Dark Song

2

Ferro looked down at the top of Elisabeta’s dark, gleaming head of silky hair. He could feel fear coming off of her in waves. His woman was no mouse. She thought herself closed off to him, terrified that he would think she wasn’t worth anything at all to a man as “ferocious” as she thought him. She considered him a true Carpathian warrior and he supposed he was, although he didn’t think much about it. He had passed far too many centuries hunting and destroying vampires. It was simply what he did.

She had been little more than a child when Sergey Malinov had taken her from her home and placed her in a cage away from the world. Everyone had thought she was dead. Her brother, Traian, had searched for centuries for her, but no trace of her had been found. No one suspected the Malinovs were in any way connected to her disappearance. Sergey had hidden her from his own brothers. Not even they had suspected she existed.

The little glimpses into the past Ferro had caught in her mind were more than disturbing. They were horrific, and he’d encountered many terrible things in his lifetime. She was so alone and could only rely on the vampire who had taken her prisoner for everything needed to sustain her life. It was no wonder she was terrified to go out into the world.

Right now, as they paused before stepping from the healing grounds into the actual gardens of the compound where the main house, the lake and the smaller homes were located, he knew the wide-open space, without the bars of her cage, made her feel a little sick and disoriented. He pulled her close to his body, beneath his shoulder, to give her more of a feeling of being surrounded. He locked his arm around her waist while they stood there, just looking over the gardens.

“It’s really quite beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, to distract her.

He’d never really noticed the beauty of nature, at least not in centuries. He hadn’t seen in color until he’d heard her voice, that low moaning beneath the healing grounds when she’d called out to try to keep from having to emerge to be fed. Now, the various shades of color on the leaves intrigued him. The blue of the lake, the surface shimmering silver and frost in the moonlight.

What he really wanted to do was pick her up in his arms, take to the sky and carry her back to the monastery secreted high in the Carpathian Mountains. He would have no problem telling his beautiful, fractured woman what to do and guiding her gently into the world they would create together, but he was her lifemate and he provided what she needed. She needed to know that she had her own power.

After centuries of being enslaved by a vampire and treated so cruelly, Elisabeta would never be like Andor’s wife, Lorraine, a very modern woman who Ferro respected and admired but would never be compatible with. He wouldn’t want that. He couldn’t live with that. He was too protective, but he didn’t want Elisabeta to feel fear, not of the world around her and never of him. He would seek every solution possible to figure out a way to help her find what was taken from her—her own power.

Already a plan had formed in his mind. He’d allowed Elisabeta to stay hidden in the healing grounds longer than was strictly necessary while he thought out his strategy to find a way to empower her. In the beginning, he knew the world around her would be too big for her. After being in such a confined space, just being out in the open would be disorienting and frightening. He would have to go slow, introducing her to small portions of the compound rather than all of it at once.

Everyone was eager to meet her, but she couldn’t be overwhelmed with too many people. He would have to shield her, although he knew others would misinterpret what he was doing, thinking he was keeping his fragile lifemate from them because he was an ancient and held to the old ways. Opinions didn’t bother him in the least. He was ancient and he did hold to the old ways.

Ferro also had a strange foreboding. Elisabeta had been given blood by several of the ancients before he had discovered he was her lifemate. That had been an accident. He had heard her moaning. That soft little sound of distress had opened an entire new world for him, but it had also triggered his very sensitive alarms. There was danger stalking his woman—and it wasn’t coming only from the master vampire. He felt a vague threat to her coming from inside the compound. From someone he trusted. Someone who should be protecting her. The threat was so vague, almost as if it wasn’t fully formed, but it was enough to put him on alert.

Ferro felt a small shudder go through Elisabeta’s body and he wrapped his arm around her tighter, pulling her front to his side. “Just look at the beauty surrounding you, piŋe sarnanak. Tariq Asenguard found a place to build his world a long time ago. The others have been securing the land around his compound to add to this fortress. We weave safeguards together to keep everyone protected.”

