Before his brain could process the change, before he could understand or even put a name to it, a loud blast sounded behind him. Something hard and hot tore through his back, ripping a path through his chest. Dax staggered, releasing the man in his grip and falling to one knee. In a daze, he put a hand to his chest. It came away wet, covered in dark liquid.
“Gary, stop! Stand down. Put the damned gun away!” The man with the broken arm pushed forward, shoving the others out of the way. “Olenasz? Nimed olen?” A demand to know his name.
Jubal glanced up at the others. “Someone, give me a light. I need a light over here.”
A small, shockingly bright light flared into existence. It blinded Dax for an instant, and then focused on the bloodied mess of Dax’s chest.
His blood gleamed bright, shocking scarlet in the light. His skin, once the pale white that had never seen the sun, was a burnished mahogany brown.
Dax stared up into Arabejila’s eyes. Not black but a rich, dark brown, the color of fertile earth so necessary to every Carpathian’s survival. But she wasn’t Arabejila. She wasn’t the friend who had traveled and hunted beside him for centuries. She was someone else entirely. Someone he had long ago ceased to think could possibly exist.
He reached for her, his bloody hand brushing a streak of red across the ash coating her cheek. Päläfertiilam.
9
Riley stared in stunned amazement at the fiercely beautiful man kneeling before her. He’d said “Päläfertiilam” and touched her cheek with exquisite gentleness; she found herself literally frozen in place. Little red and gold specks of glowing ash were falling in a dazzling display around them, adding to the dreamlike feel of the moment. The terror of mere seconds ago had evaporated entirely, leaving behind a dazed sense of wonder. Then, with a blinding speed every bit as shocking as his unexpected gentleness, the man whirled on Gary, divested him of the pistol and caught his throat in a viselike grip. The entire series of moves happened in less than a heartbeat.
“No, please!” Riley leapt forward instinctively, grabbing the vampire’s arm. Beside her, Ben brought up his weapon.
“Ben, wait,” Jubal barked. “He’s not the vampire! He’s not the vampire!” Jubal pointed to his left wrist where the bracelet that had been radiating colors seemed to have changed back to what he had called its dormant state.
Whether driven by an innate protective streak, a rush of adrenaline or simply self-preservation, Ben did not respond to Jubal’s shout. He brought his rifle up, taking aim at the back of the dragon-man’s head. His finger squeezed the trigger.
Riley’s whole body jumped at the loud report, then everything seemed to move in slow motion. The rifle spat bullet after bullet in rapid succession. Riley screamed and covered her ears as she waited for the dragon-man to fall. He seemed an impossible target to miss, standing as he was only a few feet in front of Ben. But the man didn’t fall.
One moment the dragon-man was standing in front of her, the next he was not. She saw the small explosion of dirt as the bullet crashed into the wall of mud behind the spot where he’d been standing. Then another and another. It happened so fast, she was still trying to make sense of it when the rifle fell silent.
The dragon-man had released Gary to disarm Ben. He now had Ben by the shoulder and was staring intently into Ben’s eyes. The man’s other hand was pressed against the bullet hole that had ripped through his stomach. Ben sat with abrupt gracelessness. Ignoring Gary and Jubal, the vampire released Ben and turned his entire focus back on Riley.
She half expected him to rip her to pieces as her mother had been.
Instead, he gave a small bow and said in a surprisingly calm and polite voice, “You are not Arabejila, sivamet. My apologies for the confusion. It is only that you resemble her so strongly.”
Some small, rational part of her mind was thinking she should be screaming or something, but Riley just stood there, mesmerized, staring at the preternaturally beautiful face. At the . . . the distinctive fangs that had lengthened in his mouth. Dear God. He was a vampire. An honest-to-God, bloodsucking vampire! The vampire looked like a man. A stunningly beautiful man. Short, closely cropped black hair, skin like burnished mahogany, dark eyes that flickered with ruby lights in their depths. And his voice . . . his voice was pure magic. It caressed her like a physical touch, soft, smoky, soothing. The stirring cadence of his voice calmed her.
