Dark Gold (Dark Series - book 3)

by Christine Feehan

  “One of us is,” Aidan agreed softly, and he bent his head to find the pulsing jugular.

  The first ripple of unease hit him. He lifted his head for a moment, and his prey’s blood spurted out. He bent once more to his task, this time all efficiency and quickness. It was Alexandria. He could feel the first wave of pain hitting her.

  He meticulously closed the wound, ensuring that there was no evidence on the man’s neck to betray the presence of his kind in the area, and allowed his prey to sink to the ground. To anyone passing by all three men would appear drunk. Doubtless the trail of blood down one man’s shirt would be attributed to a bloody nose.

  It was starting within Alexandria, as he knew it would. The conversion. And, ultimately, if inadvertently, he was responsible. The guilt didn’t sit well with him. He had observed two wounds on Alexandria’s neck, which could only mean one thing: the vampire had bitten her twice, made his exchanges. When Aidan had assumed she was a vampiress, already turned, he had nearly killed her. Then, when he had realized his error, he had replaced her lost blood with his own. Four blood exchanges would put the human through the transformation process—to vampire or Carpathian. Either way, there was no turning back. In most humans, attempts at conversion either killed the woman outright or drove her insane. Only a few women, those possessing psychic abilities, had managed to come through the ordeal alive and well. And they would be the ones to help perpetuate the Carpathian race, since their own females were proving barren.

  The fourth blood exchange, converting Alexandria, would also keep her chained to him forever. Selfish though it might be to make that decision without her consent, she was, after all, his only salvation. He had held on for so many centuries, awaiting his lifemate, avoiding turning vampire himself. And, consenting or not, she

  was

  meant to be his lifemate, not Yohenstria’s; all the signs, and their perfect chemistry, confirmed that. And at least he had done what he could to give Alexandria as much of his own powerful, ancient blood as he could to dilute the vampire’s taint and make her transformation to Carpathian easier.

  He felt her scream in his mind, a helpless cry filled with desperate pain. She was confused and afraid, linked with him yet unknowingly sharing her thoughts. She was terrified of him yet afraid he had deserted her, afraid he might even be enjoying her pain as the vampire had. Mostly she was afraid for her brother, Joshua, believing he was alone, unprotected in the house of a vampire so powerful, he had killed another of the undead in a matter of moments.

  Aidan launched himself into the night sky, needing to cover the distance between them as quickly as possible. At that moment he didn’t care if someone saw a strange night owl, huge beyond belief, winging its way over the city. She needed him. She was begging Marie for a doctor. Marie was in distress, wanting to accommodate her yet knowing Aidan was the only one who could help her. He heard it all clearly, the soft voice begging for help, the housekeeper nearly in tears. He was sharing Alexandria’s mind, experiencing everything she was experiencing. Confusion. Pain. Fear amounting to terror.

  He flew to her, to be close when she called out for him. And he hoped, for both their sakes, that that would be soon. She needed him, but he had promised to compel her no further than the blood exchange. She had to call for him.

  Outside the underground chamber he paced, Alexandria’s pitiful cries sending shards of pain through his own heart. A dozen times he reached for the door, wanting, even needing to kick it in. But she had to call to him. She had to express faith in him or she would never believe he was helping, not harming, her. He rested his forehead against the door, then was shocked to see a crimson stain from the contact. He was sweating blood, in agony hearing her pleas and feeling the pain twisting and burning within her body. The physical agony he could manage, but his heart and his mind were in torment.

  It seemed an endless nightmare. He knew the moment when she tried to crawl across the floor in a blind attempt to escape her own body. He knew when she vomited blood, the tainted blood of the vampire. He felt her insides burning and rebelling against their mutations. Her internal organs were reshaping, renewing themselves, becoming different. Her cells—every muscle, tissue, every inch of her skin—were on fire with the transformation.

  Where are you? You promised to help me. Where are you?

  He had waited so long for the invitation, he thought he was hallucinating when it actually came. He hit the door with the flat of his hand and burst inside. Marie was kneeling, tears streaming down her face, trying in vain to hold the convulsing body.

