The damage was tremendous. Worse than she ever expected and far beyond her healing accomplishments to date. She wondered at his ability to continue when he was so completely torn up inside. The deep claw marks down his back were mere scratches in comparison to the damage done by Arturo.
Natalya began the meticulous work of healing from the inside out. After a time she became aware whenever she hesitated, it was Vikirnoff who directed her, helping her close off torn, jagged muscle and tissue, repairing the damaged organs and carefully removing infection and, in several spots, poison.
The volume of chanting increased as other Carpathians joined in from a distance, both male and female, their voices rising together to aid in healing one of their own, in spite of the sun climbing higher in the sky. If the work hadn’t demanded all of her attention, the voices merging together would have made her nervous. She had never been in such close proximity to the Carpathian people and they were touching her mind, just as she was touching theirs.
She had no idea how much time passed before she finished with the repairs to Vikirnoff’s chest, but by the time she pulled back into herself, her body was swaying with weariness. Slavica held a glass of water out to her. Natalya took it gratefully and drank it down in one gulp.
“How do you know how to do that?” she asked Vikirnoff. “I don’t think a doctor could do what you just did.”
If it were possible, Vikirnoff was even paler, his skin an alarming color of gray. Natalya gripped Slavica’s arm. “Look at him. I made him worse.”
“I don’t think so,” Slavica consoled. “He needs blood. We must find a way to give him blood.” She took a deep breath. “I gave my blood once before to a Carpathian, although I don’t remember what it felt like. I can give him mine.”
The protest rising in Natalya was sharp and ugly. She forced herself away from the edge of danger. She flatly refused to make a fool of herself a second time. And she was not about to tell Slavica an exchange of blood with Vikirnoff was the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced.
“I will supply him with blood,” she said. The thought of touching him, tasting him so intimately was frightening. The more she wanted to run from him, it seemed the closer they became.
“She is too weak,” Vikirnoff objected.
His voice was so faint, Natalya bent over him to hear the whispered words. His breath was warm against her ear. She could see the weak flutter of his pulse. “Put yourself to sleep and conserve energy,” she ordered. “I mean it, hunter. You’re not going to die on me and mess up the best work I’ve ever done.”
I am beginning to like the way you talk to me and that is frightening. There was the faintest of smiles in his voice.
She was so susceptible to him. “Just hibernate, or go into your suspended animation, or whatever you people do when you’re underground.” She looked at Slavica with too much desperation, but she couldn’t help herself. “Can’t you do something? Don’t you have a shot of something that will knock him out so we don’t have to listen to him anymore? He’s so busy trying to be the boss he’s going to die on us.” She hated that she was betraying her concern for him.
“Unfortunately he is right about the blood,” Slavica said. “You have to work on him more and you need your strength. The hours are slipping by and soon you will be too tired to do this. There is no way for us to get him into the healing earth without everyone seeing us either.”
“I don’t get as tired as the Carpathians do in the sun,” Natalya said. “I’m only part Carpathian.” She’d never really thought about that side of her and the gifts she’d inherited from her grandmother.
She stared down at Vikirnoff with a small frown on her face. He definitely needed more blood. She doubted her nature could stand him taking what he needed from Slavica. How could she explain to the nurse when she didn’t understand it herself?
Slavica seemed to divine the problem. “Why don’t I do the best I can to treat his remaining wounds and you give him blood? If I think he needs stitches, you can go back in just for that part. None of his other wounds is life threatening. You can probably do a quick inspection of them to make certain no bacteria have gotten into his system. That way you will conserve strength and you can provide for him.”
Natalya helped Slavica roll Vikirnoff to his side, exposing his back. The rake marks were long furrows dug out of his flesh, several inches deep in places. Slavica glanced at Natalya. “I’m sorry, you will have to do this. I would have to give him stitches, the cuts are far too deep. I’ll clean it to give you a chance to rest.”
“Tell me how you came to know about the Carpathians. Do you see them often?” Natalya didn’t want to think too much on how those rake marks had gotten on his back.
There is no need for guilt.
Please just go to sleep.
Slavica smiled. “Mikhail and Raven Dubrinsky are regular visitors to the village. They have many friends here and help out a great deal. I doubt anyone else knows they are not simply another human couple living in this area. Not long ago, two other Carpathians made themselves known to me. They brought with them small human children. Angelina and I often look after the children during the day.”
Slavica worked while she talked, washing the wounds and pouring something that obviously burned on Vikirnoff’s back. He broke out in a blood sweat. Natalya’s stomach churned in protest. “I’m okay now. I’ll see if I can’t heal those injuries, Slavica.” Wounds she’d made. Natalya closed her eyes briefly wishing she could take back that moment in time. Warmth immediately flooded her. Vikirnoff’s touch. She recognized it now, so light it almost wasn’t there, yet strong and incredibly tender.
It wasn’t fair that he could do that. He had so much confidence in himself. With him in her mind so much, she couldn’t help but catch glimpses of his character. The strong silent type, although you don’t seem to be all that silent around me. I can only wish. Deliberately she teased him, wanting the pain to recede from his body if only for a brief second.