It took her almost a minute to realize he was now speaking English, she was so fascinated with the shape of his mouth and that flash of white teeth. His voice was charismatic, a blend of honey and warmth.
“Please, päläfertiilam, allow me to introduce myself.” He bowed slightly, with an otherworldly grace. “I am Danutdaxton.”
Dumbfounded didn’t begin to describe her state as the man straightened to his full height. She had never seen anyone so beautiful, so impressive or so wounded. He stood there with straight shoulders, his body bleeding from hundreds of small and large wounds, his gaze steady on hers, his eyes . . . mesmerizing. His eyes were incredible, with as many facets as a cut diamond, the color as luminous as a diamond, yet holding tiny red and orange flames. His mouth was cut perfectly and when he smiled . . . his teeth looked very white and very sharp.
“I—” She cast a frantic glance at Gary and Jubal. She knew they’d told her that vampires could appear good, but she was shocked at her reaction to him. Tiny electrical charges raced up her arms. Her breath caught in her lungs and even her mouth went dry.
To her surprise, the two men shared a silent, speaking gaze, then both lowered their weapons and bowed in the vampire’s direction.
“It’s okay, Riley.” Gary began speaking to her in a very soft and calming voice. “He’s not a vampire. The other one was—the black dragon. But he’s a Carpathian . . . a hunter.” He said hunter as if it held great meaning.
“B-but . . . he’s got . . . f-f-” She tapped a finger on her teeth and spat the word out. “Fangs. And he can literally dodge bullets.”
“I know. It’s hard to explain, but he isn’t a vampire. He hunts them. He’s one of the good guys, but he’s hurt very bad and he needs blood.” This time Gary looked like he knew he was imparting things he didn’t want to.
“Carpathians need blood to heal,” Jubal added, “and he needs to heal right away.”
“So . . . what?” Riley glanced between the two men, suddenly not feeling at all reassured. “Are you saying he has to take our blood to survive?”
She didn’t look his way, afraid of being entranced by his gaze again. If he needed blood, she didn’t want him taking hers—or did she? Was that what she was afraid of? That she wanted to go to him and take away his pain? Her need to help him confused her and made her wary. It took every bit of strength she had to hold herself in place and not rush to him and offer whatever he needed—including blood.
“Does he take blood the way a vampire does?” She winced at the question, afraid she was insulting him, but she needed to know. While trying to avoid the hunter’s gaze, her glance fell to Ben, and she dropped quickly down to check on him. Ben’s eyes were glazed over and he swayed as he sat on the ground. “Is he okay? What did you do to him?” she asked.
Dax answered, his diction without hesitation as if he’d always known her language. “He is perfectly healthy. He has minor cuts and bruises. Nothing worthy of your concern.” When she looked unconvinced, he added, “I have put him into a meditative state to calm him. He was becoming quite agitated, and he could easily have hurt you or the others without intending to do so. But you are all perfectly safe now.” As if that should put all her fears to rest, the hunter turned away and began speaking with Jubal in his ancient language.
She looked Ben over. He was breathing, and just as the hunter had stated, other than a few cuts and bruises, Ben appeared perfectly unharmed. But it was like the man was sleeping w
ith his eyes open.
“I understand, thank you, Jubal.” Clearly finished with whatever private conversation he’d been having with Jubal, Dax had changed back to English.
She didn’t care if the hunter got angry, she couldn’t allow Ben to be in such a state, not when he’d come to her rescue so often. “Let him go.” She turned toward the hunter. “Let him go right now.”
He released Ben so quickly, the unconscious man rocked forward, almost falling onto her. She put a hand on his shoulder to steady him, a little shocked that the hunter had complied so quickly.
Coming to, Ben looked like he had just awakened from a long nap. He actually yawned. “Wow, that was some dream.” Ben smiled at her, totally relaxed as his gaze wandered to the half-naked, badly wounded man standing behind her. His smile faltered. His gaze traveled up Dax’s impossibly torn body to his beaten and bloody face. Then Ben just froze, his mouth open, his eyes wide with renewed terror.
