Dark Carousel

by Christine Feehan

  "What if he attacks Liv and I have no way to communicate with him?" Emeline protested. She shook her head. "I can't take that chance. If Tariq converts Liv and stops Vadim's ability to get to her, then and only then will I consider it."

  "Has Blaze explained the process to you? Tariq tells me he's trying to talk to Carpathian healers about how best to bring the children into their world."

  Emeline closed her eyes tightly and then nodded. When her lashes lifted she stared out into the darkness, pain etched into her face. "She said the pain was excruciating. I don't want that for Liv, for you, for anyone, but she's not going to make it if she continues the way she is. They took so much from her, Charlie, so much. She can't wait. You have to tell Tariq that. Convince him. We're going to lose her if he waits much longer, and it won't be to Vadim."

  "What about you, Emme? Are we going to lose you?" Charlotte asked quietly.

  Emeline continued to stare out into the darkness. "I'm trying, Charlie. I know they don't think I am, but I have to work this all out in my head. I've never been a warrior woman like Blaze or you. I don't know how to fight him. I have to figure that out and come to terms with what he did to me. Once I can do that, I hope I can live with it."

  Charlotte let silence stretch between them, hoping Emeline would continue, but she didn't. Finally, Charlotte tried prompting her. "What did he do? You need to talk about it, Emeline. If not with me, then at least with Blaze. If not with Blaze, Tariq can call in a counselor. Carpathians must have someone like our counselors."

  Emeline shook her head. "I could never talk to strangers. Not about him. I can barely talk to Blaze." She sent Charlotte a faint smile, the first, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I don't know why you're the lucky one who gets to hear all this."

  "Maybe because you trust me, and you know Vadim can talk to me as well. I touched a carousel horse that he put a curse of some kind on and I got a splinter from it. We can't get it out and it's horrifying to know that I've got some part of him inside me."

  Emeline moistened her dry, swollen lips. "He forced his blood on me. It burned. It burned all the way down my throat and into my body. My heart and lungs. Every organ in my body. It still burns. Then he forced me to drink blood from a cup." Her voice cracked and she shook her head. Tears shimmered and several caught on her long lashes. "Drinking that blood was different, not like drinking acid, but it was still so horrible, like being caught in the worst nightmare possible."

  She stroked her palm down her throat and then pressed her hand tight against her stomach as if the pain was there all over again.

  Charlotte hurt for her. Again, it was all she could do not to put her arms around Emeline and hold her, but Emeline had shrunk into herself, made herself much smaller and pulled the robe tighter around her, as if that thin material could protect her somehow.

  I hate this, Tariq. I hate that vampire. He's destroyed her life. Destroyed her. She's so far gone I can't reach her.

  Sielamet, you've come closer than anyone else to getting her to talk. You're doing fine. You have that ability whether or not you realize it to make people comfortable and able to tell you things they wouldn't reveal to someone else.

  She let him wrap her up in his warmth, wishing she could do that for Emeline. She tried, sending as much warmth and comfort as she could to the woman.

  "What else did he do, Emme?" Charlotte probed gently.

  Emeline shook her head, and tears spilled over, tracking down her face. "I can't think about anything else yet. I can't let it be real. I just have to take one thing at a time. One thing. Anything else will break me, Charlie. He is a monster. He touched me. He took my blood and made me take his. He whispers to me, threatens me. Threatens children. I have to hold very still and not think too much in order to survive. That's what I'm doing. That's what you need to tell them. I'm surviving right now, and until I can process what happened to me, I can't talk about it."

  "Okay, honey, I understand, but you will have to allow one of the men to help you sleep without hearing Vadim. If you don't, it will just drive you crazy. Are you afraid of them? Has Vadim made you afraid of the Carpathians?" She asked gently, feeling as if she were in a minefield.

  "They make me nervous," Emeline admitted. "Blaze is lifemate to Maksim and I know I'm hurting her by not accepting him. I will. I really will. Just not yet." There was a plea for understanding in her voice. So soft. Almost faint. Her gaze never stopped seeking the night, looking for danger, looking for a threat. "Maybe when Val wakes. He knows what Vadim did to Liv, and he helped her. Maybe I can accept his aid. I don't know."