She tilted her head up to look at him. “No one will ever be safe from him as long as I’m here. I think you know that.” Her voice trembled.

He realized it took great effort for her to speak to him at all, to voice her concern. Just talking was a strain on her when she hadn’t done it in so many centuries. She didn’t think herself brave, because she didn’t understand true courage. Just the fact that she could stand there beside him instead of staying crumpled in a little ball in the earth the way she wanted was a testimony to her mettle.

Ferro brushed his lips on the top of her head in a little caress, trying not to frighten her. He was feeling his way with her. Elisabeta had had no human contact other than when Sergey punished her for infractions. Now, he was surrounding her with—him. He wanted her to get used to relying on his strength until she found her own. He was determined she would find it, even though, for him, it would mean she would most likely not want to remain with him. He couldn’t think too long on that or what it would do to him. That way lay insanity. Elisabeta deserved a chance at life after all the centuries she had endured as a prisoner, and he intended to give her that chance.

“You are now bound to me, Elisabeta. I will build a shield in your mind he cannot get through. He cannot command you as you fear. He cannot use you to spy. You will never give him information on anyone here as you have been so afraid of. I have been alive far longer than he has been, and I am more powerful.”

He felt the quick shake of her head, but she didn’t speak. In fact, her hand came up to press her fingers against her lips to hold back whatever was on her mind.

He gently captured her wrist and pulled her hand down. “Speak to me, päläfertiilam. I wish to know what is on your mind.”

Her long lashes fluttered, but she didn’t look at him. She shook her head twice before she finally spoke. “Is this a command?”

“If it needs to be.”

The tip of her tongue came out to moisten her lips. For some reason he found that little action much more sensual than it should have been. He waited, holding her close to him, staring down at her instead of at the beauty of nature surrounding them. The gardens and lake seemed to pale in comparison to her.

“Everyone always underestimates him. His brothers did. The mages have done so. He has slivers of them in his head now, so that gives him access to their knowledge. He has created spies using human psychic males. He has an army of vampires here in this country and abroad. He planned for centuries so quietly, allowing others to make fun of him and to treat him as if he wasn’t bright. He never quite lost all of his emotions because he thought, ahead of time, to take me prisoner. If you underestimate him, the way everyone has, simply because you’re older and have more fighting experience, you will lose.”

Her voice was so low he could barely hear her, but it was impossible not to catch the notes of fear, of weeping, of utter hopelessness. She didn’t believe he would listen to her. Men were arrogant. She had seen so many die over the centuries, men who had been intelligent and had risen to power only to be defeated in the end. Sergey was the last of the Malinovs, the last of the five brothers and the only brother no one, Carpathian and vampire alike, thought would ever be leader, yet he had proved the most powerful of them all.

“I did not live this long by underestimating my enemies, piŋe sarnanak,” Ferro said gently. “I appreciate that you would worry about me, Elisabeta. Always tell me when you have concerns.”

Her lashes lifted again, and this time he found himself staring into her dark, liquid eyes. His stomach did a strange clenching. His groin tightened. It would not be good for either of them if that liquid spilled over onto her high cheekbones. He wouldn’t know what to do with tears. He had never dealt with such things.

“You aren’t going to punish me for the things I said to you?” Her hand tightened in his shirt as if she were bracing herself. He felt a little shudder go through her body.

“I might have to kiss you now and then,” he said. “That is the closest you will get to a punishment and only because it is difficult to resist you.”

She blinked up at him as if she couldn’t process what he’d said. He took a step out of the healing grounds, forcing her to move with him. That instantly took her mind off what he’d just said and put it back on the world around her. He kept her in the gardens, avoiding the playgrounds where the children might be or the homes where the women often gathered to talk on the front porch. He wanted to just walk with her in the beauty of nature so she could feel air on her face and freedom surrounding her.

