions or get the hell far away from me!

The feminine voice swirled in his mind, slid over and into his body, invaded his heart and lungs and rushed through his bloodstream with the raging force of a firestorm. For nearly two thousand years he had existed in the gray shadows feeling nothing at all. He had lived in an endless, starkly barren world without desire or rage or affection. In that one moment everything changed. His mind was instant chaos.

Colors blinded him, running together in vivid, dazzling streaks his eyes and mind could barely accept. His stomach churned and rolled as he fought to maintain alertness when the very ground beneath his feet swelled and buckled. A floodgate opened and where before there had been nothing, now there was everything, a wild jumble of every emotion with his tremendous strength and power feeding the chaos.

The trees nearest him split in two, the sound horrendous as trunks hit the ground, shaking the earth. A rift opened in the ground close to him, followed by a second jagged tear and then another. The rocks shifted and buckled and another row of trees split and flattened.

The demon in him lifted its head and roared for release, tearing at him with great claws, fighting for the freedom to abandon honor and go after the one thing that belonged solely to him. His savior. Or maybe she was his damnation. His incisors lengthened and his blood was so hot he feared he might burst into flame.

Oh my God! You're one of them. Terror made her voice tremble.

Just as he had shared his loneliness, pain and sorrow with her, he shared his darkness and the terrible intensity of overwhelming emotions. She felt his edgy need for violence. The rush the kill provided. The primitive, raw, sexual hunger that ruled his body and mixed with the possessive lust to claim her. She shared it all with him, not only the wild elation, but every fierce need and desire pouring into his body. Every questioning of his life, the gradual need to hunt and kill. The madness of his beast rising and fighting to get loose, to be unleashed for the sole purpose of getting to her.

Fear hit him, great waves nearly amounting to terror, just as quickly building into resolve. The emotions were so strong his stomach rolled. It took a moment before he realized her feelings were pouring into him with every bit of strength as his own. He touched the stream of feminine passion and found power. She would fight. Surrounded, she had no choice but to fight and win. The fear was banished, The terror gone. She would defeat whatever, whoever came at her because it was the only way left to her to survive.

Vikirnoff closed himself off from her, abruptly halting the sharing of the storm of emotions breaking through him. He searched for a mental path, a trail that would lead him back to the woman. She belonged to him. No other. Not another Carpathian. Not the vampires on her trail. She was his. He would have her or many-human and Carpathian alike-would die.

Taking a deep breath to restore his control, Vikirnoff lifted his head slowly and looked around him. The forest seemed to expand and grow and glitter with brilliance, even in the dark of night, as if he had taken a strong hallucinogenic. Above his head the clouds were black with wrath, edged with nickering white-hot lightning. Twisting tendrils of fog snaked through the trees and gathered along the ground.

Vikirnoff remained still, allowing his experience as a hunter to guide him, rather than following the dictates of his chaotic mind. He waited, sorting through the frenzied

sensations, waiting for calm before taking action.

All the while he savored the sound of her voice. The path leading back to her was subtle, almost too subtle to follow. It was puzzling. She was Carpathian, yet not Carpathian. She was human, yet not human. He felt the whisper of power in her voice, the subtle «push» when she tried to force obedience. She had tried to force his obedience. He took another deep breath, inhaling to take air deep into his lungs, but most of all to find her scent.

Chapter 2

Natalya swiped at the empathetic tears clouding her vision. Her heart pounded in terror, but she set her teeth grimly. She could kill Henrik and she might even best Arturo. She could even get away from the wolves, but she had just touched a being so powerful she never wanted to tangle with him. At the first touch, she thought him a hunter, one of those who had killed her twin brother and was hunting her. But his emotions had been so sad, so despairing, he'd nearly torn her heart out.

She had never experienced such a strong connection before. She hadn't meant for him to hear her protest. She had no idea how they were on the same mental path to share such intense emotions, but she didn't want to stick around to find out how it had happened. She'd never been bombarded with such an overwhelming explosion of feelings before. His feelings. Lust and possession. Elation and relief. All superceded by the overwhelming need to kill. She needed to escape fast before whatever, whomever, she had accidentally touched psychically tracked her down.

«Look who's crying now,» Henrik sneered. «I knew you were all talk.»

«That's right, Freddie boy, I like to talk,» Natalya agreed as she directed three throwing knives in rapid succession at him. Each scored a hit, burying deeply all the way to the hilt, one in the heart, one in the throat and one in the mouth. «But, as I've already said, I hate to listen to whiners.»

Henrik dropped to the ground again, howling and writhing, clawing great holes in the soil, his blood withering the vegetation in a broad circle around him.

Arturo sighed. «That wasn't nice, Natalya. He's going to be much more difficult to control. I don't want you dead and he'll insist.»

Natalya glanced into the darkened interior of the forest. So far it had just been too easy. Neither vampire was trying to kill her. Her last few encounters with the undead had been strange in that none of them seemed willing to kill her. It gave her a distinct advantage in

battle, but it boded ill for her future. She had discovered some years earlier that they were hunting her for a purpose she couldn't fathom and they were very persistent in their pursuit of her.

«I don't think you really need him, Arturo,» she said. «He's rather a pathetic fellow, don't you think?»

«But a useful sacrifice,» Arturo pointed out.

Natalya was having trouble with her vision. Colors ran together, vivid and brilliant in spite of the darkening clouds spinning around the moon. The leaves glittered silver, dazzling her eyes so that when she launched her attack at Arturo, she was slightly off in her depth perception. She couldn't afford to wait. It was obvious Arturo was using Henrik as a stall tactic, waiting for reinforcements, and she knew the hunter was coming.

Out of necessity she went for the kill, somersaulting through the air, only baring the knife concealed in her hand at the last second, as she plunged it straight for Arturo's chest. He leapt to the side, so that she sliced a long thin cut across his shoulder and arm. As she sprang past him Arturo whipped his other arm around and slammed talons into her side, raking deep.

Pain blossomed, low and deep and bone-jarring. Vikirnoff looked down, shocked to see blood seeping from a gaping wound. He pressed his hand over his side, eyes glowing a hot red, fangs bursting into his mouth. He growled low in his throat, already shifting shape, taking the form of an owl. As his muscles popped, sinews crackled, and then the pain vanished. He glanced down again and there was no blood. None. His clothes, his skin and, as he completed the change, his iridescent feathers, were immaculate.

He had thought the danger she had sensed was within him, that her resolve had been to fight him. Something else, something evil and cunning had led them both into a trap and she had paid a terrible price. If it wasn't his blood, his pain, there was only one other it could belong to. The vampire he had detected earlier wasn't between them, it had already found her. Somewhere ahead of him, his lifemate was fighting for her life.

Deep within the form of the owl, Vikirnoff threw back his head and roared with rage. He raced through the trees, powerful wings flapping hard, skimming the edge of branches, a suicide run through the dense trees. He maneuvered more by instinct than by sight, staying low in the thick canopy. He sensed the disturbance increasing and slowed to a more acceptable speed, moving the way an owl would naturally among the branches of the trees and gaining more height to spot prey.

Below him, he sighted movement, dark shapes slipping silently through the trees, sliding from one shadow to the next. The wild scent of wolf mingled with the sweet aroma of blood. Directly below was a thicket of dense shrubbery surrounded by groves of trees. The

branches interlocked, providing a seemingly impenetrable canopy. He dropped lower as he slipped between the branches, making his body smaller, uncaring that the use of power might give away his presence. He could see a vampire writhing on the ground, growling and cursing and swearing vengeance as it attempted to remove several knives from its body.

Vikirnoff knew his lifemate was in that thicket of trees. Every protective instinct rose up, every possessive Carpathian trait existing in him, his imprinted instincts all told him she was there. He just couldn't see her.

Movement attracted his eye. Vikirnoff settled the owl's body silently onto a thick, twisted branch high above the ground, folding his wings and watching for movement below him. A shadowy form separated itself from a gnarled trunk and slithered along the rich vegetation, ignoring the shriveling leaves and blackened grasses as it glided into a cleared space in the center of the trees.

«You have been wounded. Let me give you aid.» The shadow raised his head, taking on a more substantial form as he sniffed the air. «The scent of blood is so intoxicating.»

Even the sharp eyes of the owl didn't spot the woman until she moved. She seemed to emerge from the very trees, her body difficult to make out with the bands of light spilling from the moon. Clouds spun overhead shifting the light continually, casting stripes across her. Vikirnoff held his breath as she went from complete stillness to a fluid motion, taking several steps away from the trees toward her shadowy opponent. This then was his lifemate. Natalya Shonski, the woman he had crossed an ocean to find.

She seemed to glow, golden streaks of colors flashing off her hair, black, orange, even platinum. Her eyes, her all important eyes, were no longer blue, but opalescent, a swirling mixture of vibrant colors as turbulent and wild as the raw power emanating from her. Energy crackled around her and the vaporous fog rising from the forest floor churned with renewed vigor, as if by her presence, new life was feeding the grayish mist.

She was dazzling. Vikirnoff stared at her, unable to look away even though the vivid colors hurt his eyes. He had never seen such raw power springing to life. She looked fragile in stillness, yet when she moved, muscles slid suggestively beneath her golden skin. It was how she moved, so fluid, like water over rock, her small form erect, unbending in the face of her enemy. She was exotic and beautiful to him and wholly regal. In spite of the red stain spreading across her side, her gaze remained fixed on the vampire, an unwavering, focused stare, uncannily like that of a wild predator.

Behold. There she stands. Lifemate to Vikirnoff. The awe and splendor of her astonished him. His lungs burned and his throat felt raw. His body flooded with heat and every muscle seized with desire. He couldn't separate lust from rage, or joy from the need to kill those threatening her. He felt almost dizzy with the combination and intensity of his unfamiliar feelings.

Vikirnoff knew he could no longer afford the chaotic emotions. It was that simple. He

was a hunter and he had a battle in front of him. He was useless in the state he was in. More than useless-he was dangerous not only to himself but to his lifemate. He called on his years of service, years of experience in battle, and centered himself, reached deep to find the eye in the center of the storm, to find the man he had always been-a man short on speech, but long on action when there was need. A man ruled by logic and duty and honor. He waited until the emotional storm subsided and he was once more balanced and in control before he allowed his gaze to dwell on his lifemate.

Natalya's starkly focused stare shifted, a quick, restless movement sliding around her surroundings in a sweep. She inhaled and her gaze touched briefly on Vikirnoff's owl form before sliding past to observe the gathering shapes slinking through the trees in a loose ring around her.

Arturo inclined his head towards her. «You are bleeding. I do not wish you harm, rather I need you to perform a small task for me and then I will allow you to go free.» He swept his arms out from his side in a gesture encompassing the entire forest. «You cannot hope to get away. You are surrounded by those I command and they will cause great damage to you should you try to leave. Come. Be reasonable and come to me.» He opened his arms wide to draw her in. His voice was mesmerizing, beautiful, almost singsong. He looked a young, handsome man, nearly as beguiling as Natalya.

Vikirnoff recognized the strong hidden compulsion in the vampire's voice. He studied the face. It was an illusion, of course, as most masks a vampire chose to wear were, but it was a face Vikirnoff recognized. Arturo had once been a hunter of the very thing he had become. Vikirnoff could only hope Arturo had recently turned and did not have centuries of wielding evil behind him.

«How many times must we do this, Arturo?» There was a deliberate contemptuous challenge in Natalya's voice. «I've staked you a couple of times already. Do you really want to dance with me again?»

The vampire growled, his smooth smile disappearing. «You are incapable of staking one of my strength. You are the one bleeding.»

«Tell yourself that,» she said. «But I think that's blood running down your arm.» She remained utterly motionless and once again the light of the moon hit her in bands. Natalya seemed to fade into the background, the stripes lending her a strange camouflage. Only her eyes blazed, a deep ruby red, nearly glowing in the darkness.

The tree branch beneath Vikirnoff's talons trembled as power swelled in the air. He held himself in check when every instinct told him to go to her, to stand between her and the thing of evil. Centuries of battling the undead held him steady. The trap was too neat, too tidy for his liking. He used the owl's hunting instincts to find what was hidden.

«You have always been too confident, Natalya,» Arturo said. His voice rose to a thin, ugly screech, his illusion beginning to fade as he grew angrier with her. «You will not

escape us this time.» His hand went to his chest and rubbed over the area where his blackened, wizened heart lay. «I was unfortunately not in control of my abilities the last time we met, but I have learned much in the years since that time.» His humorless smile stretched once more, accenting the flesh taut over bone and revealing the sharp, pointed teeth that filled his mouth.

The vampire crawling on the ground used both hands and jerked the knife from his chest, screaming as he did so. The voice was high and ugly and filled with rage and pain. He turned his head to glare at Natalya with hate-filled eyes, the hilt of a knife still sticking in his mouth and throat.

«Will nothing shut you up?» she snapped, rolling her eyes heavenward.

The rush of wind seemed to come from every direction, crashing together with tremendous force between Arturo and Natalya and bringing a putrid smell of decayed flesh. Twigs and leaves rose up through the whirling mist like a black tornado, weaving together to make a tight net above and around Natalya. For a moment it was impossible to see the empty space between the vampire and injured woman. Voices shrieked and wailed from inside the churning whirlwind.

Vikirnoff had no choice. The wolves pressed closer, ringing the dark net brought by the winds. He could see the ground along the outside of the churning mass lifting ominously as if something evil stalked the woman from beneath the soil. Lightning forked overhead and the sound of thunder boomed loud, shaking the earth. He dropped fast, talons outstretched, plunging from a great height to rip through the shield of churning dirt and leaves. The moment he touched the barrier, he sensed the presence of yet another.

The impression of evil washed over him. It was unlike anything he'd felt before. Vampire? Yes. But, much, much more. Vampires were evil, treacherous and cunning. Whatever waited to show itself, whatever had constructed this trap for his lifemate, waited beneath the ground and it felt far, far more evil than any vampire he'd ever encountered in all his centuries of hunting.

His heart lurched. Run. Do not stand and fight. Can you not feel it? Run while you can, before it reveals itself. He gave the command telepathically, «pushing» as hard as he dared with another creature of unknown power so close.

Virkirnoff shifted at the last possible moment, landing directly in front of the woman, shielding her with his body against the attacking vampire. He was hit simultaneously from the front and back. Natalya clawed his back, rending his flesh from the back of his neck to his waist while the vampire Arturo exploded into action, tearing at his chest with razor-sharp talons, shrieking with rage as he dug to get at Vikirnoff's heart.

Vikirnoff would accept death at the hands of his lifemate, but never a vampire. He slammed his fist through the chest cavity, ignoring the pain searing through him as the vampire's talons dug deeper through flesh and bone and acid blood poured over his arm and

hand.

Damn it! You could have let me know you were joining the battle. The attack ended abruptly from behind him and he sensed her fury mixed with guilt.

For a moment there was only the sound of heavy breathing, the outraged scream of the vampire and the terrible pain coursing through his own body. The vampire dissolved, flowing away from him in droplets of mist, a vapor of gray mixed with bright red. Vikirnoff staggered, nearly going to his knees before shoving the pain into some corner of his mind where he could ignore it.

The second vampire, Henrik, dragged yet another knife from his body with a horrific scream and a spray of blood. «Dead,» he snarled, the word so slurred it was nearly impossible to understand. «You're dead.»

Look out! Natalya called out.

Even as Vikirnoff heard the warning, he was already turning to meet the attack of the first wolf as it leapt at him, trying to knock him off of his feet. The wolf's entire weight hit him in the chest, claws digging deep into the wound left behind by the vampire. The impact was so forceful it drove him backward, but he managed to stay upright. Catching the animal and preventing the teeth from boring into his throat, Vikirnoff hurtled the wolf away from him. His strength was enormous and the snarling creature hit a tree trunk with such force it shook the branches. Vikirnoff whirled to face three other wolves as they advanced on him.

Get out of here. I will take care of this while you make your escape. It was necessary to warn his lifemate, to get her clear of the battle when Henrik clawed his way up a tree trunk in preparation of joining the melee.

