Christine Feehan 5 CARPATHIAN NOVELS

by Christine Feehan

  Tempest shook her head as the two men remodeled the kitchen. It looked like a competition to her rather than a repair job. She sighed and rubbed her hand over her stomach. The idea of having a child had never occurred to her. After she had gone through the conversion and her normal bodily functions ceased, she simply didn’t give a thought to birth control. It was a stupid mistake, and one she couldn’t take back.

  Darius seemed fine with the idea, maybe even pleased, but nothing ever rocked him. He was a dangerous, lethal man, completely confident in his abilities, and the confidence was born of experience. She had been on the run most of her life. She had no family and didn’t know the first thing about children.

  We will do fine. Darius brushed the words through her mind like caressing fingers, his voice so soft and warm she could feel him inside her.

  Not if you keep changing the house. It’s making me feel dizzy, not to mention it’s ugly. Stop competing and let’s go inside. Sheesh! You’re like a couple of schoolboys.

  Darius cleared his throat. “Tempest would like to go in. That particular shape is obnoxious, but we can live with it for the brief amount of time we will be here if it is what you desire.”

  Mikhail burst out laughing. “It is obnoxious. Raven would think I had lost my mind. I could not resist.”

  Darius took Tempest’s hand, his thumb brushing a subtle caress over her inner wrist as they entered the house. “I hope you are not here to check on how the cooking is progressing. We are not quite ready for tonight’s celebration.”

  “I have no interest in cooking, although I do not think the others are faring much better than you two. I just dropped by to get your opinion on a couple of things.”

  Darius waved Mikhail toward the most comfortable chair. “What can I do for you?”

  “Well, before we get too deep in serious things, I thought you might like to know, Raven has decreed someone must play Santa Claus.”

  Darius stiffened, but his face remained without expression. “The jolly man in the red suit.”

  “Exactly. I can see that your reaction is much the same as mine. Fortunately, I have a son-in-law and I feel it is his duty to take on this…” He paused searching for the right word.

  Something very close to amusement flickered in the depths of Darius’s eyes. “Honored task,” he supplied.

  Mikhail nodded. “I could not have found a better description.”

  “I will be more than happy to accompany you when you tell my older brother you are bestowing such a privilege on him.”

  “Strangely enough, quite a few others wish to be there as well.”

  Tempest looked from one solemn face to the other. “Are you both crazy? That man could scare the devil.”

  “That is what you say about me.”

  “Well, you could too,” Tempest pointed out. “But he isn’t telling you to play Santa to a bunch of children.”

  “And I sincerely thank you for that,” Darius said. The amusement faded from his eyes as he continued to study Mikhail’s face. “You are worried, and not about my brother playing the part of St. Nick. What is it?”

  “I am uneasy over the gathering of our women in one place. While I think it is a good thing for all of us to get together, it has occurred to me that our enemies will figure out that it would not take much to wipe out our species.”

  Darius nodded. “There are so few women and children. Get rid of them and the males have no hope. Very soon chaos would reign and many would choose life as the undead over death.”

  Mikhail nodded. “I fear it is so. We had an incident a few minutes ago in the woods. A subtle influence none of us felt immediately. Skyler tried to follow the path back to the sender, but they realized she was on to them and shut down. But they now have a direct path to her.”

  “The other women?” Darius was already checking with and warning Desari and Julian, Dayan and Corrine and lastly, Barack and Syndil. Each responded with a quick touch to assure him there was no threat to them at the moment and they understood to be careful and alert.

  “There have been no other incidents and I have sent men ahead to the inn to ferret out any enemies, but we must be vigilant at all times and keep our women and children close and protected.”

  Like you all don’t already do that? Great, he’s just giving you more ammunition to be bossy.

  Darius ignored her. “The child—Skyler. Is she safe? Gabriel and Lucian are my brothers by blood. Skyler is blood kin.”