Ferro knew she couldn’t be out of the ground too long. They were going to have to start their life together in baby steps. So many people were waiting to meet her. Tariq, the owner of the compound—the man the prince of the Carpathian people had appointed to take his place in the United States—wanted Gary Daratrazanoff to examine her for signs that Sergey had left something of himself behind in her to spy on them. He wanted that done as soon as possible. Although he understood why Tariq felt it was needed, Ferro would rather take Elisabeta and leave than subject her to that.

Ferro was very uneasy subjecting Elisabeta to Gary’s examination. Both Carpathians had given Elisabeta blood numerous times. Ferro’s soul was tied to Gary’s through Andor and Lorraine, a tie that bound them together with several other ancients. Ordinarily, that would have assured that Gary’s first loyalties were the brethren, but Gary was second-in-command to Tariq. His lineage, the Daratrazanoff line, had always been second-in-command to the prince. Gary had been sent by the prince to guard Tariq, and that would put his loyalty to Tariq first. Ferro knew the strange, vague threat was emanating from one or both of the two men he should have every reason to trust.

Women were sacred, particularly Carpathian women. Lifemates were held as cherished treasures. In a time when children were so scarce their people were on the very verge of extinction, the last thing a Carpathian male would do was threaten a female, especially a lifemate. Ferro couldn’t even say if there was a concrete threat, only that he had the vague impression of one and that it seemed to emanate from a man tied to him soul to soul. Even that he wasn’t one hundred percent certain of, but to a man like him, it was enough to make him wary and to want to take his woman and leave.

Her brother, Traian, had arrived with his lifemate, Joie, from the Carpathian Mountains. Traian was very eager to see his sister after so many centuries. Ferro knew it was natural to want to see her, but she was nervous and didn’t clearly remember him. Sergey had deliberately stamped out her memories of her past as much as possible. When she tried to remember, there was pain involved, although she didn’t associate the emotional and physical pain with the vampire anymore. It was going to be a long road back for her.

The moment Ferro had heard the sound of Elisabeta’s voice and knew she was his lifemate, he had taken over her care when he wasn’t hunting the enemy. He very gently moved through her mind to examine the fragmented pieces of her memories each rising as he fed her. He hadn’t been invasive on purpose, not wanting her to associate him with Sergey. The glimpses he caught of the vampire’s punishments had set the predator in him snarling and ready to hunt down Sergey until the task was complete. He knew, right then, Elisabeta needed him more, and he would have to wait to hunt the master vampire.

Elisabeta stumbled as she walked, every step hesitant, like a small child relearning her steps. She didn’t take her eyes from the ground and her fingers dug into his arm and rib cage as if those were her lifelines. The ground was very uneven on the path through the gardens, unlike the healing grounds made up of soil rich in minerals smoothed over every day by the Carpathians. Ferro inwardly cursed himself for not considering that Elisabeta wasn’t simply having a difficult time walking because she wasn’t used to shoes, it was because she hadn’t walked.

“Kislány piŋe sarnanak, I want you to look into my mind.”

She gasped and shook her head, halting, her hands gripping him so hard he thought her fingers might actually meet in the middle of his skin. He very gently pried them open and held both hands to him.

“Only so you can see how to move your feet. It will help you. I will teach you so many things this way. You do not remember, but it is the way Carpathian people instruct one another. We pass information back and forth in this manner. I am your lifemate. You have nothing to fear when your mind touches mine. I will shield you from too much information at once.”

Elisabeta pressed her lips tightly together, refusing to meet his eyes again. She kept her lashes stubbornly lowered and her mind as blank as possible. He wasn’t a man given to smiling. He had forgotten humor over the centuries, if he’d ever had a sense of humor in the first place. He didn’t have a soft side, either, but his little songbird was fast bringing one out in him.

She had a will of iron, which was how she had managed to survive for so many centuries living in the conditions she had. Sergey must have come up against her stubborn nature often, at first beating her into submission, or at least trying to. When that didn’t always work, he had switched tactics, trying to starve her. She showed him her willingness to die, so again, he found her weakness, bringing others in front of her, torturing them, until she did as he wanted.