You've got to be kidding me! Vikirnoff sensed a distinct impression of feminine disgust. You couldn't fight your way out of a paper bag right now. She fired off several rounds at Henrik, closing the distance between them in a single leap and driving a knife for the third time deep into his heart. «Die, damn you!» She jumped back to avoid the raking claws as Henrik once more fell to the ground. She kicked him for good measure. «You are so tiresome, Freddie, and you're making me lose my temper. I'm not nice when I lose my temper.»

Vikirnoff's gaze shifted to her face. You will not address your lifemate with such disrespect. Do as I say at once and leave this place. The battle has only begun and you must remain safe. He will not die if you do not incinerate his heart.

Natalya shot him a venomous look. Keep your orders for someone who wants to be hunter's mouse. And these things should come with an instruction manual on killing them.

I do not want to embarrass you and force your obedience. It was all the warning he was going to give her. The wolves rushed him, one going low for his legs, another leaping for

his chest and the third attacking his arm.

Are you out of your tiny little mind? Do your women actually obey when you say jump? She whirled around, back to back with him, facing outward toward the ring of wolves. And don't think for one moment that you could force my obedience. You don't want to start a war with me.

Vikirnoff swore under his breath as he kicked at the wolf tearing at his leg with sharp teeth. The vampire is going for as much blood loss as possible to weaken me. If I try to protect you, which I must do, I will divide my strength.

Well, try not to let it happen. I've got enough to take care of without worrying about protecting an amateur. I'm a little busy here if you don't mind. Silence would be appreciated.

Vikirnoff slammed a barrier around her, caging her in, away from the wolves as he caught the animal driving at his chest and wrenched at its head with both hands. The neck gave way with a sickening crack. He threw the body aside, but more wolves poured out of the forest, hurtling toward him, slavering, fangs wide open as they dug their back feet into the ground and leapt for his throat.

He waited until the wolves were almost on him, timing his jump, somersaulting over them straight at Arturo who clearly commanded them. The air vibrated with the rift of power as he broke through the flimsy barrier the vampire hastily erected to slow him down. As Vikirnoff landed the ground split open right at his feet, a yawning chasm separating him from the snarling vampire. He teetered precariously on the edge, glancing down at the sharpened rocks beneath him and then up to see the vampire slowly stretch his lips in a parody of a smile.

The ground rolled, throwing Vikirnoff toward the jagged rocks below him. Simultaneously he felt the shove of a howling wind at his back. He couldn't catch himself and began to hastily shift form as he toppled. Half man, half transparent, Vikirnoff hit a strong, invisible wall and bounced back. Turning his head quickly, he saw that Natalya had shred the protective cage he'd placed her in. She had settled the barricade around him, effectively stopping his fall.

Stay put while I take care of this. He isn't even a very powerful vampire. I've killed him twice. Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

Vikirnoff couldn't detect fear, only complete and utter resolve. Natalya seemed to glow as she leaped into the midst of the wolves, her skin a radiant tawny color, her hair blazing with life, colors streaking through wherever bands of light hit her, eyes once more going from a vivid green to brilliant blue to opalescent. She whirled around in the center of the wolves, but they backed away from her, shrinking and trembling, slinking back into deeper forest.

Below you. The vampire is a pawn. Can you not feel where the real power is coming from? Get out of here! Get off the ground. If he destroys you, he destroys us both.

Vikirnoff shredded the barricade she'd erected around him, a simple, easy feat as she'd used what he'd wrought in the first place. There was another trap here, one that had not yet been sprung, but she didn't seem to sense the danger. He felt it everywhere, thrumming in the very air around him. He rushed toward her as the attack came from below her. The ground beneath her fissured and two clawed hands grasped her ankles, the long, razor-sharp talons driving deep into her skin to anchor her to the creature as it jerked her beneath the earth.

Vikirnoff merged minds with her, holding her to him, sending her the image of mist and maintaining the likeness uppermost in her brain. Merge with me. Merge fully with me. There was desperation in the command.

Natalya fought to get the creature off her ankles, kicking with all of her strength, but the needle-like talons were buried deep. She could feel the nails digging into her bones.

Vikirnoff dove into the gaping tear in the ground after her, streaking downward, feeling her terror, her pain, as the claws dug deep into her ankles and hung on while her body attempted to make the change without his aid. She feared him. Feared the hold a complete merging with him would have on her.

If you want us to live, you must merge with me. This time he kept any «push» from his voice, using only pure truth.

Vikirnoff felt her brief hesitancy, her fear and resistance of him and what he might want of her. Terror of the creature dragging her underground overcame her fear of the hunter enough for her to reach for him, her arms outstretched, hands open, still fighting to maintain mental barriers against him. He caught her wrists and reversed directions, ruthlessly holding the image of mist in her mind. She screamed as the creature worked the talons deeper into her ankles in an attempt to hold her to him.

Natalya made up her mind and ceased resisting Vikirnoff, embracing the change, allowing the complete merging with him in order to save herself from the unseen monster clawing at her ankles. She shimmered into transparency, dissolved into droplets, streaming upwards like a multicolored comet. The ground shook, and deep in the earth something roared with rage and hatred.

There was an ominous rumble. Vikirnoff veered to the left, leading her straight toward Arturo waiting with his army of wolves. Mud and rock blasted from hole in the ground, a fiery orange, spewing venom after the hunter and his lifemate. Vikirnoff and Natalya streaked past the undead and his puppets, going high toward the heavy canopy where they could conceal themselves in the leaves of the trees.

Behind them, the wolves howled in terror and the vampires shrieked as hot lava spurted

and rained down from the ever-widening hole in the ground. The tree shielding Vikirnoff and his lifemate burst into flames. Instantly everything around them went white-hot and the temperature of the droplets soared.

Stay off the ground. Deliberately Vikirnoff gave a hard mental push to emphasize he meant business.

Natalya streaked away from the burning tree, out of range of the boiling mud and spewing fireballs. He received the impression of a snarl, but little else.

Vikirnoff shifted in the air, plummeting down toward Arturo, talons outstretched, driving toward the chest cavity. The vampire was distracted, running for his life from the tantrum the malevolent creature beneath the earth was displaying.

What the hell are you doing? We don't have to stand and fight. Are you completely mad? Natalya's tone was incredulous, as if she couldn't conceive of anyone deliberately fighting a vampire if they had a choice. And that idiot Henrik. is back on his feet. I need a flamethrower in my arsenal. Do you have any idea what they cost?

I cannot leave vampires loose to prey on the innocent people in this region. He is angry and dangerous in this state and he will retaliate against anyone weaker. Killing a vampire is hardly a game, as you seem to think it is. Attend your wounds and leave Henrik and the others to me, Natalya. She was not acting anything like the woman he had dreamed of. He didn't feel soothed by her, or at peace, instead he wanted to tear out his hair. His cool demeanor was rapidly being challenged, not by vampire, but by his own lifemate.

Vikirnoff's razor-sharp talons ripped through empty air. At the last possible second Arturo sensed the attack from above and dissolved, leaving only blood and vapor in his wake. Vikirnoff shifted form again, taking that of a man, landing lightly on the ground seeking to trace the darker menace below him. He hoped the risk would draw the evil one to him and he would be warned by the reaction of the earth itself.

How did you know my name? Fear and suspicion crept into Natalya's voice. Once Vikirnoff took the image from her mind, she shifted back to her natural form and found herself sitting in a tree. She narrowed her gaze, watching Vikirnoff, trying to look past his handsome face, past the blood he'd shed on her behalf to see who he really was. And what he wanted from her.

Look out! Pay attention to what you are doing.

The knife skimmed her arm and brought her attention to Henrik who faced her with deadly purpose. «Freddie boy, can't you do a girl a favor and just lie down and die?» Natalya sat on the branch and glared down at the blood-smeared vampire. «You're like the little engine that could, except you can't.» Stop distracting me.

I know your name because you are my lifemate. His beautiful, soothing lifemate who was

supposed to hang onto his every word and live to please him. He sent her a small frowning glance of reprimand. She wasn't respectful, or obedient, or anything he had been so certain she would be.

What? Are you freakin' nuts? If you think we're going to be getting it on you're out of your tiny-gorgeous, but tiny-little mind.

Getting it on? Vikirnoff repeated it back, shocked and very certain he couldn't have heard her correctly. He knew next to nothing about women, but she was not what he wanted or envisioned. He wasn't at all certain he approved of her and he certainly couldn't imagine a peaceful life with her around. He whirled around as a shadow detached itself from the trees and Arturo strode out to face him.

I don't want your approval. I can't believe you're so incredibly thick-headed that you'd actually stay here and fight these things. Natalya dodged the volley of knives Henrik threw at her. «That's not nice, Freddie, using my own weapons against me,» she scolded aloud.

One blade stuck in the branch she'd been sitting in, but she climbed fast going up the tree, utilizing the close canopy as a shield.

Henrik shifted shape in spite of his wounds, lunging at her as he streaked through the trees in the form of an owl.

Flames burst all around the owl, cutting him off from every direction so that the vampire was forced to abandon his efforts to get to Natalya. He traced the power source back to Vikirnoff and dropped to the ground, facing the hunter with a snarl.

«I've got to hand it to you, Freddie, you just keep on coming. I like that in a man, but it isn't the best trait in a vampire.» Natalya climbed down the tree to the lower branches, careful to stay off the ground, but determined to keep Henrik's wrath and attention squarely on her. Vikirnoff had lost too much blood thanks to the initial attack and she was partially responsible for that.

I don't need you to help me. She made the protest as strongly as she dared. Vikirnoff seemed unwilling to let her participate in the battle, yet she couldn't make herself leave, even when she knew it was utter madness to stay with so many enemies close. I hope you haven't forgotten the Troll King just because he's gone surprisingly silent. He's still there, lurking, ready to do something nasty the moment you give him an opening.

You let me worry about what is beneath us.

Oh, I forgot! I must be the poor ditzy woman incapable of making my own decisions now that the big strong man is here. Natalya snorted in derision. We should have gotten away while we had the chance.

Vikirnoff realized she was angry with herself. She wanted to leave. Every instinct, every survival sense told her to leave, but the pull of her lifemate, especially injured as he was,

prevented her from doing so. She didn't understand why he had such power over her and the fact that she couldn't just leave him made her angry, suspicious and edgy.

The fireballs had ceased abruptly and the forest had grown quiet. Vikirnoff scanned the ground, but whatever lay in hiding had withdrawn to regroup and refused to take the bait, even when Vikirnoff deliberately moved with a heavier tread.

Arturo looked a macabre parody of the handsome man who had faced Natalya earlier. Skin pulled tight over his bones and skull. Wisps of gray-white hair clung to his scalp. When he smiled at them, his pointed teeth were brown with stains. «Vikirnoff. You do not look so well. You cannot even command your woman to your bidding. How sad to see a once-proud hunter fall so low as to have to beg.»

«How sad to see a once-great hunter stoop so low as to follow in the shadow of an evil one instead of going his own way,» Vikirnoff retaliated. He watched the vampire, but he scanned the ground continually, waiting for the unseen monster to reveal itself.

«The two of you can stop talking about me like I'm not here,» Natalya snapped, sick of the entire mess. «I have business elsewhere and you're holding me up.» She glanced down at Henrick who had made his way to the base of the tree where she sat.

The lesser vampire's nails dug at the roots of the tree. He was so weak he couldn't gather enough power to use against her, but it didn't stop him from digging at the roots of the tree in an effort to topple her to the forest floor. The tree shuddered each time the vampire touched it, shrinking away from the hideous creature. The blood of the undead dripped on the bark and burned through to the very heart of the tree.

Natalya could hear the tree screaming in pain. The sap ran from the scalding hole and dripped steadily like blood onto the ground. She pressed her hands over her ears and tried not to feel the way her ankles burned and throbbed. Most of all she tried not to notice the vampire licking at the smears of blood left behind from the wounds on her ankles along the trunk of the tree. It sickened her. Why had she stayed? She despised hunters nearly as much as she did vampires.

Vikirnoff glanced at her, aware of her distress. He moved, a mere blur so fast it was impossible to see him as he rushed past Arturo and slammed his fist deep into Henrik's chest. The heart was lacerated and wizened, and he threw it a distance away to give himself time to direct the lightning to the blackened organ before it could roll back to its master.

Lightning arced from the heart to the body of the vampire, even before Henrik could fall to the ground, fully incinerating and reducing the undead to a pile of ashes.

«That was not necessary, Vikirnoff. You were always one to take action before talking things out.»

«There is no need for talk, Arturo,» Vikirnoff answered.

«Do you think I cannot sense the darkness in you?»

Arturo demanded. «'She senses it. She nearly ripped your back apart earlier and she will again given the chance, when she no longer needs you.» The voice turned crafty, wheedling. «The prince is without protection. Now is the time to strike. Join us, Vikirnoff. We can defeat the hunters and come out of the shadows to take our rightful place in the world. We wouldn't rule a mere country or just our people, but all of it. All, Vikirnoff, think of it.»

«The prince is not without protection, Arturo. Never think that he is without the full protection of his people.» Vikirnoff glided closer without appearing to move, angling toward the vampire, barely skimming the earth with the soles of his feet, yet sending out heavier footsteps a few yards from where he really was, hoping to draw out the creature hiding beneath the ground. «You have been made into a puppet. Whom do you serve, Arturo?» All the while he could feel the gathering of power as Arturo once again summoned the wolf pack to his bidding.

Spittle ran down the mouth of the vampire as he growled and hissed his displeasure at the taunts. «I serve no one, unlike you.» He launched his attack, shrieking as he rushed Vikirnoff. Wolves poured from the woods. A forest of sharp, jagged rocks speared through the ground aimed at the hunter.

Vikirnoff took to the air, meeting the vampire's rush with astonishing speed, slamming his fist through the chest wall, reaching for the heart. A wolf sprang at him, clamped around his calf and hung on grimly, clawing and clamping down in an effort to protect his master. Several others leapt at him, snapping and howling to get to the hunter.

Vikirnoff found the heart, even as the vampire repeatedly tore at his face and throat with sharpened talons.

Use fire to get rid of the wolves! Natalya sounded frantic. I know your kind can do that. Hurry!

They are innocents, under the command of the undead. It would destroy the entire pack. Go while you can. The other rises from beneath the earth. I feel its triumph.

She screamed in frustration and sheer exasperation, the sound only in his mind. Fire rained from the sky. Hot embers like glowing orange arrows, streaking down to find live targets. You are the most stubborn, idiotic man I've ever had the misfortune to run across. Finish him now!

Vikirnoff had the impression of her grinding her teeth together. She was furious as she drove off the wolf pack, with the one exception being the male attached to his calf. Ignoring the excruciating pain, he settled his fingers around the vampire's shriveled heart and wrenched it from the body. Arturo's shriek became high-pitched and vengeful. The wolf began to saw frantically at Vikirnoff's leg and the vampire sprang after the blackened heart as Vikirnoff tossed it to the ground, calling lightning to incinerate it.

The ground opened and the heart dropped through the widening fissure. A furred arm stretched, the bony fingers seizing Arturo to drag him beneath the earth. Before Vikirnoff could follow, the crevice slammed closed. Lightning slammed into the ground in the precise spot where the heart had been, but it was too late.

Vikirnoff caught at a tree branch as he plummeted toward the forest floor. He hung there for a moment, fighting to breathe when his body felt torn apart, weighted down by the wolf still hanging on to his leg. His leg was so slippery with blood, the animal finally fell to the ground and began to leap over and over at him.

Vikirnoff's hand and arm burned from the acid of the vampire blood and his fingers were slippery. He could see blood pooling below his body and it seemed a tremendous amount. Unexpectedly weakness rushed over him and he felt himself falling straight toward the open jaws of the wolf below him.

A rush of flames sent the animal howling and tumbling backward away from him. He landed hard and looked up at the face of a very exasperated woman. Natalya leapt from the tree and landed beside him, crouching down to do a quick examination of his wounds. «You're a mess.»

«How did you send fire like that?»

«I followed the instructions in your head,» Natalya said. «You have a tremendous amount of information in your brain. I wish I'd known about incinerating the heart. It would have helped. Can you stand up?» He was horribly wounded. She told herself to leave him, but his body had been far too ravaged in her defense.

