Christine Feehan 5 CARPATHIAN NOVELS

by Christine Feehan

  Borak shimmered, was nearly transparent. The other two vampires followed his example. The forms shortened, contorted, took on the shape of a woman. A smaller woman with long dark hair. Vikirnoff found himself facing three Ravens. He knew it was to throw Mikhail off, that they counted on him hesitating before striking at her. Already the vampires were rapidly cloning their forms, so that a hundred Ravens stood across from him looking vulnerable and innocent.

  It wasn’t difficult to distinguish which of the shapes were Borak as his head didn’t stay in place, but the others were perfect replicas of Raven. Some were weeping. Others pleading. All of them held out their arms to him as they began to walk toward him. Vikirnoff’s own form shimmered, dissolved, streaked into the army of Ravens and contorted into the same image so that it was impossible to tell who was vampire, who was clone and who was the hunter.

  Vikirnoff moved with the other clones, working his way slowly toward Borak. He was positive he had located the vampire in the midst of so many. The clone heads were slightly tilted, but one kept flopping to one side or the other as the vampire focused on the hunt and not on his image.

  Vikirnoff moved within striking distance and at once the bats in the air began to dart at him and those on the ground made small noises. The rain increased and the wind picked up, blowing through the leaves on the trees so that they once again shuddered and twisted, dancing madly overhead.

  Vikirnoff whirled gracefully among the clones, reaching for Borak as he shifted into the form of the prince, slamming his fist deep. Raven’s face contorted into a malicious mask, the mouth yawning wide, teeth gaping. Borak shifted instantly, trying to dissolve around the burrowing fingers that drove through his body with the speed and intensity of a thrown spear. Vikirnoff yanked the heart free, still gliding in his flowing circle, taking the withered, blackened organ with him as he mowed down several clones.

  Natalya couldn’t take her eyes off of him. She wanted to move, wanted to at least get rid of the bats moving so dangerously close to him, closing their circles down to make the battlefield smaller, but she felt in a trance, unable even to blink or take her eyes off of Vikirnoff. She saw him so clearly beneath the image of the prince, moving in his warrior’s dance, his hands strong, his face etched in lines of determination, of resolve. Her heart quickened to match his beat; her feet felt the same graceful rhythm.

  Borak shrieked, his voice hideous as he raced after Vikirnoff, his clones of Raven’s image falling to earth and disintegrating as if they’d never been. Dark acid blood withered the vegetation as Borak toppled to the ground. Lightning forked in the sky, lighting the gruesome scene before the bolt incinerated the heart the hunter flung to the ground. The jagged whip leapt to the body, burning it to a fine ash before flames engulfed the blood on the ground and the nearest circle of bats.

  The second circle of bats took to the air to escape the intense heat. Natalya blinked rapidly as she watched the battle unfolding, feeling as if she were climbing out of a strange trance. Her mind refused to comprehend what happened at first, but then she was back to herself and she realized Vikirnoff’s movements were hypnotic. He was able to enthrall his enemy with his flowing movements and dull the mind of his opponent enough to slow them down.

  Valentine and Gene shifted shape a second time, working in unison, flying at Vikirnoff, directing the bats to attack him as well. Vikirnoff threw off the illusion of the prince and met them in the air, a force of power and skill unlike anything the two had ever encountered before. He burst through the flapping wings of the bats, knocking several out of the sky in his pursuit of the two vampires.

  Gene broke off and turned tail, streaking through the trees in a run for his life. Valentine chose to stand and fight, dropping back to the ground and facing the hunter. Natalya tried to keep Gene in sight, not trusting that he would leave when they had so clearly been following the instructions of another, most likely Maxim. Gene had been swallowed up by the thick grove of trees, but Natalya drew her sword anyway, holding it at the ready should the vampire be attempting to ambush Vikirnoff.

  “You are not the prince,” Valentine snarled. He repeated it, shouting. “He is not the prince!”

  If he was asking for permission to get away, it was far too late. Vikirnoff whirled around, catching the vampire by the nape of the neck and hurtling him to the ground. He was on him immediately, driving his fist into the chest to extract the heart.