“Tell me why you fear to learn from me this way.” He kept his voice as gentle as he was capable, making certain not to in any way frighten her more. Just the way he phrased it made it an order to her, not a simple request.

She hesitated, clearly weighing what a refusal to comply might cost her. He brought both her hands to his mouth and scraped his teeth on her knuckles.

“Do not fear me, Elisabeta. You can choose not to answer me, and nothing will happen to you. I wish to make it easier for you to walk. That is all. There is nothing else. You will not learn anything else of me by touching your mind to mine. Not of my past, not of what I intend for us in the future. We are going slowly. I want only to help you with this one simple task. If you are not yet ready for this, you have only to say so.”

While he spoke to her, he rubbed his chin back and forth across her knuckles, scraping her sensitive skin with the shadow on his jaw just the way his teeth had. Intimate. Provocative. Tying the two of them together in a way he’d never known—in a way she had never known. It was a small thing, but it felt huge. She didn’t pull her hands away and he didn’t want her to. He wanted those small, slender fingers to remain in his, keeping a physical contact between them while she decided what she was going to do.

Her lashes fluttered again, drawing his attention to them, and his groin tightened. She could move him with just the smallest feminine gesture. “I do not know how to make choices. They confuse me.”

“Yet when I give you a command, you choose to disobey me.” He kept his tone mild, without reprimand.

Faint color stole into her cheeks. She touched the tip of her tongue to her lip again and he wanted to groan. That was clearly a nervous habit. She had quite a few of them, each more endearing to him than the next— and maybe a little sexy. He had never thought in sexual terms, and it was the last thing he needed to be thinking about right then.

“Mind-to-mind contact can be . . . intimate. Or ugly. Or really painful. Three things that make it very scary to try.”

He brought her hands to his chest. “You are my lifemate, Elisabeta. I am sworn to see to your happiness and protection. Mind-to-mind may feel intimate between us because it is supposed to. I will shield you from any ugliness you might find in my past, and touching my mind, you will never feel pain.” He waited, wanting her to make up her mind.

The touch was tentative at first, so light he barely felt it. She brushed against his mind and retreated, running, almost like a child might. He didn’t go after her or reprimand her. He simply waited, sliding his arm around her back when he felt her sway. Standing was becoming difficult for her. He sank to the ground, taking her with him, sitting her on his lap in the midst of Tariq’s wild garden.

All around them, plants rose up toward the sky, leaves looking various shades of dark green and silver. The moon slipped in and out of the gray clouds as the wind pushed them across the sky. Elisabeta shivered and curled into the warmth of his body, as if she couldn’t control her own body heat—something every Carpathian learned to do as a child. Had that fundamental ability been taken from her as well? It would be like Sergey, giving him one more thing to hold over her head. If she didn’t cooperate with him, he could make her freezing cold, or so hot she would be burning.

“I’ve got you, piŋe sarnanak.” He began to hum softly.

He didn’t like to sing in front of others, but he could soothe with his voice. When things in the monastery became too difficult for one of the brothers, he would sometimes use his voice to calm them, although he never acted as if that was what he was doing. He simply would pace away and sing softly as if to himself, just as he did now. He hummed at first, and then imitated the rain. He was good at pouring various sounds into music. He heard music in all things nature and re-created that for her, waiting for her to relax in his arms.

It took a few minutes for Elisabeta to settle. She was really afraid. He let himself slip into her mind, not far. He never went too far, which went against everything he was. His personality demanded he take what was his. He was dominant by nature. His word was never questioned. He was a law unto himself. He hadn’t sworn allegiance to the present prince of the Carpathian people, nor had he sworn allegiance to Tariq Asenguard. He went his own way and he expected his woman, his lifemate, to go his way with him. He would need that.