«Of course.» He had lost too much blood and dawn was fast approaching. «You need to get out of here.»

«Don't bother giving me orders,» Natalya said. «I've always had a problem with authority figures. I'm getting you somewhere safe and then I never want to see you again.»

«That will be a little difficult.» Vikirnoff made an effort to rise. He was far weaker than he imagined. If he took his lifemate's blood, he would have the necessary strength to get them both to safety.

Natalya leapt away from him, hand on her sword. «Don't you even think about taking my blood. If necessary, I'll sit here and wait until you become so leaden you can't move before I'll touch you. I'm not the blood donor type.» She pinned him with her gaze. «Not now, not ever. If and that's a big if, I ever give it to you, it will be voluntarily. Don't ever think of taking it by force.»

Vikirnoff forced his body into a sitting position, his back against a tree trunk. «You have a grudge against my people.» He sounded distant, faraway, even to his own ears. The vivid colors around him, faded in and out, blurring until everything ran together. He knew it was

necessary to shut down his heart and lungs to prevent further blood loss, but his lifemate wasn't yet safe. «Go, Natalya, go now.» He said the words aloud, or maybe they were in his mind, but he was already slipping into unconsciousness.

Chapter 3

«Damn it,» Natalya whispered fiercely as she gathered the fallen hunter into her arms and looked around her, feeling desperate. «Don't do this.» Over the years Natalya had tried to gather information about the Carpathians, partly because she knew she carried their blood, but mostly because she believed knowledge gave her advantages. She was fully aware they needed rich earth to heal. She used it on her wounds upon occasion. «I can't even pack your wounds with soil. The vampires have ruined the earth around here.» She gave Vikirnoff a small shake. «What's left of the wolf pack might come back drawn by the scent of blood, or worse-that creature with the claws beneath the ground. Come on, wake up.» The man weighed a ton. Okay, not a ton, but he may as well have. She was not going to wait around for the Troll King and his vamp buddies to make another try for her. They'd slunk off with their hearts in their hands and tails between their legs, but if they knew what a predicament she was in, they'd be back. «Fine, you big lug, I'll carry you. You just had to be a hero, didn't you? You couldn't leave when I asked you to, could you?»

Natalya tried a firemen's lift, but nothing happened. She was strong. She was stronger than most humans, but he was a dead weight and slippery with blood loss. She tied her pack on him, not wanting to lose her things and made a second attempt to hoist him to her shoulder.

Woman. What are you doing? In spite of his seemingly unconscious state, he managed to sound wholly exasperated.

Natalya nearly jumped out of her skin. «What does it look like? Someone has to save your butt and since no one else is waving their hand to volunteer, you're stuck with me.» There was no way she could haul him down the mountain. No way. The dread inside of her was growing as each minute ticked by. «You were supposed to be unconscious, not waiting to see how you can aggravate me.»

Leave me.

«If you aren't going to say anything helpful, just shut up. I need to think. If you hadn't insisted on staying and fighting we'd be long gone.» Natalya wanted to shake some sense into him. She'd never seen anyone so battered and wounded manage to survive. By all rights he should be dead. And the thought of his death was frightening to her. The more

afraid she was, the more she wanted to lash out at his stupidity. It hadn't been necessary to fight. They could have run. He just had to be gallant and save the world.

«I have one shape-shifting ability,» she admitted. Natalya had to deceive just about everyone she met, but she never deceived herself. It was a luxury to be able to admit who and what she was, show what she was capable of for the first time in years. She watched his face for his reaction. «Just one on my own. I'll be able to carry you on my back, but you'll have to stay awake enough to hold on. Do you think you can?»

Vikirnoff didn't open his eyes. Whatever you need.

His voice was far away. She swallowed hard. She needed to pack his wounds as soon as possible and that meant moving him immediately. «It's going to hurt.»

Natalya stripped, folded her clothes and stuffed them into the pack tied to him. She had wandered alone for years, unable to stay in one place too long for fear of giving herself away. She had been alone without friends or family and it had been long since she had experienced the exhilaration of shifting in front of another being. The freedom to be herself was a powerful lure she couldn't resist.

She was not fully human. She was not fully mage. And she was not fully Carpathian but a combination of all three. Her mage father had gifted her with the nature of the tigress in the hopes it would alleviate the needs of her other side for a family and give her some balance as the endless years passed. To some extent, she supposed it had, but the idea of being able to share a real part of her true self with Vikirnoff, that he would know her for what she was, felt wonderful.

She took a deep breath, losing herself in the familiar shape and feel of the tigress. Muscles rippled beneath her luxurious striped fur coat and she stretched, showing the black and orange camouflage bands to their full advantage. Sharp claws raked the ground and she lifted her muzzle to scent the air before arching her back and lowering her body to the ground. She had no idea she was holding her breath, waiting for his reaction, until he spoke, her eyes blazing a vivid blue at him.

His eyes opened and he reached his hand to stroke the deep fur. You are beautiful. Your eyes are the exact color of the ice lakes.

She tried not to be pleased. She didn't want to feel a response to him, only do her duty as a human being, but she couldn't help the rush of warmth his words caused. Can you slip onto my back and put your arms around my neck?

The tiger was a solitary creature and in its form, Natalya didn't feel yearnings for a family and community. For a brief time she was able to have respite from her natural needs as a woman, but she found, even deep within the form of the tigress, she was acutely aware of Vikirnoff as a man.

He lay out full length on his stomach, his arms sliding around her neck. The long walking stick stuck in the loop of her backpack poked her body and hurt. He felt it and adjusted immediately, a groan slipping out as he did so. You do not shift in the same way a Carpathian shifts. Is that why you have only one form?

She knew he was too weak and shouldn't be trying to converse, but her thoughts were tumbling around in her head so fast, frantic to share with someone. I wondered about that when you held the image of mist in my head and I was able to change. It was both frightening and wonderful.

The tiger snarled at a lone wolf slinking through the trees. The wolf backed away from the much larger predator despite the lure of fresh blood.

It is humbling that you gave your trust to me. I will not abuse it.

She started to deny that she'd given him her trust, but she refrained from correcting him. She had wanted to save her life and he had been the lesser of two evils when the underground creature had grabbed her with spiked claws. Even in the form of the tiger, her ankles still burned, a constant reminder of the terror of that moment.

The tiger hurried through the forest, carrying the man on its back until it was several miles from the battlefield, and down near the richer rolling hills. She was much more careful, taking her burden through more open ground cautiously as she approached the farms. Many of the farmers were beginning to start their day. Twice a dog barked at them and abruptly stopped and backed away. Both times Natalya felt the surge of power and knew Vikirnoff had silenced the animals.

She had made the decision to save Vikirnoff's life and that meant she would have to donate blood whether she wanted to or not. She was practical about it once she made up her mind. She was part Carpathian and she had to have blood to survive. She didn't take blood that often, but when it became necessary, she had no qualms about it. Natalya left Vikirnoff nearly unconscious beside a sheaf of hay and she approached a farmer, calming him with a mage spell and taking his blood.

Unlike full-blooded Carpathians she couldn't remove the farmer's memories. She attempted to dim his memory and make it feel like a dream, but, no doubt, rumors of vampires would sweep the countryside. The only thing that mattered, though, was getting Vikirnoff into her room, out of the sun and away from people as quickly as possible.

Near the inn, she laid him down in the shelter of several bushes, shape-shifted and hastily dressed. «Don't make a sound. Last night, there was a suspicious man in the bar. I don't know why he's here, but he made my alarm bells go off and I never ignore them. I don't want to take a chance on being seen when we go in. Let me just take a look to see if everyone's still in bed.»

His hand fumbled for hers. «You don't have to do this.»

Her heart did a funny little fluttery thing she found annoying. «Just don't move.» Natalya pulled her hand away and wiped her palm on her leather pants, trying to erase the strange electrical tingling he seemed to cause whenever she touched his skin.

«It's getting light,» Natalya's voice turned unusually husky. She cleared her throat. His fingers on her bare wrist felt too intimate. «We have to get inside before the sun comes up. It took us too long to get here. The farmers were already working, remember? We had to hide. Just rest while I take a look around.»

She knew she sounded gruff, but her emotions were so unfamiliar and intense around Vikirnoff. She certainly didn't want to feel compassion for his terrible wounds or admiration for his stoic refusal to complain. She needed to keep an emotional distance at all times. Just saving him made her feel like an utter traitor to her brother.

But she had saved him and now he was her responsibility. Natalya didn't take her responsibilities lightly. She sniffed the air cautiously, searching for signs of anyone up, but she found only Slavica's scent in the kitchen, so she pushed open the door with stealth and studied the large room.

Slavica stood at the sink peeling potatoes for breakfast. Natalya stole up behind her. «You work too hard.»

The innkeeper swung around, potato and knife in hand. «You! Natalya, you frightened me.» Her eyes widened with concern as she took in Natalya's appearance. «What happened to you? Are you injured?»

Natalya realized she had blood smeared all over her. Most of it belonged to Vikirnoff. «I'm fine. I have someone with me I need to get up to my room, but I don't want anyone to see us. Will you help me? He's injured.»

«How bad?» Slavica was practical.

Natalya grinned at her. «You're so great. Thank you. He's in bad shape. He's lost way too much blood but I can't take him to a hospital.»

«There is a hidden stairway,» Slavica confided. «This inn was built on the site of an old monastery and part of that building was retained and incorporated into the inn. Only our family uses the stairs and rooms for our living quarters.»

«If you wouldn't mind keeping a lookout, I'll go get him,» Natalya said. The relief sweeping through her was tremendous.

Natalya hurried out the kitchen door and ran down the path leading to the dense shrubbery where she had left the hunter. She skidded to a halt when she saw him, slumped, his eyes closed, his face pale, almost gray and small dots of blood beading on his brow. Her heart jumped and her stomach rolled. «Vikirnoff? Do you think you can walk the last few yards to the room?» She couldn't very well become a tiger again, but he looked so worn and

pale it frightened her.

He opened his eyes and managed to climb to his feet with her aid. He stood swaying unsteadily until she slipped her arm around him. «Just a few more minutes and you can lie down.» Natalya encouraged him.

«This place is dangerous,» he told Natalya as they entered through the kitchen. He offered a tentative smile to Slavica when she gave an alarmed gasp. «I didn't mean to startle you.»

«I'm honored to have you, sir. My home is your home.» Slavica curtsied, her hand going protectively to her throat. «This way, quickly. The workers will be here any moment to prepare the food. You must hurry.»

Vikirnoff stiffened, holding up his hand for silence as he glanced toward the kitchen door. Muted voices drifted toward them. He waved his hand and the voices faded, the workers moving away from the room.

Natalya felt the shiver of pain rippling through his body as he expended energy to send the kitchen help away. She took a better grip on his waist and urged him toward the back of the room where Slavica pulled open a panel in the corner. The stairs led both to a door into the private residence and upward to the second story.

«Just a few more minutes,» Natalya whispered. She wished he'd complain just once. Her ankles and side throbbed and burned and her injuries weren't nearly as severe as his, yet Vikirnoff was silent, not even grunting when his battered body was jarred as they went up the narrow stairs. He barely leaned his weight on her, careful of her side, but every once in a while his palm settled over her injury. Each time he did she felt warmth and the pain lessened, but she noted he became weaker and much paler.

«Stop it,» she hissed. «I mean it. I've had a hundred wounds like this. I know when they're bad and mine isn't. The vampires were being careful not to inflict any grave injury on me. I can deal with it later.» She pushed open the door to her room and halted, inhaling deeply. «Someone has been in here.»

Slavica shook her head. «The maids clean in the morning hours. You left in the evening. They would have been finished.»

«There is no one here now,» Vikirnoff said, «but a man has been in this room recently. He smells of pipe tobacco and cologne.»

«The man from the bar last night,» Natalya said. «What is his name, Slavica?» She helped Vikirnoff to the bed.

«Barstow, Brent Barstow. He comes through our village several times a year. He says he's on business, but…» The innkeeper trailed off shaking her head.

Vikirnoff glanced at her sharply. «But he makes you uneasy.»

«Very uneasy,» Slavica conceded. «And he's asked questions of my daughter Angelina. I didn't like his questions.»

«Questions about…» Vikirnoff prompted.

Natalya felt his pain as if it were her own as he stood there swaying, probing the innkeeper. She had the urge to just knock him unconscious, throw him on the bed and be done with it.

«He wishes to know about the people residing in this area,» Slavica answered.

The moment Vikirnoff sank down onto the soft blankets he turned his face away, but not before Natalya caught another much sharper ripple of pain he couldn't quite hide. She couldn't prevent herself from brushing strands of black hair off his brow. «Slavica's a nurse, a healer. She can help you.»

«She must attend your injuries first,» he decreed.

Natalya snatched her hand away. «There you go again.» She was angry with herself for the silly melting sensation touching him produced in the pit of her stomach. Could she be any more pathetic? «Don't be giving me orders.» She winced at the harshness in her tone and turned away from him to fuss at pulling the heavy drapes over the windows and balcony door to block out the morning sun.

Slavica sat on the edge of the bed. «He will need other things, Natalya. In the kitchen there is a wooden bowl in the cupboard. Take that and fill it with the richest soil you can find in the garden.» She leaned forward and swept the strands of hair that had so bothered Natalya from Vikirnoff's forehead, her fingers lingering against his cool skin. «You've lost far too much blood. I must send for your prince. He'll want to know you require aid.»

Vikirnoff caught her wrist. «You know what I am.» He could read that she did. Few humans knew of their existence, not only for the protection of the Carpathian people, but also for the humans. If Slavica had knowledge of their species, she was under the protection of his prince. «Who are you?»

«I'm Slavica Ostojic. My mother's name was Kukic. And you are?»

Before answering he took a long, careful probe of her mind and was shocked to find she had a friendship with the prince of his people. He had heard rumors that Mikhail Dubrinksy had friends in the human world, but it was a rare occurrence to trust humans with the secrets of their species. «Vikirnoff Von Shrieder.» He gave his name reluctantly, unable to fully overcome his natural reticence. He believed in few words, keeping his own counsel and taking action when necessary. This was an unfamiliar situation and he was feeling his way.

«This inn has been in my family for a hundred years. Mikhail Dubrinsky helped my mother to keep it when things in our country were complicated. He has always been a friend to our family and we have treasured that friendship.»

Vikirnoff had trouble focusing on the woman's explanation. Hunger nearly overwhelmed him. The heartbeat of the women reverberated through the room and echoed through his head. The scent of blood nearly overwhelmed him and every instinct he possessed demanded he feed to save his life and that of his lifemate.

Slavica bent close to him and his gaze immediately riveted on her pulse. It beckoned and seduced, that small throbbing rhythm. His mouth watered and his incisors lengthened. He leaned toward her neck for a long moment, needing. Simply needing. Abruptly he pulled back. He would not take from one under the protection of his prince. To shut out the terrible hunger, he tried to concentrate on his lifemate.

Natalya fussed with the curtains, but all the while her confused emotions battered at him. The room shifted and whirled as he listened to the ebb and flow of blood moving through veins. His every instinct was to protect her, to claim her. His body and soul roared for hers, yet she tried to stay closed off to him. Her scent drove him to a fever pitch.

«I must send word to the prince,» Slavica repeated. «He would be annoyed with me if I did not.»

Vikirnoff closed his burning eyes in weariness, realizing his injuries might prevent him from keeping Mikhail. Dubrinsky safe for some time. «The prince is in danger. Send him that message. It is far more important than worrying about my wounds. I will heal. I have had worse and will again no doubt.»

Hearing the tired note Vikirnoff couldn't hide, Natalya glanced at him. She had been studiously avoiding looking at him, but now she saw the lines of pain etched deeply in his face, the blood on his chest as Slavica cut away his shirt. Her heart seemed to skip a beat and then go crazy as she viewed his terrible injuries. She knew his back would have rake marks, long deep furrows where her claws had rent him from shoulder to waist. She was ashamed of herself. She'd been too slow in stopping the attack when he had dropped from the sky between her and the vampire, yet she could find no blame or resentment in Vikirnoff's mind.