  Charlotte had no idea how long it would take for the Carpathian to heal but if his wounds had been that bad, it could take a while. She wasn't certain Emeline had that kind of time. More, she was certain Emeline knew that and counted on it.

  "Tariq has the most beautiful carousels on his property. Have you seen them?" Deliberately, Charlotte changed the subject, wanting to indicate to Emeline that she could relax. There would be no more talk of Vadim.

  Sielamet. It was a slight reprimand.

  She's done. I have to let it go. She's talked as much as she can right now. She needs normal. Just like I need normal.

  Emeline turned to look at her. "I remember in Paris you talking about carousels and how much you loved them."

  "I was learning restoration from a master. He was the best in the world. Tariq had contacted him asking him to come to the States to work on his carousels. He has a couple in his home that need work."

  "Couldn't he just wave his hand or something?" Emeline asked.

  I was so eager to restore them that I didn't think of that. Why can't you just wave your hand? You were the one to carve them.

  Tariq was there in her mind. She felt him warm and gentle, caring for her, stroking her mind intimately as she tried to keep Emeline engaged in idle conversation, trying to give her normal, even if just for a few moments.

  Something is lost in the restoration. I tried it with a couple of pieces and it isn't the same. I could carve them again, but then they would be made in this century and not my first works. In any case, I like working with my hands. I am looking forward to learning the restoration process.

  The carousels meant something special to him. She could hear it in his voice. He didn't want to destroy the oldest carousel any more than she did, maybe less so, but he would because it was dangerous to anyone who touched it. She needed to find out why. She needed to track Vadim back to wherever he was and she needed to make certain her growing family was safe.

  She was claiming the children, Genevieve and now Emeline. Even the hunters protecting them--especially Lojos, Tomas and Mataias, who had been thoughtful enough to provide the stone dragons for the children and Val, a hunter she'd never met, but one who had taken the time to save Liv and give her strength in the midst of evil.

  "Apparently waving one's hand doesn't restore art in the same way as the methods we use. Who knew there was something a Carpathian didn't do perfectly?"

  That got the smallest of smiles out of Emeline. "I'd make you tea, but I'm not very steady on my feet."

  I'll have Blaze bring tea and something easy for Emeline to get down.

  Charlotte pressed a hand to her stomach. Tariq was going to have to aid her in getting down the tea. Genevieve came up the porch stairs, looking spectacular, as she always did, a bright smile on her face as she greeted Emeline warmly.

  Genevieve sank down into the rocker on the other side of Emeline and instantly brought up Paris and the good times they'd had there. She avoided talking all things Carpathian and vampire. She was skillful that way because she was genuine in everything she did.

  Blaze joined them, bringing a little teapot and several cups along with a tray of scones. She goaded Emeline into drinking the tea, but only Genevieve had a scone.

  We need a solution to this fast or we're going to lose her, Charlotte said.

  Tariq was silent for a moment while Charlotte and Genevieve were introduced to Blaze.
I agree, sielamet. I'm working on it.

  The four women sat together until dawn was creeping into the night, slowly peeling back the dark to streak the early morning hours in gray. Blaze helped Emeline back to bed, and Genevieve, yawning, left. Only then did Tariq come for her, wrapping her in his arms and taking her to their bed in the huge Victorian house that was to be her home.

  15

  Carpathian men were beautiful; there was no doubt about it. They were also dangerous and very, very scary. Charlotte should have been thrilled at being surrounded by the tall, broad-shouldered men with their long, dark hair and faces that seemed carved from stone, and who could be models for some of the most famous sculptures. She wasn't thrilled. At. All.

  She found herself looking at Tariq in an entirely different way. From the moment she'd met him, she thought of him as Tariq Asenguard, the sophisticated, civilized owner of a string of extremely successful nightclubs. He wore suits like he was born for them. He spoke numerous languages and was well educated. She didn't in any way associate him with the other hunters. Not until she saw him with them. Not until they were crowding around her with their predatory eyes and merciless expressions.

