Your eyes! It was the only warning Natalya was going to give him. If Vikirnoff wouldn’t listen to her, even in the midst of a dangerous situation, that was on him. She gritted her teeth and caught at the drape, jerking the heavy covering down. Bright light spilled into the room through the glass of the French doors.
Instant agony seized her, abruptly cut off. She deflected another blow, her feet dancing in an age-old pattern, whirling and slicing as she glanced toward Vikirnoff. She could feel the light eating at her flesh, burning her eyes, but it had to be a million times worse for him. Cursing, she abandoned her plan and fought her way back to his side. Inwardly she damned herself for a fool. The shadow warrior gained strength with every moment while she grew weary. The hunter was going to die anyway. She was dumb, dumb, dumb, to keep fighting for his life.
Her sword whistled through empty space when she should have decapitated the warrior. His answering blade narrowly missed her waist and jarred her arm when she deflected it. She grabbed the quilt with one hand and yanked it over Vikirnoff’s body to cover him completely.
The shadow warrior went after the movement of the quilt, drawn by the scent of the hunter. The deadly sword thrust into the quilt and a fountain of blood erupted. Natalya’s breath hissed out in fury from between her clenched teeth. She lunged at the warrior, trying to drive him back with her shoulder, but she fell through his body, staggering to keep her balance and whirling to face him.
Stop your heart and lungs! It was a demand, accompanied by a strong push of compulsion at Vikirnoff. Her fear for Vikirnoff amounted to terror. She slammed her sword again and again against the warrior’s, preventing his renewed attack on the hunter.
Her heart sank. They were both dead. She’d killed them with her confidence. What had she been thinking? She knew the effects of sunlight on the Carpathian race. Blisters were forming on her skin. She knew Vikirnoff would be fried even with the small exposure he’d suffered. And all the while her strength was draining. She couldn’t fight the shadow warrior forever.
You need the door opened. With every ounce of his last remaining strength, Vikirnoff used telekinetic power to undo the safeguards and the locks to thrust the balcony door wide open. Your plan is a good one. A warrior’s luck to you.
She recognized the words from somewhere as a formal ritual between hunters. Somehow the words calmed her mind and allowed her to think clearly again. She began a graceful, spiraling attack, constantly in motion, drawing the shadow warrior across the room, away from Vikirnoff and towards the open door. Her voice began a soft murmur as she drew on her legacy, the powers of earth, wind and spirit. She needed luck, more than luck. She needed a miracle.
“Hear me now, dark one, great warrior torn from your resting place, while I call on earth, wind, fire, water, and spirit.”
The shadow warrior lowered his sword and was still for the first time since he had been revealed to her.
“I call each to me and bind them to me and with them, I invoke the right of shadow law. The dark mage’s blood runs in me. Heed what I say. I command the wind”—she flung her arms into the air and brought the wind howling into the room—“to come to me, to carry my warrior home.”
The shadow warrior remained standing, sword at ready, his glowing eyes fixed on Vikirnoff. Well, at least she had his attention. She knew spells, thousands of them. She just had to come up with the right combination.
She faced the warrior and seemed to grow in stature. Her hair crackled with electricity as she lifted her arms toward the shadowy figure. Most things were bound by blood. She could do this if she just thought it through. “By shadow law, through ancient’s blood, I claim my right by mage’s blood.”
The warrior jerked as if she’d struck him. His fiery eyes shifted from the bed and focused completely on her. Natalya’s heart rate increased dramatically. She wanted his attention, but he was intimidating. Her hand tightened around her sword as she sorted through ancient spells for words that might release him. “That which was brought forth, I now return, by power of air and fire that burns.”
The wind increased, tugging at the gray smoke that made up the shadow warrior’s form. The flames in the eyes leapt and burned, so that sparks actually flickered in the swirling smoke. The sight was terrifying.
It is working. Vikirnoff, holding the merge, saw her brain functioning at high speed, sorting and discarding spells, turning words over and over in her mind, rearranging them and putting them together. He was astonished and awed by her amazing ability with so many ancient teachings.
