“Women cannot be put in a bubble on a shelf somewhere, Dimitri,” Francesca pointed out. “We have to live our lives as well as you men do.”
Mikhail interrupted as Dimitri opened his mouth in what obviously was another protest. “We cannot cancel the Christmas party. If we do our enemies might guess who in this region is human and who is Carpathian. By cooking and ‘eating’ food, we appear as normal as the villagers around us. Now that we know there is danger close at hand, we will be able to keep our loved ones safe.”
Dimitri’s fangs glistened as he bared his teeth and took a step toward Skyler. “She has suffered enough at the hands of human men. I will not allow this.”
Skyler pressed closer to Francesca, gathering her courage to defy a man who seemed too tall, too strong—too invincible with his hard face and burning cold eyes.
Do not rouse Gabriel’s anger against Dimitri, Francesca cautioned. Let us handle this. She smiled at Dimitri. “Every child looks forward to a celebration such as this. Surely you can watch over her with us and give her this opportunity to relax and enjoy meeting the others as she has looked forward to doing for so long. She needs every good memory, every chance at laughter and a childhood she can have. Remember, Dimitri, she was robbed of that when she was young.”
“There is no chance I will ever forget,” he bit out between his teeth. He turned the full intensity of his glittering eyes on Skyler. “This is important to you? It is not an act of defiance because your lifemate does not want you to attend?”
She sucked in her breath, feeling the impact of his gaze all the way to her toes. She could never be with this man. She wanted to scream her denial. She wouldn’t be a lifemate to any Carpathian, least of all this man. He terrified her. Desperation filled her with panic.
At Gabriel’s soft warning growl, Francesca squeezed her shoulder.
Skyler forced air through her lungs and clutched Francesca’s hand tighter. “I would very much like to go.” She wouldn’t ask permission. She had done enough begging from men. As a child, she’d had to perform vile disgusting acts for food. She’d had to seek permission to sleep, to go to the bathroom, just to speak. Her life had been hell and she would not return to that—she’d rather be dead.
Never, baby. Francesca’s voice whispered through her mind. A pure love, unconditional, a promise that would always be kept. No one will ever hurt you like that again and live. I am your mother now and will protect you with every fiber of my being. Dimitri seems cruel and unfeeling, but in truth, his emotions are too overwhelming for him to control, so to protect you and all of us, he has to push his feelings aside and become a ruthless warrior. It is what he knows.
And who he is, Skyler said. He’s violence personified. I’ve seen into his mind. He merged with me and I could see him killing without thought, without remorse. He thinks to control me. To make me do as he says.
All Carpathian males think that way. They are control freaks. Even our beloved Gabriel. You are too young and although his every instinct is pushing him to take you now, Dimitri is trying to hold back and give you what is yours—time.
“I will confess I do not like it, but I am probably being overprotective. I cannot bear to see—or feel you suffer.” Dimitri bowed slightly from the waist in an old-world gesture. “Then you shall go.”
Skyler bit back her retort. She would have gone anyway. She didn’t need him—a virtual stranger—telling her what she could or couldn’t do.
“I was on my way to see Julian,” Mikhail announced, deciding it was time to ease the obvious tension. “I know he loves a good time and I wanted to alert him to tonight’s main surprise.”
“There is a surprise?” Gabriel sounded wary.
“Raven wants St. Nick to show up, dressed in red,” Mikhail said smugly. “The children will be expecting it.”
Francesca bit her lip, suppressing a sudden smile when Gabriel actually stepped behind her as if for protection. Big baby.
Mikhail is up to something. I am not going to play dress-up in red tights.
Francesca burst out laughing. “Santa Claus does not wear red tights, you nut.”
Mikhail flashed her a smile. “Do you think Gregori is aware of that? He is, after all, my son-in-law, and has a duty to do as I ask. Red tights might look good on him.”
“You wouldn’t,” Gabriel said, a slow grin spreading across his face.
Dimitri raised an eyebrow. “Gregori? The bogeyman of Carpathians?”
