Dark Promises

by Christine Feehan

  He would have killed her outside. Before. Before he'd uttered the ritual binding words and bound her soul to his. He should have. Another mistake on his part. A big one. Now, he couldn't kill her. It was impossible to kill one's lifemate after the ritual words bound them together. He either had to keep her or meet the dawn, something that was so against his nature that he had come here to this monastery, where others like him viewed it as a cowardly act.

  He'd lived a life of honor to be brought to this, so close to his downfall he could feel it. The darkness spreading like a virus through him. A breath away. Waiting to take him. He had lived too many centuries and had skills not many had. He would make a terrifying vampire, one that would kill hundreds if not thousands before he was brought down. He knew that. He knew it with every fiber of his being.

  He shoved the woman away from him, down to her knees. She had brought him to this. She was Carpathian and she knew the consequences of her actions to her lifemate should she betray him. Even her tear-streaked face couldn't stop the rush of fury at her. She would not only bring him down, but she would be indirectly responsible for the innocents he would kill should he turn. And he would turn if he didn't finish this and make this treacherous wench fully his.

  He tried to shut down his emotions so her tears wouldn't get to him, wouldn't soften him, but his fury was too great, the darkness taking hold of him so firmly he feared if they didn't complete the bonding he would lose it and kill her and as many others as possible. Should the ancients have to destroy him, they would turn as well. Because of her. This harlot. She put them all in danger.

  "Take off your clothes."

  Every vestige of color drained from her face, leaving her skin pale and her eyes enormous. She shook her head, wrapped her arms around her body and bit hard at her lip.

  He wasn't about to repeat himself. He stepped close to her, caught her hair in his fist and dragged her to her feet. It took a moment with her struggling to get her feet under her. He didn't help her. The moment she was up, he leaned in and sank his teeth into her neck, right over that tempting, pounding pulse.

  She cried out, but he let go of her hair and jerked her tight against him. Her blood spilled into his mouth. Saturated his cells. Ruby red. The finest he'd ever tasted. Ever. In all the centuries of living, of surviving, of taking blood to sustain him, there had been no other blood that tasted so amazing. Nothing had prepared him for the taste of her. She burst on his tongue like fine bubbles, teasing and eluding his ability to name the mixture of tastes.

  He knew he was instantly addicted. He would crave her for eternity. And that was just fine with him. She was his, and she'd earned her place as his slave. No more. No lifemate status for such a treacherous woman. He would feed on her. Enjoy every drop he took from her.

  As he fed, he stripped the clothes from her body with his mind, taking great care not to enter her mind. He didn't dare. He didn't want to see her treachery, what she'd done with this other man. That would send him crashing over the edge. He knew it, those images, her feelings for another man. Her betrayal.

  Deliberately he remained fully clothed, so that she was completely naked and helpless in his arms. He wanted her to know that there was nothing she could do. Nothing. He controlled her. He would have control of her life for eternity. She didn't deserve kindness or love. She deserved humiliation and to serve his every need. Her blood was exquisite. He hoped the rest of her was as well.

  He didn't try to soothe her as he aroused her body. He wanted her to know he could bend her will to his. He was an ancient. She was very young for a Carpathian lifemate, but that was no excuse for her adulterous behavior. His hand went to her breast, to her nipple. Even as he rolled and tugged hard, he sent the impression of his tongue lapping over her breast, drawing her into his mouth and suckling.

  She cried out. Squirmed. He smelled her heat and still he took her blood. Let himself indulge in his needs. Needs that were sharp and terrible, clawing at him now. His body was hard. A steel spike between his legs, growing into a monster of need. For her. For this woman who had betrayed him.

  He closed the wound on her neck, but didn't take away the evidence of his ownership. His gaze dropped to the circle of lacerations on her wrists and, in spite of himself, he raised first one hand and then the other to heal them with his tongue. The fact that he had to do that--that he couldn't stand her hurt--made him even angrier. He opened his shirt with a flick of his wrist. "Feed." He uttered the command coldly.

