Christine feehan - Dark Slayer 20

«We are in your debt, lady,» Gregori said, inclining his head. «I am a healer. Perhaps I could aid you in return for the great service you rendered.»

She knew he was deliberately formal in his speech, recognizing her as an ancient, but she refused to allow him to lull her into a false sense of security. She didn't trust him any more than she had Sergey. Behind him another man materialized and she heard herself gasp. For one horrible instant she was certain Draven was alive and had come for her again. It took her a moment to realize this had to be Mikhail Dubrinsky, Draven's younger brother, the reigning prince of the Carpathian people.

She took a step back, the arrow switching immediately to cover the intruder's heart. Gregori stepped deliberately in front of the prince, holding his hand palm outward toward her. «No one wants to hurt you. We are in your debt.»

Behind him, the prince gently guided Gregori to one side. «I am Mikhail Dubrinsky and we are in your debt.»

«I know who you are.» She couldn't keep the bitterness from her voice. «I gave my aid freely to the child, and this man has more than repaid any debt owed to me.» Farkas, on your feet now.

The wolf rose obediently and stumbled, nearly falling again. She cursed, knowing he was too weak to cross the distance on his own. She couldn't go back to her lair, not wounded and bleeding. She'd leave a blood trail in the sky. It wouldn't be visible, but the droplets could be scented and anyone who wished to could find her.

Gregori took a step closer and her other hand went to her holster. Ivory shook her head. «I do not wish to do battle with you, but if you insist, I will do so.»

«I wish only to aid you.»

«Do so by giving me free passage through your land. I will take my pack and go.»

«You are a Carpathian woman without a lifemate and in need of our protection,» Gregori said, his voice soft and compelling.

«I am an ancient warrior with a lifemate and I fight my own battles. I have no allegiance to your people and none to your prince. Know this, dark one-I will fight to the death to retain my freedom. I wish only to be left alone.» She took another step back.

«If you leave without aid, you will be vulnerable to any attack,» Gregori answered, his voice more gentle than ever. «As a Carpathian warrior, a male, the healer of our people, I cannot allow you to go without first seeing to your care.»

Her sword swung up, her dark eyes catching fire even as despair swept through her. «Then know it will be a fight to the death. I want no help from you or from any of your people.»

Her wolves spread out, even Farkas, facing the Carpathian males-enemies now-circling the men with teeth bared.

CHAPTER 4

Razvan came aware slowly. At first he thought he was dreaming, but dreams such as lying in soil had long ago disappeared from his imagination. He was certain though, absolutely certain, he could feel loam, rich in minerals, surrounding him like a warm comforting blanket, the earth cradling him, his body warm, hunger a distant memory. And that made no sense.

His eyes snapped open, power consuming him, shaking him, more than he'd ever imagined, more than he'd ever conceived of or dreamt. It ran through his body like a rising tidal wave, rushing through veins, pumping through his heart, exploding through organs and sinew until he was filled with power. Light radiated from his body as he burst through the layers of soil to the surface. Dirt geysered up, hitting the high rock ceiling above his head and spraying across the room.

He landed in a crouch, senses flaring out, scanning, his mind racing, trying to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together. He had escaped at last. His mind almost couldn't grasp the truth of it. He remembered running through the snow, shivering, his strength so far gone he couldn't control his body temperature, but he forced himself to keep going until he didn't have a single ounce of strength left. He had to get far enough away that Xavier and his servants wouldn't find him before the sun rose. The sun. Every Carpathian's last resort was to cleanse their soul with the bright white light. Even that had been denied him.

Xavier had been careless. Fear had been his downfall. Fear that if he fed Razvan too much, he would lose control of him, so the mage had forced his grandson to go for weeks without blood. Yet Xavier took from him daily-until finally Razvan was too weak and sick to stand, or to supply the greedy mage with the life-giving Carpathian fluid.

He remembered that empty, weak feeling, the near insanity of hunger, his body crying out, his teeth sharp and needy every moment that he was awake. Chained, he couldn't hunt for his own food. There were not even animals near to call to him. Every cell, every organ cried out, until his brain was nothing but a red haze of need. Now he felt only mildly hungry, not the constant gnawing hunger that had ruled his life for so many centuries.

He looked around him, realizing he was still deep beneath the earth, but it was warm. Somehow, glittering moonlight streamed in from above, yet he was deep beneath the earth in a rock cavern. He heard the sound of water but little else. He waved his hands, and candles sprang to life all over the room, instantly transforming it into a feminine sanctuary. The layers of rock above them were intricately carved with beautiful pictures, sweeping landscapes and trees and shrubbery, as if the outside world had been brought inside one small piece at a time, until the walls were a thing of beauty.

Feminine-the woman-the reason he was seeing in blazing color. The light and the color dazzled his eyes, burned after so long of seeing in gray and black and white. He remembered the soothing touch of her hands; her voice, soft and compelling; the way her blood tasted, addictive and hot as though made specifically for him. She had saved him when he'd told her not to do so. She'd worked a compulsion on him in spite of all his warnings, and now . . .

He felt. Everything. All of it. The guilt and the rage and the sense of absolute loneliness. He had no idea how to behave in civilized society. He had no knowledge of much other than deceit and torture, and now here he was, completely unprepared to be alive and well for the first time that he could remember in his centuries of existence.

Razvan stretched, feeling the play of muscle beneath his skin. His body felt so different, warm, alive, steel running beneath skin, so much power he trembled with it, uncertain how anyone could wield such strength without harming everything around him. He drew in a shaky breath and looked around again.

The woman-his lifemate-must have taken hundreds of years to carve out her home. It was unusual, but it appealed to him. There was something safe and comforting about it. He was upset with her for saving him. He couldn't stay to reprimand her or be tempted by her, of course, but at least he now had a fighting chance when he went after Xavier, and he knew he would. He couldn't allow the mage to continue spreading his evil through the world. He had to stop him, and now he might have the ability.

Razvan knelt to examine the large basin of soil. The depression was made of sheer rock. Impenetrable rock. The circular hollow that was her bed had been carved out, deep and wide, and then filled with the richest, purest, most heavily mineraled soil he'd ever seen. Unable to resist, he sank his hands into the black loam, feeling the soothing, rejuvenating properties.

Where had it come from? He sank back on his heels and studied the wide, deep hole. This soil had been brought here, one small bit at a time, yet now it was so many feet deep, he almost hadn't realized there was a bed of rock beneath it.

Who had the kind of patience it would take to first carve out a large chamber in a rock bed and then fill the basin with soil? It must have taken hundreds of years, yet she had conceived the idea and then painstakingly done it. He stood in one fluid motion, shocked at the way his body responded to the strength running through it, but he was more interested in the woman and what she had wrought than in how his body worked.