  Natalya felt the burn of the dragon and looked frantically around, scanning the trees, the bushes, everything near Vikirnoff. A small rock rolled just inches from his leg and her breath caught in her throat. She burst out of concealment as Gene rose up behind Vikirnoff, triumph on his face as he lifted the knife in his hand.

  Natalya somersaulted across the distance, wielding her sword as she flew past, slicing through the vampire’s legs as she did so. He screamed horribly, over and over as he fell backward. Vikirnoff was already turning, striking as he did so, his speed so fast, he had the heart before Gene hit the ground. Lightning flashed and flames raced from the blackened hearts to the two bodies. Vikirnoff lifted his head and looked at her.

  14

  “What the hell were you thinking, following me like that, Natalya? You could have been killed.” He knew the moment he uttered the words, how ridiculous he sounded. Natalya might easily have taken care of the vampires and that just upset him more. He wasn’t even certain why he was so distressed. Maybe it was the smear of blood along her shoulder and the bruise on her face from the earlier battles. He swore under his breath and rubbed a hand over his face.

  Natalya smirked at him. “Just say thank you and we’ll call it good.”

  He looked at his hands, held them up for her to see. “Look at this. I itch, actually itch to shake some sense into you.” His palm slid over the top of her head, down her hair to the nape of her neck. He pulled her closer, bent his head and kissed her. It was brief, electric and not at all satisfying to either of them. “You terrify me. You make me feel things I do not want to feel. You are so courageous you terrify me.” He took her mouth again. Hard. Possessive. A little brutal.

  She tasted his terror. She tasted his need. There was so much hunger. So much resolve. Vikirnoff could be gentle, but he wasn’t feeling gentle. She had scared him and that wasn’t a good thing. “Let’s get out of here, Vikirnoff. This place gives me the creeps. Can’t we go somewhere and talk?”

  “I do not feel much like talking.”

  She took a deep breath, let it out slowly and looked him directly in the eye. “Neither do I.”

  His body tightened at her words, but more than that, his heart turned over. He reached for her without preamble, gathered her close and took to the air. Deliberately, Natalya wound one leg around his thigh, allowing the damp heat of her body to tease him as he took them across the night sky.

  “Are you afraid?”

  “No.” She tugged at his earlobe with her teeth. “Yes. I don’t know. Maybe a little.”

  “You know what you are doing?” His hand was low on her spine, fingers spread wide, palm burning her right through her clothing. His voice was harsh with hunger. So much hunger. Her womb clenched and her nipples hardened into tight peaks.

  “You’re asking me if I’m committing to you.” Her body ached. Felt empty. She turned up her face to his, her arm circling his neck and kissed him, tongue licking his lips, her hand sliding down his chest to brush the thick bulge pressed so tightly against her.

  “Be very certain. Because once you do, I will not let you go, Natalya. Even if you somehow managed to undo an ancient binding ritual as old as time itself, I will not let you go once you are mine.” His beast was roaring for his lifemate. Save me. Choose me. Be forever to my heart connected. She was his. His.

  She liked that he didn’t close his mind to her. She wanted to feel the possessiveness of his thoughts. She wanted to be swept away so the small scared part of her wouldn’t be able to think too much and she could just take what she wanted. Do what she wanted.
Have someone for herself. Someone to talk with, share laughter, be angry, be frightened for. She wanted it all. Vikirnoff was offering all of those things.

  “I am not an easy man to be with—”

  She kissed him again, stopping him in midsentence. He tasted hot. Carnal. He tasted sweet and close to love. “I’m not an easy woman to be with either—” She broke off to kiss him a third time, her fingers sliding beneath his shirt to feel his chest. She was careful to avoid his still tender wounds, not quite healed from his earlier battles. “I think I’m going to be addicted to kissing you.”

  She circled his neck with her arms as he made the descent with dizzying speed into a small chimney in the mountain, closing her eyes and hiding her face against his shoulder. The entrance was narrow and long. They plummeted straight down into a wide chamber with cathedral-like ceilings. He set her on her feet, holding her steady until he was certain she wouldn’t fall after their flight.

