Christine Feehan - Dark Curse 19

The male tried to hold the female, talons digging deep even as he lost strength with the great flow of blood. The ground was coming at them fast.

Nicolas seized Lara's spirit, ripping her from the female dragon, shifting to mist and abandoning the mortally wounded dragons.

We can't leave them. Lara was horrified. And then she coughed. More droplets showered the clouds, falling like rain to dot the white landscape in red.

We have no choice. He held her to him with his ruthless determination, blocking out everything but the danger they were in.They are part real, part illusion, we are all real. We have to get to safety . He was wounded as well. Already in need of blood, he had given to Lara twice, he couldn't afford to lose much more-not and fight the undead.

Thunder cracked, the roar shaking the ground as a lightning bolt simultaneously slammed from ground to sky, narrowly missing them. As it was the shock wave threw them apart, and sent Lara tumbling toward the rocks below.

Nicolas reversed direction, masking her blood, shifting the air to cushion her and bring her down gently, even as he left himself exposed to draw the vampire's fire. It wasn't long in coming. Sensing an advantage, the undead revealed himself, swooping across the sky, streaking as fast as he could to get to the wounded hunter.

Lara landed softly in a snowdrift, holding up her hands to assure herself she was back in her own skin. The moment she moved, she felt pain knifing through her body and looked down to see her stomach coated in blood. She was sprawled naked in the snow, crimson streaks smearing the pristine whiteness around her.

Looking up, she saw Nicolas shifting back to his own body, meeting the vampire in a crashing blow that sent both tumbling out of the sky. Her heart nearly stopped, then began to pound so hard, blood splattered onto the ground. She had to do something. She pushed herself shakily to her feet and raised her arms overhead. She couldn't stop the vampire, but she could give Nicolas a few precious moments.

Ropes of silk, strong as iron, come forth now to hold and bind, legs of eight, fast to spin-spin

your web, holdfast within, weaver of the web hold tight, that we may stay, stand and fight.

Spiders dropped from the sky, raining down on the vampire as he fell. The vampire became entangled in the spider threads, shiny and thick, like the poisonous webs she'd practiced weaving in her cave when she first thought she might stop Xavier with such a thing.

The more the vampire fought the sticky ropes of silk, the faster the spiders spun and wrapped him up, giving Nicolas time to land in a crouch, scoop up precious soil from beneath the snow and press a hand front and back to stay the bleeding.

Use the soil, Lara. You are Carpathian enough for it to work. Mix it with your saliva and press it into your wounds.

She did need to stop the bleeding and weave clothes for her shivering body. She couldn't go into shock in case Nicolas needed her. She fell to her knees and dug through the snow until she uncovered the soil beneath. It took a moment to force herself to mix saliva with the dirt and pack her wounds, but she did it, all the while watching as the vampire hit the ground hard a few hundred yards from her.

Snarling with rage, red eyes glowing, the face was a mask of fury. He turned those soulless pits her way and bared his savagely sharp teeth.

Get out of here, Lara. Go now. Run to the village.

Leave him? How could she do that? She stretched her arms to the sky, needing clothes to cover her so she'd at least feel as if she had armor against the vile evil that tore through the silken spiderweb. Once more she turned to the snow spiders, calling on them to begin spinning their gossamer threads for her warmth this time.

Spin little spinners, weave little weavers, fit me tight. Spin and weave with your crystal light. Fit to me a second skin so that I might feel warmth again.

Hastily she ran across the ground away from the vampire, in the direction of the village. She made it into the tree line and stopped to drag on her clothes.

Chapter 11

Lara spun around, turning in circles, trying to find Nicolas and the vampire. One moment they had both been there and now she couldn't see either one of them. Cursing, she ran back out from the trees. The soil may have stopped the worst of the bleeding, but it didn't take away the pain of torn flesh. She could barely breathe with the pain, yet she managed to shove it aside in her anxiety for him.

Nicolas! The moment she called to him she was afraid she had distracted him at the worst possible moment.

Several yards away, just over a rise, she saw snow blast up into the air. She sprinted, or at least tried to, sinking ankle-deep into the powder. She needed snowshoes on her feet, or at the very least, the ability to run across the surface. Weaving a pattern with her graceful hands, Lara leapt as if she were a snow hare.

Strings of sinew, finest bone, bend and shape, form and hone. Weave and place upon these feet, lightest paws of a snow hare be.

Lara felt a tingling, stretching sensation in her feet as she landed back in the snow and hurried across the meadow toward the rising slope. The pain in her back and stomach grew with every step, but she forced her body forward, afraid for Nicolas. He had taken the brunt of the attack. Now she could hear the vampire snarling and growling. The sounds were hideous. Nicolas was totally silent, making her pulse pound and fear clutch at her.

Instinctively, her mind reached out to connect with Nicolas and found-a killer. There was no hint of her charming lifemate, so intent on courting her. There was no mercy, no gentleness, nothing but a killing machine made of sinew and bone, honed by centuries of battles and a mind made for combat.

She skidded to a halt, pressing her palm to her mouth. Did she want to see him like that? Know him like that? The killer was as much a part of him as that smooth, charming man, the one who had kissed her senseless and taken her on the wildest ride of her life, and he was in a fight for his life-both of their lives.

She knew evil when she saw it, and the vampire had the same peculiar odor as Xavier's pet mutations-the parasites. She pushed down the gathering bile caused by just the stench alone, and forced her body forward. She couldn't leave him wounded to fight a battle with such evil when she might find a way to help him.

Lara dropped down on her belly and scooted the rest of the way up the rise to peer over the snowbank. Below she could see sprays of crimson streaked across the sparkling snow, as if someone had thrown red paint in slashing lines in every direction. A lone tree, bent under the weight of the snow, stood as a sentinel watching the age-old battle between vampire and hunter.

Nicolas stood a distance from her, tall and straight, his hair flowing behind him, his eyes glowing with power. In spite of the injuries-now open where the vampire obviously had raked down his chest and belly with talons, tearing away the soil patch-Nicolas moved with fluid grace, a blurring speed she could barely comprehend, as he streaked across the snow to slam his fist deep into the chest of the vampire.

The vampire screamed and clawed at Nicolas's face, but the hunter had already leapt out of reach, using his tremendous speed. It hadn't been his first attack. Lara could see three deep wounds on the undead. The two combatants circled each other.

«Your woman will be fodder for animals. They'll eat her flesh and drink what I leave of her blood.»

Nicolas didn't reply, didn't engage in conversation. His gaze never left the vampire. His breath came slow and easy, although Lara couldn't imagine the agony he must have been in with his severe wounds. There was something about him. She couldn't help but admire the lone warrior, facing an enemy with such confidence, nothing in his mind but absolute victory.