  Aidan nearly dragged Alexandria from Marie’s arms, cradling her protectively against his chest. “Go, Marie. I will help her.”

  Marie’s eyes were eloquent with sympathy for Alexandria and anger and accusation for him. She twitched the hem of her skirt smartly and slammed the door hard as she left.

  The moment the housekeeper was out of sight, Aidan put her out of his mind. His total attention centered on Alexandria. “Did you think I had deserted you,

  piccola

  ? I did not. But I could not interfere if you did not wish me to do so. Remember? You made me promise.”

  Alexandria turned her face away, humiliated that Aidan Savage would again see her so vulnerable, so disheveled. She didn’t have time to dwell on it though, because the next wave of heat was starting, clawing at her stomach and liver and kidneys, taking a blowtorch to her heart and lungs. Her cry echoed through the room, a wrenching scream of agony. She wished she would stop so she could breathe, but it went on and on. Tears streamed down her face.

  Aidan thumbed away her tears, and his hand came away stained with blood. He breathed for her, for both of them.

  Aidan’s hands were cool and soothing on her skin, his ancient chants centering her mind so that she had an anchor to cling to in an insane world. After a time Alexandria realized he was somehow taking part of the pain from her. He was there in her mind, shielding her from the terrible burning, from complete awareness of what was happening to her. Her mind seemed hazy, as if she was in a dream state. She forced her eyes open. She could see her own agony reflected in his eyes. There was a scarlet smear across his forehead.

  When the terrible spasms let her loose from their grip to give her a few moments’ reprieve, she reached up and touched his face with wondering fingers. “I can’t believe you came back.” Her voice was husky, her throat swollen. “It hurts.”

  “I know, Alexandria. I have taken the brunt of it, but I cannot do more at this time, and the poisoned blood you took in makes it so much worse.” He said it with honest regret, guilt, and humbleness, all powerful new emotions.

  “How can you do what you’re doing?” Her tongue touched her dried lips, felt the terrible sores.

  “We are connected now through the sharing of our blood. That is how I heard your call to me. It is how you feel me in your mind.” Once more he touched some soothing salve to her lips, one small relief he could provide.

  “I’m so tired, I don’t think I can do this anymore.” If he could really read her mind, he would see she was telling the truth. He was rocking her back and forth, oblivious of her hideous condition, holding her as if she was the most precious, beautiful woman in the world. He was there in her mind, his arms keeping her sheltered next to his heart. It was soothing, comforting; it made her feel less alone. But even with his help, she could not stand another bout of this agony. She knew she couldn’t. And it was coming; already she could feel the heat beginning. Her fingers circled his arm; her blue eyes rose to meet his liquid gold gaze. “I really can’t.”

  “Allow me to put you to sleep. Do not be afraid. It will merely be the unconscious state of humans, not the sleep of our kind. Your body must convert before I can put you into our truly healing sleep.” His velvet-soft voice was compelling and beautiful.

  “I don’t want to hear any more.” Her body was stiffening. Even with Aidan’s enormous strength, a spasm of pain nearly wrenched her from his grasp. A low moan escape
d her clenched teeth, her nails bit into his arms, but she clung to him while her body rid itself of the tainted blood and her cells and organs continued to reshape into those of another race. Her mind was chaos and pain, a place of fear and agony.

  The spasm lasted a full three minutes, the intensity peaking and then ebbing like the waves of the sea. She was beaded in blood, sweating it. Her breath came in ragged gasps; her heart was nearly exploding. “I can’t do this,” she gasped.

  “Then trust me. I came back for you, did I not? I will not harm or desert you while you sleep. Why do you resist?”

  “At least awake I know what’s going on.”

  “You don’t know,

  piccola

  . I share your mind. You cannot comprehend anything other than pain. Let me help you. I cannot take much more of your agony either. I am afraid I will lose control and be forced to break my promise not to further compel you. Do not force me to break trust with you. Give your consent that I may put you to sleep.”