He sighed as he rocked Elisabeta gently to the tune of the rain in his mind. There was sorrow in his song. He couldn’t help that. He felt emotions now, when for so long he hadn’t. This woman had become the center of his world so fast. Lifemate. For so long she held the other half of his soul. She had guarded it from Sergey at a great cost to herself. The vampire had tried every way possible to take it from her. Ferro didn’t have to get into her mind to see; he knew from the scars on her body and more in her mind. The utter terror carved so deep in her that he knew it would always be ingrained in her.

Had Sergey managed to wrest his soul from Elisabeta, the vampire would have controlled Ferro, made him a servant, used him ruthlessly to prey upon the Carpathian people. Ferro was a skilled hunter; a legendary, feared hunter. Sergey hadn’t known who Elisabeta’s lifemate was, but had he managed to take his soul from her and control Ferro, he would have had a weapon even the ancient hunters would have had difficulty destroying.

Elisabeta touched his mind again, and this time he felt that light feminine touch as much more than a tentative, fearful brush. Elisabeta felt his sorrow and she reached for him the way a lifemate instinctively would. The way a woman would. Gentle. Caring. Soothing. Questioning. He felt her filling the emptiness of those lonely spaces he’d revealed to her inadvertently when he’d started his song for her.

He had his shields up so there was no way for her to see into his past, all those kills, the battles with master vampires, the mortal wounds that should have taken his life so many times. He gave her none of that, or the way humans and Carpathians alike shrank from him in fear. He didn’t give her the battle he fought with the whispers of temptation to feel something after so many centuries of not feeling, or when those whispers stopped and he had nothing at all—the terrible emptiness that followed and the need to sequester himself in the monastery to protect everyone from him. Instead, he gave her the instructions on how to walk and how much he loved being with her, that his intent was to protect her from any harm.

Elisabeta absorbed the information the way a Carpathian did, telepathically, almost automatically, her brain tuning itself to his, but her hands came up to his head so gently, it felt like her palms were the lightest of butterflies sliding up from his jaw to frame his face. His breath caught in his throat.

“Tell me why you feel such sorrow.”

Her eyes were looking straight into his for the very first time. Straight into his. He swore he was falling into a cool, dark pool, a deep well. Her soul. He was her lifemate and that demanded honesty. Either he told the truth or he refused to answer.

“I am not the man I once was, minan piŋe sarnanak. Like you, the centuries and circumstances have changed me, and not for the better, I fear. You are a beautiful, deserving woman.” He couldn’t help pushing his fingers deep into the thickness of her hair. “I am not so deserving. For you, I wish that were not so.”

He couldn’t look at her any longer. She was too innocent for a man like him. Innocence had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the kind of man he was. She belonged with the women in Tariq Asenguard’s compound. They were good women, if not a little beyond his understanding.

There was Lorraine, the one he called sisar—sister. She was lifemate to one of his brethren, Andor, from the monastery. She had done what no woman, Carpathian let alone human—which she had been at the time— had ever done or thought to do. She had bound her soul to Andor’s brethren in order to save his life. If they died, she died. If they turned vampire, they would be able to find her and destroy her. He doubted if any other women would have had that kind of courage—to tie themselves to the unknown on the chance that they could call their lifemate back from the other world.

Julija was the only friend Elisabeta had that Ferro knew of. The little mage had risked her life, allowing herself to be captured by Sergey in order to try to free Elisabeta. Ultimately, she was the one to bring Elisabeta to the Carpathians’ attention, allowing her to be rescued. Julija was a strong woman and lifemate to Isai, another one of his brethren from the monastery. Julija held great power and she went her own way in life.

The two women were modern-day examples of what Ferro knew Elisabeta would be comparing herself to and most likely aspiring to be. While he wanted that self-confidence for her, he knew he was not a man who would be compatible with either Julija or Lorraine, as much as he might respect them.

The way her mind moved in his was delicate, feminine, wholly beautiful, a whisper of a touch rather than a bold demand. It was unexpected, her soft, womanly presence that seemed to fill every lonely place in his mind. The experience of her sharing his mind was beyond intimate. He had spent centuries alone, lost in that gray void of nothing.