  “We will all see to her safety. You probably don’t remember Dimitri—he was much older than you—but he’s returned from Russia and is Skyler’s lifemate. It is a complication we did not expect.”

  “Gabriel is protective of her.”

  “Yes, he is—as he should be. She is invaluable to us.” Mikhail leaned toward him. “I know you have been talking with Gregori, Francesca and Shea about how you kept the other children alive after the massacre. They were only babies. You were merely six years old.”

  “Unfortunately, I do not remember very much. It was centuries ago. We were on another continent, in an unfamiliar world. I did not remember much of my homeland other than the war and the massacre. I inadvertently instilled a fear in the others of these mountains and we avoided the area completely.”

  Mikhail nodded. “It is understandable, but perhaps you do not realize the miracle you achieved. The greatest minds, our most talented healers, are not able to do what you have done. In order for our species to survive, we must find the answers to why our women miscarry. Why so many of our infants die in their first year. And why we have such a high percentage of male over female births.”

  Tempest gasped and went completely pale. “Darius?” She framed his face with her hands, forcing him to meet her terrified gaze. “Is this true? Did you know this?”

  “Yes.” Lifemates did not lie to one another.

  “Miscarriages? The child dies in the first year?” She refused to look away from him—refused to allow him to look away from her. “You knew this all along?”

  “Our race is dying,” Darius said. “We have too few women and even fewer children.”

  “But you said…” She trailed off, dropping her hands as if touching his skin scorched her. “You should have told me this immediately.”

  “What good would it have done? The decision is made for us. Our child grows within your body. We have already created a life. There is no alternative for me but to ensure the child survives. I refuse to consider any other possibility.” His voice was mild, his face carved of stone. His black-black eyes never left hers.

  “You should have told me,” she repeated.

  “Several of our women have been successful in carrying babies,” Mikhail said, standing. “There is always hope. Especially now. I will need to discuss this further with you, Darius,” he added.

  Darius continued to hold Tempest’s gaze. “Yes, of course. I am at your disposal.” He waited until the prince left before he tunneled his hand in the mass of bright red hair. “We will not lose our child.”

  “Because you decree it?”

  “If that is what it takes. My will is unyielding. I did not lose Desari, or Syndil or Barack or Dayan. They live because I decreed it—because I fought for their lives and used every ounce of will and skill I possessed to ensure their survival. Do not think I would do less for my own child—for our child.”

  “That’s why they all have such confidence in you—why they expect so much of you. Without you they would have all died.”

  It was the simple truth. He had been six, but already, the Daratrazanoff blood was strong in him and his will grew and grew until he refused to allow defeat into his mind no matter the odds.

  “I didn’t think I wanted to have a baby, Darius. Now, when I think I may lose it, I know I want it desperately. Shea must be so frightened. She’s close to labor. If I were her, I would not want to allow the baby to leave the safety of my body.”

  “She has Jacques to keep them both safe, Tempest. You have me.�
�

  Tempest slid onto his lap, laying her head against his chest. “Then I’m not going to worry.”

  He kissed her gently, lovingly. “I will believe that when I see it.”

  “For that, you can bake the pies.”

  “Pies?”

  “The gooey purple stuff. You said you would do anything for me and I need those pies baked.”

  “You think I cannot do it.”

  “I think it will be very funny to watch you try.” She leaned in for another kiss, laughter beginning to bubble up.

  7

  Barack, in the form of an owl, circled the house he was occupying with Syndil. There didn’t appear to be a disturbance, but his heart was still in his throat. Something didn’t feel right. He reached out to her on their private, very intimate telepathic band, but she didn’t respond. He felt her presence, felt her focus—her entire concentration elsewhere—a good sign as Syndil would have been broadcasting waves of fear had she been frightened.

  He dropped down fast, shapeshifting as he plummeted, and he hit the porch nearly sprinting, needing to see her. She was still so emotionally fragile and their relationship was very tentative at times. She had a tendency to retreat even from him. Ever since the brutal attack by Savon, a trusted family member who had turned vampire, she’d had problems with trust and especially intimacy.