She felt his faint smile, but he didn’t speak, not even in the more intimate way of lifemates. She let out her breath, unaware until that moment that she’d been holding it. Vikirnoff was weak and the leaden state that invaded the Carpathian race was beginning to grip him. Even with the heavy drapes drawn the light hurt his eyes. She felt the burning as if it were her own.
“Cover his eyes, Slavica, while I finish this.” Natalya said between gritted teeth. The thought of him being in such pain, pain that she’d caused was totally disconcerting.
Csitri. You have not caused me pain.
There was that tenderness that turned her heart over. How could his voice be so velvet soft and gentle? How could it stroke through her body like silken heat leaving her so weak-kneed and vulnerable? And what was he calling her?
Slavica added heavy tapestries over the drapes so that no light could possibly get through the window or door.
“Thank you,” Natalya said. The darkened room made it easier to shed her body and regain her spirit form, traveling through Vikirnoff to reach the long furrows the tigress had carved out of his back. She closed the wounds, removing the bacteria, checking and rechecking that she had fused together every bit of torn flesh, muscle and vein. How he had managed to walk into the inn and up the stairs in such a condition she had no idea. She didn’t want to admire him, but she did.
“I think I’m done,” Natalya announced, leaning heavily against Slavica. She was exhausted. Vikirnoff lay unmoving. Between his wounds and the time of day, his body was already leaden. She had the most unnatural desire to lie down beside him, her body curled protectively around his, and go to sleep.
“Will you be all right if I leave you?” Slavica asked. “Mirko has been handling the inn alone and I would very much like to check on the whereabouts of Brent Barstow.”
“I’ll have to set safeguards on the door, so don’t try to come in unless I call you,” Natalya cautioned. “I’ll call if we need anything. Thank you so much for your help, Slavic
a. And I’m sorry if I was a little strange.”
Slavica patted her arm. “No need for that. Mirko and I will do our best to keep an eye on Barstow.”
Natalya shook her head. “You’ve done enough for us. I don’t want either of you in danger. We’ll sleep until this evening and we can sort it out then.”
She followed the innkeeper to the door to check the hallway. Uneasiness was growing in her, but it could have been fear of being alone with a hunter. Not just any hunter . . . Vikirnoff. She began to weave the intricate pattern of safeguards at the door and windows. Anyone disturbing their slumber would be in for a few nasty surprises.
Excellent job. I could not have done better myself.
His concession pleased her, even if the fact that he wasn’t asleep made her uncomfortable. I have been studying since I was a toddler. My family is from a very ancient lineage and the spells have been handed down for centuries. She frowned when she realized she was using the much more intimate form of communication between them. Mind to mind rather than spoken aloud.
I am sorry if this form of conversing makes you uneasy. I do not have the strength for verbal conversation.
“I know you don’t. I didn’t object. If you’d stay out of my head, you wouldn’t be hearing things you weren’t meant to hear. People need privacy. Especially me.” She drummed her fingers against the mattress. “You need blood. And I need to wash you up. Frankly, you’re a mess.” She surveyed him, hands on hips. “I don’t see how you managed to make it even traveling on the back of a tiger.”
The tiger was a wonderful experience. My brother has said, on more than one occasion, that I am stubborn.
“What a shocker that is.” Natalya flashed him a small grin as she dragged towels, washcloth and a bowl of warm water out of the bathroom, pleased by his compliment. “I can’t imagine anyone ever calling you stubborn.”
You are very brave when I am seemingly helpless.
Natalya’s eyebrow went up. “Seemingly?” She was gentle as she wiped his face clean, smoothing back his hair with the washcloth.
You do not have to do this.
She frowned at him as she patted his face dry. “Yes, I do. I’m sleeping on the floor and you’re a mess.” That was exactly what she planned to do. Sleep on the floor in front of the door with several weapons at her fingertips. She longed to lie down and sleep in the soft bed for a couple of days, but it wasn’t going to happen this day.
He was silent again and she finished washing him, smoothing the cloth over his heavy muscles, washing away all traces of blood from his chest and belly. Natalya tossed the rags left from his shirt into a corner. She hesitated, tempted to go further, but she was worn out and she still needed to give him blood. Besides, she didn’t want to see anything too tempting.
His soft laughter brushed inside her mind. It is not likely I could do anything about the ideas you would have in your head.
Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not easily impressed. Mortified that he was reading her thoughts again, Natalya hurried into the bathroom. Many of the rooms shared the same bathroom, but Natalya had specifically requested one with a private bath. She’d felt a little guilty when she knew she’d be away for several days at a time, but now she was grateful she had reserved the room.
The hot water felt like a miracle as she took a shower, hoping to revive herself for the long watch. She was sore everywhere. She hadn’t even noticed until that very moment. Every muscle ached, her head pounded and her eyes burned enough to remind her the sun was climbing high. She could hear the buzz of conversations throughout the inn, the laughter out on the street, the clip-clop of the horses as the carts went by, interspersed occasionally with a car. She was a solitary person, but she enjoyed the sounds of humanity and usually sought out friendships in the towns and villages she passed through. It was the only way she saw herself fitting into the world when it was a place not meant for someone like her.