His body was hard and muscular and ravaged with pain. Everything in her cried out to touch him, to ease that pain. She became fascinated by the way Slavica's hands moved over Vikirnoff's bare skin. Soothing him. Examining. Touching. Natalya's breath caught in her throat. The hands mesmerized her. Infuriated her. Something dark and ugly stirred inside of her.

The curtains slipped from her hands so that the early morning light spilled over her. Vikirnoff, sensing sudden danger, turned his head, eyes wide open to see Natalya fading into the wall, the streaks of light camouflaging her body so that it was difficult to see her

without straining. In spite of the pain movement caused, he turned on his side, gaze narrowing to focus more fully on her.

Natalya's entire demeanor had changed. She no longer appeared fully human, instead she had become a dangerous, powerful predator. Even her sea-green eyes had changed color, taking on a pearlescent appearance, fixed and focused on Slavica as if on prey. There was a stillness to her that spoke of a tigress on the hunt, muscles locked into position, gaze intent and fixed on the nurse.

«Mrs. Ostojic, Slavica,» Vikirnoff said, his voice quiet, his tone commanding. «Move slowly around to the other side of the bed. Do it now.»

Slavica glanced at Natalya as she rose. A small rumbling growl emanated from the corner where Natalya had faded into a blurred image. Hand to her throat, the innkeeper shifted her weight carefully, easing to her feet and putting the bulk of the bed between her and the woman.

Ainaak enyem, what has you so upset? Vikirnoff had little understanding of women, and even less of his lifemate. It was easy enough to understand that emotions were intense and neither understood exactly what was happening to them. He was fighting the battle of darkness and intellect had little to do with primal instincts. With Natalya so near and yet still not anchoring him, he was far more dangerous than he had ever been. Her chaotic emotions bombarding him were a recipe for disaster. Was the same thing happening to her? Were they both too close to animal instincts because neither understood what was happening to them?

Why are you allowing her to touch you like that? The accusation should have been ludicrous, but he sensed the way she held herself so tightly under control. To Natalya, the accusation was very real. She saw a woman's hands smoothing over the body of her lifemate. The emotions ran too strong, too intense, possibly fueled by his own terrible hunger, by his own rising beast.

Vikirnoff touched her mind. A red haze spread and gripped her. Instincts as old as time, hot with passion, animalistic. There was something buried deep in her he had yet to encounter, something she protected, but it was rising to the surface and it was every bit as dangerous and as powerful as a predator on the hunt.

He fought to keep the intensity of their emotions from affecting him. It was his duty to protect his lifemate, to see to her well-being. He had to find a way to defuse the situation until she could get herself under control.

«Slavica, perhaps you would get the necessary soil and herbs. You know what we need. Natalya will watch over me.» Vikirnoff never took his gaze, or his mind, from his lifemate. He didn't dare. The effort was draining, but the alternative was unthinkable. Natalya should have been not only healing him, but as his lifemate, anchoring him. Instead, she was triggering his every animal instinct so that not only did he have to fight himself, but he had

to provide the anchor for Natalya.

«Are you certain you'll be safe?» Slavica whispered the words.

A growling hiss of displeasure came from Natalya's direction.

«Thank you, yes.» A soft growl of his own accompanied the words and he kept his face averted from Slavica, his gaze holding Natalya locked in position.

Vikirnoff needed desperately. The heartbeats were so loud it was almost a roar in his head. He needed blood and a way to control the danger emanating from his lifemate. He willed the nurse to get out before disaster struck. Trying to hold Natalya in check was difficult when his life was ebbing away from the loss of blood.

Slavica moved slowly, intelligent enough to sense the danger, and courageous enough to walk around the bed and make her exit, pulling the door closed behind her.

«Come here to me,» Vikirnoff ordered, his tone dropping an octave until it was velvet soft and hypnotic.

Natalya shook her head as if trying to clear the haze from her mind. Unlike others Vikirnoff called to him, his lifemate was well aware she was under compulsion. Strangely she didn't fight him as she could have, instead she took a reluctant step forward, compelled by his black, black eyes and the stark hunger she couldn't define. The same hunger was in her, clawing with very real pain and power, threatening to consume them both.

She was acutely aware the appetite was mixed with desire, with lust, a passionate need that bordered on obsession. Fascinated by the intensity in his eyes, she emerged from the shadows, one slow step at a time, almost in freeze-frame.

She looked ethereal, her muscles moving suggestively beneath the bands of skin glowing strangely in the faint light. Not quite real. Definitely not human. Vikirnoff tried for a moment to probe deeper into her mind, to uncover the secrets that lay hidden behind her strange brain patterns. Hunger beat at him without mercy. Hers? Or his own? He couldn't separate the two. He couldn't tell which were his emotions, so intense, swirling out of control. Was she jealous? Or was that his own beast rising with a ferocious need?

Women were of the light. Did they feel the razor-sharp clawing at their gut? On the verge of killing? Unblinking, he watched the way she emerged out of the faded bands of light coming toward him. Her strangely colored eyes focused on him and stared as if he were the prey, not the other way around. The tigress was on the hunt and the tension stretched to a screaming point. Danger thrummed in the air between them.

Natalya couldn't stop moving forward. She felt in a dream, one she wasn't in control of, standing off to the side, watching the action with a pounding heart and screaming at herself to wake up. She honestly didn't know if she intended to kill him. She feared him. She sensed the darkness in him rising and self-preservation was strong in her, yet she was

unable to stop each step forward.

Vikirnoff's fingers shackled her wrist. Enormously strong. Incredibly gentle. His touch set her heart pounding and her knees inexplicably turned to rubber. She sank down onto the edge of the bed. His hands slid up her arms, fingers tunneled through her hair and settled in a frame around her face. His black gaze burned over her, held her captive. She couldn't look away from him even as he forced her head toward his.

Natalya felt her stomach turn over. Every nerve ending leapt to life. She felt but she couldn't move. He lay injured, a hole in his chest, bleeding from the deep rake marks she'd made in his back and countless other wounds, weak and seemingly vulnerable, yet she went to him like a willing sacrifice.

His lips touched hers. Cool. Firm. Velvet soft. Her heart jumped in her chest. He trailed kisses from the corner of her mouth to her neck, tiny pinpoints of flames dancing over her skin. In her mind she screamed at herself to run, yet no sound emerged and she leaned closer to him, lifting the hair from her neck.

She wanted his touch. Needed to feel his hands on her. He belonged to her. No other woman had the right to touch him, to smooth fingers over his bare skin and be so close as to exchange air.

Fire raged in Vikirnoff's veins and stormed through his mind until thunder roared in his ears and the need to assuage his terrible hunger, a hunger that was mixed with sexual need, with possessive lust, was near frenzy. He inhaled her scent, took it deep in his lungs. Listened to the ebb and flow of life sizzling through her veins. She was calling to him, a timeless, haunting call of female to male, an aphrodisiac that enhanced his every sense. His tongue tasted her pulse. He felt her reaction, the swift intake of her breath. Her breasts brushed against him, a soft enticement that added to the strange roaring in his head.

Natalya felt his tongue swirling over her pulse and her womb clenched in anticipation. There was white-hot pain that gave way instantly to erotic pleasure. Her blood flowed into him like nectar. He shifted her in his arms, holding her close to him, one hand sliding up her body to cup her breast, thumb teasing her nipple into a taut peak.

Her body went into overdrive, weeping with need, hot with excitement, coiling tighter and tighter until she was nearly pleading with him for relief. Clothes hurt her too-sensitive skin. She wanted to be under him, his body ramming into hers hard and fast, filling her emptiness. She clawed at him, trying to get closer, arching into him, deliberately rousing him further.

Vikirnoff' felt the power and lust sweeping through him, soaking into his injured body, supplying him with heat and excitement and strength. His body raged at him for a fulfillment that would be impossible in his present state. His demon rose fast and ferociously, roaring for his mate, demanding he claim her, that he tie them together for all eternity. She tasted like nothing he'd ever experienced and he knew he would need to return

again and again and he'd never get enough.

In defiance of the roaring beast, he forced himself to pull back and deliberately swept his tongue over the pinpricks in her throat. A part of him wished he'd taken from the swell of her breast, but he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from possessing her body. He didn't altogether trust himself. In his aroused state, he would have died to possess her. Taking her would have cost him his life, and he was far too close to the edge for clear thinking. Better to take precautions than indulge his instincts.

He shifted her until she lay across him, her green eyes staring up at him, mirroring the same lust that had taken control of his body. He bent his head to her side, holding her still while he examined her wounds. It took only minutes to separate himself from his body and go into hers with his spirit to heal her wounds from the inside out. He paid particular attention to the puncture wounds on her ankles. The scent was unlike any he'd encountered and he wanted to be able to recognize it anywhere. The wounds were deep, all the way to the bone, yet she had never said a word and had insisted Slavica attend to him-until her jealous nature had overtaken her. She felt the pull of a lifemate every bit as strongly as he. She didn't want it. She didn't understand it, but it was fierce and strong and their souls were nearly already united and he hadn't yet bound them together.

Vikirnoff pulled her closer still, holding her head in the palm of his hand as he slashed his chest. He urged her close to him, until, of her own accord, her mouth moved, tongue tasting delicately. He groaned under the sensual assault. Natalya moved against him, her tongue swirling over his skin, healing the long thin line, just as his had closed the pinpricks.

Vikirnoff swore softly in his own language, prepared to try again when her teeth sank deep. The pain flashed through his body like lightning, gave way to pure erotic pleasure. His head lolled back and his eyes closed. He gave himself up to the magic of the moment, the true blood exchange between lifemates. He would always be able to find her, touch her mind at will, summon her, call to her, share her body and mind and soul. There was ecstasy in the sharing and a promise of passion.

She flicked her tongue to heal the small pinpricks and kissed her way up his chest and throat to find his lips. She was hot with need, her mouth demanding, tongue dueling with his, seeking more.

His hands crept their way under the leather camisole, kneading her breasts, his own demons taking hold. Natalya was a powerful anesthetic and aphrodisiac rolled into one. Pain disappeared as hot blood rushed to his groin, as his need to have her overcame the last coherent thought. He was crazy to want her when he was so near death and if she couldn't find the will to stop him, he just might perish, but he couldn't pull back. His body was a hard knot of desire, his veins sizzling, awareness settling in his groin with painful need. His beast roared, unleashed and leapt to claim her.

Natalya moaned softly, giving herself up to the sudden command of his mouth. Hot. Hungry. Wet. His teeth tugged at her lip, his hands busy at her breasts. Persuasive. Rough.

Insistent. She slid her fingertips over his chest and felt him wince as she touched his open wound. His wound. What the hell was wrong with her? She was practically raping a badly wounded hunter!

Natalya pulled away from him with a soft cry of alarm. His arms slid away from her body leaving her bereft. Wound so tight she thought she might scream. Needy and aching. She backed away from him, her palm pressed to her neck. Her pulse throbbed in tune to the frantic pulsing in her womb, the wild sound drowning out the echo of her name as he whispered it. She could taste him in her mouth. His scent was on her skin. Worse, her body was alive with a need and hunger of her own, every bit as sharp and terrible as his. She blinked rapidly, trying to quiet her rioting heart. The dreamlike state was dissipating, confusion lifting. He was a hunter. Guilt and shame burst over her, struck at her like a heavy fist.

She wanted him. No, it was worse. She needed him. The idea was insane-and entirely unacceptable. He had to have done something to her. No vampire had ever succeeded in trapping her or taking over her mind, but he had. She hadn't felt his invasion, but she knew she would never have allowed him to touch her body. To kiss her. And he had taken her blood and, oh, God, she had taken his. She had been prepared to be a donor. But not like this. Never like this.

Natalya drew a knife from the sheath strapped to her calf and advanced on him with purposeful steps.

Vikirnoff watched her calmly as she approached the bed.

«You did something to me. You forced me to accept you.» Her eyes blazed fury at him, once more going from green to a strange swirling of pearlized colors. «I despise your kind, yet I was willing to harm Slavica, a woman I consider my friend. You did that to me. Why? I could have left you to the vampires.»

«You could not have left me to the vampires,» Vikirnoff said. Even with her angry at him, unable to accept their relationship, even though he didn't understand her at all, he knew she was a miracle. A gift. He was shockingly happy as he lay there, waiting for her to see reason. He tried to repress the silly smile that kept wanting to slip past. He knew what happiness was. Finally. After so many centuries. He felt the emotion and it was exhilarating. He had been so close to turning vampire and she had arrived and saved him.

She didn't want to save him. The thought had him puzzled. Women were supposed to want to be with their lifemates, to see to their every need. He had only dim memories of his parents, but he was almost certain that was the way it worked. Unless he could no longer remember how it been between his mother and father.

Natalya's small white teeth came together in a snap of temper. That smirking little smile hovering near his mouth made her want to slap him. «You belong with the vampires. Do you think I can't feel the darkness in you? Smell it? It reeks; a stain there is no way for you

to remove. You deserve death.»

«Perhaps I do, but not at your hands. I will admit the darkness is strong in me and I cannot overcome it, but you can. And you will. It is your duty as my lifemate. I will not absolve you of your duties merely because you do not know what is expected of you. It is a situation we both are unfamiliar with, but we will learn. I may not be the lifemate you expected, but you are not what I expected either. We will learn together.»

Why did the things he said hurt her? No one, other than her beloved brother, had ever been able to say things to hurt her. She kept those sensitive emotions locked away, yet Vikirnoff's words were almost as sharp and painful as the blade in her fist. Just because he didn't expect her wasn't a rejection of her, was it? And why did she care?

«Damn you to hell,» she snapped. Her fury had dissipated abruptly and tears-tears burned in her eyes. She wanted the anger back. She needed it to shield her. Why didn't he fight back? Why didn't he say or do something to give her back her rage?

Natalya clutched the knife handle until it was in danger of becoming a powder in her hands. She forced air through her lungs. «I'll just wait until you're asleep and your body is lead and I'll open the drapes and let the sun fry your worthless ass.» She kept her voice low, her words harsh, but inside she was weeping.

She wanted to kill him. He deserved death. Every hunter needed to die along with the vampires they kept in check. None of them had hearts or emotions. Yet, when she looked at him, she saw that faint light of happiness shining for her. For her. No one looked at her like that. And desire blazed in his eyes. How many times had he stepped in front of her to prevent injury from a vampire? He'd tried to send her away from the battle. As much as she wanted to be annoyed by that silly gesture, she felt protected.

Natalya shook her head, refusing to let her brain defend him. He had used some kind of mind control on her. There was no other explanation for her behavior. She would never have voluntarily touched him intimately or allowed him to touch her. Her breasts still ached and felt swollen and painful without his touch. She detested herself. Detested that she was such a weak woman around Vikirnoff Von Shrieder.

She had been jealous. Jealous. The sight of another woman touching him had been more than she could take. Her animal nature had overtaken her. What had ever possessed her parents to give her the nature of a tiger? And why hadn't she been warned about the deadly peril, so very real, a hunter could use on a woman?

She pressed fingers to her throbbing temples. She was wading in quicksand, sinking deeper and deeper the more she struggled against him. Vikirnoff said nothing. All the while he lay simply watching her, propped up on one elbow, his gaze never leaving her face. She was beginning to hate his eyes. That black, fierce gaze, so intense and so hungry for her. His eyes drew her like nothing else ever had-or would. No matter how much she told herself it was wrong, it was a betrayal, she was still drawn to him. Mesmerized by him. In

lust with him. And it wasn't natural. It couldn't be.

Her inability to break his hold on her fed her temper. «I certainly have no duty to you. You have such gall to even suggest it.»

«You cannot deny you are my lifemate. Our souls call to one another.» His voice softened to a mesmerizing cadence. «Give yourself a little time, Natalya. You will get used to the idea. All of this will work out as it is meant.»

She shoved the knife back into the scabbard, her hand shaking. He was seducing her with his eyes and his voice. How could she be so susceptible? She needed armor. How could she be so confused and raw and edgy? She was never like this and yet she didn't seem to have any control over her emotions.