“He’ll scare the children, Mikhail,” Francesca objected. “You aren’t really going to ask him to be Santa Claus, are you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I want to be there. I think Lucian and I need to go visit our younger brother,” Gabriel said. “Be certain to let me know when you are going to his house so I can drop by at the same time.”
“That’s just mean,” Francesca scolded laughingly. “And don’t you dare tell him Santa wears red tights. Just the idea of Gregori in red tights is enough to scare everyone.”
“There are benefits to being prince after all,” Mikhail said.
Skyler cleared her throat. “This is a joke—right?”
Mikhail looked smug. “A fine joke on Gregori, little one. I had better go. I have too many things to do. I have sent the word, Dimitri, to all the others that our women and children must be guarded at all times, especially our Skyler.”
Skyler tipped back her head to look up at Dimitri. In spite of herself, she had to admit he was handsome, with the face of man, not a boy. His eyes were so alive, so deeply blue they could either burn or freeze one. He lifted both hands and ran them through his shiny black hair, pushing it back away from his face. Muscles flexed and rippled. He was standing away from her, but she felt his fingers touch her own hair, sliding through the silky strands in a slow, intimate way. Her stomach did a curious flip. Far off she heard a wolf howl. Dimitri turned his head toward the sound.
“He sounds so plaintive—so lonely,” Skyler whispered, the mournful howl drawing her instant sympathy. She wanted—almost needed—to find the animal and comfort him.
“He is lonely,” Dimitri said. He pulled a black cord from around his throat. “I ask that you wear this, Skyler. For me.”
Skyler took a step back, but her gaze fell on the necklace he held out to her. The tiny wolf was exquisite, head thrown back, fur black and shiny, eyes deep blue, like sapphire gems glowing at her. She hesitated only a moment, her hand slowly moving towards his until their fingertips touched. Heat spread through her body, warming her in spite of the cold.
Instead of dropping it into her palm, Dimitri pulled the cord over her neck, lifting her hair and letting it settle back around her shoulders. The cord was still warm from his skin and the small wolf nestled in the valley between her breasts. Dimitri reached behind her where she couldn’t see and immediately enveloped her in a soft red cape. The cold receded instantly.
“Now you look like Little Red Riding Hood,” he murmured as he bent down to draw the hood over her hair.
She inhaled his scent, wild and masculine and unexpectedly familiar. She felt the touch of his lips on her cheek. He left a burning trail to the corner of her mouth, and her body responded with an odd tingling, a heightened awareness, even a reaching toward him. Even as she stood still with his arms caging her in, she felt something within her rising toward him. Before it could break free and respond, he shifted, once more the wolf, springing away from them to run into deeper forest. Skyler caught the small wolf pendant in her hand and held tightly.
She wanted to chase after him. Call him back. Her lungs seized and her heart stuttered. She knew she didn’t want a Carpathian male. All of her life she had known what people really felt, really thought—and most of it wasn’t good. Gabriel and Francesca gave her respite, provided a safe haven, but Dimitri would take that from her. She took a deep breath and turned away from the path he’d taken.
“I want to go home, Francesca,” she said softly, feeling a coward. “Please take me home.�
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“Of course, honey.” Francesca gathered her close, cape and all, and took to the sky, leaving it to Gabriel to shield them from prying eyes.
“Far away,” Skyler murmured, “back to Paris.” She turned her face up to the snow floating down in endless silence. The world seemed filled with sparkling gems as the moonlight glinted off the ice crystals and snowflakes. She focused on the treetops and the pristine surfaces as they flew to the house, Gabriel close behind them.
“The baby always soothes you,” Gabriel said. “Why don’t you go see how she’s doing?” Their trusted house keeper-nanny had come with them and was with the children during the day. He kept his hand on Francesca to keep her from stealing away from him.
Skyler kissed them both and, still wrapped in the hooded cape, went to pick up Tamara and hold her close. The minute she was out of the room, he turned to his lifemate with a deep scowl of impatience.
“Did you see that? Did you see him kiss her? Touch her? He did not simply touch her skin, he left his mark on her. I will not stand for this, Francesca.”