  She swallowed hard and shook her head, blinking up at him. Her tears continued to flow. He bent his head and deliberately licked up the trail of tears, drawing the flavor into his mouth. Just like her blood, the taste was exquisite. He caught the back of her head with his palm, opened his chest with a single fingernail and pressed her head ruthlessly to him. Again, he gave her no choice, and he knew, once the taste of him was in her mouth, on her lips, she would be just as addicted to his taste as he was to hers.

  Her mouth moved against him and the spike between his legs grew even more monstrous. Thick. Greedy. So hungry for her he felt the darkness sliding closer. He had to get her body aroused, in a state of frenzy. His hands roamed over her, not gently, but demanding a response. He felt every swift intake of breath when he found an erogenous zone and he capitalized on it. Still, this was never going to be about her. This would always be about him, and he wanted her to know that from the start.

  She could withhold her love and loyalty from him, but he would always have access to her blood and her body. He found both extremely pleasurable. Her body was all soft curves. Her breasts were extremely sensitive. He liked her nipples and knew he would spend hours playing with her body. No. His body. She belonged to him--all of her--and no other man would ever touch her again. He knew he could tie her to him through sex. He knew he could make her want him with every breath in her body. Not love, but sheer hunger. Maybe in a few hundred years he'd get past her betrayal. But for now . . .

  His fingers slid down her belly. He loved the feel of her skin and wanted more against him. He got rid of his clothes with a single thought and allowed his hands to take in more of her. Heat emanated from the junction of her legs. Her body moved restlessly against his. Still, he wanted her more aroused. He wanted her to need to obey his every command in spite of the fact that she claimed she detested him.

  He swiped his finger along her damp entrance, and her entire body shivered. He smiled above her head. She was definitely sensitive, and he was going to enjoy himself. He kept her feeding, knowing his blood would be an aphrodisiac to her. He slid one finger inside her slowly, feeling her slick heat, the grasp of her delicate muscles, surprised at how tight she was. Her protest was another moan, and the sound vibrated straight through his cock.

  She protested, but in spite of her detesting him, her body wanted his. He had made certain of that. He controlled her senses. He wanted her to know he could do that. That he would become her world. The only things she would want were his blood and his body. He would be the only man she craved. She would do anything to have him by the time he finished with her. And he would never finish with her. This was a sentence for eternity--for both of them.

  He took his time, circling her sensitive bud, watching her body shiver in reaction. Watching her face go soft and sensual. Her eyes fought him, but her body responded to the heat and hunger he created.

  "Enough," he murmured. He wouldn't put it past her to try to drain him dry. He kept a hold on her senses, still refusing to enter her mind in the way of lifemates. He didn't want to see that man there--not ever. Daratrazanoff. Just the thought of him had him snarling. Growling. A nearly animal response. He was long ago gone from civilization. He was from ancient times and knew nothing of modern women. But she would learn her place.

  Gabrielle licked at the small wound on his chest and just that lapping of her tongue sent heat curling through his cock. He wanted more. He pushed her off of him. Away from him. Arrogantly, he walked away from her, to the center of the thick c
arpet he'd installed.

  "Get down on your knees."

  Her eyes blazed defiantly. He smiled. Slow. Mean. Wanting her to defy him. Wanting her to hate this, because that would make her surrender all the more sweet. She couldn't talk. He'd given her the chance to talk and she hadn't taken it, so there was nothing more to say. Her eyes remained on his, and the defiance turned to despair when she could do nothing else but go to her knees and crawl toward him.

  Aleksei watched her body move. She was truly beautiful. Had he seen her somewhere, he would have noticed her immediately. Picked her right out of a crowd. He would have known she was his even before he heard her voice. What he would never have guessed was that she could be so beautiful on the outside and so rotten on the inside.

  She was at his feet, moving up his legs, her hands sliding up his thighs. He caught her wrists and held her still, an ugliness rippling through his stomach. Churning. He didn't want to see her like this. He was angry, and he was unfamiliar with such an emotion. He was close to turning, and he had no idea what to do with the dark whispers and need for violence welling up in him. But he couldn't see her like this. He couldn't do this.