Natalya swallowed hard and pressed on. I need to send the warrior back to the nether world and seal him there for good.
I feel your power. It is alive in the room and surrounding him.
Natalya took a deep breath. She could do this. She was born to do this! “Shadow and dust shall be reclaimed, earth sealing the tomb from whence you came.” She was gaining confidence. This was her realm of expertise like no other in her. “Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, warrior return, breathe your last.” Her voice swelled with command. “Air, earth, fire, water, hear my voice, obey my order, thrice around your grave do bound, evil sink into the ground. I now invoke the law of three, this is my will, so mote it be.”
The shadow warrior stared at her a long moment with his fiery eyes. He bowed slightly and gave her a small salute with his sword. The wind rushed through the room howling, reaching for the warrior, dragging the smoke and dust out the door into the air.
The shadow warrior was carried away, his spirit set free at last, his insubstantial form blown into a million molecules and scattered across the sky.
“May you find eternal peace in another realm while the wind takes what is no longer yours to the four corners of the world so your rest may never again be disturbed.”
Natalya dropped her sword and sagged against the wall, her arms aching, eyes streaming, skin burning in the glare of the sun. She found herself sobbing, her chest tight and painful, throat raw. Her body felt leaden, on fire, stretched beyond all physical boundaries. Worse than that was the emotion churning through her. Everything was all mixed up, swirling in a black eddy and clouding reason.
Natalya.
She closed her eyes at the sheer intimacy he gave her name. Ainaak enyém, why do you weep when you have destroyed what no one else has ever defeated? You are an amazing woman. A true warrior and I can give you no higher praise.
His tone held admiration, respect, but most of all a dark, purring sensuality that turned her insides to mush. She couldn’t look at him without feeling weak-kneed and stupid. She hated to be so confused and emotional and weeping in front of him like the little slip of a girl he had called her.
You need to shut your heart and lungs down. She wiped at the tears on her face and forced herself to her feet. “I’m not giving you any more blood and you’re losing it everywhere.”
I cannot shut down my heart when you are crying like your heart is broken.
“I absolutely refuse to play Juliet to your Romeo. It’s just adrenaline overload, that’s all.” She pulled the balcony door closed and locked it, trying to find her normal bravado and rid herself of the emotional storm.
It is impossible to lie to me, although perhaps you are good at lying to yourself and do not really know your own mind.
Natalya yanked the drapes over the door, once again blocking out the light. The relief was tremendous. She stood briefly, eyes closed, gathering her strength. She had never been so tired. She wanted to lie down and sleep forever. “How bad is the wound this time?”
He cut my thigh. I was grateful his aim was not a few inches higher.
“Which means you’re bleeding all over the place again, aren’t you?” She hurried to his side and pulled back the quilt, ashamed that she had taken so much time to recover from her fight with the shadow warrior.
Vikirnoff was covered in blisters, his skin raw and angry-looking. Blood bubbled up from the wound on his thigh. Natalya didn’t give herself time to think. She was alread
y on automatic, pressing her hands to the wound, looking around for the wooden bowl with the remaining soil Slavica had left to refresh the packs.
“You’re a mess,” she said.
So are you.
She ducked her head, preparing the soil, avoiding his too-intense gaze. She knew she looked like Frankenstein’s bride. And he didn’t have to sound so gentle. She was going to cry again if he kept it up. It was easier to be angry. She didn’t even know what the hell she was crying over, but she couldn’t seem to stop.
Why would you think such thoughts? You are a beautiful woman and you must know it. Look at yourself through my eyes.
She tried to crush the sudden thrill his observation caused. She was so confused. So upset. Her world had turned upside down. Everything feminine in her responded to her greatest enemy.
You are angry with me because you think I did not trust you enough to stop my heart and lungs. That is not so, Natalya. I have relied on my own judgment for well over a thousand years.
“Yeah, I loved your judgment.” She rolled her eyes, both hands on her hips. “Your big plan was to die so the ‘little slip of girl,’ who, by the way, saved your ass yet again, could turn tail and run! I can’t imagine how you managed to survive on your own all that time. It’s a miracle.”
