Why are you allowing her to touch you like that? The accusation should have been ludicrous, but he sensed the way she held herself so tightly under control. To Natalya, the accusation was very real. She saw a woman’s hands smoothing over the body of her lifemate. The emotions ran too strong, too intense, possibly fueled by his own terrible hunger, by his own rising beast.
Vikirnoff touched her mind. A red haze spread and gripped her. Instincts as old as time, hot with passion, animalistic. There was something buried deep in her he had yet to encounter, something she protected, but it was rising to the surface and it was every bit as dangerous and as powerful as a predator on the hunt.
He fought to keep the intensity of their emotions from affecting him. It was his duty to protect his lifemate, to see to her well-being. He had to find a way to defuse the situation until she could get herself under control.
“Slavica, perhaps you would get the necessary soil and herbs. You know what we need. Natalya will watch over me.” Vikirnoff never took his gaze, or his mind, from his lifemate. He didn’t dare. The effort was draining, but the alternative was unthinkable. Natalya should have been not only healing him, but as his lifemate, anchoring him. Instead, she was triggering his every animal instinct so that not only did he have to fight himself, but he had to provide the anchor for Natalya.
“Are you certain you’ll be safe?” Slavica whispered the words.
A growling hiss of displeasure came from Natalya’s direction.
“Thank you, yes.” A soft growl of his own accompanied the words and he kept his face averted from Slavica, his gaze holding Natalya locked in position.
Vikirnoff needed desperately. The heartbeats were so loud it was almost a roar in his head. He needed blood and a way to control the danger emanating from his lifemate. He willed the nurse to get out before disaster struck. Trying to hold Natalya in check was difficult when his life was ebbing away from the loss of blood.
Slavica moved slowly, intelligent enough to sense the danger, and courageous enough to walk around the bed and make her exit, pulling the door closed behind her.
“Come here to me,” Vikirnoff ordered, his tone dropping an octave until it was velvet soft and hypnotic.
Natalya shook her head as if trying to clear the haze from her mind. Unlike others Vikirnoff called to him, his lifemate was well aware she was under compulsion. Strangely she didn’t fight him as she could have, instead she took a reluctant step forward, compelled by his black, black eyes and the stark hunger she couldn’t define. The same hunger was in her, clawing with very real pain and power, threatening to consume them both.
She was acutely aware the appetite was mixed with desire, with lust, a passionate need that bordered on obsession. Fascinated by the intensity in his eyes, she emerged from the shadows, one slow step at a time, almost in freeze-frame.
She looked ethereal, her muscles moving suggestively beneath the bands of skin glowing strangely in the faint light. Not quite real. Definitely not human. Vikirnoff tried for a moment to probe deeper into her mind, to uncover the secrets that lay hidden behind her strange brain patterns. Hunger beat at him without mercy. Hers? Or his own? He couldn’t separate the two. He couldn’t tell which were his emotions, so intense, swirling out of control. Was she jealous? Or was that his own beast rising with a ferocious need?
Women were of the light. Did they feel the razor-sharp clawing at their gut? On the verge of killing? Unblinking, he watched the way she emerged out of the faded bands of light coming toward him. Her strangely colored eyes focused on him and stared as if he were the prey, not the other way around. The tigress was on the hunt and the tension stretched to a screaming point. Danger thrummed in the air between them.
Natalya couldn’t stop moving forward. She felt in a dream, one she wasn’t in control of, standing off to the side, watching the action with a pounding heart and screaming at herself to wake up. She honestly didn’t know if she intended to kill him. She feared him. She sensed the darkness in him rising and self-preservation was strong in her, yet she was unable to stop each step forward.
Vikirnoff’s fingers shackled her wrist. Enormously strong. Incredibly gentle. His touch set her heart pounding and her knees inexplicably turned to rubber. She sank down onto the edge of the bed. His hands slid up her arms, fingers tunneled through her hair and settled in a frame around her face. His black gaze burned over her, held her captive. She couldn’t look away from him even as he forced her head toward his.
