Jason had died before he could do that.
And Marko…had done just that…or had he?
As she lay there listening to him throwing up, she thought that maybe it wasn’t her who’d just lost something. Instead, maybe it was Marko.
And…what had happened with his magic?
One minute she’d been in pain, scared and upset, and the next she’d…
Been seeing things? Other people? Places?
And the feelings that came after…
Oh my God.
Euphoric?
Spiritual?
Transcendent?
Carrie had been able to see things she’d never seen before—every pore in Marko’s skin, the fuzzy dust motes floating all around them. She’d felt the slowing and quickening of the air inside the trailer. She’d heard sounds she couldn’t place, didn’t recognize. She’d felt…
She didn’t know.
It had been so…so…everything.
Bliss. Ecstasy. Elation. A frenzy of intoxicating joy and madness and…
She’d never felt anything so beautiful before. If perfection were a feeling, then she’d experienced perfection at its finest.
And honestly, it was hard to hate someone who’d just given her a glimpse of heaven.
Rolling over, Carrie wiped the last of her tears from her cheeks and, ignoring the horrible burning and heart-pounding ache between her legs, she dressed quickly and climbed out of bed.
“Marko,” she whispered, opening the door to the storage room.
Seated in the middle of the room, he glanced up at her with tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he rasped. “Fată, I’m sorry. That wasn’t me. I don’t know why…I can’t…I…oh, fuck.”
Her insides squeezed painfully and her hands flew to her chest. “Oh my God,” she whispered.
She could feel him, everything he was feeling—the guilt, the pain, the complete and utter desolation.
And it crippled her.
Dropping to her knees beside him, Carrie threw her arms around his neck and held tightly to him. She wanted to say something, something that would console him, console her, only she couldn’t think of anything because there wasn’t anything to say…because she wasn’t even upset.
But he was. He was crying, and then suddenly, she was crying. The sound of tears created a panicky feeling inside her, a feeling she recognized as not her own but she could feel as if it were.
Marko’s arms came around her and she gratefully burrowed against his large body, squeezing him hard.
More emotions flooded her and this time, she recognized them as her own.
She felt…
She felt…
Complete.
Carrie gripped him tighter.
She couldn’t explain it, she didn’t understand it, but whatever had happened to her, to him, while he’d taken her, had changed her.
Marko was inside her. And oddly enough, she wanted him there.
“Shhh,” she whispered, pulling away from him, brushing his long hair away from his face and forcing him to look at her. “Shhh.”
Marko shook his head wildly, and she could feel the inner turmoil inside him.
“I’m fucked-up,” he sobbed. “Something happened outside, and I didn’t know what I was doing. Jesus, Carrie, I’m—”
Carrie pressed her lips to his, cutting him off. He stiffened, surprise radiating from him into her, but the warmth she felt, the comfort, the need, were seeping into him. Then he was kissing her back, slowly at first, but the more she persisted, the more passionate the kisses grew.
“This is right,” she murmured against his mouth.
Marko’s hands flew to her cheeks, his fingers slid into her hair, and he gently cupped her head.
“This is right,” she repeated.
It was right. Nothing had ever felt more right than this. Carrie knew it because she could feel it with all her heart…and soul.
Chapter Fifteen
From his seat on the couch, Marko followed Carrie’s movements as she walked to and fro, from one end of the trailer to the other. She had two pots of something cooking on the stove. He could smell the scent of his mamă’s recipe for soap wafting from the partially open bathroom door, and as she made her trips back and forth between rooms, she was intermittently cleaning.
She’d been bathing daily as well. Smiling a lot. Constantly trying to touch him, be near him…to be with him.
He refused to touch her. He couldn’t, not after what he’d done. No matter how bad the cravings to be with her were, he continuously shut them down, trying to ignore them and her.
And then there was the goddamn magic problem. She was ridiculously clumsy with her powers, his powers, using them accidentally, lighting things on fire and creating windstorms inside the trailer.
None of it made sense and yet, it did.
The last time anyone had seen Gerik, he had no longer been human but a human/dragon hybrid of sorts. And based on what Marko knew now, having seen it and felt it firsthand, Gerik had become a full-fledged dragon.
Maybe dragons didn’t have souls?
That meant…
Oh God. How could this be happening?
Why him?
He was hardly the most powerful Romani. True, he came from a powerful family line, but he was nowhere near Gerik’s magical caliber. That damn soul, the oldest soul, was only ever given to the most powerful.
Ah, God, why him?
Well, obviously he’d been nature’s next best option. Thanks a lot, nature. Why not another Rom from another clan? Was his clan the only one left? And if so, why not Tobar? They both had sway over three elements…
Marko paused. Was Tobar dead?
And what about Carrie?
Carrie wasn’t Romani. She was a Gaje.
It just didn’t make sense.
But Trinity hadn’t been Romani either.
“Shit,” he muttered.
What the fuck? He had Gerik and Trinity’s soul? Correction—he and Carrie had Gerik and Trinity’s soul?