«I want to smother you with a pillow,» she lied, hoping to draw a response she could work with. «I can't believe you. No one could ever stand being your lifemate.» She could rage all she wanted but he knew he was pulling her in. She closed her eyes and allowed truth to pour out. «I will never be your lifemate. You killed my brother. My twin. The only person in this world that meant anything to me. Do you think for one moment that I'd save you, let alone have anything to do with you?»

Vikirnoff was silent, touching her memories lightly, seeing the man she loved, feeling her love for him. He shook his head. «I did not kill this man. I have no memory of his face and I remember each of the men I had to destroy.»

She turned away from him. To her horror, the tears she'd been fighting blurred her vision. The humiliation was unbearable. Her heart twisted with pain at the thought of her brother's death. «Not you, personally, but a hunter. One of your kind.»

«Why would a hunter take the life of your brother?»

There was no inflection in his voice. He wasn't calling her a liar, nor was he admitting such a thing could have occurred. He merely looked at her with his intense black eyes, his face etched with pain and it tore her insides out.

Natalya jerked the leather away from her abdomen to reveal the birthmark that had condemned her brother to death. «I have the same mark. You can't be my lifemate when I bear this mark. It's a death sentence. All hunters will kill us immediately when they see the mark of the wizard on our skin.» There was defiance in her voice, expectation in her eyes. She meant to shock him and readied herself for his attack on her.

Vikirnoff stared at the intricate dragon, low on her left side. He let out his breath slowly. «That is no mark of the wizard, Natalya. That is the birthmark of one of the oldest and most respected of Carpathian families. That mark is Dragonseeker. No hunter would kill a man or woman marked as Dragonseeker. It is not possible.»

Her chin went up. «Are you calling me a liar?»

Vikirnoff didn't answer her verbally. He invaded her mind. He gave her no warning and no time to stop him, pushing past her barriers so that he shared her life, the love of her brother, his laughter, his caring, the way the two of them were forced to live, hiding and running from place to place, always ahead of the enemy.

Natalya didn't take the merging lightly. She tried to fight him off, to put up blocks, but there was a ruthless quality to Vikirnoff. He pushed further, uniting them together until he saw what he was looking for. She hated the invasion of her mind. To her, it was almost worse than if he had invaded her body. She lifted her hands and gracefully sketched symbols in the air between them, an attempt at erecting a shield to protect her memories, her thoughts, the very essence of who and what she was from him.

The symbols burned brightly in the air for a brief moment, orange and yellow and gold, then slowly faded, leaving her vulnerable.

Her resistance to their merging surprised Vikirnoff, but he ignored it, intent on finding the memories that had shaped Natalya's distrust of Carpathians.

Natalya's grief over the death of her twin was wild and without end. Totally immeasurable. It was still as sharp-edged and painful as the day she had learned her brother, Razvan, was dying. Vikirnoff caught the echo of her brother's name in her cry of sorrow. Her brother had connected with her on a private mental path, in pain, laboring for breath, reaching out one last time with a warning for her to avoid the Carpathian hunters. To run while she could and stay hidden from the scrutiny of that dangerous race. They were liars. Deceivers. And they would kill her the moment they saw that mark. The dragon was the mark of death.

Razvan had been in agony, but he had held on long enough to send the warning to his beloved twin sister. Abruptly, before she could tell him she loved him, he was gone from her. She had never found his body-or his killer. He had not shown her the battle, or the face of his murderer.

«It had to be a vampire,» Vikirnoff said, totally shaken as he pulled out of her mind. Her emotions were so raw, so intense, he felt them, too. He took several deep breaths to stay in control. «There is no other explanation. You know they are deceivers. Every one of them.»

«It was no vampire,» she hissed back. «Razvan knew the difference. Your people waged war on my people simply because a Carpathian cannot stand to lose his woman to another man. My grandmother left her lifemate and it started a war. If Carpathian males can go to war over such a thing, they are perfectly capable of murdering my brother.»

«Your grandmother, Rhiannon of the Dragonseekers, was kidnapped and her lifemate murdered. She was murdered. That is the truth, Natalya, and somewhere deep inside of you, you are very much aware of it or you would have killed me when I stepped between you and the vampire.»

«Shut up!» She pressed her hands over her ears, but she couldn't stop the way her mind tuned itself to his. The way her heart sought the rhythm of his. Or the way her body burned for him.

And she couldn't bear to be reminded she had nearly killed him. She had allowed the tigress freedom and her claws had shredded his skin from neck to waist.

He closed his eyes in weariness. «I am sorry for the death of your brother. In truth, we all have lost loved ones in the battle against evil.»

The knock on the door saved Natalya from having to answer him. Slavica opened the door cautiously. «May I come in?»

«Yes, do,» Natalya said. «You're welcome to take care of him.» She had to get away, get her wild emotions under control. She had never felt such an emotional roller-coaster and never wanted to again. Exhausted, trying to hide tears, she snatched up clean clothes and ran for the bathroom. «I'm going to take a shower.»

Chapter 4

«Natalya seems very upset,» Slavica said as she lit several candles to fill the room with the soothing aroma. «Is it always so difficult for your women to accept another woman helping you? Even when I am a nurse and you are so gravely injured?»

Vikirnoff gave her a faint, humorless smile. «I have only met two other woman of my species in recent years and it seems to me they were both difficult. I have little memory of those who came before.»

«Natalya is a sweet girl,» Slavica said. «My husband, Mirko, is sending word to the prince, Mikhail Dubrinsky, that you are injured. I told him that one of our guests had broken into Natalya's room while she was away. That really worries me.» She frowned as she studied the deep hole in his chest. «This worries me as well. The muscle and tissue are shredded right down to your heart. Your artery is exposed and there seems to be infection already forming.»

«Vampires are nasty creatures. They like to leave their mark behind.»

Natalya leaned against the bathroom door and listened to the conversation, ashamed of her unreasonable jealousy. She wasn't a sweet girl. She was a grown woman much older than Slavica and she should be in total control at all times. Her flippant attitude was carefully cultivated to keep people at a distance, but as a rule, she was in complete control.

Meeting Vikirnoff had her emotions ping-ponging all over the place. She didn't much like the feeling-or herself at the moment.

Of course the hole in Vikirnoff's chest was worrisome. A vampire had attempted to tear out his heart. What did Slavica mean by that? Was it a mortal wound? Slavica hadn't even gotten to the tiger claw marks down his back. Was Vikirnoff going to die after all? Natalya had been so busy climbing all over him, she'd nearly forgotten what he'd suffered in her defense. She was completely disgusted with herself.

Natalya thumped the back of her head against the wall in frustration. What is wrong with me?

Nothing is wrong with you. You were given a version of a story and you believed it. You think I am your enemy and yet you are the other half of me and your soul recognizes me. It is no wonder you are confused.

Vikirnoff's calm voice intruded into her mind. The voice of reason. Purity. Truth. So in control-as if giving her permission to be upset. And it annoyed the hell out of her. Don't make excuses for me. I'm perfectly capable of making up my own mind. Everything about you annoys the holy hell out of me.

Everything? His tone was mild, but the inflection was suggestive.

Natalya squeezed her eyes closed tight as warmth flooded her body. If his voice could make her weak with wanting him, she was terrified of what might happen if he touched her. She was vulnerable right now. That was the trouble. She longed for a home and a family. For someone to share her life and he came along, all handsome with those eyes and that mouth and body, and she'd tripped. That was all. A small stumble.

Slavica spoke again. «I'll need your saliva. Mine has no healing properties.»

Natalya's stomach rolled and her muscles clenched in protest. «Damn it,» she muttered as she flung open the bathroom door. She hurried out, grabbing the wooden bowl filled with rich, dark soil, not daring to look at Vikirnoff. «I'll do it,» she announced, exasperation coloring her tone. If you know what's good for you, you'll keep your freakin' mouth shut. And you won't dare smirk, because in all honesty, I have no idea what I'll do if you are that stupid and insensitive.

I have never been accused of being insensitive. Vikirnoff wasn't certain that was altogether the truth. His brother's lifemate, Destiny, had definitely made a few pointed remarks about his lack of knowledge about women.

«Of course, Natalya,» Slavica encouraged. «I'm grateful for the help. Healing a Carpathian is quite different from healing a human.»

«Have you done it before?» Natalya asked, curious. It just didn't seem likely that the Carpathian race would share such vital information as their way of healing with humans.

Natalya glanced at Vikirnoff, unable to help herself. Her heart shifted uneasily. Had he always been so pale? There were dark circles under his sunken-in eyes. White lines around his mouth were the only real external signs of pain, but she felt it. And she knew he was, in some way, shielding her. That irritated her as well.

She was every bit as powerful and capable as he was. Just because he knew that you had to incinerate vampire hearts in order to kill the undead did not make him more powerful or dangerous, only more knowledgeable. She risked another glance at him as she worked on the soil, trying not to notice the way Slavica touched him. It was impersonal, she could read Slavica's mind, knew there were no inappropriate thoughts, only her need to help heal Vikirnoff's wounds. There was also a very real worry that she would not be able to save him. Still, watching another woman's hands on his body was disturbing.

«Tell me what else he needs,» Natalya said before she could stop herself. A slow hiss of exasperation escaped, but she grimly kept up with her task. She knew the soil was all important, that it would be packed into Vikirnoff's wounds.

«He needs blood, lots of it. And he needs the earth and someone to enter his body and heal him from the inside out.»

Natalya pressed her back against the wall. Damn the man. I sure as hell do not want to crawl inside your mind and body.

I would not ask it of you.

She ground her teeth together. Of course he wouldn't ask. If he'd asked, she would have told him to go to hell, but no, he had to be all stoic and heroic on her. He didn't ask her to bring him back to the inn, but he'd looked at her with his intense black eyes and left her no choice.

I was unconscious.

If you knew what was good for you, you'd be unconscious now. She fumed at him, glaring, but he kept his eyes closed. And that brought her attention to his black lashes and their incredible length.

«I've healed myself from the inside out, Slavica. It requires a great deal of concentration and if he stays quiet and doesn't say anything stupid and make me so mad I want to add a few extra wounds to him, then it may just work.»

Vikirnoff's mouth curved into a faint smile. «She sounds so loving.»

Slavica laughed. «She does at that, Mr. Von Shrieder.»

«Vikirnoff,» he corrected. «I don't think now is the time to stand on ceremony. If you are under the protection of our prince, then you are under my protection and a friend.»

Natalya snorted derisively. «You couldn't protect a wet hen right now, Mr. Charm, so knock off the flirting and let me work.»

Vikirnoff looked confused. «Why would I want to protect a wet hen?»

Slavica covered her mouth with her hand and coughed delicately.

«You're deliberately missing the point,» Natalya said and sank down onto the mattress, her thigh brushing his.

«I do not understand how or why you are comparing Slavica to a wet hen,» Vikirnoff said with a small frown. «I do not see the resemblance.»

Slavica's giggle slipped out from around her hand. She hastily sobered and sent Natalya a quick look of apology. «Just lie back, Vikirnoff, and stay still. Natalya, you must teach me the chant that all Carpathian healers use when working.»

«I don't know it,» Natalya admitted, feeling guilty and ashamed. Why, she didn't know. She had no reason to know the silly chant. «I'm not full Carpathian and have never lived with their people. I know very little about them.»

Vikirnoff's fingers caught her chin and raised it. Her gaze flew to his and held there when she wanted to jerk away. For all the severity of his injuries, he had surprising strength. I do not like you feeling ashamed. Why should you know something without ever being taught? Few know the heart of the vampire must be incinerated or he will rise again and again. Even fewer know how to separate mind and body to heal. And the number who know the sacred words of healing is even smaller.

His voice soothed more than his words, brushing over her like silk, enveloping them with an intimacy that brought unexpected tears to her eyes. She choked back a lump burning in her throat and dragged her gaze from his. He was touching her in ways she couldn't comprehend and her reaction to him frightened her. She was terribly ashamed of her shrewish behavior toward Vikirnoff when he lay on the bed with his chest, thigh and back ripped open, all the while trying to soothe her.

I am having trouble keeping chaotic emotions at bay, why should it be any easier for you? You have no reason to feel shame.

His confession nearly brought on another rush of tears. Natalya bent over his chest, pressing the mixture of healing soil and saliva into the hole so close to his heart. Beneath her fingers, she felt his muscles grow tense. Flicking a nervous glance at his face, she saw tiny beads of blood on his brow. Her stomach protested with a quick rolling lurch. Her breath hissed out between her teeth.

«It's good, Natalya,» Slavica encouraged. «Vikirnoff teach us the words so we can help when Natalya attempts to heal you.»

Hurry. It slipped out, breathless with anxiety. Natalya bit down on her lip, but it didn't stop the worry in her mind from betraying her. She hated causing him pain, even when she knew she was helping him with the soil pack. Tell me the words and I'll relay them to Slavica. And tell me what the words mean.

Kunasz, nelkul sivdobbanas, nelkul fesztelen loyly. It means, «You lie as if asleep, without beat of heart, without airy breath.'» Vikirnoff coughed and there was a fleck of blood at his lips. He turned his face away from her to continue. Ot elidamet andam szabadon elidadert means «I offer freely my life for your life.» His gaze flicked over her briefly. You may not wish to continue.

Just give me the words.

O jela sielam jorem ot ainamet es so?e ot elidadet. Vikirnoff coughed again and dragged his torn shirt to his mouth. Natalya could see it was instantly stained with blood. «My spirit of light forgets my body and enters your body.» O jela sielam pukta kinn minden szelemeket belso.

Vikirnoff paused when she took the shirt from him and gently wiped his mouth. Her eyes met his. «What does that mean?»

«My spirit of light sends all the dark spirits within fleeing without.» His hand fumbled for her wrist to hold her still. Thank you, Natalya.

«You're very welcome. Give me the rest of it before you lose consciousness.»

Pajnak o susu hanyet es o nyelv nyalamet sivadaba means «I press the earth of my homeland and the spit of my tongue into your heart.»

«Basically the chant covers exactly the procedure for healing,» Natalya said.

Vikirnoff nodded. Vii o verim so?e o verid andam is, «At last, I give you my blood for your blood.» This is repeated while the healer is inside the body. It is a ceremony that has been handed down through time and has much power.

Natalya repeated the words slowly several times to Slavica. The nurse nodded and began to chant, picking up the accents and murmuring the words in a soft, melodic voice.

Natalya took a deep, cleansing breath and let it out. She had often healed small wounds on her own body with the technique of separating spirit from body, but never on another person. It was dangerous and difficult to allow the body to drop away and become the healing energy needed. And to enter Vikirnoff's body… What if she made a mistake? What if she did something wrong and made things worse?

There is no making things worse, ainaak enyem, I cannot hold on much longer. If you do not enter my body and heal it, I will oblige you by dying and save you the necessity of finding new ways to kill me.

Natalya had no idea if he was attempting humor or if he meant it, but his words steadied her resolve. She flashed him a quick glance. Good riddance, too. You make me crazy.

I know.

There was far too much satisfaction in his purring answer. But there was also an underlying echo of pain. He was finding it more difficult to shield her from the tearing agony that made him sweat blood. Natalya closed herself off from confusion and guilt and doubt. She needed to shed her own skin, put aside her ego and her doubts, the frailties of self and become only pure energy, the essence of life, a spirit so light it could travel without flesh and bones.

She began to chant as well, the rhythmic words helping her concentrate and focus on her task. She felt the separation and, for a moment, panicked as she always did. She forced herself to push through her awareness of self and let go. She knew Vikirnoff was with her, a shadow in her mind. She wasn't certain if he was there for support, for aid should she need it, or because he feared she might try to kill him.

She found herself back in her own body. Faint color stole up her cheeks. She couldn't look at Slavica and admit failure. What did I do wrong?

Nothing. You became aware of my presence and allowed it to distract you. It happens with all healers attempting to enter someone else. Try again, Natalya. You seem to be a natural.

I've only done this to myself.

But with no training. No one showed you how, but you managed on your own. You must be a powerful healer as were all the Dragonseekers. I am staying with you to ensure your safety. If you wished me dead, you would not be attempting this.