  “Syndil!” he called out to her, striding quickly through the small cabin.

  There was no answer, only the sound of his own heart thundering in his ears. He inhaled sharply, scented the two leopards and…He stilled, fighting for calm. He inhaled again. Blood. Not just any blood—Syndil’s blood.

  He shoved open the door to the bedroom to find the two large cats, Sasha and Forest, curled on the bed. They both raised their heads and gave him a long, slow appraisal. Sasha bared her teeth while Forest openly snarled. Barack’s heart jumped. The leopards always traveled with the band and never acted aggressive toward any member of the band, not even when they were in a bad temper.

  He snarled back at them, closed the door and whirled around, racing back out into the night. He inhaled again and found her scent—the direction she’d taken. At once he shifted on the run, taking to the air to move more swiftly, his heart pounding in fear for her. He followed her scent through the forest until he came upon a clearing of scorched ground. A terrible battle had been fought here. Trees were bent and twisted, leaves shriveled, and in places the ground was scarred from the acid burn of the unholiest of creatures—the undead. He caught sight of her and his breath stilled in his lungs.

  Barack watched the woman kneeling on the blackened ground, her arms spread wide, palms hovering just above the earth. Snow fell softly over her, coating her hair and clothes so that she appeared to sparkle. From his angle he could see the concentration on her face, her eyes closed, long lashes forming two thick crescents. She appeared serene, her entire energy focused on her task. She looked beautiful—a little fey, her black hair gleaming beneath the coating of snow, flakes on her long lashes and her sinfully perfect mouth whispering a crooning song of hope and encouragement to the barren land.

  He stood, his heart pounding in his chest, the terror of not finding her safe in their home receding while love stormed in to fill every part of his heart and soul until there was no longer room for any other emotion. Syndil. His lifemate. Of course she would be healing the earth. She would have heard it moaning in pain, the evil spreading slowly through the soil, poisoning and burning every living thing. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen—could ever imagine. Beneath her hands, green grass sprang up through the snow. Small shrubs and trees pushed their way to the surface as she sang softly, coaxing growth.

  Desari, with her pure, incredible voice, could bring peace to people. With just her voice she could wrap an audience in satin sheets and candlelight, and make them remember old loves and tarnished hopes. Syndil’s voice also held great power, but hers was bound to the earth. Scarred and damaged lands called to her. She could never ignore their summons. Few could hear the screams and cries as she did, and even fewer could heal where blisters and lesions lay raw upon the land.

  Syndil astonished him with her power. He watched as she shifted left, then right, moving up the slope, touching a badly damaged tree, enticing new growth, expunging the hideous results the undead had left behind in the soil. She stood and turned toward the small creek—the water no longer running, but standing still even though the creek bed was filled to capacity. Dark brownish-red stains covered the surface of the water, and tentacles spread out from a discolored gelatin-like ball altered the composition of the water. Thousands of tiny white parasites made up the round globe, and many used the tentacles as tiny arteries and veins moving out away from where the rest congealed in a large mass.

  Lifting her hands, Syndil began to sing, oblivious to Barack’s presence, her entire focus on the damage to the land. He always knew the moment she was near, yet she hadn’t the slightest idea her lifemate was close by. It should have upset him, but he couldn’t help the surge of pride in her. Whenever she committed to healing the earth, she was totally, unswervingly focused, often expending far more energy than she could afford. Just as a healer of people was left drained and swaying with weariness, so was Syndil when she healed the earth.

  Her voice swelled with power, and the parasites writhed as if in pain. The jellied mass shook ominously. Barack moved into a better position to defend his lifemate. The air reeked, the smell so noxious, in spite of the falling snow, the foul odor nearly gagged him. Barack inched closer to peer at the congealed mass. The creatures looked almost like maggots, but much smaller. The stench of evil permeated the entire area.