“Ben. Ben, it’s okay.” Riley grabbed his face with both hands, forcing his shocked gaze to hers. “It’s over. Everyone’s okay.”
Ben gave a choked sound, like a scream pinched off before it could gain volume.
“He’s not going to hurt us.” She forced a smile. “Look. See?” She stood slowly and put a hand on the hunter’s upper arm. Rock-hard muscle bunched beneath her fingertip and shook with a small tremor she would have missed if she hadn’t been touching his skin directly. For a moment pain slammed into her, taking her breath. Just that fast it was gone, leaving her feeling slightly ill. “Everything’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe now.”
“It would be much simpler and more effective just to keep him under my control,” the hunter murmured close to her ear.
She shivered at the melting richness of his voice, then scowled, refusing to look at him. “Don’t you dare. If you are one of the good guys, like Jubal claims, you’ll leave him alone.”
“If that is your wish, I shall, but your safety, päläfertiilam, is now my first concern. The moment this human’s fear puts that at risk, he will go back under my control. Does this please you?”
Riley drew in a deep breath. Even looking at him was difficult. What was it that pulled her toward him like a magnet? She needed to push him away from her, to get some perspective.
“My mother’s dead, some ancient evil we were sent here to contain has escaped into the world and I’m standing in front of a man who can change from a dragon to a man, dodge bullets and control people’s minds at will. Nothing about this situation pleases me!”
His eyes filled with genuine sorrow. “I am sorry I was not able to save your mother.” He lifted one hand to the side of her face and tucked a strand of hair back behind her ears. “More sorry than I can express. I know what it is to lose someone you love.”
Her whole body ached to lean toward him, to let him wrap those impressively muscled arms around her and envelop her in his strength. Riley fought the instinct, but it took considerable effort.
She allowed herself the luxury of looking at him, uncaring that she was so attracted to a being that clearly wasn’t human. She saw pure strength, and power. She couldn’t help but notice that. The way he moved was so careful and precise, so fluid and effortlessly graceful, like a giant, predatory jungle cat. When he stood still, his dark, burnished skin seemed to shimmer with flashes of iridescent scarlet, as if the dragon he had been was still there, waiting for its chance to be free. Her gaze fell to his chest. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and the rippling muscles that bunched beneath his skin held her attention captive.
As she looked down, she caught her first unobstructed view of his chest.
“Oh, my God.” There was a hole over his heart, as if someone had taken a pickax to his sternum. The wound should have been gushing blood. With a wound like that, he should be dead. Instead, it was as if something had closed off the blood vessels, leaving only trickles of red seeping from the gaping cavity. She turned a horrified gaze toward the others. “He should be dead with a wound like that! How is he not dead?”
“Carpathians can be killed. It just takes a lot more than it takes for a human. They can control their heartbeat, their blood flow, the functions of their internal organs, just about everything,” Gary explained.
“But Dax isn’t going to last long in this state without healing,” Jubal added. “This part is going to be hard for you to comprehend, Riley. Dax needs to pack those wounds with earth and he needs blood to replace all that he’s lost.”
“You mean he’s got to suck someone’s blood?” She took a half step away from the Carpathian. “He’s got to drain one of us to survive?”
“Carpathians take only what is needed,” Dax explained hastily, clearly making an effort to still the rising distrust in her.
“Carpathians have lived for centuries in harmony with humans,” Jubal added quickly. “Please, there will be time to explain everything later. For now, we need to help heal Dax. If that vampire released from the volcano comes back—”
“He will,” said Dax.
“—we’re going to need the hunter at full fighting strength.”
“Do not fear, sivamet,” Dax said, and the soft, husky timbre of his voice ensnared her once again. “If it comes to it, I will die before allowing Mitro Daratrazanoff to hurt you, but it would be best for all if I faced him in full health.”
Her gaze dragged back up his torso, pausing as it reached the terrible wounds gaping in his flesh.