  She tried to control her heart so that it didn't sound like a runaway train, but it was difficult. She found herself studying each face. They had come to the workroom, surrounding her and the ancient carousel that Tariq had set up in the middle of the room. It was a work of art. A piece of history. She hadn't been able to take her eyes off of it, and there was something about it that made her want to go stroke her hand over one of the horses.

  There were four horses and four chariots. Each was hand carved and painted in colors made from flowers, colors very difficult to duplicate unless one knew exactly what he was doing. The horses and chariots were suspended from chains and as the carousel was turned, they would swing out so the rider could thrust his spear or shoot his arrow through a small ring to practice his battle skills.

  She had a mad desire to fling herself on the ancient steeds and try her luck at spearing the ring. The carousel was beautiful. It deserved to stay in existence so everyone could see it and enjoy it. There was no platform, just the horses and chariots on chains that would swing out when the carousel was pulled by men or horses in a circle. The idea that the carousel was created centuries earlier and that men and women from that time had sat on these very horses and stood on the chariots as they were turned in order to practice shooting an arrow through a ring or thrusting a spear through it was overwhelming to her. The carousel connected the present to the past.

  Hard fingers shackled her wrist and she glanced up, startled. Tariq's eyes glared down at her, nearly glowing red. Her heart jumped hard in her chest. Definitely the predator. He was focused on her. Solely, completely on her. She glanced around her at the other men.

  Lojos, Tomas and Mataias were extraordinarily handsome, with their tall, broad-shouldered bodies that screamed of strength. Their eyes blazed with power and they looked . . . dangerous.

  She sucked in her breath when her gaze turned toward Dragomir. He was the scariest one of all, bigger than the others, and they were all big, with his roped muscles and flaming golden eyes, his long hair that seemed as wild as he was, the scarred tattoos that ran from his neck under his shirt--she knew those words carved into his body and inked meant something to him, something that boded ill for others, perhaps. He was clearly far different from the others. She didn't think any of them were easy in his company, and that said quite a lot. Tariq had said as much to her just the night before.

  There was Maksim, Blaze's lifemate. Blaze had told Emeline, Genevieve and her very funny stories about him, talking as if he were the sweetest man alive, but looking at him now, Charlotte thought maybe she'd been exaggerating about that sweetness. There were a couple of others, men she hadn't yet been introduced to, but they looked as grim and forbidding as the others, and just as Tariq was focused on her, so were all the hunters gathered in the large room.

  The room had been large. Now it appeared quite small and most of the air was gone. She glanced behind her, trying to see the door. It looked far away and there were two hunters between the exit and her. One was Siv, with his unusual eyes that swirled from blue to green. He looked so scary she started shaking. He also looked as if he knew she wanted to run.

  Sielamet. Stop. Tariq's voice brushed intimately in her mind. It was a command, but it was also a reassurance.

  Sielamet. My soul. He called her that all the time. It always made her feel special. Loved, even. It was there in his voice when he used that word, used his language. Still, what did she really know about him other than he made her body come alive when no one else ever had?

  Breathe. You're holding your breath and scaring yourself. Look at me.

  If she did, she would be lost. She was always lost when she looked at him, but if she didn't, they would stand here until she did. Surrounded by the other hunters. They were all so much taller than she was and stronger. They formed walls around her with no way out.

  Charlotte forced her gaze up Tariq's chest to his throat. She could see the faint strawberry--the mark her mouth had put on him earlier, when he'd first awakened her in the bed upstairs. It made her blush to think these men knew she'd done that--that she had been so out of control and wild she had left her brand on him. His jaw was strong, a man's jaw, and that was strangely always a trigger for her. The moment she looked at his jawline, her body came to life. Quickly, her gaze continued up to his mouth, and she nearly groaned aloud. That mouth always took her breath. So beautiful. So perfect. He knew how to use his mouth. She didn't dare stop there. Deliberately she stared at his aristocratic nose.