“Gabriel.” She rubbed his arm gently. “He walked away.”
“He didn’t walk away. He marked her, he gave her blood, he took hers. It may not have been an exchange, but you and I both know he has imparted a warning to every other male to leave her be.”
“As he should. As you or any other male would have done with your lifemate.”
Gabriel frowned. “She should have a full childhood. He can wait two hundred years just as all Carpathians did in the past. Sixteen. Who ever heard of such a thing?”
“Savannah was but twenty-three when Gregori claimed her,” Francesca reminded him. “It is a different world and Skyler is not fully Carpathian. If he waits two hundred years, she might be dead.”
Gabriel scowled. “She will be brought fully into our world. She is our daughter.”
“We said it was her decision. The blood exchanges were to help her overcome the trauma, not to take away her choice. You’re sounding as bad as Dimitri.”
“She is our daughter. I am not about to let her be foolish out of fear. I refuse to lose her to human aging or that inconsiderate lout, who, by the way, is not nearly good enough for her. She is ours, Francesca. I love her as much as I love Tamara, and she is under my protection. All this freedom you keep talking about is ridiculous. We all live under certain rules, and Skyler does as well.”
“Dimitri showed great restraint in not doing a full blood exchange with her. He could have taken advantage and did not. Our women, until Savannah, do not become sexually mature so quickly. She is, Gabriel, whether you like it or not.” Francesca held up her hand when he would have protested. “Of course she’s too young to be bound to him, but that doesn’t mean that technically it couldn’t happen. She has to overcome her past and who knows if she is going to be able to do that. She has scars in her mind that even I can’t erase. I can’t even find her memories of her childhood before the atrocities started. He has to know that. He has to be prepared to be gentle and kind and patient with her. It’s inevitable that they will be together, Gabriel.”
He turned away from her, fists clenched. As he turned, she caught the flash of fangs and he suddenly opened his hands—his fingers curling into lethal claws. Gabriel threw back his head and roared with rage. The sound shook the house and in the next room, Tamara began to cry. He whirled back to face Francesca. “She is not going to be forced by this—this werewolf into anything.”
Francesca gasped at the insult. “You’re acting like a crazy man, Gabriel. Is this how it will be with all of our daughters?”
“No daughter of mine is going to be forced into anything.” He turned back to her, black eyes blazing with anger.
“Like I was?” Francesca pinned him with her gaze.
“That is entirely different.”
“Why? Because it was you? Gabriel, you have to be reasonable about this. We have to handle this right for both of them. Skyler isn’t going to be able to accept him, especially if you act like a crazy father sharpening your fangs.”
“Gabriel? Francesca? Is everything all right?” Skyler stepped into the room carrying the baby. “Tamara is distressed. She’s never heard her father upset like this before—and neither have I.” She looked about to cry. “Are you fighting over me? You never fight. Never. I’ll do what ever you want me to do.”
Francesca went to her immediately and wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulders, baby and all. “Of course we argue, Skyler. Just not out loud. I’m sorry we upset you. Adults often have differences of opinions.”
“We wouldn’t if you’d agree with everything I say,” Gabriel groused.
Francesca rolled her eyes at Skyler and flashed a small half smile. “Ignore him. I’m always right and we both know it. And right now, we have things to do that are fun. Fun, Gabriel.” She flashed him a small warning look. “Skyler, come help me make these gingerbread houses for tonight’s dinner. Gabriel is going to help us.”
Gabriel took a deep, calming breath, forcing the air to move through his lungs, to remove the swirling rage that seemed to boil in his veins and churn in his gut. He breathed it away and tried to find his center. The last thing he wanted to do was upset Skyler further or get the baby crying.
“That’s blackmail,” he grumbled, but winked at Skyler. He held out his arms for the baby, took her and bent to kiss the top of Skyler’s head. “We were not fighting over you, little human chickie, only over what is best for you. And it was not a fight, simply a heated discussion. We are both in agreement. No man is ever going to be good enough for you and you need to stay with us forever.”