She brought life to him. Scent. He could inhale and bring her into his lungs. He would know her anywhere. Her scent was distinct. Exotic and rare. She had a faint fragrance of orange, the Italian bergamot he had encountered but never thought about. The orange held a note of lime, and the two citrus fragrances mixed with rare camellias, adding just a touch of spice to the blend. The scents mixed with sandalwood and vetiver, an Indian grass root. For Ferro, that scent would always be associated with Elisabeta.

Color. She brought vivid, bright color into a world of gray. He hadn’t known there were so many shades of green. Or blue. Just looking at her hair, that dark silk, shining in the moonlight, he could see so many colors, and she had given him that. The garden, the lake, the sky, the birds and even the ground itself. She had made him see the world again in an entirely different light.

Touch. He had never allowed anyone to touch him unless he planned to use them for sustenance, or he planned to kill them. Elisabeta showed him that touch could be something different, something warm and gentle. Tender even. Touch could mean so many things other than the precursor of death. Then, there was the feel of her skin, like the finest satin. Her hair, like silk. In a very short amount of time he had learned the beauty of touching.

Sound. Her voice was like music to him. Soft. Intimate. Pouring over him like a gentle summer breeze. When she spoke, her voice was pleasing, moving through him, equally as effective as the touch of her fingers on his skin. That soft sound was that potent. He could almost feel the notes dancing over him, brushing his skin intimately, first there and then here, stroking and caressing, one moment soothing him, the next making him want to go up in flames.

Ferro had lived centuries, much longer than most, and yet he had not tasted many things. Blood was blood. One needed it to survive. There was no taste. No rush. Nothing whatsoever other than when he was wounded and starving that made him crave or need more blood. Until he had tasted his lifemate’s blood. It was exquisite. Almost beyond comprehension. He could barely make himself stop feeding once he’d started. Her taste was some kind of aphrodisiac, something beyond description he would always crave. He thought about it, and the taste would come to him, vivid in his memory and then in his mouth.

“I do not like you feeling sad . . . Ferro.” She stumbled a little over using his name but was brave enough to say it. “We are both changed. You have been very kind to me, more than I imagined anyone would ever be. I have never had a rising such as this one. For that I have to thank you.”

The pads of her fingers swept over his jaw, her touch light, sending ripples of heat moving through his veins. Her voice was very sincere. He had merely taken her across the healing grounds and into the gardens. The kindness he had shown her was so basic that he wanted to weep for what little she expected. She was more concerned with his sorrow than what she was feeling. In fact, she was completely focused on him now, all thoughts of herself and her fears were gone. She had immersed herself completely in him, in an attempt to find a way to ease his sadness.

Carpathian healers shed their bodies to become wholly spirit, losing all ego, all sense of self, in order to heal. In a sense, Elisabeta, while retaining her body, did something very similar. She lost all ego, all sense of herself, and thought only of Ferro, moving gently through his mind, seeking ways to brighten his spirit.

Those gentle fingers of hers on his jaw, stroking heat into his veins, wreaked havoc with his emotions, with his physical control, when for centuries he had always been completely disciplined. Abruptly, he rose, taking her with him, setting her onto her feet, giving his body some respite, a little shocked that he would need that.

“I want to show you our home, minan piŋe sarnanak. Hopefully it will be a place of solace and happiness for you. It does not have bars on the windows or doors, and you can walk out of it when you wish, but if I am not with you, I prefer that you let me know when you wish to leave the safety of the walls. I have woven strong safeguards into it so the vampire and his puppets cannot penetrate from any direction in his attempts to get to you. If you choose to visit your friends, as you will naturally wish to do, if you let me know, I can safeguard you.”

That was difficult for him. Much more so than he had thought it would be. He wanted her to have freedom. He told himself that a million times. She needed to know she wasn’t a prisoner. He never wanted her to feel that way with him. He wanted her to feel cherished. Treasured. Always. But he wasn’t the type of man to have his woman casually leave a place of safety when she was in danger. Not at her preference. Not on a whim. Not when he could so easily command her to stay. Her friends could visit her there if she wanted to see them.