  You are not looking at me. Give me your eyes, Charlotte. You need to take a deep breath and look at your lifemate.

  If she took a breath, she would draw his scent into her lungs. She knew that. If she looked into his eyes she would drown in him. Give herself to him all over again right there surrounded by these predators, knowing he was one of them. She'd asked for this, wanted him to allow her to try to track Vadim. Even this morning, in their bed, sprawled across his body, his cock still deep inside her, both sated for a brief time, she'd assured him she could do it. She needed to free the children and Emeline. Free herself from his taint. It had seemed such a good idea then. But now . . .

  I was wrong, Tariq. She refused to raise her gaze that scant bit to look into his eyes. I don't want to be in here.

  Charlotte. Look at me now.

  He wasn't asking. He'd never used that voice on her. Not ever. There was no possibility of disobeying him. A shudder went through her body, but she lifted her gaze to his. His eyes were gorgeous. Unusual. Midnight blue, glittering like gems. Giving her more, so much more. They were warm with feeling he rarely showed in front of others, feelings for her. It was impossible not to see she belonged to him. Was loved by him. Protected by him. He gave her that, and like always, just like she knew she would, she believed.

  Now breathe for me, sielamet, and let's get this done if you're still willing to do it.

  So intimate, his touch. The way he poured into her mind and filled every lonely spot inside of her. She'd felt so alone and different for so long, never quite fitting in anywhere until Tariq. Whatever the pull between them, that connection, she knew, even standing in this room surrounded by predators, she was willing to risk everything for him.

  Charlotte took a breath. The moment she did, Tariq stepped closer to her; his arm moved around her waist and drew her front to his side beneath his wide shoulder, locking her to him. All the while, his scent went deep, comforting her like it always did.

  "I'm going to put my hand on the horse and scan it before you touch it," Tariq said. "I don't want to take a chance that another sliver could enter your body. The healer has been sent for but it may be some time before he can come."

  "Let me," Dragomir said.

  When the Carpathian spoke, Charlotte couldn't help the little shiver that went down her spine. He spoke
quietly, his voice pitched low, but that tone went straight into one's body and mind. It was as if he could get inside a person, into their skin and bones and just take over. It was frightening, his voice, frightening yet very, very compelling. She wasn't the only one to feel it. These men were not led. She knew that. Not a single one of them, yet they all looked at Dragomir with respect. Warily, but with respect.

  "It is my duty," Tariq said, his voice equally low. Not asking. Simply stating.

  Dragomir shook his head. "Your first duty is to ensure your lifemate's health and survival. Her safety. If this thing is cursed in some way by Vadim and his brothers, then you cannot chance being infected."

  The others nodded in agreement. Dragomir waited, and that told Charlotte he was equally respectful of Tariq. Tariq stepped away from the carousel, taking Charlotte with him. Dragomir, without hesitation, closed in on the horses and chariots. His larger body stood between her and the carousel deliberately. The other hunters pressed closer as well, forming a protective ring around her.

  "The wood splinters the moment you touch it," Charlotte dared to warn him.

  He didn't look at her. Not even a glance. Before, Charlotte thought the horses and chariots beautiful, artistic and historical. She had felt a compulsion to touch them, to run her hand over the flowing lines of the wild manes and stroke the smooth backs right to the long artistry of the tails. Something inside her had urged her forward, to take that step and touch. To feel. To sit on them. To be part of history.

  Now, with the Carpathians standing with her, their dangerous power harnessed for her, she could look at the carousel and see its historical value, feel the pull of the beauty of such intricate carvings from hundreds of years earlier, but the need to touch them wasn't so strong.

  "I think that whatever was done to this carousel called to the splinter inside of me," she admitted aloud. Instantly she wished she'd kept her mouth shut and her thoughts to herself. Every single male in the room focused on her again. She'd just been able to breathe, and now that single-minded concentration was back, their attention once more on her. "I felt it, a need to touch the wood when I was close," she continued, because really, now that she'd started, it needed to be said. To protect Dragomir and the others.