  It didn't matter that she was rotten inside. That she had betrayed him. She was still his lifemate and doing this--taking her will, forcing her to complete the binding by sharing her body with his when she clearly didn't want to--was every bit as dishonorable as becoming the undead.

  He closed his eyes and drew her to her feet, his hands gentle. He had to let her go, and there was only one way to do so. One. He wasn't going without memorizing every inch of her. Without holding her body against his. He deserved at least that much. He didn't want to see her eyes. He didn't want to know she hated him with every breath she took. Or that she wanted another man.

  He was going to do what every ancient in the monastery had refused to do because they felt it was wrong. It was cowardly. Somehow, some way, they had to be strong enough to overcome that terrible darkness shredding their souls. He had vowed to live until they figured out how. He didn't have that choice now. He would meet the dawn and free his lifemate to find her way in the world. Perhaps the ritual binding words hadn't worked on her as they were supposed to. In any case, he wasn't going to look into her eyes again.

  He took his time, savoring the feel of her very feminine body. Her skin was softer than anything he'd ever touched. His hands were big. Calloused. Rough. She felt wonderful beneath his exploring palm and fingertips. He committed her to memory, and he did it slowly. From her face to her toes. Front and back. She had lush curves and he spent time shaping and committing them to his memory. He would know her blind.

  He didn't release her from his control while he explored her body because he didn't want her hatred and venom to take this one moment from him. He would walk into the sun with her scent surrounding him. With the feel of her soft skin on his hands and her body imprinted in his mind. He could do that.

  Because she couldn't control her body's reactions to his exploration, he learned every sensitive point of her. Sometimes her hips bucked against him. Sometimes her breath caught in her throat and a small moan escaped. That was all her. Not him. He didn't feed her body's reaction to him. He didn't try to make this about sex or about her. It was his good-bye. His reward.

  He was as gentle as possible, knowing she detested his touch. He didn't want her to feel worse than she already did. It wasn't as if she was trying to seduce him and every other man around them. She had told him straight out she was in love with Daratrazanoff. Had he not been so far gone, he would have let her go, at least he'd like to think he would have. His emotions were too new, too overwhelming, and the darkness had pressed so deeply into him that there was little goodness left.

  Aleksei knew he had misread the signs outside the gate. He'd been in the monastery for well over a hundred years. He had heard her cry out and thought she was being attacked. Everything in him had him flying to her rescue. It had never occurred to him that a Carpathian woman would turn against her lifemate, but it had been Daratrazanoff she'd worried about, had even tried to fight for.

  He was sickened by her actions. By Daratrazanoff's actions. But mostly, he was sickened by his own. Never in centuries of living had he stooped so low. No one deserved what he had done to her, least of all his lifemate. His despicable actions only served to show him how far gone he truly was. She might deserve the justice of his people, certainly what she'd done was punishable by death, but not this.

  He inhaled her scent, her amazing fragrance, and then he dropped his hands and stepped back, clothing her and releasing her at the same time. She sank to the ground, wrapping her arms around herself, her hair in disarray, her beautiful gray eyes swimming with tears, but still glaring defiantly.

  "Do your worst," she hissed.

  He bowed to her, a low courtly bow. "I apologize for my behavior."

  "I could put a stake through your heart and not even think twice," she spat. "You controlled me. Forced me."

  He nodded, taking another step back. She wasn't safe. He wasn't safe. No one was. "I have not felt any emotion in over a thousand years. Longer. Much longer. It is no excuse, but being so close to the undead, walking that edge and then finding you, the woman I . . ." He broke off. Shook his head. "I fear I could not see anything beyond your treachery. On the next rising, I give you my word, you will walk out of here a free woman. I will leave you now and no one will harm you. Seek the ground in one of the unoccupied buildings. Do not take a chance on open ground."