Natalya felt her stomach turn over. Every nerve ending leapt to life. She felt but she couldn’t move. He lay injured, a hole in his chest, bleeding from the deep rake marks she’d made in his back and countless other wounds, weak and seemingly vulnerable, yet she went to him like a willing sacrifice.
His lips touched hers. Cool. Firm. Velvet soft. Her heart jumped in her chest. He trailed kisses from the corner of her mouth to her neck, tiny pinpoints of flames dancing over her skin. In her mind she screamed at herself to run, yet no sound emerged and she leaned closer to him, lifting the hair from her neck.
She wanted his touch. Needed to feel his hands on her. He belonged to her. No other woman had the right to touch him, to smooth fingers over his bare skin and be so close as to exchange air.
Fire raged in Vikirnoff’s veins and stormed through his mind until thunder roared in his ears and the need to assuage his terrible hunger, a hunger that was mixed with sexual need, with possessive lust, was near frenzy. He inhaled her scent, took it deep in his lungs. Listened to the ebb and flow of life sizzling through her veins. She was calling to him, a timeless, haunting call of female to male, an aphrodisiac that enhanced his every sense. His tongue tasted her pulse. He felt her reaction, the swift intake of her breath. Her breasts brushed against him, a soft enticement that added to the strange roaring in his head.
Natalya felt his tongue swirling over her pulse and her womb clenched in anticipation. There was white-hot pain that gave way instantly to erotic pleasure. Her blood flowed into him like nectar. He shifted her in his arms, holding her close to him, one hand sliding up her body to cup her breast, thumb teasing her nipple into a taut peak.
Her body went into overdrive, weeping with need, hot with excitement, coiling tighter and tighter until she was nearly pleading with him for relief. Clothes hurt her too-sensitive skin. She wanted to be under him, his body ramming into hers hard and fast, filling her emptiness. She clawed at him, trying to get closer, arching into him, deliberately rousing him further.
Vikirnoff felt the power and lust sweeping through him, soaking into his injured body, supplying him with heat and excitement and strength. His body raged at him for a fulfillment that would be impossible in his present state. His demon rose fast and ferociously, roaring for his mate, demanding he claim her, that he tie them together for all eternity. She tasted like nothing he’d ever experienced and he knew he would need to return again and again and he’d never get enough.
In defiance of the roaring beast, he forced himself to pull back and deliberately swept his tongue over the pinpricks in her throat. A part of him wished he’d taken from the swell of her breast, but he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from possessing her body. He didn’t altogether trust himself. In his aroused state, he would have died to possess her. Taking her would have cost him his life, and he was far too close to the edge for clear thinking. Better to take precautions than indulge his instincts.
He shifted her until she lay across him, her green eyes staring up at him, mirroring the same lust that had taken control of his body. He bent his head to her side, holding her still while he examined her wounds. It took only minutes to separate himself from his body and go into hers with his spirit to heal her wounds from the inside out. He paid particular attention to the puncture wounds on her ankles. The scent was unlike any he’d encountered and he wanted to be able to recognize it anywhere. The wounds were deep, all the way to the bone, yet she had never said a word and had insisted Slavica attend to him—until her jealous
nature had overtaken her. She felt the pull of a lifemate every bit as strongly as he. She didn’t want it. She didn’t understand it, but it was fierce and strong and their souls were nearly already united and he hadn’t yet bound them together.
Vikirnoff pulled her closer still, holding her head in the palm of his hand as he slashed his chest. He urged her close to him, until, of her own accord, her mouth moved, tongue tasting delicately. He groaned under the sensual assault. Natalya moved against him, her tongue swirling over his skin, healing the long thin line, just as his had closed the pinpricks.
Vikirnoff swore softly in his own language, prepared to try again when her teeth sank deep. The pain flashed through his body like lightning, gave way to pure erotic pleasure. His head lolled back and his eyes closed. He gave himself up to the magic of the moment, the true blood exchange between lifemates. He would always be able to find her, touch her mind at will, summon her, call to her, share her body and mind and soul. There was ecstasy in the sharing and a promise of passion.