You did not allow me to finish. I could not leave you without my protection, little though I had to give. It is impossible for me. Your skills are apparent, but I have never heard of a shadow warrior being defeated. I could not go quietly to sleep and abandon you to such danger.
She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. He sounded so sincere. So caring. Thinking of her when he was ravaged by the sun and had suffered yet another wound. She didn’t answer him. She worked on his leg in silence, stopping the flow of blood before separating her spirit from her body and healing him from the inside out. She concentrated wholly on the work, welcoming the chance not to think about what was happening between the hunter and her.
When she came back to her body, she was swaying with weariness. “That’s the best I can do. Sleep now, Vikirnoff. We have a few hours until sunset.”
Before Natalya could move, he whispered something soft, nearly indistinguishable in her ear. Tired, unprepared for an attack, Natalya felt him grip her mind, hold her in his enthrallment. She knew she was succumbing to sleep, her body stretched out beside his, but there was nothing she could do about it. The last thing she comprehended was his mouth moving over the blisters on her face and neck, healing the raw burns.
“Natalya, you didn’t notice I had my hair cut today.”
Natalya laughed. “I noticed. You’re just so vain I wasn’t going to say anything to make your ego bigger. You’re so busy watching the women watch you, it’s too funny.”
“Since you give me no encouragement, I have to find it on my own. I fear for any man who falls in love with you.”
Natalya tossed her tawny hair and made a face at her brother. “I don’t care if a thousand men fall in love with me, I have no intention of falling in love with them. I see how you are once you know a woman has fallen under your spell. That is not for me.”
Razvan hugged her. “Don’t worry, you’ll always be my favorite sister.”
“Ha! I’m your only sister. Fat consolation that is.”
Razvan laughed and sprang away from her, a young colt running fast over the slight hill. “I’ll race you home! Come on Natalya, don’t be such a girl. You have to run faster than that.”
Natalya heard Razvan’s voice calling her in the distance. She ran and ran, but she couldn’t catch up. He sounded like he was laughing. She loved the sound of his laughter, but she was getting upset that she couldn’t catch him. Razvan could rarely outrun Natalya. She had been gifted with incredible athletic skills. And when it came to casting magick, she was often ahead of him in their studies. She knew she had a competitive streak and right now, she was annoyed that she couldn’t reach him.
“Stop!” Natalya looked in every direction. “I can’t see you.”
“I am dead. You cannot follow me to this place. The hunter murdered me and you have not yet avenged me.”
Her heart pounded in alarm. “I don’t know which hunter killed you.”
“It doesn’t matter. They are the enemy and they wish us dead. You are my beloved sister. I cannot save you from them, you must save yourself.”
Natalya wrenched herself awake. She had to push through layers of haze and it took every ounce of discipline and control she had. Every muscle in her body felt sore, but her skin was clear, the blisters and the red, angry burn gone as if it had never been. Her neck throbbed, right over her pulse. She covered it with her palm and felt warmth tingling through her body.
Her neck ached. She rolled out of bed and hit the floor running, dashing for the bathroom to stare at the mark on her neck. “Damn, damn, damn it!” She dressed hastily and shoved her things into a pack. “You took my blood again, you demon spawned from the devil. I know you did.”
Hunger hit her. Sharp. Terrible. Biting. It crawled through her body and overwhelmed her mind. The whispers intruded, soft and sensuous, beguiling with temptation. Her mouth ached, teeth wanting to lengthen, saliva collecting. She turned her head and her stomach dropped away. Vikirnoff’s black eyes watched her and there was hunger in his dark gaze.
Without hesitating, Natalya yanked flex cuffs from her pack and bound his wrists tight. He made no move to stop her, just watched her with that disconcerting, focused stare.
“I’m sorry. Glare at me all you want, but you’re dangerous. Even when you’re like this, you scare the hell out of me. I’m going to leave and I’ll just make certain I have a good head start before you follow me.”
Vikirnoff attempted to move and discovered the binding spell she’d added to hold him helpless. His features hardened perceptibly and his eyes grew a fierce black, but he didn’t speak. You think I will allow you to leave me?