She was part Carpathian. She was capable of some feats, yet not all. She had the drawbacks, yet not the severity of them. She didn’t belong in their world, she didn’t belong to a species that had murdered her brother and waged a war over a woman, even if that woman had been her grandmother.
Mage blood ran strong in her. She was from ancient lines gifted with the ability to wield magick, to use the harmony of the earth, to harness the energies and spirits around her. She was adept at it, capable of weaving powerful spells, combining ancient text and her own inventions with astonishing results, yet there was nowhere for such things in the modern world.
The thought triggered a flash of memory, or perhaps a nightmare. I don’t want to do that. It’s too dangerous. Razvan, tell him what will happen if I call on that spirit. I won’t. Razvan, he’s hurting me. Make him stop! A shadowy figure stepped out of the darkness and loomed over her as her brother rushed to her aid. Gasping, Natalya pulled back . . .
What is it? There was alarm in Vikirnoff’s voice.
Natalya closed her eyes, tears slipping past her lashes as she caught the vision of her brother lying on the floor, his face already swelling and blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. As always a door in her brain slammed down, effectively stopping the replay of the distressing memory.
Natalya? Shall I come to you? What has upset you?
She leaned against the shower stall wall. There was such caring in his voice. She hadn’t had caring or affection in a long, long time. Don’t be silly. I’m just tired. Could he see all the way into her mind? Into the places that were so dark and shadowed and beyond her own ability to see?
Her father, Soren, had been half Carpathian and half mage. He had married a human, her beloved mother, Samantha. Natalya closed her eyes tight and tried not to think about her mother and the mess the vampires had made of her. Her father had gone a little crazy and left his children, Razvan and Natalya, alone while he went seeking to find his wife’s killers. He had never returned and Razvan had become her only family.
Her eyes burned at the thought of her brother. So gentle with her, so careful to make certain she used every safeguard, dead at the hand of a hunter. She put her palm on the shower door as if she could feel Vikirnoff through the partition. The hunter was alive because she had chosen to save him.
Sighing, she stepped out of the shower and dried her body, wincing a little when she touched bruises. Natalya sagged against the wall, covering her face. What would Razvan say to her if he were alive? Would he be disgusted and ashamed of her? Or would he understand? She pressed her hands over her ears as if shutting out whispered recriminations.
She didn’t understand why she was so drawn to the hunter, why she even considered the possibility of being his lifemate. In the past, she’d been a witness to a woman being drawn to a hunter in spite of her intentions not to be, but Natalya was not fully Carpathian or fully human. She was also wizard, with the blood of the dark mage flowing in her veins; few had her power. She did not believe she could be successfully bound. How could she expect Razvan to believe it if she did not? And how could she expect his understanding? She had the fear that he might reach out from his grave to condemn her.
Opening the bathroom door, she stood across the room from the badly injured hunter and wondered why she had been so determined to see him live. Natalya pulled on a pair of soft drawstring pants and a long sleeve shirt and stood watching Vikirnoff. He appeared to be dead. She couldn’t detect the faintest breath of air moving through his lungs, but she didn’t want to get that close to him yet. She still had the task of giving him blood.
You do not have to do anything so abhorrent to you, kiˇ slány. It is not necessary. I will survive.
Natalya stiffened. Had he been awake the entire time, a shadow in her mind? Why couldn’t she tell when he was merged with her?
“What are you calling me? What is Kish-lah-knee’?”
The emphasis is on the first syllable. Kish-lah-knee. It means “little girl.”
Natalya sucked in her breath, anger rising instantly. “What el
se have you called me?” She was no little girl, no baby, and she damned well wasn’t afraid of him. Well, maybe that wasn’t altogether true, but she refused to be intimidated when the hunter was so gravely wounded. She pushed up her sleeve in a business-like manner and forced herself across the room.
I called you my “little slip of a girl” and “forever mine.”
The weariness in his voice tugged at her heart in spite of her anger. He was using too much energy when he needed desperately to conserve. “I am not a ‘slip of a girl’ or a ‘little girl,’ ” she declared. “I’m a grown woman and I expect you to treat me with respect.”
As you do me?
She slashed her wrist and pressed it to his mouth. Pain knifed through her, but she stuck her chin in the air and accepted it. She wasn’t going to feel guilty. He was a hunter, for heaven’s sake. One of her greatest enemies. She’d saved his life, that should have been enough.
You are not a “little slip of a girl.” But you are ainaak enyém, “forever mine.” I thank you for taking care of me when you are uncertain if it is the right thing to do.
“Don’t thank me. I don’t want your thanks. Just hurry up and get better so I can throw you out. Maybe your prince will come and take you home with him and get you out of my hair.”
And this night she dared not summon her dream of Razvan as she did each time she slept. She loved to go to sleep and call on her childhood memories of her twin so she could spend time with him. They had always met in their dreams and exchanged whatever each of them had been taught. It was all she had left to her, but not this time. She didn’t dare face him, not with a hunter sleeping in her bed and her blood flowing in his veins. Not even when Razvan was dead.
Christine Feehan 5 CARPATHIAN NOVELS Page 85