  Gabrielle studied his face. He sounded like he meant what he said and hope blossomed. She licked her lips, trying to stop the strange reluctance blooming along with the hope she felt. "If you mean what you say, why not allow me to leave now? The others are still close by. I would be escorted to safety."

  He sent her a quelling look. One of disgust. Almost a sneer. Gabrielle didn't want to feel it, but she did. That look hurt. The look made her feel guilty when she had nothing to feel guilty over. He was still holding her prisoner. Gary and the others were still outside the gates. He just had to open them and she would be free.

  "I have lived my life in honor. I will not allow one such as you, so deceitful, a selfish Carpathian woman who is willing to force her lifemate to choose between dishonor and death, to have her way. You know what that bond is and still, you broke it. I am far too close to darkness to watch you go to him. You can wait one rising. I will walk into the sun, and you can go to ground satisfied that I will no longer keep you and your lover apart."

  Gabrielle stared up into his face. She could see the sorrow in him. She felt it, a great weight pressing down on her. She felt the centuries there, centuries of darkness. Of loneliness. Of a barren, cold world without color, emotions, family or caring. He had endured all of that. At the end there was . . . nothing. Nothing but Gabrielle. Nothing but a woman who didn't want him.

  She saw that there in his eyes. In the lines carved in his face. That knowledge shamed her, even as she sought to excuse herself. She wasn't Carpathian. She was in love with another man, and she had been for a long time. She didn't know the first thing about lifemates, only what she'd observed. When she was working in the laboratory, they talked work. Since she'd been converted, no one had given her any advice. She felt human, not Carpathian.

  She knew the rudiments. She could shift, which she rarely did. But she couldn't feed. Someone always provided for her. She slept above ground and someone always opened it after she fell asleep and before she awakened. She wasn't really Carpathian. Still, all that aside, she felt a deep sorrow in him and she had a terrible inkling of what could happen if she left. She didn't know what exactly, but there was something about the set of his shoulders. The mask on his face.

  He turned away from her. For some insane reason she didn't understand, she couldn't let him just walk away.

  "He isn't my lover. He's never been my lover. I don't have lovers." She blurted the truth out in a low voice. So low it was a mere thread of sound.

 
He turned back to her slowly. His eyes found hers. Searching. She knew he didn't believe her. His face could have been carved from stone, but his eyes were alive with contempt. That shamed her more.

  "Do not speak. It is best that no more lies come from your mouth. I am uncertain how strong I am. You . . ." He trailed off and shook his head, turning away from her a second time.

  She tightened her arms around her middle, terrified her churning stomach would let loose and she'd be sick everywhere right in front of him. She had no idea why it was important to her he knew she wasn't lying to him.

  "I'm not lying. I've worked in a laboratory and I get caught up in my research. I've never had time for relationships. Or the inclination. I've never had a lover."

  Gabrielle bit down on her lower lip. She bit down so hard she actually drew blood, all the while fighting the desire to run from him--or from herself. Suddenly she was terrified. Terrified of herself. Of what was inside of her. What Gary kept at bay. It was right there in her stomach, rising up, reaching out, threatening to consume her. She gasped, and he turned again, his frown deep as his burning gaze took her in.

  Aleksei noted the drop of blood on her lip. He wanted to lick it off. Kiss her better. He couldn't help but see the way her arms held her midsection tight. He felt the need to go to her and hold her gently. She appeared the epitome of a woman in distress. More, her voice rang with truth.

  She also appeared lost, and in spite of himself, in spite of the danger, he couldn't help the sudden surge of emotion for her. His lifemate. He had vowed to put her happiness before his own. She had betrayed him, but he had retaliated in a way that was far, far beneath him.

  "I believe you." Clearly it was important to her to give her that. Still, it changed nothing. She wanted another man. She'd refused him. She'd made it clear she despised him. The choices were still the same, and she wasn't in a frame of mind to share her body with him. Without completing their binding, he wouldn't make it through the rising. "Thank you for that." He turned away again. Each time was much more difficult, but he knew it was the right thing to do.