That was something he used to ease his guilt, knowing he hadn’t been in his right mind when he’d taken her. In a way, he’d been compelled to be with her, the way Gerik had been with Trinity. Only Marko wasn’t half as strong as Gerik had been.
Still…rape wasn’t the way any man and woman should come together.
What had Maisera always said? Fate wasn’t supposed to make sense. It just was. That destiny, everyone’s, had been written in the stars long before their births, long before…anything.
But even so, he couldn’t help to think, what if the world had never fallen apart? He would have never met Carrie. So, what did that mean? That the world was supposed to succumb to evil? That all of this—the death, the destruction, the near total ruination of mankind—had been the damn plan all along? That Gerik and Trinity were supposed to turn dark? And subsequently lose their soul because of it? That everything horrible that had happened to them all had already been predestined? What kind of fucked-up god would do something like this? What could be his reasoning?
Ah, God, everything Carrie was feeling, he was feeling too. It wasn’t that he hated it. He actually kind of liked it, but it was just so much, all out of nowhere, and this incredible burning, aching need to touch her and to be with her refused to let up.
Marko?
Scrubbing a hand over his face, he turned toward her. “Yeah?”
God, she was beautiful, sweet and fresh-faced, young and supple.
His gaze traveled down her body and then lower to the V between her legs, to where he wanted to be joined with her, to where he needed to be joined with her.
Marko?
His head snapped up. Fucking Christ.
“Yeah,” he muttered, “for the second time. What?”
Ignoring his temper, something she suddenly seemed quite good at, she smiled.
Dinner is ready.
He stared at her. Just stared. What in the—
Carrie hadn’t spoken. He
r lips hadn’t moved, yet he’d heard her clear as day.
I’ve been listening to you all day, she said, her mouth still closed, her lips curled into a sly smile. I tried to give you privacy, but you’re practically shouting your thoughts at me.
Marko jumped to his feet. No. No. No. No. No.
This wasn’t part of it. He’d never heard of this part—mind speak and thought reading.
“So, you know,” he said bitterly, “everything I’ve been thinking?”
She shrugged. “Not everything. Just a lot of feelings, and bits and pieces of your thoughts. I’ve been trying for days to get you to hear what I’ve been saying in my head, but you haven’t heard me, not until now.”
He closed his eyes. “So, you know what we are then?”
“Yes…I think.”
He opened his eyes and glared at her. “And what exactly do you think you know?”
Carrie’s big blue eyes infinitely softened, much like the way she would look at him when she wanted more than just conversation. He wanted more too. Everything about him wanted her, craved her.
“I know that I’m yours,” she said softly. “I know that we’re soul mates, and I know how confused you are.”
“Confused?” he yelled. “That’s a damn understatement, fată! There is no possible way that I’ve been given the most precious gift a Rom can inherit. I wield only three of the elements. Three! I don’t even have the ability to call upon dark magic. And you! You cannot be the soul mate. There already is one. Trinity! Remember her? She was the chosen gift, not you!”
Carrie’s features twisted with confusion. “But…you said it…or thought it yourself. Garret turned into something…and maybe he lost his soul because of that?”
“Gerik,” Marko corrected. “And I don’t know. I just…don’t know. It’s all there inside my head but it’s a mess and I can’t decipher everything!”
Looking sympathetic, Carrie took a step toward him and licked her lips. “I can help you sort through it,” she said. “It’s all there inside my head too.”
Marko knew she was talking but he’d stopped listening. His eyes dropped to her mouth, watching intently as she sucked on her bottom lip. He found himself gravitating toward her, wanting to touch her, wanting to be inside her.
Both body and mind.
She knew it the moment he thought it, and he knew that she knew. It was incredibly odd, utterly indescribable, the sensation like nothing he’d ever felt before. Almost as if he were four people all at once. He was himelf, feeling his own feelings, and yet he was him, feeling her feelings. But then he was also feeling her, feeling her own feelings, and he was also her, feeling his feelings.
But none of it was off-putting. It was the opposite. It was…incredible.
He opened up further, wanting to feel more, suddenly wanting to know more about her, feel more of her.
They collided, grabbing at each other and tearing at their clothes, their mouths seeking bare skin.
“It’s not enough,” she panted breathlessly, clawing at him. “I need more…I need more.”
Magic poured from both of them, brightening the dimly lit trailer to a near blinding level. And Carrie…her skin was luminous, nearly transparent, and utterly beautiful.
“God, it’s perfect,” she cried. “Do you feel it? Do you feel how perfect we feel?”
He did. He could feel everything, everything this girl held inside her—her thoughts, her dreams, her wants and needs, her secrets, her pain and sorrow, her grief.
Her forgiveness.
Her devotion.
Her love.
Marko felt it all. He felt connected to Carrie on every level, on every plane, surpassing earth and space. They had become something different entirely, not man and woman, not in love and devoted to each other.
They’d become one. They existed as one.
And it felt perfect.
• • •
Carrie’s head lolled back against the trailer wall while Marko’s hips met hers in slow, deep, leisurely thrusts.