  Natalya tossed her pack into a corner and surveyed the large chamber as Vikirnoff waved his hands to light the candles. Instantly the air was filled with the scent of soothing lavender. “Wow. This is wonderful. Our own hot tub.” She pointed toward the natural pool surrounded by flat rocks.

  “I used to come here when I was a fledgling. I spent a lot of time here studying. I covered the entrance before I left, but never expected it to still be intact.”

  She nudged him with her shoulder. “So you said, you have to see to my happiness. Didn’t I hear that when you so rudely married us without my consent?”

  He groaned softly. “I can see this is going to be one of those difficult days.”

  She tossed her head so that her tawny hair fell around her face in waves doing things to his heart he didn’t want to examine too closely. Even her rude noises were becoming endearing and that was just plain frightening.

  “I think you’re going to have a lot of those.”

  “Difficult days? I think you are right.”

  “So answer the question. You have to make me happy, right?”

  “I can do no other,” he agreed.

  A slow, wicked grin curved her mouth and set her eyes sparkling. “I need lots of things to make me happy. And keep me happy. I’m that kind of girl.”

  “What kind of girl?” Suspicion crept into his voice.

  “Needy. High-maintenance.”

  “I do not doubt that for a minute.” His gaze drifted over her face and something in him shifted. Stilled. “Come here.”

  Natalya backed up. She meant to hold her ground, but his eyes had gone to a smoky gray and darkened with intense heat. With desire. A shiver of excitement went down her spine. She licked her lips and wasn’t certain whether it was necessary or deliberately provocative.

  “You heard me, Natalya.” His voice was low. Utterly soft. A whisper of velvet stroking her body, stroking nerve endings. “Come here to me.”

  Excitement surged through her. He looked grim and forbidding, his face etched with lines from the battle, his hair flowing like silk and his body so hard with his need of her. But it was his eyes, the deep hunger, the way he looked as if he were starving for her body that set her pulse pounding. The way he looked as if nothing could or would stop his possession of her.

  She needed that look. She craved a man who wanted her so much nothing could stand in his way. She didn’t care if that made her strange, it was who she was, who the tigress was. She wanted that implacable resolve. She wanted that possessive mouth commanding hers, his hands rough and his body hard and painfully full.

  She stepped closer. Just out of reach. Tantalizingly out of reach. She wanted to prolong the moment. Heighten his desire. She wanted to see his eyes glaze with the same brutal hunger clawing at her.

  Vikirnoff felt lust rising sharply, mingling with something far more potent. He caught her arm, pulled her the scant feet separating them so that her body fell against his. Her heat nearly melted him. Her skin was satin soft. Her breasts pushed into his chest so that he felt her hard nipples rise and fall against him with each breath she took. His fingers fisted in her hair, pulling her head back so his mouth fused with hers.

  Natalya was certain electricity crackled in the air around them. Liquid heat poured through her body, through veins and muscle, nearly catching her on fire. She felt the harsh tug on her hair, his mouth crushing hers, eating at hers with a wild abandon and she needed more. Demanded more. She caught at his shirt, tore at it, desperate to get at his skin. All the while she devoured his mouth, kiss for kiss, exploring with teeth and tongue, making her own demands, deliberately pushing his need higher.

  He brushed aside his clothing in the way of his people, with barely a thought other than he wished them gone. Catching the front of her camisole, he stripped it away, baring her breasts to his hungry gaze, the primitiveness of the action heightening his pleasure. She was beautiful, spilling out of the material, round and firm and good enough to eat. He bent his head and took her nipple into his mouth.

  Her hips bucked hard against him, her belly contracted and a hot moan escaped. He held her there, suckling at her breast, her body on fire and her needs swamping him. With each swipe of his tongue and tug of his teeth, he felt her body rock, her muscles contract; he knew her body was wet and slick and welcoming. Her mind was wide open to his deliberately. She shared her desire, fed his needs with her own open abandon. Whatever he wanted, she was there to fulfill for him and she expected the same.