It made no sense to him to leave such a dangerous decision in anyone’s hands but his own. He was the one who would have to fight Sergey Malinov. He would not use his lifemate as the bait to draw the master vampire to him. He would choose the time and the place of the battle. It would not be where there were children around. Or women. Or his woman. Not when he had so much to lose.

“Have I angered you?” Elisabeta asked.

Ferro realized he was striding along the path and immediately shortened his steps to accommodate her. “No, Elisabeta, I was thinking of you leaving the house and what that might entail.”

She gave a quick shake of her head. “Please do not ask me to do such a thing, even to see Julija, not without you. I know I am not capable of that.”

Not only did her voice tremble, but so did her entire body. That shamed him. Ferro didn’t want that for her. He didn’t want her so frightened she was nearly paralyzed with terror at the mere thought of venturing out on her own. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her thin, shivering form under his shoulder for protection.

“Elisabeta, I have told you that you do not have to do anything that is frightening to you. I do not intend to leave you alone unless it is strictly necessary. In that event, I will put you in the ground where you will sleep, or I will leave you with Julija or someone you feel very safe with. You are not expected to entertain or go off on your own at any time. In fact, I would not like it.” Ferro felt the instant relief flooding her mind.

He had always been a decisive person. He knew exactly how to conduct a battle. He avoided humans and Carpathians alike. He was direct when he wanted something and commanded others, expecting instant compliance with his orders. He didn’t bother with niceties. He had no need and no time for such things. Now, with Elisabeta, he was feeling his way, completely at odds with not only his own personality but his own character and needs.

He stroked a caress down the back of her head as they stepped out of the protection of the gardens into the open. Elisabeta gasped aloud, stopped and actually turned to flee. The yard ahead of them seemed to be filled with people when there was only Isai Florea and his lifemate, Julija, standing on the front porch of a little Victorian replica of the main mansion, talking with Emeline and Dragomir Kozel. Both Dragomir and Isai were Ferro’s brethren from the monastery, as was Andor, the third male who was standing on the stairs of the little Victorian house with his lifemate, Lorraine.

Ferro caught Elisabeta around the waist and pulled her tight against him. She moaned and buried her face against his ribs. I can’t. Too many. Too many. Do not ask me to do this. It is too big. Too much. Hurts my eyes. My stomach. I can’t. I can’t do this.

She repeated the chant, a mantra in her mind, in his, over and over until he realized she didn’t know he could hear her. He felt her tears. Heard them in her voice. They dripped in her mind, yet his clothes, his skin, remained dry.

Ferro tried to assess what was happening to her, all the while breathing calmly for both of them. His heart remained steady. He pried her fingers off his shirt and placed her palm over his heart so she could follow the rhythm.

Breathe with me, sívamet. I am with you. We do this together. You do not have to speak. You do not have to look at them. I stand in front of you at all times. I will simply tell them I do not allow you to speak to others yet. We are new and you are getting used to a new master. A small well of humor he didn’t know he had welled up at the thought of the modern women hearing him state that. He didn’t know Emeline and Julija very well, but he was very familiar with Lorraine and her ultra-forward thinking. Her head might explode.

I do not want this woman’s head to explode. This does not seem kind.

It will not literally explode, Elisabeta. She will not like me referring to myself as your master. Nor will she like me saying you cannot talk to anyone else but me.

Why? Elisabeta tipped her head up to look at him curiously, her dark eyes roving over his face as if he were her anchor.

Ferro couldn’t help himself. He bent his head and brushed her lips with his. It was the briefest of contacts, but her lips were quivering, just that little bit, just enough to break his heart, and he wanted to reassure her he would take care of her.

“Did you notice how well you were able to walk? I did not feel you stumble once. You learned simply by looking into my mind and taking what you needed from me. Just keep putting your trust in me, Elisabeta. I know that is difficult when you have had no reason for centuries to have faith in anyone, but if you keep looking to me, I give you my word, I will not let you down. Lifemates cannot deceive one another. You can hear lies if you listen for them.”

