Christine Feehan 5 CARPATHIAN NOVELS

by Christine Feehan

  Skyler ducked her head. If there was no hurry, why did she feel such a sense of urgency? Why did the woods beckon her every time she looked at them? The pull was strong to go find Dimitri. She hoped it was to tell him she couldn’t be what he wanted, but she feared he had already tied them in some way. She couldn’t stop thinking about him, and worse, her body reacted when she did—and she detested her reaction. Heat spread through her veins, her breasts ached, and lower still, she felt damp and uncomfortable, tension building. She felt his hunger. His need. She felt his silent call to her, even though he tried to suppress his needs and keep a barrier between them. His blood called to her. She knew it was Dimitri. And she didn’t want anything to do with a man or what that would entail.

  “There’s a likely candidate,” Nicolae said, pointing toward a particularly full tree. “We could do a lot with that.”

  The tree was deeper in the woods, and Skyler hesitated to follow as the three adults raced each other across the snow, occasionally throwing a snowball at each other. She was filled with dread when she looked into the shadows. Something lurked there. Something dangerous. It watched them with hungry eyes. Watched and waited for one wrong move. She could feel the waves of menace, and didn’t understand how Nicolae or Destiny couldn’t feel it as well.

  Skyler wanted to run back to the safety of the house, but that meant telling the others or going by herself. If she told the others and it was Dimitri, there would be problems between Gabriel and him again and she couldn’t bear that. She’d already caused far too much trouble for both of them. And going back to the house alone was out of the question. She hurried after Destiny and MaryAnn, casting anxious glances toward the thick stand of trees.

  For one horrible moment she thought she saw the fiery glow of eyes staring at her, tracking her every move. She blinked and the illusion was gone, but something was there. She was certain of it. And it was watching them with hungry eyes.

  “Absolutely not. I would catch the first plane back to Seattle. Gregori promised his protection, and I’d hide in his house until I could get safely home. I would never, under any circumstances, live with a Carpathian male.” The feminine voice came to him quite clearly, each word distinct, carried on the night itself.

  He was blinded. Dazzled by the brilliant white of the snow on the ground. His eyes failed him and he had to cover them, dropping to his knees to keep from crying out at the unexpected pain of such glaring brightness. Color blazed into life, like a living flame, so that he had to squeeze his eyelids shut, yet it still was there, absorbed by his mind. Vivid. Astonishing. Beautiful.

  His breath left his lungs in a rush. He tried to look again, his fingers helping to shield against the brightness so he wouldn’t be completely blind. There was color in the trees, not a dull gray, but green peeking beneath the coat of sparkling white. He was seeing in color. Elation swept through him. It was no wonder his demon was roaring to follow that heartbeat, that melodious laughter.

  The woman belonged to him. At last. After centuries of waiting. She was created for him, would be bound to him. He stood, swaying with the strength of the emotions pouring into him. It was overpowering to feel so much, every sense vividly alive. Every cell vividly alive. It was all there, every single emotion he could ever want. From lust to hunger, filling his mind, creating erotic images and testing the years of lost dreams and fantasies. His mouth watered as he thought of the taste of her, the texture of her skin. He had dreamed of her, needed her, and at long last, she was within his grasp.

  Even as he moved quickly to catch her, her words sank in. Protected by Gregori. A soft growl escaped. She meant to elude him. To deny his claim on her. She was his by right, by law, by everything their world decreed, and he had held out for centuries—centuries—waiting for her. No one would keep her from him. No one. He would take her if necessary and damn the consequences. There were few hunters equal to him—or to his brothers, and they would stand with him. The De La Cruz brothers always—always—stood together.

  His lips drew back in a snarl and he began to work his way with even more care toward the small group gathered around a tree. The young girl turned several times toward him, a faint frown on her face, and once the ancient male lifted his head to examine the area around him. He felt the mind probe and kept his barriers up, determined not to be discovered. The ancient was good, but Manolito had centuries of experience in hiding his presence to fall back on, and he kept from being discovered by simply becoming the tree nearest to him.