  She could hear the pleading and honesty in his voice. She also felt that warm, sensuous velvet that wrapped her up and made her want to do whatever he wished. It frightened her that his voice alone held so much power. This man, whatever he might be, was dangerous, lethal. She sensed it, but at that moment, with the heat starting and the mixture of pleading and warning in the golden eyes, she gave up the fight. “Don’t hurt me anymore,” she whispered against the warmth of his throat.

  He read the submission in her voice, in her eyes, and Aidan took no chances that she would change her decision. He instantly sent a sharp command, seizing her mind, pushing past its barricade to take control. He put her to sleep, beyond the pain, in a place where neither the agony of the conversion nor the vampire’s blood could reach her.

  He held her in his arms for a long time before gently cleaning her and laying her to rest more comfortably on the bed. Putting the chamber in order took longer, but he did it himself, not wanting Marie or her tacit criticism to intrude on this intimate time with Alexandria. He used candles and herbs to fill the room with healing aromas.

  He was becoming familiar with Alexandria’s mind, with her strengths and weaknesses. It was inevitable that soon he would unlock the barrier she was able to erect against him. His thumb caressed her forehead as she lay asleep and vulnerable in the huge four-poster bed. It was amazing to be in her mind. She was an incredible human. She had struggled against nearly impossible odds, losing her parents so young, single-handedly raising her little brother, loving him with the same fierce, protective instincts of a mother. She worked hard to provide Joshua with a decent life. She was also funny and mischievous and irreverent, filled with a love of jokes and pranks. She was warm-hearted and generous.

  She was a bright light to cast out the growing darkness within him. Alexandria was compassion and goodness, everything he was not.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed, thankful the herbs were working their magic. The odor of vomit and blood, the taint of evil, was gone from the chamber, leaving only the pungent aroma of the healing plants. He checked each of Alexandria’s wounds and sores, in time-honored fashion mixing some of the precious soil of his homeland with his saliva to speed the mending of each laceration. The ragged tears at her neck were the worst. The vampire had made the wounds, and they festered with his poison. Aidan packed them carefully, chanting in the ancient tongue, once more sending himself into Alexandria’s body to heal it from the inside out. The conversion was almost complete, he noted with relief.

  He stretched out beside her on the bed, aware that he still had a long, uphill battle ahead of him with his new lifemate. She was going to be very resistant to his advances. She would fight the truth of her conversion, hate it when she realized what it meant. And she would blame him. Rightfully so. With the vampire’s gruesome torture and his own clumsy handling of her at their first meeting, she had nothing to thank his species for. Still, she had no choice; she was bound to him, her mind to his, her soul his other half. Joining them together completely was now a matter of patience. Aidan sent up a silent prayer that he would have whatever it took to give Alexandria the time she needed. She deserved it, and as her true lifemate, he could do no other, than to provide her with whatever she needed. Only he knew how dangerous every moment of that time would be to both of them, how vulnerable she was without him, and how he would no longer endure if anything happened to her. In addition, she was in danger from her own predatory nature, which would clamor to claim her even without her consent.

  Aidan sighed, then scanned his home and the surrounding area. He checked windows and entrances. Placed strong spells at the door of the underground chamber and even more deadly, potent spells to guard the chamber itself. He was taking no chances with his mate now that he had found her. Aidan pulled her into his arms, waited until he was certain the change had completely taken place, then sent her into the deep, healing sleep of his race. His body wrapped protectively around hers, he closed down his heart and lungs and lay as one dead.

  As the sun began to set, a disturbance found its way into the chamber. Then a single heartbeat interrupted the silence, and lungs drew in air. Aidan lay still, scanning the house for the cause of his early awakening. Above him, on the first floor, someone was rudely pounding on the door to his home. He could hear Marie’s soft footfalls as she moved to answer. Her heartbeat was audible to him. She was nervous about the caller. The pounding at the front entrance was loud and authoritative. A smile curved his mouth. Behind his housekeeper, he heard Stefan, ever ready to defend his wife, to defend Aidan’s home.