  He looked around him, quartering the area with every one of his senses, scanning for signs of an enemy. Was this the aftermath of the vampires who had died here during the attempted assassination of the prince? Or was it another, much newer threat? He stepped closer to Syndil, stretching out his hand to her, but as her voice filled the night with her strength, the small parasites began to explode, much like popcorn, leaping out of the jelly ball in an effort to get away from her voice. Once in the exposed air, they burst.

  Barack’s hand fell to his side. He looked at the trees, twisted, bent and blackened, the sap oozing out of numerous lesions, congealed with the same brown-red gel. Parasites bubbled up from half-a-dozen trees to drop lifeless to the ground. Barack waved his hand toward the sky. At once the wind picked up and the air charged, crackling and snapping. A whip of lightning flicked across the layer of carcasses in the snow, turning them instantly to black ash. With a howl of fury, the wind scattered the remains in all directions while the snow rained down and once more covered the earth with a pristine white blanket.

  For the first time, Syndil turned her head, her large, dark eyes soft—almost liquid. A ghost of a smile curved her mouth, drawing his attention to the beautiful shape of her lips, and his heart clenched, a vise squeezing hard enough to hurt. All those years he had spent with her, never once realizing she had been driving his need for sex. Never once had he looked at her any way other than as a foster sister, yet all along she had kept his emotions safeguarded. It was no wonder that not once had he been satisfied with another woman. It had become laughable over the centuries, the terrible need clawing at him until he thought he might go insane if he didn’t touch a woman’s skin, bury his body deep within hers. There had been so many willing, yet he was trapped in some kind of mindless torment, needing them—yet none could fulfill his desires.

  At times, Syndil still felt he had betrayed her, but at last he understood the endless cycle that had been happening to him. Looking at her, inhaling her scent, the brush of her hair or fingers turned his body into a hard painful ache that only she could assuage. He’d had a hard-on for so many years he could no longer count, and looking at her only made it happen all over again. Only now she was his—a gentle, sexy woman he didn’t deserve, but who somehow managed to love him all the same.

  “What
are you thinking about, Barack? You look sad.”

  One did not lie to one’s lifemate. In any case, she had only to touch his mind to know. “I remember the precise moment I realized that it was you arousing my body to such a painful ache. You stood by a stream brushing out your long hair. I found myself fascinated with every stroke of the brush and wishing I could feel your hair against my bare skin. I wanted to lose myself in all that silk, and I knew you had been the one I wanted all along—it was you I’d been searching for among so many women.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “We were in France.”

  “That was fifty years ago.”

  He nodded. “I thought what I felt was wrong. We were children together, a family. It seemed—distasteful. I was afraid I was tainted in some way. I would watch you after that; every move you made seemed sensual, seductive. And I hated the men watching you—coming close to you.”

  “But you still went off with other women.”

  He shook his head. “I kept up the illusion, but I already had had too many unfulfilled nights. What was the use? Other women no longer drew me once I figured out what was happening.”

  “I saw you.” There was pain in her voice, and it made him wince.

  “You saw me flirt and walk off. I took blood and left them with false memories. The nights were torment, Syndil. Sometimes I thought I was in hell.” He reached out his hand to her. “I had a terrible secret and I could never share with anyone. I lusted after you to the point that I could not let you get too close to me. I was always afraid someone would discover the way I felt about you. At the time I would have given anything that it was just lust, easily satisfied. It was so much more—is so much more.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “A Carpathian male should always—always be in control of himself. We wield too much power to be ruled by anything but our brains. I could not control my body or my thoughts when I was close to you.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I know everything about you, Syndil. The way you tilt your head just slightly when you’re considering whether or not you are going to participate in a conversation. You tug on your left earlobe when you are worried. You have the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. I know you’re so fragile and yet at the same time, you are incredibly strong.”