  He crept closer until he could see her. She took his breath away. She was everything he had ever imagined a lifemate could be—and more. Tall, slender, with full breasts meant for suckling, curvy hips for cradling his body, and her skin—he could almost feel it even from the distance he was. She had the kind of skin that looked so soft, a man could spend his life just touching her. Coffee-colored, inviting, warm like satin. The hood had fallen back on her jacket and he could see the shoulder-length curls, thick and wild, long spirals and whorls begging for his fingers. Her eyes were large, a dark chocolate, and her mouth was frankly sinful. He was definitely going to be fantasizing over her mouth and the things she would be doing to his body.

  His. He still couldn’t grasp the reality of it, not even with her standing right there, laughing, her face flushed, her eyes dancing. He sank down and let himself breathe, his brain working quickly to sort out the choices he had. If he took her, as he wanted to, he would bring down most of Carpathian society on him. He had a right to her, but she could ask for protection and from what he’d overheard, she would do just that. He needed a plan. And he needed it fast. He couldn’t even reveal to his brothers that he had found his lifemate. They would help him—but if their lifemates got wind of his intentions, they would be angry. He wasn’t willing to risk that one of them might betray him.

  First, before all else, he had to find out everything he could about his lifemate, without allowing anyone to know he was doing so. And then he had to devise a plan to get her to South America where she would be cut off from all help.

  He watched the tree come down and Nicolae drag it across the snow. The young girl took another suspicious look around, and almost immediately one of the women scanned the area for enemies. He did his tree act again, melting into the trunk, becoming part of the growth, until the small group walked back toward the house.

  He followed, staying invisible, keeping upwind and out of sight of the youngest girl. She had vision beyond the normal, the ability to sense even the shadow of darkness. Manolito was about to undertake a dangerous entry into the home of an ancient, and the shadow of darkness within him grew enough that it would call to the girl.

  He waited until they opened the door to the house, an invitation if he ever saw one. The ancient struggled with the tree. It was awkward and covered with snow, a difficult fit for the open door.

  “Is that as wide as you can hold it open, MaryAnn?” Nicolae demanded. “Because there’s a lot of tree here. Maybe I should just make it skinny for a second or two. Just enough to get it inside.”

  “Don’t you dare. You promised me we’d do this the old-fashioned way. No cheating. I’ll help you,” Destiny said.

  MaryAnn bowed low as she pushed the door as wide open as possible. “Please do come in.”

  Beside her, Skyler gasped as a cold breeze blew into the house. Snowflakes from the tree and porch whirled around in a small eddy, and then slowly subsided.

  Nicolae and Destiny took several tries to get the very full tree into the house. Snow cascaded everywhere and they both collapsed laughing. “Skyler! Help,” Destiny called as the top of the tree hit the couch.

  Skyler leapt to lift it over the furniture. Once MaryAnn closed the door and latched it, Skyler thought she would feel so much safer, but she didn’t. Nicolae waved one hand and a fire sprang up in the fireplace, almost instantly warming the room. Skyler turned away from them to stare out the window into the forest. Nothing had happened. Was her overactive imagination at work? Why di
dn’t she ever feel safe anymore?

  “There’s water all over the floor,” MaryAnn said. “I’ll go get a towel.”

  “Great idea. Skyler and I will have Nicolae find the best spot for the tree.”

  “What do you mean, find the best spot for the tree?” Nicolae demanded. “I’m only moving it once if you’re making me do this the human way.”

  “You’re taking all the fun out of it,” Destiny protested. “Half the fun is seeing that look of total exasperation on your face.”

  MaryAnn laughed at their antics. It was so good to see Destiny happy. It was worth leaving Seattle and traveling so far from home. The mountains were remote, and she knew she was far out of her depth here, but just to see Destiny settling in, happy with Nicolae and confident in herself, was worth every moment away from home.

  She stepped into the bathroom and turned in a slow circle to admire all the tile work. For a room that was never used, Nicolae had paid a lot of attention to detail and it was beautiful. She pulled two of the thickest towels from the rack and turned to the door. It swung shut, the lock snicking in place.