Skyler’s look of alarm faded and she burst into laughter. “Forever? I think by the time I’m eight hundred you would want to throw me out.”
“Never, baby,” Francesca assured her, brushing back strands of hair from Skyler’s face. She touched one of the crescent shaped scars that had failed, even with Carpathian blood, to heal. And Skyler’s worst scars were where no one would ever see. “You will always be our beloved daughter.”
“You want to lick the frosting bowl instead of giving it to me, don’t you?” Skyler teased.
“Too much sugar for you,” Francesca said, laughing. “Come on, we don’t have a lot of time to put this together. I hope the instructions are easy. I’ve never actually constructed a gingerbread house before and Raven wanted several to use as the centerpieces for the tables.”
“The pressure is on,” Gabriel taunted. He kissed Tamara and winked. “Let’s see how the female members of the house hold do.”
“Like you’re going to get out of helping us,” Skyler said, grabbing his hand and tugging. “I’m going to paint your face with frosting while I’m at it. Tamara will love that, won’t you, baby girl?”
The anger was gone, but apprehension at the future had taken its place. Gabriel pretended reluctance as his lifemate and daughters dragged him into the kitchen, laughter bubbling around them and driving away a little bit of the fear of losing them.
Skyler entered the kitchen, inhaling the aroma of gingerbread. The pieces were already shaped into the walls and roof of the houses. They just had to put them together.
There was no warning at all. As she pulled the various colored frostings from the refrigerator, devastating sorrow nearly drove her to her knees. She kept the door open to prevent Francesca and Gabriel from seeing the tears welling in her eyes. Grief was sharp and painful—a blade cutting into her heart. Her throat swelled as the sorrow seemed to expand and take over every cell in her body until she wanted to weep uncontrollably. Rage crept in, dark and terrible, a savage need for vengeance, a need to strike back—to kill. The feeling was so strong, her hands shook and she dropped one of the bowls, shattering it.
“Skyler?” Francesca was there in a moment, wrapping her arm around Skyler’s waist and pulling her away from the glass.
The frosting was white, but the bowl had been red and with the shards embedded in the icing, it looke
d to Skyler like bloodstained snow. She felt the urge to run to the window and check that no one was hurt outside. Her breath caught in her throat and she pressed a hand to her aching heart. Not just anyone—Dimitri. She had connected to him—she was certain of it—and he was suffering.
“Francesca? I have to find him. I have to find Dimitri.” Her voice was barely a whisper. She had no idea tears streamed down her face until Francesca touched her cheeks. “He’s—it’s so terrible. I can’t explain it. I have to go to him. You have to go to him and ease his suffering.”
“I’m sorry, baby, I can only ease your suffering. He has to find a way to live with the emotions he is now feeling. He had knowledge before, but could not feel emotion.” She leaned close to Skyler to murmur softly, to ease her burden, “I can provide distance for you and it will help.”
Skyler abruptly pulled away. “No.” She shook her head. “You and Gabriel always shield me. Not this time. If I did this to him, I want to be able to feel it as well. I need to know these things, Francesca. I am already Carpathian in my heart. I need knowledge as well as emotion.”
5
Mikhail streamed through the forest—a white vapor trail concealed by the snow—staying high up in the trees as he tracked the wolf loping across the ground beneath him. Mikhail could see that, in spite of taking the form of the wolf, Dimitri was in trouble. The wolf paused every now in then, shuddering in pain, the shaggy fur, usually so shiny with health and strength, dull and wet with sweat. In spite of the animal form, waves of grief poured off the man, and to Mikhail’s horror, small beads of blood were left behind in the paw prints in the stark white snow.
Mikhail dropped down through the canopy to fall more gently with the drift of the snowflakes as he approached the Carpathian male cautiously. Dimitri had gone through hell in the forests of Russia with his beloved wolves. Hunted by vampire and mortals alike, pursued by poachers and superstitious people, he had faced endless centuries of protecting both humans and wolves alone without the comfort of his homeland—the soil—or its people.
Christine Feehan 5 CARPATHIAN NOVELS Page 125