The utter weariness in his voice became her strength and determination. She let her breath out slowly again and freed her mind and spirit from her body. She narrowed her awareness to Vikirnoff, to his broken, bleeding body, the terrible injuries wrought by a vampire, the most evil of all creatures.

It was necessary to stay out of his brain, ignore his memories and his thoughts. She found it was a struggle to separate herself from him. Somehow they were already intertwined and some instinctual, emotional and alien part of her feared his death. She took another steadying breath and once more concentrated on the chant. It was there for her, focusing her energy, drawing her into Vikirnoff's torn body so that she floated through him, pure white healing light.

The damage was tremendous. Worse than she ever expected and far beyond her healing accomplishments to date. She wondered at his ability to continue when he was so completely torn up inside. The deep claw marks down his back were mere scratches in

comparison to the damage done by Arturo.

Natalya began the meticulous work of healing from the inside out. After a time she became aware whenever she hesitated, it was Vikirnoff who directed her, helping her close off torn, jagged muscle and tissue, repairing the damaged organs and carefully removing infection and, in several spots, poison.

The volume of chanting increased as other Carpathians joined in from a distance, both male and female, their voices rising together to aid in healing one of their own, in spite of the sun climbing higher in the sky. If the work hadn't demanded all of her attention, the voices merging together would have made her nervous. She had never been in such close proximity to the Carpathian people and they were touching her mind, just as she was touching theirs.

She had no idea how much time passed before she finished with the repairs to Vikirnoff's chest, but by the time she pulled back into herself, her body was swaying with weariness. Slavica held a glass of water out to her. Natalya took it gratefully and drank it down in one gulp.

«How do you know how to do that?» she asked Vikirnoff. «I don't think a doctor could do what you just did.»

If it were possible, Vikirnoff was even paler, his skin an alarming color of gray. Natalya gripped Slavica's arm. «Look at him. I made him worse.»

«I don't think so,» Slavica consoled. «He needs blood. We must find a way to give him blood.» She took a deep breath. «I gave my blood once before to a Carpathian, although I don't remember what it felt like. I can give him mine.»

The protest rising in Natalya was sharp and ugly. She forced herself away from the edge of danger. She flatly refused to make a fool of herself a second time. And she was not about to tell Slavica an exchange of blood with Vikirnoff was the most erotic thing she'd ever experienced.

«I will supply him with blood,» she said. The thought of touching him, tasting him so intimately was frightening. The more she wanted to run from him, it seemed the closer they became.

«She is too weak,» Vikirnoff objected.

His voice was so faint, Natalya bent over him to hear the whispered words. His breath was warm against her ear. She could see the weak flutter of his pulse. «Put yourself to sleep and conserve energy,» she ordered. «I mean it, hunter. You're not going to die on me and mess up the best work I've ever done.»

I am beginning to like the way you talk to me and that is frightening. There was the faintest of smiles in his voice.

She was so susceptible to him. «Just hibernate, or go into your suspended animation, or whatever you people do when you're underground.» She looked at Slavica with too much desperation, but she couldn't help herself. «Can't you do something? Don't you have a shot of something that will knock him out so we don't have to listen to him anymore? He's so busy trying to be the boss he's going to die on us.» She hated that she was betraying her concern for him.

«Unfortunately he is right about the blood,» Slavica said. «You have to work on him more and you need your strength. The hours are slipping by and soon you will be too tired to do this. There is no way for us to get him into the healing earth without everyone seeing us either.»

«I don't get as tired as the Carpathians do in the sun,» Natalya said. «I'm only part Carpathian.» She'd never really thought about that side of her and the gifts she'd inherited from her grandmother.

She stared down at Vikirnoff with a small frown on her face. He definitely needed more blood. She doubted her nature could stand him taking what he needed from Slavica. How could she explain to the nurse when she didn't understand it herself?

Slavica seemed to divine the problem. «Why don't I do the best I can to treat his remaining wounds and you give him blood? If I think he needs stitches, you can go back in just for that part. None of his other wounds is life threatening. You can probably do a quick inspection of them to make certain no bacteria have gotten into his system. That way you will conserve strength and you can provide for him.»

Natalya helped Slavica roll Vikirnoff to his side, exposing his back. The rake marks were long furrows dug out of his flesh, several inches deep in places. Slavica glanced at Natalya. «I'm sorry, you will have to do this. I would have to give him stitches, the cuts are far too deep. I'll clean it to give you a chance to rest.»

«Tell me how you came to know about the Carpathians. Do you see them often?» Natalya didn't want to think too much on how those rake marks had gotten on his back.

There is no need for guilt.

Please just go to sleep.

Slavica smiled. «Mikhail and Raven Dubrinsky are regular visitors to the village. They have many friends here and help out a great deal. I doubt anyone else knows they are not simply another human couple living in this area. Not long ago, two other Carpathians made themselves known to me. They brought with them small human children. Angelina and I often look after the children during the day.»

Slavica worked while she talked, washing the wounds and pouring something that obviously burned on Vikirnoff's back. He broke out in a blood sweat. Natalya's stomach

churned in protest. «I'm okay now. I'll see if I can't heal those injuries, Slavica.» Wounds she'd made. Natalya closed her eyes briefly wishing she could take back that moment in time. Warmth immediately flooded her. Vikirnoff's touch. She recognized it now, so light it almost wasn't there, yet strong and incredibly tender.

It wasn't fair that he could do that. He had so much confidence in himself. With him in her mind so much, she couldn't help but catch glimpses of his character. The strong silent type, although you don't seem to be all that silent around me. I can only wish. Deliberately she teased him, wanting the pain to recede from his body if only for a brief second.

She felt his faint smile, but he didn't speak, not even in the more intimate way of lifemates. She let out her breath, unaware until that moment that she'd been holding it. Vikirnoff was weak and the leaden state that invaded the Carpathian race was beginning to grip him. Even with the heavy drapes drawn the light hurt his eyes. She felt the burning as if it were her own.

«Cover his eyes, Slavica, while I finish this.» Natalya said between gritted teeth. The thought of him being in such pain, pain that she'd caused was totally disconcerting.

Csitri. You have not caused me pain.

There was that tenderness that turned her heart over. How could his voice be so velvet soft and gentle? How could it stroke through her body like silken heat leaving her so weak-kneed and vulnerable? And what was he calling her?

Slavica added heavy tapestries over the drapes so that no light could possibly get through the window or door.

«Thank you,» Natalya said. The darkened room made it easier to shed her body and regain her spirit form, traveling through Vikirnoff to reach the long furrows the tigress had carved out of his back. She closed the wounds, removing the bacteria, checking and rechecking that she had fused together every bit of torn flesh, muscle and vein. How he had managed to walk into the inn and up the stairs in such a condition she had no idea. She didn't want to admire him, but she did.

«I think I'm done,» Natalya announced, leaning heavily against Slavica. She was exhausted. Vikirnoff lay unmoving. Between his wounds and the time of day, his body was already leaden. She had the most unnatural desire to lie down beside him, her body curled protectively around his, and go to sleep.

«Will you be all right if I leave you?» Slavica asked. «Mirko has been handling the inn alone and I would very much like to check on the whereabouts of Brent Barstow.»

«I'll have to set safeguards on the door, so don't try to come in unless I call you,» Natalya cautioned. «I'll call if we need anything. Thank you so much for your help, Slavica. And I'm sorry if I was a little strange.»

Slavica patted her arm. «No need for that. Mirko and I will do our best to keep an eye on Barstow.»

Natalya shook her head. «You've done enough for us. I don't want either of you in danger. We'll sleep until this evening and we can sort it out then.»

She followed the innkeeper to the door to check the hallway. Uneasiness was growing in her, but it could have been fear of being alone with a hunter. Not just any hunter… Vikirnoff. She began to weave the intricate pattern of safeguards at the door and windows. Anyone disturbing their slumber would be in for a few nasty surprises.

Excellent job. I could not have done better myself.

His concession pleased her, even if the fact that he wasn't asleep made her uncomfortable. I have been studying since I was a toddler. My family is from a very ancient lineage and the spells have been handed down for centuries. She frowned when she realized she was using the much more intimate form of communication between them. Mind to mind rather than spoken aloud.

I am sorry if this form of conversing makes you uneasy. I do not have the strength for verbal conversation.

«I know you don't. I didn't object. If you'd stay out of my head, you wouldn't be hearing things you weren't meant to hear. People need privacy. Especially me.» She drummed her fingers against the mattress. «You need blood. And I need to wash you up. Frankly, you're a mess.» She surveyed him, hands on hips. «I don't see how you managed to make it even traveling on the back of a tiger.»

The tiger was a wonderful experience. My brother has said, on more than one occasion, that I am stubborn.

«What a shocker that is.» Natalya flashed him a small grin as she dragged towels, washcloth and a bowl of warm water out of the bathroom, pleased by his compliment. «I can't imagine anyone ever calling you stubborn.»

You are very brave when I am seemingly helpless.

Natalya's eyebrow went up. «Seemingly?» She was gentle as she wiped his face clean, smoothing back his hair with the washcloth.

You do not have to do this.

She frowned at him as she patted his face dry. «Yes, I do. I'm sleeping on the floor and you're a mess.» That was exactly what she planned to do. Sleep on the floor in front of the door with several weapons at her fingertips.

She longed to lie down and sleep in the soft bed for a couple of days, but it wasn't going

to happen this day.

He was silent again and she finished washing him, smoothing the cloth over his heavy muscles, washing away all traces of blood from his chest and belly. Natalya tossed the rags left from his shirt into a corner. She hesitated, tempted to go further, but she was worn out and she still needed to give him blood. Besides, she didn't want to see anything too tempting.

His soft laughter brushed inside her mind. It is not likely I could do anything about the ideas you would have in your head.

Don't flatter yourself. I'm not easily impressed. Mortified that he was reading her thoughts again, Natalya hurried into the bathroom. Many of the rooms shared the same bathroom, but Natalya had specifically requested one with a private bath. She'd felt a little guilty when she knew she'd be away for several days at a time, but now she was grateful she had reserved the room.

The hot water felt like a miracle as she took a shower, hoping to revive herself for the long watch. She was sore everywhere. She hadn't even noticed until that very moment. Every muscle ached, her head pounded and her eyes burned enough to remind her the sun was climbing high. She could hear the buzz of conversations throughout the inn, the laughter out on the street, the clip-clop of the horses as the carts went by, interspersed occasionally with a car. She was a solitary person, but she enjoyed the sounds of humanity and usually sought out friendships in the towns and villages she passed through. It was the only way she saw herself fitting into the world when it was a place not meant for someone like her.

She was part Carpathian. She was capable of some feats, yet not all. She had the drawbacks, yet not the severity of them. She didn't belong in their world, she didn't belong to a species that had murdered her brother and waged a war over a woman, even if that woman had been her grandmother.

Mage blood ran strong in her. She was from ancient lines gifted with the ability to wield magick, to use the harmony of the earth, to harness the energies and spirits around her. She was adept at it, capable of weaving powerful spells, combining ancient text and her own inventions with astonishing results, yet there was nowhere for such things in the modern world.

The thought triggered a flash of memory, or perhaps a nightmare. I don't want to do that. It's too dangerous. Razvan, tell him what will happen if I call on that spirit. I won't. Razvan, he's hurting me. Make him stop! A shadowy figure stepped out of the darkness and loomed over her as her brother rushed to her aid. Gasping, Natalya pulled back…

What is it? There was alarm in Vikirnoff's voice.

Natalya closed her eyes, tears slipping past her lashes as she caught the vision of her

brother lying on the floor, his face already swelling and blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. As always a door in her brain slammed down, effectively stopping the replay of the distressing memory.

Natalya? Shall I come to you? What has upset you?

She leaned against the shower stall wall. There was such caring in his voice. She hadn't had caring or affection in a long, long time. Don't be silly. I'm just tired. Could he see all the way into her mind? Into the places that were so dark and shadowed and beyond her own ability to see?

Her father, Soren, had been half Carpathian and half mage. He had married a human, her beloved mother, Samantha. Natalya closed her eyes tight and tried not to think about her mother and the mess the vampires had made of her. Her father had gone a little crazy and left his children, Razvan and Natalya, alone while he went seeking to find his wife's killers. He had never returned and Razvan had become her only family.

Her eyes burned at the thought of her brother. So gentle with her, so careful to make certain she used every safeguard, dead at the hand of a hunter. She put her palm on the shower door as if she could feel Vikirnoff through the partition. The hunter was alive because she had chosen to save him.

Sighing, she stepped out of the shower and dried her body, wincing a little when she touched bruises. Natalya sagged against the wall, covering her face. What would Razvan say to her if he were alive? Would he be disgusted and ashamed of her? Or would he understand? She pressed her hands over her ears as if shutting out whispered recriminations.

She didn't understand why she was so drawn to the hunter, why she even considered the possibility of being his lifemate. In the past, she'd been a witness to a woman being drawn to a hunter in spite of her intentions not to be, but Natalya was not fully Carpathian or fully human. She was also wizard, with the blood of the dark mage flowing in her veins; few had her power. She did not believe she could be successfully bound. How could she expect Razvan to believe it if she did not? And how could she expect his understanding? She had the fear that he might reach out from his grave to condemn her.

Opening the bathroom door, she stood across the room from the badly injured hunter and wondered why she had been so determined to see him live. Natalya pulled on a pair of soft drawstring pants and a long sleeve shirt and stood watching Vikirnoff. He appeared to be dead. She couldn't detect the faintest breath of air moving through his lungs, but she didn't want to get that close to him yet. She still had the task of giving him blood.

You do not have to do anything so abhorrent to you, kislany. It is not necessary. I will survive.

Natalya stiffened. Had he been awake the entire time, a shadow in her mind? Why

couldn't she tell when he was merged with her?

«What are you calling me? What is Kish-lah-knee'?»

The emphasis is on the first syllable. Kish-lah-knee. It means «little girl.»

Natalya sucked in her breath, anger rising instantly. «What else have you called me?» She was no little girl, no baby, and she damned well wasn't afraid of him. Well, maybe that wasn't altogether true, but she refused to be intimidated when the hunter was so gravely wounded. She pushed up her sleeve in a business-like manner and forced herself across the room.

I called you my «little slip of a girl» and, «forever mine.»

The weariness in his voice tugged at her heart in spite of her anger. He was using too much energy when he needed desperately to conserve. «I am not a 'slip of a girl' or a 'little girl,'» she declared. «I'm a grown woman and I expect you to treat me with respect.»

As you do me?

She slashed her wrist and pressed it to his mouth. Pain knifed through her, but she stuck her chin in the air and accepted it. She wasn't going to feel guilty. He was a hunter, for heaven's sake. One of her greatest enemies, she'd saved his life, that should have been enough.

«You are not a «little slip of a girl».» But you are ainaak enyem, «forever mine.» I thank you for taking care of me when you are uncertain if it is the right thing to do.

«Don't thank me. I don't want your thanks. Just hurry up and get better so I can throw you out. Maybe your prince will come and take you home with him and get you out of my hair.»

And this night she dared not summon her dream of Razvan as she did each time she slept. She loved to go to sleep and call on her childhood memories of her twin so she could spend time with him. They had always met in their dreams and exchanged whatever each of them had been taught. It was all she had left to her, but not this time. She didn't dare face him, not with a hunter sleeping in her bed and her blood flowing in his veins. Not even when Razvan was dead.

I do not belong with the prince. I belong with you.

Natalya sighed and waited until he politely closed the gash on her wrist with his tongue. His touch was a velvet rasp that sent heat right up her arm. «I don't think we're right for one another. You don't even like me, Vikirnoff. My grandmother couldn't have been a true lifemate to her Carpathian if she fell in love with my grandfather. I was told the binding words only work on a true pair. I do not think we are true lifemates. We aren't compatible.»

Vikirnoff opened his eyes. She had forgotten how black his eyes were. How intense his

gaze was. Even in the darkness she could see that he had night vision, just as she did. «Rhiannon was with her true lifemate. Xavier murdered her lifemate and imprisoned her.»

«She was in love with Xavier. I've heard many stories about their life together. Their time was short, but they lived every moment together happy.»