She didn’t answer him, but her body felt as if it might shake apart any moment.

“Tell me what you fear the most. What is the worst of what is happening to you right this moment, piŋe sarnanak?” He phrased the question as a command because she responded and was most comfortable with an outright order to answer. She didn’t seem to like room for making her own decisions under stress.

She moistened her lips, glanced around her and then quickly buried her face again in his ribs. “It is too much. Too big.”

He was in her head, careful to keep his touch light so she didn’t feel as if he was being intrusive. Her mind was in chaos and he could hear her weeping. At once he began to set that sound to the beats of rain in their song, the one he’d composed for her. The one he’d used to draw her from the safety of the earth’s embrace.

“Don’t look around you as I take you to our home, Elisabeta. We will cross the open space, but you can anchor yourself in my mind. I can carry you if you prefer.” He hadn’t wanted to embarrass her, but she wasn’t a modern woman who would worry about what others thought of her.

“Why are all those people staring at me?”

“They are my brethren. Julija has been waiting to see you.” He felt her instant withdrawal and then the self-loathing. “You are not a coward. You have already done far more than I expected this rising. They can wait until you are settled.”

“I don’t want any of them to feel as if I am rejecting them, especially Julija. She has gotten me through so much. Without her I wouldn’t have made it,” Elisabeta confessed in a small voice. She still kept her face tucked against his chest to keep from looking at the open spaces around them.

“I will tell them you are not ready yet and I have forbidden any contact at this time.”

At that, she pulled her head free from his shirt and looked up at him, her eyes searching his. He could see a breathless kind of hope on her face. Again, he couldn’t stop himself. He bent his head and brushed his lips over each eyelid before he lifted her in his arms, cradling her close to him.

I am taking Elisabeta to our home. She will not be visiting at this time.

He sent the decree on the pathway forged between the monastery brethren rather than the common Carpathian pathway. Sergey Malinov had once been a Carpathian and he would have access to that pathway. If, for some reason, there was a breach in their safeguards, there would be no chance that the master vampire would know Elisabeta had risen from the healing grounds.

The women have been waiting for some time to speak with your lifemate, Ferro, Isai said. There was no inflection in his voice. Not even one of protest.

Ferro. Lorraine had no problems objecting. You can’t keep her to yourself. This isn’t the Neanderthal days.

Ferro didn’t bother to answer. He gathered his lifemate into his arms and took to the sky. She muffled a startled cry and clutched his shirt, her face once more buried tight against his chest.

Did the vampire transport you through the air? He must have had you fly.

No. I would wake up in new places.

Ferro was not used to the emotion gathering in the pit of his belly, a dark ugly rage that simmered like an explosive volcano slowly gathering force. He breathed through it and let it go. Rage had no place in his life. Malinov was going to pay for the crimes he’d committed against the Carpathian people, and against Ferro’s lifemate, but his death would come from a place of justice as Ferro had been delivering for centuries. There was no other way.

He took his lifemate to the house his brethren had purchased for him, a property that had been added to the growing acreage of the protected compound. The site was nestled in between Isai and Julija’s property and Andor and Lorraine’s land. The hills were gently rolling and the land had groves of trees on it and, more importantly, water that added to the colors of all the various plants scattered around the property.

The house had been built by a famous architect, at least that was what Andor had told him, a man whose vision was to keep the landscape so pristine that the house would be difficult to see until one actually walked up to it. Andor and Lorraine had also bought property with a home designed by the same man. Ferro had viewed the property and home with an eye toward defense, escape and the ability to get to the ground undetected from anywhere above the house.

Now, as he brought his lifemate to the Spanish-looking home, he thought he should have consulted with the women to see if the house met with their standards. Elisabeta would entertain her friends there, make a life there. She might sleep beneath the master bedroom, but she would live within those walls. He set her feet very gently on the wide verandah, his hands on her waist to steady her.