“Can you really heal him, Jubal?” Her voice didn’t seem like her own, and neither did her reaction. For reasons she didn’t understand, the sight of the man’s terrible wounds was almost more than she could bear. The thought of his pain horrified her on a deeply personal level—affecting her as viscerally as the sight of her mother murdered before her eyes. She couldn’t bear the thought of this man suffering, and she didn’t know why. She was certain that brief glimpse of agonizing pain had been his.
Vampires and hunters, volcanos and dragons: this whole situation was crazy, but she couldn’t tolerate the idea of this hunter—Dax—suffering one more second of pain. She looked at Gary. “Fix him now.” Her voice carried with the power of her ancestors, and something in him seemed to rock with her words.
There was a brief moment when no one moved. Even the world around them seemed to hold its breath. Everything went still. Gary moved first, looking almost formal, standing in front of Dax with a slight bow.
“Saasz hän ku andam szabadon,” Gary murmured in the hunter’s ancient language. Without flinching, he offered his unbroken wrist to the hunter.
Whatever the words meant, the hunter clearly took them as an invitation, because without delay he bared his fangs and bit down, his mouth closing around Gary’s wrist. Gary’s expression flashed briefly with pain before going totally relaxed.
Riley’s heart nearly stopped beating. Her hand went defensively to her throat. She felt her pulse pounding there. For a moment, the flash of fangs had been shockingly sexy. She wanted Dax’s mouth on her neck, his teeth sinking into her—not Jubal. Blinking, shaking her head at her strange compulsion, she nudged Jubal.
“What did Gary say to him?”
“It is a custom of Carpathians. Gary said, take what I offer freely. That means, Gary would exchange his life for that of the hunter if it was necessary. He is asking no favor in return for his blood,” Jubal explained.
Riley couldn’t help but watch. The movement of Dax’s mouth on Gary’s wrist fascinated her. The hunter’s fangs joined the two men together, as if they were close brothers, one saving the other without thought for his own safety. Dax appeared stoic, but the flames in his strange, multifaceted eyes leapt and danced. She felt her heart tune to the rhythm of the hunter’s as if they were connected instead of hunter and friend. Her blood sang in her veins, surging hotly.
Dax�
�s gaze jumped to her face.
Dax released Gary and straightened. There was no trace of blood on his lips and no sign of a wound on Gary’s wrist. She didn’t know what to think. Beside her, Ben stood in shivering paralysis.
The gaping wound in Dax’s chest did begin to bleed then, but some invisible force kept the blood from spilling out of the wound. Dax scooped fresh dirt from the ground, spat into it, and packed his wound with the mixture. His eyes closed, as if packing his wound with mud brought some sort of relief.
“I have not had blood in many centuries. It is both wonderful and awful.” His gaze drifted over Riley’s face. “I am starved, and yet I dare not take too much. Just enough to heal my wounds until I am used to feeding again. Then I will need to sustain myself in order to hunt the undead.”
Riley pressed her lips together, nodding as if she understood when she didn’t really. Jubal seemed to though. He stood in front of the hunter and offered his unbroken wrist.
Dax reached for the other arm with surprisingly gentle fingers. “This pains you. The bone is broken.” Even as he spoke he ran his hand over the injury.
Riley watched closely. Heat seeped out from between Dax’s palm and Jubal’s skin. She could see a faint glow, and she was close enough to feel the warmth as well. The little white lines of pain eased on Jubal’s face.
“Is that better?”
Jubal nodded. “Much, thanks.”
Riley noted that Dax didn’t apologize for having broken Jubal’s arm in the first place, nor did Jubal seem to expect him to do so.
Jubal murmured the same exact phrase in Carpathian as Gary, and just as before, Dax bowed, took the offered wrist and drank.
This time when he finished, Dax thanked the two men and then looked at her. Her whole body tingled. Heat washed up her spine and her gaze fixed on his mouth. What is wrong with me? She should be screaming in horror. This was an honest-to-God vampire right in front of her eyes, drinking blood from her friends. And she was just standing there, marveling at him.
Dark Storm Page 17