His tongue moistened his dry lips. Natalya's heart jumped. She couldn't stand to see him in pain. «There was a war, Natalya. People were being killed. Do you believe she would have been happy? Would you have been? Xavier wanted immortality. He had longevity, but only Carpathians could live on and on. He was a powerful wizard but he couldn't find a way to live forever as he wanted.» His voice trailed off.

«Don't talk anymore. We don't need to do this now.» She didn't want to think about Xavier or her troubled nightmares of him. She didn't want to think about her father or mother. Most of all she didn't want to think about Razvan. «Please, just go to sleep and do me the courtesy of staying out of me mind.»

His eyes closed. That is an unreasonable request. If I do not share your mind, how can I see to your health and safety and happiness? It is my duty as your lifemate to provide these things.

Natalya sat with her back to the wall, knees drawn up, guns beside her, knives and sword within arm's reach. She laid her head on her knees and closed her eyes. «It isn't unreasonable at all. If it makes me happy to have privacy, then it stands to reason you should honor my request.»

There was a long silence. So long she didn't think he was going to answer. You are confused about what is between us and you are emotional. It can be difficult at first adjusting to what seems an intrusion in your life.

Natalya allowed herself to relax. She needed sleep desperately and couldn't understand why Vikirnoff hadn't fully succumbed to the leaden state that took the Carpathian people when the sun was high. She preferred to sleep in the afternoon, and the sun burned her eyes, but she could push past the discomfort and go outside as long as her skin was protected. She probably should have gone out and found blood for herself, but frankly, she was too tired.

«I'm an intrusion in your life as well,» she pointed out. «We don't have to give in to this thing.» Whatever the thing was.

Vikirnoff was silent even longer. She didn't understand and he couldn't really blame her. He had to admire her, going against her beliefs to aid him. Guilt surrounded her, ate at her along with her complete bewilderment. The pull between lifemates was extremely strong and she felt it every bit as deeply as he. It is not a choice, ainaak enyem. Without you the darkness would take me. I cannot allow that to happen and neither can you. You know how evil the vampire is. I have fought such creatures most of my life. I will not become the undead. Not even for my misguided lifemate.

Damn him. He had a way of turning her words around on her. She bit at her knuckles to keep from ranting at him. He believed what he was saying. Worse, she believed it as well. She let her breath out slowly, waiting until she was calm. «You would become a vampire? Why?»

A Carpathian male cannot exist for all time without his lifemate. We are two halves of the same whole. You are the light to my darkness and without you, I have two choices. To seek the dawn or to succumb to that darkness. I have waited too long to make the first choice.

She detested the honesty in his voice. She detested everything about the situation. «So Carpathian males turn into vampires. That's where vampires come from.»

This was not taught to you ?

«Who would teach it to me?» Natalya sighed. «No wonder you hunters are a such a murderous lot. That's why I feel the darkness in you. You are very much like the vampire.»

Yes and no.

«This is just great news. My intended is the undead waiting to happen. Do I have a neon sign stamped on my forehead? If you're a bloodsucking evil monster, willing to murder and wreak havoc, please apply.»

She felt his faint amusement and tried not to smile when she was so exasperated with the situation. «Go to sleep. And Vikirnoff, I have my own darkness in me. I cannot be your light. There's been a mistake. I just haven't figured out what to do about it yet.»

Chapter 5

«Natalya! Hurry. You're late again. Grandfather is going to be angry with you.»

«I don't like going to see him. He has scary eyes.»

Razvan puffed out his chest, his mop of tawny hair falling into his eyes. «I'll protect you. If he is mean to you, I'll tell him we're going to leave.»

Natalya sucked in her breath and skidded to a halt, her silky hair flying in all directions. She shook her head solemnly. «No, Razvan, he gets very angry when you stick up for me. I don't want him to punish you. I know he was mean to you the last time you got mad at him for making me cry. You were too quiet and you didn't tell me what he did to you.»

«I don't care what he does to me. I won't let him hurt you. Not now, not ever.»

«Why won't Father come back ? I don't like being all alone. Mother is dead and Father went off and left us and now we just have Grandfather. I don't like him. You know Father wouldn't want us to live with Grandfather. He didn't like Grandfather either.»

«Ssh.» Razvan looked around, his too-old eyes suddenly wary as he threw his arm around his sister's shoulders. «Don't say that. He might hear you. He always knows what we talk about unless me meet in our dreams. We have to be careful, Natalya. Don't trust anyone. Don't trust Grandfather and don't be alone with him. Something bad could happen.»

Natalya spun around as something thudded against the door. When she turned back, Razvan was gone. Alarmed she ran down the familiar steps leading to her grandfather's workshop and pounded on the door. It was locked and no one came to let her in. She slid down the door to the ground, tears running down her face. Razvan would be punished because she hadn't obeyed. He would suffer the wrath meant for her.

Through the sound of her sobs she heard her twin's voice. He sounded far away from her. «Natalya? Where are you? I can't see you? Something's wrong with me. Am I dead? Did you kill me? No, no, the hunter killed me… Where are you, Natalya? Tell me where you are!»

Razvan's plaintive cry wrenched at her heart. «I'm here, Razvan. At the inn.»

Natalya woke with a start, tears running down her face. Her legs were cramped from staying in the same position for so long and her heart was pounding. Adrenaline flooded her body.

She and Razvan had been ten years old when their father had disappeared. She hated when reality or nightmares intruded into her precious memories of Razvan. She had no recall of her grandfather. She could only think that the events of the day had brought him into her dreams. Guilt weighed heavily on her mind and in her heart. Razvan was dead, killed by a merciless hunter and her guilt had entered her beloved dreams and twisted them, giving her a bad taste in her mouth and making alarm bells chime like crazy.

What had awoken her? She glanced at Vikirnoff. He remained still, no hint of breath moving through his lungs. No discernible heartbeat. She was still suspicious. She had seen him like that before yet he had been reading her thoughts.

Uneasiness spread through her mind. Her stomach churned and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. She snatched up her guns and stood listening at the door. Nothing. She ran her hands over the door. The safeguards were intact, some of the strongest she'd ever woven. Still, the feeling wouldn't go away. Something was not quite right. She glanced nervously at the bed.

Vikirnoff lay as if dead and then suddenly, without warning his eyes snapped open and his breath hissed out in a deadly snarl. Natalya nearly jumped out of her skin. His gaze shifted immediately to her face.

What danger has awakened me from my slumber?

So you feel it, too? She turned in a circle in the center of the room, trying to become a timing fork to ferret out the threat.

Get out of here. Go now, Natalya.

She crossed to the window and ran her hands over the drapes. She had no idea what she was searching for, but she didn't find anything. The feeling of dread was overwhelming. It's a good thing I have a big ego or you'd crush me with always wanting me to go away. She shot Vikirnoff a quick assessing glance. Should there be need, he would not be able to fight physically. He couldn't move at all, paralyzed by the time of day. She was tired and sluggish herself, but she had her weapons and whatever threatened them was going to get more then it bargained for.

She faced the door again. She felt a terrible dread each time she turned in that direction. Her gaze shifted around the room. The danger was palpable, but she couldn't find the source.

Natalya, get out. You must go. You can make it out the window. Protect your eyes and leave this place.

It isn't after me. It's after you. She was certain she was right and she didn't even know what it was.

She stepped back toward the bed, and positioned herself between Vikirnoff and the door. Her hands sketched an intricate pattern, while she murmured an ancient revealing spell. Whatever stalked the hunter was cloaked and it had to have known how to slip past the safeguards woven around the door. She didn't want to think of the possibilities of what that would mean.

Vikirnoff watched Natalya through half closed eyes.

Even in the darkened the room, his eyes burned, but he couldn't look away from her. Natalya seemed to glow. Power radiated from her, surged in the air around them. Electricity snapped and crackled. Natalya's hair flowed around her, rising upward toward the ceiling. Her hands pressed forward, her voice never ceasing.

Something shimmered in the room. Transparent. A shadow, bent over and creeping along on the floor. Natalya could barely see it as it inched toward the bed. Insubstantial, the shadow was made of ever-moving black and gray smoke. Fierce flames burned in the eerie red eyes. For a moment her heart ceased to beat, then it went into overtime, pounding so hard she was afraid it would leap out of her chest.

Vikirnoff. This is a shadow warrior. There was awe in her voice and ragged horror. Better to face three vampires and a legion of humans.

You must leave now.

She wanted to leave. She was so frightened it amounted to terror. You cannot defeat a shadow warrior in your condition. Even if you weren't so badly wounded, it's full day. The sun alone would put you at a terrible disadvantage. I can't leave you defenseless.

Listen to me, Natalya. This thing is legendary. I have only heard of them and their skills. I have never faced one. But even if you were a seasoned hunter at full strength it is said that no one can hope to win a battle with a shadow warrior. We thought them long gone from this world.

Natalya watched as the whirling cloud of vapor stood fully upright. Most of the time, the creature appeared to be nothing more than smoke, but there were moments she caught a brief glimpse of armor. The flames in the sunken eyes burned madly as the creature looked around the room. All the while the smoke was in constant motion, swirls of gray and black that seemed no more than a vague transparent film.

Self-preservation was strong in her and Natalya looked longingly at the drape-covered window. Why isn't he attacking?

Vikirnoff could lie passive, conserving his strength in order to have one chance at saving Natalya. There was no sense in wasting time arguing with her. She was strong-willed and he doubted if the bond between lifemates would even allow her to leave on her own. That bond, coupled with her personality, would make it impossible. He had to wait for an opportunity to use everything he had to save her life. Legend says movement attracts them. He is not paying any attention to you, but he searches for me.

The shadow was moving through the room slowly. Once, the gray smoke passed over Natalya and the thing hesitated, but moved on. Only the ancient wise ones used the shadow warriors.

There was only one ancient wise one capable of commanding the shadow warrior, Natalya.

Her heart sank. Xavier. She was well aware of the legendary rumor that she knew was a fact. Xavier, her grandfather, the dark mage, had been the one to create the weapon. Unfortunately she didn't know how they could be destroyed. She lifted her chin. Perhaps she was somehow responsible for this attack.

Taking a deep breath, she reached for her sword and in one smooth motion, stepped in front of the near-helpless Carpathian.

What do you think you are doing? His breath left his body in a rush of fear. His chest lifted and fell and that small action combined with Natalya's movements caused the shadow

warrior to swivel its head directly around toward him, the flaming eyes glowing with fervor for the kill.

Don't talk. I can't be distracted. She was already sweating, not a good sign.

Natalya watched the insubstantial shadow closely. The warrior raised its sword in the traditional manner. She raised hers in answer.

Vikirnoff watched her, his heart in his throat. She appeared perfectly balanced, her body light and graceful. Rather than a linear pattern, she moved with circular, gliding footwork, deflecting the warrior's sword as it arced toward Vikirnoff. Metal clashed on metal and sparks flew. Natalya danced away, slicing at the shadow as she glided once more directly into the path between Vikirnoff and the warrior. Her sword sliced through empty air.

The warrior turned directly toward Natalya. He grew in stature and substance, taking on a much more solid and powerful form. He towered over her, the flickering red of his eyes, tracking her every movement.

Vikirnoff forced his body to move. It took every ounce of discipline he possessed, every bit of strength of will to overcome the gripping paralysis in order to bring his arm up and wave it in the air. It only lasted a few seconds and the arm flopped lifelessly across his chest, but the warrior turned immediately toward him, drawn by the movement.

The shadow glided with astonishing speed, sword whistling toward Vikirnoff. Natalya deflected the strike and answered, a blur of motion, her hair crackling, the color going as black as midnight and her eyes burning a bright blue, as she spun around the warrior, sword slicing completely through the shadow at least three times.

This isn't working. He's worse than good old Freddie. Think, Natalya, you're good at this sort of thing. Think of what to do, she admonished herself.

He's gaining strength with the enemy. Do you feel it?

There has to be a way to defeat them. I refuse to believe they're invincible. She would not believe it. There had to be a way. In truth, she hadn't felt the growing power in the warrior, she was too busy trying to keep Vikirnoff alive. The shadow warrior wasn't trying to kill her. It merely saw her as a nuisance in its way. She continually intercepted the warrior's killing blows, preventing him from destroying Vikirnoff. The hunter was right, though. As the swords came together, her arm and body nearly went completely numb from the force he was generating.

You cannot kill what is already dead.

What did the legends say, Vikirnoff? She stepped in front of the bed again, fending off the flashing sword.

This time when the blades met, she stumbled under the sheer vigor of the blow.

Stop all movement.

If I stop, this father of all Freddies kills you. That's unacceptable. And before you get too excited by that and think I don't want you dead, I just plain hate losing.

It is too many hours before sunset. I cannot aid you with physical fighting.

Natalya parried another blow and took several slices at the armor-plated warrior. Her blade moved through smoke. Physical fighting. The words repeated over and over in her head. It was impossible to fight a shadow warrior and win.

What are they made of? Vikirnoff, hurry! What are they made of?

They have no substance. They are like Carpathians when we turn to mist. Small molecules, vapor, air. Even water. Dust. Whatever is around to form the particles is used. But he is dead, Natalya. Already dead. You cannot kill him.

It has to be more than that. It has life, essence. A spirit. Natalya parried another blow and sliced futilely through gray and black smoke.

The spirit of a lost warrior, taken from the grave without permission and forced to obedience without rest. That's what a shadow warrior is, right? she asked.

Vikirnoff again made a supreme effort to redirect the shadow warrior's attention back to him and away from Natalya. If it slays me, remain absolutely still. It will ignore you and leave.

Natalya deflected the blade of the shadow warrior from Vikirnoff's throat and sliced through the transparent body once again, whirling away from the bed so that the warrior tracked her across the room away from the hunter. Stop being so noble. You set my teeth on edge. This thing is really making me angry. Trust me, that is not a good thing. They're already dead. Think, Natalya. Call on your skills. She continued to instruct herself, staying very focused on the warrior.

I'm telling you it feeds off energy. The more you move, the more emotion you give it, the stronger the thing becomes. It's growing in stature, but not form.

I have a plan. Close your eyes and keep them closed. You'll have to trust me.

Vikirnoff immediately merged his mind with hers as she spun in a graceful circle, a blur of motion as she kept the warrior's attention fully focused on her. Even in the dire circumstances, Vikirnoff found her a beautiful, deadly combination. Grace and power, perfectly balanced, she moved with blurring speed, spinning in circles across the room, blade flying as she gained the covered balcony door. Her gaze shifted once to him, even as she parried another blow from the warrior. Vikirnoff saw her entire body vibrate with the force of the shadow warrior's strike.

Your eyes! It was the only warning Natalya was going to give him. If Vikirnoff wouldn't listen to her, even in the midst of a dangerous situation, that was on him. She gritted her teeth and caught at the drape, jerking the heavy covering down. Bright light spilled into the room through the glass of the French doors.

Instant agony seized her, abruptly cut off. She deflected another blow, her feet dancing in an age-old pattern, whirling and slicing as she glanced toward Vikirnoff. She could feel the light eating at her flesh, burning her eyes, but it had to be a million times worse for him. Cursing, she abandoned her plan and fought her way back to his side. Inwardly she damned herself for a fool. The shadow warrior gained strength with every moment while she grew weary. The hunter was going to die anyway. She was dumb, dumb, dumb, to keep fighting for his life.

Her sword whistled through empty space when she should have decapitated the warrior. His answering blade narrowly missed her waist and jarred her arm when she deflected it. She grabbed the quilt with one hand and yanked it over Vikirnoff's body to cover him completely.

The shadow warrior went after the movement of the quilt, drawn by the scent of the hunter. The deadly sword thrust into the quilt and a fountain of blood erupted. Natalya's breath hissed out in fury from between her clenched teeth. She lunged at the warrior, trying to drive him back with her shoulder, but she fell through his body, staggering to keep her balance and whirling to face him.

Stop your heart and lungs! It was a demand, accompanied by a strong push of compulsion at Vikirnoff. Her fear for Vikirnoff amounted to terror. She slammed her sword again and again against the warrior's, preventing his renewed attack on the hunter.