This was everything she’d always imagined sex to be—needy yet slow, desperate but patient, too little and too much, gasps and moans, and…
A connection so strong that, deep within herself, she knew it could never be broken.
There was no pain this time. She felt only pleasure, only need, and an all-consuming burn to keep this man with her, inside her, to be forever his and only his, for always.
She was truly his. The were so completely, so intricately intertwined, wrapped, curled, and woven throughout each other. And still it was more than that. It was only with each other that they would ever know true satisfaction, comfort, love, and peace. It was only with each other that they would ever be truly whole. The knowledge of what they were left her speechless. She’d been given a gift so profound. It was nothing any imagination could have ever dreamed up.
“You’re mine,” Marko whispered, his voice thick with emotion she could both feel and see. They was so palpable, his feelings, that they was physically caressing her, inside and out.
It was ludicrous really—how different they were, how far apart in age, in upbringing, but most of all, how their feelings for each other had suddenly shifted from indifference and dependency to…
“I love you,” she whispered and kissed him softly on the mouth.
And then Carrie heard it—a sentiment consisting of three gruff words—not spoken, not thought, but simply resonating from deep within him.
I love you.
Chapter Sixteen
Nico watched as Xan walked through camp, shouldering two large duffel bags. Knowing Xan, he could guess what was in them. One was undoubtedly full of weapons, most of them self-made or lethally altered by Xan himself, and the other would be full of his and Trinity’s belongings. Not long ago, Xan had decided he was leaving camp in an attempt to find Trinity. It was a shot in the dark and everyone knew it, but everyone also knew Xan wouldn’t be Xan again until he found his wife.
Because Xan couldn’t let go.
After slinging his bags into the back of the waiting van, Xan turned around, watching as the rest of his small group said good-bye to their families.
Nico studied the others who were leaving with him—Fifi, Adriana, Simionce, Nadya, Onyx, and Pesha. It was an odd mix of people, ones who had very little previous interaction with one another. But it was an odd world they’d found themselves forced to live in, and Nico supposed they all had their reasons for wanting to leave. But that didn’t mean he was happy about it. In fact, he hated this—all the death and destruction, but most of all he hated the separation of his clan, a clan who’d stood strong against the world for hundreds of years.
“You’re going to miss him.”
Nico glanced to his side where Becki had appeared, and tried to smile at her. Things were strained between them; she’d thwarted every attempt he’d made at trying to turn their marriage into something more than just two people living with each other, more than just sex.
“Yeah,” he whispered. He was going to miss Xan. They’d always been friends, but it wasn’t until Shandor had been killed that they’d grown closer. Xan was like a brother to him.
“Go say good-bye,” Becki said. “You know we’re probably never going to see him again, right?”
Yeah. He knew.
“Frate!” he yelled. “Wait up!”
Jogging across camp, he reached Xan and slapped him hard across the back. “You know I’d go, right?” he said. “If I didn’t have my own responsibilities now.”
Xan glanced over toward where Becki still stood, and smiled.
“Don’t ever leave her, frate,” Xan muttered. “Fată deserves some peace.”
If only Xan knew, that it wasn’t him leaving her that he was worried about.
“You don’t gotta worry about that,” Nico said.
Grinning, Xan crooked a finger in Becki’s direction. “Come here, surioară,” he called out to her, “and say good-bye to me.”
; Becki crossed the lawn quickly and all but fell into Xan’s waiting arms. Nico felt a sliver of jealousy slither through his gut. Not jealousy of Xan per se, but jealous because everything with her was always such a struggle. He was sick of fighting with her just to get a hug.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Becki whispered to Xan. “None of it. Not the botched raid, not Shandor’s death, and not losing Trinity.”
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Xan released her and smiled sadly. “You take care of that copil, fată,” he said.
Becki tried to smile through her threatening tears. “You’re coming back, right?”
“Yeah, fată,” he said. Clearing his throat, he looked away. “I’m coming back.”
Nico grabbed his arm before he could walk off and pulled him into a hug. To his surprise, Xan hugged him back. “You’re a bad fuckin’ liar, Deleanu,” he whispered. “Te iubesc, frate.”
“Te iubesc, frate,” Xan answered. “Now, get the fuck off me before your wife thinks you’re sportin’ a hard-on for me.”
As Xan walked off, Nico felt his chest tighten with emotion. He was losing everything. He’d lost his father, his brother, countless friends, and now this. It was official; when they should have been their strongest, his clan had fallen apart. Feeling emptier than he’d ever felt before, he grabbed Becki’s hand, seeking comfort. She tried to pull away at first, but he refused her. He just need a couple of minutes of consolation. Was holding his hand too much to ask?
“They’ll be fine,” Maisera said as the rest of the families, the ones who had come to say good-bye, began to gather around Nico and Becki. The elderly women, unlike everyone else, stood tall and strong, watching as the small group piled into the van.
“Jericho told me this would happen,” she continued. “He spoke of it back in the Catskills.”
“He told you our children would leave us?” Kizzy asked tearfully. Nico felt for her, he really, truly felt for her. Not only had she lost her eldest son, Shandor, but her youngest had just left.
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