She flicked her tongue to heal the small pinpricks and kissed her way up his chest and throat to find his lips. She was hot with need, her mouth demanding, tongue dueling with his, seeking more.
His hands crept their way under the leather camisole, kneading her breasts, his own demons taking hold. Natalya was a powerful anesthetic and aphrodisiac rolled into one. Pain disappeared as hot blood rushed to his groin, as his need to have her overcame the last coherent thought. He was crazy to want her when he was so near death and if she couldn’t find the will to stop him, he just might perish, but he couldn’t pull back. His body was a hard knot of desire, his veins sizzling, awareness settling in his groin with painful need. His beast roared, unleashed and leapt to claim her.
Natalya moaned softly, giving herself up to the sudden command of his mouth. Hot. Hungry. Wet. His teeth tugged at her lip, his hands busy at her breasts. Persuasive. Rough. Insistent. She slid her fingertips over his chest and felt him wince as she touched his open wound. His wound. What the hell was wrong with her? She was practically raping a badly wounded hunter!
Natalya pulled away from him with a soft cry of alarm. His arms slid away from her body leaving her bereft. Wound so tight she thought she might scream. Needy and aching. She backed away from him, her palm pressed to her neck. Her pulse throbbed in tune to the frantic pulsing in her womb, the wild sound drowning out the echo of her name as he whispered it. She could taste him in her mouth. His scent was on her skin. Worse, her body was alive with a need and hunger of her own, every bit as sharp and terrible as his. She blinked rapidly, trying to quiet her rioting heart. The dreamlike state was dissipating, confusion lifting. He was a hunter. Guilt and shame burst over her, struck at her like a heavy fist.
She wanted him. No, it was worse. She needed him. The idea was insane—and entirely unacceptable. He had to have done something to her. No vampire had ever succeeded in trapping her or taking over her mind, but hehad. She hadn’t felt his invasion, but she knew she would never have allowed him to touch her body. To kiss her. And he had taken her blood and, oh, God, she had taken his. She had been prepared to be a donor. But not like this. Never like this.
Natalya drew a knife from the sheath strapped to her calf and advanced on him with purposeful steps.
Vikirnoff watched her calmly as she approached the bed.
“You did something to me. You forced me to accept you.” Her eyes blazed fury at him, once more going from green to a strange swirling of pearlized colors. “I despise your kind, yet I was willing to harm Slavica, a woman I consider my friend. You did that to me. Why? I could have left you to the vampires.”
“You could not have left me to the vampires,” Vikirnoff said. Even with her angry at him, unable to accept their relationship, even though he didn’t understand her at all, he knew she was a miracle. A gift. He was shockingly happy as he lay there, waiting for her to see reason. He tried to repress the silly smile that kept wanting to slip past. He knew what happiness was. Finally. After so many centuries. He felt the emotion and it was exhilarating. He had been so close to turning vampire and she had arrived and saved him.
She didn’t want to save him. The thought had him puzzled. Women were supposed to want to be with their lifemates, to see to their every need. He had only dim memories of his parents, but he was almost certain that was the way it worked. Unless he could no longer remember how it been between his mother and father.
Natalya’s small white teeth came together in a snap of temper. That smirking little smile hovering near his mouth made her want to slap him. “You belong with the vampires. Do you think I can’t feel the darkness in you? Smell it? It reeks; a stain there is no way for you to remove. You deserve death.”
“Perhaps I do, but not at your hands. I will admit the darkness is strong in me and I cannot overcome it, but you can. And you will. It is your duty as my lifemate. I will not absolve you of your duties merely because you do not know what is expected of you. It is a situation we both are unfamiliar with, but we will learn. I may not be the lifemate you expected, but you are not what I expected either. We will learn together.”