Her heart sank. They were both dead. She'd killed them with her confidence. What had she been thinking? She knew the effects of sunlight on the Carpathian race. Blisters were forming on her skin. She knew Vikirnoff would be fried even with the small exposure he'd suffered. And all the while her strength was draining. She couldn't fight the shadow warrior forever.

You need the door opened. With every ounce of his last remaining strength, Vikirnoff used telekinetic power to undo the safeguards and the locks to thrust the balcony door wide open. Your plan is a good one. A warrior's luck to you.

She recognized the words from somewhere as a formal ritual between hunters. Somehow the words calmed her mind and allowed her to think clearly again. She began a graceful, spiraling attack, constantly in motion, drawing the shadow warrior across the room, away from Vikirnoff and towards the open door. Her voice began a soft murmur as she drew on her legacy, the powers of earth, wind and spirit. She needed luck, more than luck. She needed a miracle.

«Hear me now, dark one, great warrior torn from your resting place, while I call on earth,

wind, fire, water, and spirit.»

The shadow warrior lowered his sword and was still for the first time since he had been revealed to her.

«I call each to me and bind them to me and with them, I invoke the right of shadow law. The dark mage's blood runs in me. Heed what I say. I command the wind»-she flung her arms into the air and brought the wind howling into the room-«to come to me, to carry my warrior home.»

The shadow warrior remained standing, sword at ready, his glowing eyes fixed on Vikirnoff. Well, at least she had his attention. She knew spells, thousands of them. She just had to come up with the right combination.

She faced the warrior and seemed to grow in stature. Her hair crackled with electricity as she lifted her arms toward the shadowy figure. Most things were bound by blood. She could do this if she just thought it through. «By shadow law, through ancient's blood, I claim my right by mage's blood.»

The warrior jerked as if she'd struck him. His fiery eyes shifted from the bed and focused completely on her. Natalya's heart rate increased dramatically. She wanted his attention, but he was intimidating. Her hand tightened around her sword as she sorted through ancient spells for words that might release him. «That which was brought forth, I now return, by power of air and fire that burns.»

The wind increased, tugging at the gray smoke that made up the shadow warrior's form. The flames in the eyes leapt and burned, so that sparks actually flickered in the swirling smoke. The sight was terrifying.

It is working. Vikirnoff, holding the merge, saw her brain functioning at high speed, sorting and discarding spells, turning words over and over in her mind, rearranging them and putting them together. He was astonished and awed by her amazing ability with so many ancient teachings.

Natalya swallowed hard and pressed on. I need to send the warrior back to the nether world and seal him there for good.

I feel your power. It is alive in the room and surrounding him.

Natalya took a deep breath. She could do this. She was born to do this! «Shadow and dust shall be reclaimed, earth sealing the tomb from whence you came.» She was gaining confidence. This was her realm of expertise like no other in her. «Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, warrior return, breathe your last.» Her voice swelled with command. «Air, earth, fire, water, hear my voice, obey my order, thrice around your grave do bound, evil sink into the ground. I now invoke the law of three, this is my will, so mote it be.»

The shadow warrior stared at her a long moment with his fiery eyes. He bowed slightly

and gave her a small salute with his sword. The wind rushed through the room howling, reaching for the warrior, dragging the smoke and dust out the door into the air.

The shadow warrior was carried away, his spirit set free at last, his insubstantial form blown into a million molecules and scattered across the sky.

«May you find eternal peace in another realm while the wind takes what is no longer yours to the four corners of the world so your rest may never again be disturbed.»

Natalya dropped her sword and sagged against the wall, her arms aching, eyes streaming, skin burning in the glare of the sun. She found herself sobbing, her chest tight and painful, throat raw. Her body felt leaden, on fire, stretched beyond all physical boundaries. Worse than that was the emotion churning through her. Everything was all mixed up, swirling in a black eddy and clouding reason.

Natalya.

She closed her eyes at the sheer intimacy he gave her name. Ainaak enyem, why do you weep when you have destroyed what no one else has ever defeated? You are an amazing woman. A true warrior and I can give you no higher praise.

His tone held admiration, respect, but most of all a dark, purring sensuality that turned her insides to mush. She couldn't look at him without feeling weak-kneed and stupid. She hated to be so confused and emotional and weeping in front of him like the little slip of a girl he had called her.

You need to shut your heart and lungs down. She wiped at the tears on her face and forced herself to her feet. «I'm not giving you any more blood and you're losing it everywhere.»

I cannot shut down my heart when you are crying like your heart is broken.

«I absolutely refuse to play Juliet to your Romeo. It's just adrenaline overload, that's all.» She pulled the balcony door closed and locked it, trying to find her normal bravado and rid herself of the emotional storm.

It is impossible to lie to me, although perhaps you are good at lying to yourself and do not really know your own mind.

Natalya yanked the drapes over the door, once again blocking out the light. The relief was tremendous. She stood briefly, eyes closed, gathering her strength. She had never been so tired. She wanted to lie down and sleep forever. «How bad is the wound this time?»

He cut my thigh. I was grateful his aim was not a few inches higher.

«Which means you're bleeding all over the place again, aren't you?» She hurried to his side and pulled back the quilt, ashamed that she had taken so much time to recover from her

fight with the shadow warrior.

Vikirnoff was covered in blisters, his skin raw and angry-looking. Blood bubbled up from the wound on his thigh. Natalya didn't give herself time to think. She was already on automatic, pressing her hands to the wound, looking around for the wooden bowl with the remaining soil Slavica had left to refresh the packs.

«You're a mess,» she said.

So are you.

She ducked her head, preparing the soil, avoiding his too-intense gaze. She knew she looked like Frankenstein's bride. And he didn't have to sound so gentle. She was going to cry again if he kept it up. It was easier to be angry. She didn't even know what the hell she was crying over, but she couldn't seem to stop.

Why would you think such thoughts'? You are a beautiful woman and you must know it. Look at yourself through my eyes.

She tried to crush the sudden thrill his observation caused. She was so confused. So upset. Her world had turned upside down. Everything feminine in her responded to her greatest enemy.

You are angry with me because you think I did not trust you enough to stop my heart and lungs. That is not so, Natalya. I have relied on my own judgment for well over a thousand years.

«Yeah, I loved your judgment.» She rolled her eyes, both hands on her hips. «Your big plan was to die so the 'little slip of girl,' who, by the way, saved your ass yet again, could turn tail and ran! I can't imagine how you managed to survive on your own all that time. It's a miracle.»

You did not allow me to finish. I could not leave you without my protection, little though I had to give. It is impossible for me. Your skills are apparent, but I have never heard of a shadow warrior being defeated. I could not go quietly to sleep and abandon you to such danger.

She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. He sounded so sincere. So caring. Thinking of her when he was ravaged by the sun and had suffered yet another wound. She didn't answer him. She worked on his leg in silence, stopping the flow of blood before separating her spirit from her body and healing him from the inside out. She concentrated wholly on the work, welcoming the chance not to think about what was happening between the hunter and her.

When she came back to her body, she was swaying with weariness. «That's the best I can do. Sleep now, Vikirnoff. We have a few hours until sunset.»

Before Natalya could move, he whispered something soft, nearly indistinguishable in her ear. Tired, unprepared for an attack, Natalya felt him grip her mind, hold her in his enthrallment. She knew she was succumbing to sleep, her body stretched out beside his, but there was nothing she could do about it. The last thing she comprehended was his mouth moving over the blisters on her face and neck, healing the raw burns.

«Natalya, you didn't notice I had my hair cut today.»

Natalya laughed. «I noticed. You're just so vain I wasn't going to say anything to make your ego bigger. You're so busy watching the women watch you, it's too funny.»

«Since you give me no encouragement, I have to find it on my own. I fear for any man who falls in love with you.»

Natalya tossed her tawny hair and made a face at her brother. «I don't care if a thousand men fall in love with me, I have no intention of falling in love with them. I see how you are once you know a woman has fallen under your spell. That is not for me.»

Razvan hugged her. «Don't worry, you'll always be my favorite sister.»

«Ha! I'm your only sister. Fat consolation that is.»

Razvan laughed and sprang away from her, a young colt running fast over the slight hill. «I'll race you home! Come on Natalya, don't be such a girl. You have to run faster than that.»

Natalya heard Razvan's voice calling her in the distance. She ran and ran, but she couldn't catch up. He sounded like he was laughing. She loved the sound of his laughter, but she was getting upset that she couldn't catch him. Razvan could rarely outrun Natalya. She had been gifted with incredible athletic skills. And when it came to casting magick, she was often ahead of him in their studies. She knew she had a competitive streak and right now, she was annoyed that she couldn't reach him.

«Stop!» Natalya looked in every direction. «I can't see you.»

«I am dead. You cannot follow me to this place. The hunter murdered me and you have not yet avenged me.»

Her heart pounded in alarm. «I don't know which hunter killed you.»

«It doesn't matter. They are the enemy and they wish us dead. You are my helmed sister, I cannot save you from them, you must save yourself .»

Natalya wrenched herself awake. She had to push through layers of haze and it took every ounce of discipline and control she had. Every muscle in her body felt sore, but her skin was clear, the blisters and the red, angry burn gone as if it had never been. Her neck throbbed, right over her pulse. She covered it with her palm and felt warmth tingling through her body.

Her neck ached. She rolled out of bed and hit the floor running, dashing for the bathroom to stare at the mark on her neck. «Damn, damn, damn it!» She dressed hastily and shoved her things into a pack. «You took my blood again, you demon spawned from the devil. I know you did.»

Hunger hit her. Sharp. Terrible. Biting. It crawled through her body and overwhelmed her mind. The whispers intruded, soft and sensuous, beguiling with temptation. Her mouth ached, teeth wanting to lengthen, saliva collecting. She turned her head and her stomach dropped away. Vikirnoff's black eyes watched her and there was hunger in his dark gaze.

Without hesitating, Natalya yanked flex cuffs from her pack and bound his wrists tight. He made no move to stop her, just watched her with that disconcerting, focused stare.

«I'm sorry. Glare at me all you want, but you're dangerous. Even when you're like this, you scare the hell out of me. I'm going to leave and I'll just make certain I have a good head start before you follow me.»

Vikirnoff attempted to move and discovered the binding spell she'd added to hold him helpless. His features hardened perceptibly and his eyes grew a fierce black, but he didn't speak. You think I will allow you to leave me?

«I'm not willing to give you a choice. I'm not having you take my blood whenever you feel like it.» Her eyes mirrored the gathering storm in her mind. «Do you think I'm so stupid I don't know blood is power?»

I know I will not allow this.

She tossed her hair and shrugged. «Too bad you don't have a say. I'm sorry you're angry, but I'm not lifemate material. Even if we're supposed to be together, and I'm not convinced we are, it wouldn't work out. I annoy you. You irritate the hell out of me. We'd be in counseling all the time.» She patted his head, a gesture meant to add to his annoyance, but it turned into smoothing his hair back. Her fingers lingered, stroking the silky strands. The moment she realized what she was doing, she snatched her hand back as if he'd burned her.

Vikirnoff said nothing, but he looked more dangerous than ever. It was amazing to her how much power he seemed to exude, even wounded and tied up.

Natalya didn't know why she couldn't stop trying to defend herself, but she made one more stab at it. «Look, I could have left you in the forest. And I could have let the shadow warrior get you,» she pointed out. «I'm tying you up for both our protection. I don't trust

you.»

«You are the one who attacked me,» he said.

Natalya blinked rapidly. His voice was low and compelling. Her stomach did a peculiar little flip. «That was unintentional and you know it. You dropped out of the sky between the vampire and me. I was attacking him, not you. In any case, I've made up for it by helping you. Had I left you there, the wolves would have returned along with the vampires and you'd be dead or captured.»

He glanced down at the flex cuffs. «It appears that I am your prisoner.» His voice was sensual, a deliberate implication.

She felt faint color stealing into her neck and face. Her temper went up a notch. «You'll be able to get out of the cuffs once the binding spell wears off. I'm leaving now and that will give me a good head start. You should be fine.»

«I will not allow this. Ask me for anything else and it is yours, but not this, Natalya. I am warning you. I will not let you walk out on your responsibilities.»

Natalya tossed her head, eyes flashing at him. «Who would have guessed the hunter is a sore loser? Talk is cheap, little slip of a boy!»

He still hadn't blinked and his predatory stare kept her heart pounding. She knew he could hear it and it only increased her resolve to get away from him. If it were possible, his eyes deepened into a black that made her shudder with sudden anxiety. He had formed a barrier in his mind, most likely to prevent her from feeling his pain, but it also shielded other emotions, such as anger. Or rage. His eyes were turbulent and as black as the stormiest night.

«Te avio palafertiilam. Entolam kuulua, avio palafertiilam.» He whispered the words in his ancient language, his eyes never leaving her face. «Ted kuuluak, kacad, kojed. Elidamet andam. Pesamet andam. Uskolfertiilamet andam. Sivamet andam. Sielamet andam.»

«Stop!» She pressed her palm hard against her heart. Whatever he was saying was affecting her. She knew spells. She knew almost all spells, but she didn't recognize the words. She knew Hungarian, but she didn't know his language. It was more ancient even than Hungarian. It didn't seem to matter. She felt every word in her heart and soul.

Vikirnoff's expression never changed and he didn't take his gaze from hers, holding her captive with his eyes and his voice, in spite of the flex cuffs on his wrists. «Ainamet andam. Sivamet kuuluak kaik etta a ted. Ainaak olenszal sivambin.»

As he spoke, each word he uttered in that soft, mesmerizing whisper of sound seemed to penetrate deep into her body and mind, wrap around her heart and go deeper still, finding something inside of her that rushed to meet him. «Stop,» she pleaded again.

«Te elidet ainaak pide minan. Te avio palafertiilam. Ainaak'sivamet jutta oleny. Ainaak terad vigyazak.'»

A spell. It had to be a spell. She pressed her hands over her ears, but nothing stopped that insidious whisper. Worse, she was beginning to think she was catching some of the words, although she was certain she'd never spoken the language. «What have you done?» She pressed against the wall, tried to make herself smaller as if by doing so she could escape his magic.

She was so certain she'd held him prisoner with physical and otherworldly bonds, but his words had done something irrevocable to her. She felt everything in her reaching for something in him. Needing him. Wanting him. Somehow those ancient words had bound her soul to his for all eternity, as if they really were two halves of the same whole and his words had somehow put them back together.

«What have you done?» she demanded again when he only watched her through his too-black eyes. «Something about giving me your body and soul and heart. You said that, didn't you? Answer me, Von Shrieder. What have you done? What did you say?»

«I claimed what was rightfully mine.»

«Translate it.»

Vikirnoff studied her pale face. Her eyes were enormous, her lips trembling. «Do not be so afraid. It is a ritual as old as time and no one has ever been harmed by it.»

Natalya gnashed her teeth together and opted for a blatant lie. «I am not afraid. I'm angry. Whatever you did is some kind of binding spell, isn't it?»

«You mean like the one you used on me?» His tone was mild.

She felt color flooding her face. «Maybe I went too far,» she conceded. «I'll take mine off if you'll remove yours.»

«It cannot be done.»

He didn't sound remorseful. There was no inflection at all. Her breath hissed out. «I would very much like you to translate what you said into a language I can understand. All spells are reversible if you know what you're doing. And I know what I'm doing.»

Vikirnoff studied her face. She was lying through her teeth. He could smell her fear. She might not know, but she felt he had said something that was irrevocable, that her life had been changed for all time. «I cannot translate exactly but this is close. The words are said in our language first and then translated aloud for the woman in a language she can understand, although it is binding without doing so. It is roughly this. I claim you as my lifemate.»

Natalya gasped. His voice was sensual, mesmerizing, just as powerful as when he spoke the words in a language she didn't understand.

Vikirnoff continued. «I belong to you. I offer my life for you. I give to you my protection, my allegiance, my heart, my soul and my body. I take into my keeping the same that is yours. Your life, happiness and welfare will be cherished and placed above my own for all time. You are bound to me and always in my care. That is the closest of translations. Males of my species are imprinted with the ritual binding words before they are born. They are given the ability to bind their lifemate for just the very reasons you have shown this evening.» He lifted his bound hands to her eye level. «You should have more respect for your lifemate.»