  As she reached for the door, Manolito materialized, his mouth at her ear, whispering a command, taking over quickly, wrapping her up in his enthrallment. When she’d held the door open for the other male carrying the Christmas tree and said, “Please come in” under his gentle push of compulsion, she had invited Manolito into her home as well.

  MaryAnn, you are my lifemate and therefore subject to my wishes. You will take my blood so that I may call to you whenever I have need of you or I can hear you when you have need of me.

  His fingers trailed down the perfect skin of her face. He closed his eyes, savoring how utterly soft she was. He slid his fingers into the collar of her shirt, tracing her collarbone and sliding the buttons open. Her breasts swelled above her lacy bra, an invitation in itself.

  He bent his head and kissed the corner of her mouth, his body already tightening. But this wasn’t about sex. He would never take something from his lifemate she was not ready to offer him. He kissed his way across her throat and the frantically beating pulse there. Pulling her into his arms, he cradled her body to his and sank his teeth over her breast, allowing the erotic ecstasy of his first taste of her to take him over.

  Need slammed him hard, his body swelling in reaction, a hard, painful ache of promise. Her taste was exquisite. He’d never known anything like it, and he took his fill and then some, wanting a true exchange. Their first. He didn’t pretend she knew her lifemate was claiming her. He simply took, greedy for what was his, and he damned himself for doing so. But this would bind them together enough for him to get through the dark days ahead, keep him from turning vampire. He would ride the high of lust and need until he could safely take her to his lair.

  When he could force himself under control, he closed the pinpricks, leaving behind his mark, his brand, one she couldn’t easily remove. He opened his own shirt and slashed his chest, forcing her head to him, commanding her to drink. The moment her mouth moved over his skin and her tongue swirled against him, he nearly shamed himself. His erection thickened, jumped in response, and throbbed with the need to bury itself deep inside her.

  “MaryAnn?” It was Nicolae, and there was suspicion in his voice. Manolito felt the quick scan, a hard thrust of a mind probe and then movement in MaryAnn’s mind. The ancient had taken her blood at some time, tying them together. Manolito hissed his displeasure, kept her brain patterns the same, a woman using the restroom.

  Still, the ancient paced outside the door.

  With a sigh of regret, when he was certain she had taken enough for a true exchange, Manolito closed the wound, tidied her and placed memories of using the bathroom. It easy enough to disappear, scattering his molecules throughout the room so that when MaryAnn opened the door and Nicolae peered in, there was nothing to see—no way to detect him.

  “Are you all right?” Nicolae asked.

  MaryAnn pressed her hand against her aching breast. Strangely, she felt flushed—more than that, in a heightened sexual state. She took a slow, deep breath and let it out. “I’m fine, Nicolae. Here are the towels.” Had she been daydreaming? For a moment, she couldn’t remember going into the bathroom. She thought only of a man touching her skin, sliding his mouth down her throat to her breast. She wanted to open her blouse and look at her skin, touch her body, feel hands on her. But Nicolae was already striding down the hall, casting small suspicious glances over his shoulder, and remembering he could read her thoughts, she hastily followed him forcing inane chatter about Christmas trees.

  15

  “Natalya, just what are you doing with that hairspray and lighter?” Vikirnoff Von Shrieder demanded. He peered out the kitchen window to the silent sparkling white world surrounding them. “There aren’t any vampires around, are there?”

  “Don’t be silly. I’ve learned to call down the lightning when I’m fighting a vampire. I needed a flame thingie for the crème brûlée. See, it says so right here on the recipe.” Natalya bent forward to reread the card she had on the low-tiled counter.

  “Give it up. The silly recipe isn’t worth the amount of time you have put into it.” Vikirnoff came up behind her and circled her waist with his arms, drawing her back up against him.

  “I thought you always wanted June Cleaver cooking in the kitchen with her little apron on,” Natalya teased.

  “It was you who mentioned June Cleaver, but I do like the apron,” he admitted, kissing his way down the side of her face. His hands burrowed under the thin material stretching to cover her breasts. “If you wore this all the time, I might consider trying out one of these strange concoctions you seem to be attempting to whip up.”