Why did the things he said hurt her? No one, other than her beloved brother, had ever been able to say things to hurt her. She kept those sensitive emotions locked away, yet Vikirnoff’s words were almost as sharp and painful as the blade in her fist. Just because he didn’t expect her wasn’t a rejection of her, was it? And why did she care?
“Damn you to hell,” she snapped. Her fury had dissipated abruptly and tears—tears burned in her eyes. She wanted the anger back. She needed it to shield her. Why didn’t he fight back? Why didn’t he say or do something to give her back her rage?
Natalya clutched the knife handle until it was in danger of becoming a powder in her hands. She forced air through her lungs. “I’ll just wait until you’re asleep and your body is lead and I’ll open the drapes and let the sun fry your worthless ass.” She kept her voice low, her words harsh, but inside she was weeping.
She wanted to kill him. He deserved death. Every hunter needed to die along with the vampires they kept in check. None of them had hearts or emotions. Yet, when she looked at him, she saw that faint light of happiness shining for her. For her. No one looked at her like that. And desire blazed in his eyes. How many times had he stepped in front of her to prevent injury from a vampire? He’d tried to send her away from the battle. As much as she wanted to be annoyed by that silly gesture, she felt protected.
Natalya shook her head, refusing to let her brain defend him. He had used some kind of mind control on her. There was no other explanation for her behavior. She would never have voluntarily touched him intimately or allowed him to touch her. Her breasts still ached and felt swollen and painful without his touch. She detested herself. Detested that she was such a weak woman around Vikirnoff Von Shrieder.
She had been jealous. Jealous. The sight of another woman touching him had been more than she could take. Her animal nature had overtaken her. What had ever possessed her parents to give her the nature of a tiger? And why hadn’t she been warned about the deadly peril, so very real, a hunter could use on a woman?
She pressed fingers to her throbbing temples. She was wading in quicksand, sinking deeper and deeper the more she struggled against him. Vikirnoff said nothing. All the while he lay simply watching her, propped up on one elbow, his gaze never leaving her face. She was beginning to hate his eyes. That black, fierce gaze, so intense and so hungry for her. His eyes drew her like nothing else ever had—or would. No matter how much she told herself it was wrong, it was a betrayal, she was still drawn to him. Mesmerized by him. In lust with him. And it wasn’t natural. It couldn’t be.
Her inability to break his hold on her fed her temper. “I certainly have no duty to you. You have such gall to even suggest it.”
“You cannot deny you are my lifemate. Our souls call to one another.” His voice softened to a mesmerizing cadence. “Give yourself a little time, Natalya. You will
get used to the idea. All of this will work out as it is meant.”
She shoved the knife back into the scabbard, her hand shaking. He was seducing her with his eyes and his voice. How could she be so susceptible? She needed armor. How could she be so confused and raw and edgy? She was never like this and yet she didn’t seem to have any control over her emotions.
“I want to smother you with a pillow,” she lied, hoping to draw a response she could work with. “I can’t believe you. No one could ever stand being your lifemate.” She could rage all she wanted but he knew he was pulling her in. She closed her eyes and allowed truth to pour out. “I will never be your lifemate. You killed my brother. My twin. The only person in this world that meant anything to me. Do you think for one moment that I’d save you, let alone have anything to do with you?”
Vikirnoff was silent, touching her memories lightly, seeing the man she loved, feeling her love for him. He shook his head. “I did not kill this man. I have no memory of his face and I remember each of the men I had to destroy.”
She turned away from him. To her horror, the tears she’d been fighting blurred her vision. The humiliation was unbearable. Her heart twisted with pain at the thought of her brother’s death. “Not you, personally, but a hunter. One of your kind.”
“Why would a hunter take the life of your brother?”
There was no inflection in his voice. He wasn’t calling her a liar, nor was he admitting such a thing could have occurred. He merely looked at her with his intense black eyes, his face etched with pain and it tore her insides out.
Christine Feehan 5 CARPATHIAN NOVELS Page 83