  His hand slid down her belly to the little ring that had intrigued him so much. He touched it, slid lower to find her pants.

  “Take them off of me,” she ordered, bending forward to lick at his nipples. “Hurry, Vikirnoff. Get my clothes. They hurt my skin.”

  He stripped her, deliberately rough, arousing her further as he walked her backward until she was against the cavern wall, took possession of her mouth again as he pulled her naked body tightly against his.

  She cried out, unable to stop the small sound, uncaring that he knew she wanted to sob with so much pleasure running through her body. She ground her hips against him, wanting more, seeking more. His hand cupped her breast in reward, thumb teasing her nipple, stroking and caressing so that waves rippled through her body and tightened her womb. “More,” she whispered, greedy for it all, every experience.

  His teeth nibbled at her chin, teased her throat and nipped the swell of her breast. He lifted her easily, his strength enormous, holding her pinned against the wall while he laved her belly button and pressed little kisses on her stomach.

  Her breath came in gasps. She tried to wrap her legs around him, so hot and wet she needed relief, but he lifted her to a ledge, so that her bottom sank into a groove there. His hands were hard on her knees jerking her thighs apart. The cool air hit her hot core, but nothing could cool her, nothing could make the ache stop.

  She heard her own heart beat. She heard the sound of her ragged breathing. Then his breath was on her. His peculiar brand. A claiming that would never go away. She felt it deep inside and her entire body tightened to the point of pain. She was nearly sobbing for him. His hand cupped her mound, pressed into her heat. She jerked, twisting with hunger. Her pulse pounded in her ears, throbbed in her womb. His finger slid through her heat, pressed deeper into her.

  That easy she came, shattering into fragments, her body so responsive she couldn’t hide her reaction if she wanted to. Her eyes met his. She loved his face, the masculine lines etched so deep there, a warrior’s face. A lover’s face. She brushed her fingertips over the lines, traced his lips, all the while staring into his eyes, reveling in the sheer intensity of his desire for her, the feel in his mind that he was on the razor thin edge of his control.

  “I want you, Natalya.” His voice was husky. His fingers pushed deep so that she couldn’t stop the way her hips rode him, every muscle contracting with heart-stopping pleasure.

  “I know you do, Vikirnoff. I want you, too.” She could barely manage to get the words out, gasping as his fingers retreated and plunged
deep again.

  He shook his head. “I mean you. I want you to understand I do not want any other woman. Only you.”

  She cried out as his fingers withdrew. He caught her hips in his hands, his thighs wedging between hers. “Look at me, ainaak sívamet jutta, I want you to know who you are with.”

  She met his gaze steadily. “I know exactly who I’m with.”

  His erection was painfully hard, almost an agony he could no longer bear. He needed to be deep inside of her where he belonged. Where they would be connected for all time. He pressed against her feminine channel, so wet and slick and hot with hunger for him.

  Natalya moaned and the sound was almost too much for him, vibrating through his body until it felt like fingers on his too-tight skin stroked and caressed up and down the length of his erection. He kept her gaze captive as he pressed into her, a slow, long stroke that pushed through her feminine folds so that she gripped him like a tight fist. His breath escaped in a long rush of air as he waited for her body to accept him, waited to push a little deeper. Again. And then again. He wanted to be so deep she would never get him out.

  She shuddered with pleasure. His fingers dug deep into her hips, holding her into the seat in the ledge. He began to move, withdrawing, a long excruciatingly slow movement that robbed her of her ability to think. She could only feel, could only dig her nails deep into his arm and hang on as he plunged into her, thrusting hard and deep, driving through her velvet folds while she screamed his name. He didn’t stop, but kept surging powerfully into her, thick and hard, pushing through her tight folds, tilting her to get a better angle, holding her on the edge of release until she sobbed for relief. The loss of control shattered her when she’d always had so much control. It was frightening to need so much, to feel helpless under the pounding beat of sexual hunger.