  He nibbled on the back of her neck and let his hands slide down her flat stomach to the junction of her legs beneath the short apron. His palm caressed the short curls, and moved up to cover the birthmark in the shape of a dragon. The pads of his fingers traced the familiar shape, and then moved on around her hips to her firm bare buttocks. “Ainaak enyém, you do not have a single stitch on beneath this apron.”

  She leaned forward just a little more to peer at the recipe and frown at her concoction. The action brought her enticing derrière brushing the front of his body, sending a small electrical charge right through his groin. “I don’t think anyone who cooks actually wears clothes. It’s too messy. I changed three times and gave it up.”

  His hands continued their journey, shaping her hips and running over her bottom to slide over her thighs. He felt her shiver of awareness—of answering excitement. “So humans stand in the kitchen stark naked and cook.” Once more his hands moved, widening her stance, caressing the inside of her thighs, going higher so his knuckles could brush back and forth across her sensitive core.

  “I’m certain of it,” Natalya said. “I’ve discovered their secret.” She closed her eyes to absorb the feel of his hands on her bare skin.

  His mouth nuzzled her neck, tongue stroking caresses over her pulse, teeth teasing and nipping. “I will ask Slavica’s husband if that is why he spends so much time in the kitchen with her. I wondered what they did together in that big room with so many counters.”

  His teeth sank deep, locking them together, his larger body bending hers forward, pinning her against the low counter and his body. His clothes were gone and his body already hard and aggressive, his fingers pushing slowly, seductively into her body so that she gasped and pushed back against him, already wet and welcoming for him. Already hot. He loved her ready response and the way her body began to ride his hand eagerly.

  His hands went to her hips, holding her still, preventing all movement, so she waited for his attentions, unable to bring any plea sure to herself.

  “You started this,” Natalya complained.

  He didn’t answer, savoring the spicy taste of her, the way her smaller body waited for his, open and ready, so vulnerable and so willing. It was a heady feeling to be able to take a woman warrior, to wrap his body
around hers when she was every bit as lethal as she was beautiful. He held her down with one hand on her back, heightening her plea sure, forcing her to wait for him, breathless, her hips trying to entice him, her body wet and needy. He loved especially when she grew anxious and demanding, yet submitted to his domination—like now.

  Vikirnoff swept his tongue across the pinpricks, waited again, waiting for the telltale beat of her heart to accelerate, and he thrust hard, driving deep into her, burying himself all the way. She cried out, a low keen of joy as they joined together. She was so tight, a fist clamping around his shaft, hot and velvet soft, slick with welcoming cream. He took her hard and fast, driving her over the edge without preamble so that her body clamped down and her orgasm rushed over her, rocking her legs, rippling through her belly and crashing through her womb.

  He kept the pounding rhythm, moving like a piston, dragging her back with every forward surge so they came together in heat and aggression. He could feel the streaks of lightning racing through her bloodstream, gathering—building, always building, the pressure relentless so that after the first rush to bring more sensitivity to the bundle of nerve endings, he kept her poised on the edge, pushing her higher and higher until she was nearly sobbing for relief.

  Vikirnoff could stay there all day, his body buried deep in silk and fire, her tight muscles squeezing and grasping, her body subject to the rule of his. Her hair spilled around her, banded with color, her skin soft and inviting and every square inch of her, every hollow and shadow, his to do with as he pleased.

  Right now he felt her tigress close, clawing toward the surface, wild and abandoned, adding fuel to the fire, wanting him rough, wanting him to match the cat rising with heat in her. He threw back his head, nearly coming up on his toes, surging deep over and over, so that the friction was nearly intolerable, a plea sure bordering on pain that went on and on because he dictated it so. Because her body was his body when they came together like this. She gave herself to him unconditionally, trusting him to bring her absolute ecstasy, and it was his privilege to accommodate her. Because they needed this sometimes more than anything else, this coming together almost in violence after they had both been alone for so very long.