“I’m not willing to give you a choice. I’m not having you take my blood whenever you feel like it.” Her eyes mirrored the gathering storm in her mind. “Do you think I’m so stupid I don’t know blood is power?”
I know I will not allow this.
She tossed her hair and shrugged. “Too bad you don’t have a say. I’m sorry you’re angry, but I’m not lifemate material. Even if we’re supposed to be together, and I’m not convinced we are, it wouldn’t work out. I annoy you. You irritate the hell out of me. We’d be in counseling all the time.” She patted his head, a gesture meant to add to his annoyance, but it turned into smoothing his hair back. Her fingers lingered, stroking the silky strands. The moment she realized what she was doing, she snatched her hand back as if he’d burned her.
Vikirnoff said nothing, but he looked more dangerous than ever. It was amazing to her how much power he seemed to exude, even wounded and tied up.
Natalya didn’t know why she couldn’t stop trying to defend herself, but she made one more stab at it. “Look, I could have left you in the forest. And I could have let the shadow warrior get you,” she pointed out. “I’m tying you up for both our protection. I don’t trust you.”
“You are the one who attacked me,” he said.
Natalya blinked rapidly. His voice was low and compelling. Her stomach did a peculiar little flip. “That was unintentional and you know it. You dropped out of the sky between the vampire and me. I was attacking him, not you. In any case, I’ve made up for it by helping you. Had I left you there, the wolves would have returned along with the vampires and you’d be dead or captured.”
He glanced down at the flex cuffs. “It appears that I am your prisoner.” His voice was sensual, a deliberate implication.
She felt faint color stealing into her neck and face. Her temper went up a notch. “You’ll be able to get out of the cuffs once the binding spell wears off. I’m leaving now and that will give me a good head start. You should be fine.”
“I will not allow this. Ask me for anything else and it is yours, but not this,
Natalya. I am warning you. I will not let you walk out on your responsibilities.”
Natalya tossed her head, eyes flashing at him. “Who would have guessed the hunter is a sore loser? Talk is cheap, little slip of a boy!”
He still hadn’t blinked and his predatory stare kept her heart pounding. She knew he could hear it and it only increased her resolve to get away from him. If it were possible, his eyes deepened into a black that made her shudder with sudden anxiety. He had formed a barrier in his mind, most likely to prevent her from feeling his pain, but it also shielded other emotions, such as anger. Or rage. His eyes were turbulent and as black as the stormiest night.
“Te avio päläfertiilam. Éntölam kuulua, avio päläfertiilam.” He whispered the words in his ancient language, his eyes never leaving her face. “Ted kuuluak, kacad, kojed. Élidamet andam. Pesämet andam. Uskolfertiilamet andam. Sívamet andam. Sielamet andam.”
“Stop!” She pressed her palm hard against her heart. Whatever he was saying was affecting her. She knew spells. She knew almost all spells, but she didn’t recognize the words. She knew Hungarian, but she didn’t know his language. It was more ancient even than Hungarian. It didn’t seem to matter. She felt every word in her heart and soul.
Vikirnoff’s expression never changed and he didn’t take his gaze from hers, holding her captive with his eyes and his voice, in spite of the flex cuffs on his wrists. “Ainamet andam. Sívamet kuuluak kaik että a ted. Ainaak olenszal sívambin.”
As he spoke, each word he uttered in that soft, mesmerizing whisper of sound seemed to penetrate deep into her body and mind, wrap around her heart and go deeper still, finding something inside of her that rushed to meet him. “Stop,” she pleaded again.
“Te élidet ainaak pide minan. Te avio päläfertiilam. Ainaak sívamet jutta oleny. Ainaak terád vigyázak.”
A spell. It had to be a spell. She pressed her hands over her ears, but nothing stopped that insidious whisper. Worse, she was beginning to think she was catching some of the words, although she was certain she’d never spoken the language. “What have you done?” She pressed against the wall, tried to make herself smaller as if by doing so she could escape his magic.
Christine Feehan 5 CARPATHIAN NOVELS Page 87