  Aidan rose, his body supple and strong. His gaze slid to Alexandria. Shock went through him. She was beautiful! There were a few bruises marring her soft skin, but it was otherwise healthy, flawless skin. Her lips were soft and lush, her lashes long and heavy. Younger even than he had imagined, she was unlike any woman he had ever seen. And she belonged to him, and nothing on Earth would change that. His body stirred unexpectedly with a sudden, urgent ache that shocked him. She lay there helpless, a virtual stranger, yet he had been in her mind and knew her more intimately than one could ever know another after years of living together. He bent to brush her forehead with his lips, a salute to her courage, her capacity for loving, and the goodness in her. But proximity to her only deepened the throbbing ache in his body.

  Quickly he put distance between himself and temptation. It had been six hundred years since he had felt a biological urge, yet this surpassed anything he had once known. This was no mild desire to appease the needs of his body. This was a raging hunger for one woman, the only woman. He needed her now in every sense of the word, and it didn’t help his self-control that she was young and beautiful, rather than the hag he had initially thought her.

  The caller on the floor above them was yelling at Marie. Aidan could hear the man clearly. It was someone obviously used to having his way. Wealthy, clearly difficult. He was demanding to see Alexandria Houton. He went so far as to threaten Marie with deportation if she did not produce Alexandria immediately, obviously thinking her accent made her vulnerable to such a threat.

  Fangs exploded in Aidan’s mouth, and his golden eyes glowed hot and vicious, the beast in him stronger than ever. Was it because he was jealous of any male coming near his lifemate? Because he was feeling anger—another powerful new emotion—that someone was yelling at his housekeeper? Or perhaps a combination of both? He did not know; but he recognized he was dangerous and would have to exercise great self-control. A long, slow hiss escaped his lips as he floated up the stairs and entered the kitchen through the secret passage. He moved with supernatural speed, invisible to the human eye. All Carpathians were capable of such things, and it was second nature to him.

  In the entryway of his home, a tall, handsome man raged at his housekeeper. “You produce Alexandria immediately or I’ll call the police. I think foul play has been committed, and you’re in some way a party to it!” He was looking at Marie with contempt, as if she were an insect he c
ould easily crush beneath his foot.

  Abruptly the stranger fell silent, a cold shiver unexpectedly running down his spine. He had the distinct impression something was stalking him. Wildly, he looked around the immaculate yard. Empty. Still, the impression of danger was so strong, his heart began to pound, and his mouth went dry. Thomas Ivan’s heart slammed against his chest when a man appeared virtually out of nowhere. He simply seemed to materialize behind the stubborn housekeeper. The man was tall, elegant, well-dressed. Long blond hair flowed to his broad shoulders, and unusual golden eyes regarded him with the unblinking stare of a cat. He exuded power. Power and strength. Danger clung to him like a second skin.

  Thomas registered that the house reeked of money, and that this occupant was no one he could easily intimidate. The man seemed to glide forward, his muscles rippling beneath his silk shirt, his movement so fluid his feet barely seemed to touch the floor. He certainly made no sound as he moved. The hand putting Marie to one side was extraordinarily gentle, yet it conveyed a sense of menace to Thomas.

  “Marie is here legally, and it is extremely rude of you to threaten members of my household. Perhaps those who work for you are simply servants, but my people are my family and under my protection.” The words were spoken in a soft, pleasant voice the texture of velvet. A polite smile accompanied the words, a brief show of white teeth.

  For no reason at all, Thomas felt a shiver of fear run down his spine. The hair on his body actually bristled in alarm. His mouth was so dry, he wasn’t certain he could talk. He took a breath and decided to backpedal. A housekeeper he could handle; this man was altogether different. He held up a hand in the age-old symbol of peace. “Look, I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. I apologize for coming on so strong. It was definitely the wrong way to handle the situation, but my friend is missing, and I’m very worried. I’m Thomas Ivan.”

  Aidan recognized the name immediately. The rising star of the computer-games industry, the imagination behind some astonishingly popular recent vampire video games, had come to call. Aidan raised an eyebrow, his face expressionless. “Am I supposed to know you?”