Christine Feehan: Dark Possession

You have no lifemate, Riordan said in denial. You have only dreamed of her.

You cannot trap me with such deceit. Go to your puppet master and tell him I am not so easily caught. He broke off the connection immediately and slammed closed all pathways, private and common, to his mind.

Spinning around, he took in his enemy, grown into so many faces from his past he knew he was facing death. «Come then, dance with me as you have so many times,» he ordered and beckoned with his fingers.

The first line of vampires closest to him howled, spittle running down their faces and holes for eyes glowing with hatred. «Join us, brother. You are one of us.»

They swayed, feet carrying out the strange hypnotic pattern of the undead. He heard them calling to him, but the sound was more in his head than out of it. Whispers. Buzzing. Drawing a veil over his mind. He shook his head to clear it, but the sounds persisted.

The vampires drew closer, and now he could feel the flutter of tattered clothing, torn and gray with age, brushing against his skin. Once again, the sensation of bugs crawling over his skin alarmed him. He spun around, trying to keep the enemy in his sight, and all the while the voices grew louder, more distinctive.

«Join us. Feel. You are so hungry. Starving. We can feel your heart stuttering. You need fresh blood. Adrenaline-laced blood is the best. You can feel!»

«Join us,» they cried, the entreaty loud and swelling in volume until it was a tidal wave rolling over him.

«Fresh blood. You need to survive. Just a taste. One taste. And the fear. Let them see you. Let them feel fear and the high is like nothing you've ever felt.»

The temptation made hunger grow until he couldn't think beyond the red haze in his mind.

«Look at yourself, brother, look at your face.»

He found himself on the ground, on his hands and knees, as if they'd shoved him, but he never felt the push.

He stared into the shimmering pond of water stretching before him. The skin on his face was pulled tightly over his bones. His mouth was wide in protest and not only his incisors but also his canines were long and sharp in anticipation.

He heard a heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Beckoning. Calling. His mouth watered. He was desperate-so hungry there was nothing to do but hunt. He had to find prey. Had to bite into a soft, warm neck so that the hot blood would burst into his mouth, fill every cell, wash through his organs and tissues and feed the tremendous strength and power of his kind. He could think of nothing else but the terrible swell of hunger, rising like a tide to consume him.

The heartbeat grew louder, and he slowly turned his head as a woman was pushed toward him. She looked frightened-and innocent. Her eyes were dark chocolate pools of terror. He could smell the adrenaline rushing through her bloodstream.

«Join us. Join us,» they whispered, the sound swelling to a hypnotic chant.

He needed dark, rich blood to survive. He deserved to live. What was she after all? Weak. Frightened. Could she save the human race from the monsters preying on them? Humans didn't believe they existed. And if they knew of Manolito, they would…

«Kill you,» hissed one.

«Torture you,» hissed another. «Look what they've done to you. You're starving. Who has helped you? Your brothers? Humans? We have brought you hot blood to feed you-to keep you alive.»

«Take her, brother, join us.»

They shoved the woman forward. She cried out, stumbled and fell against Manolito. She felt warm and alive against his cold body. Her heart beat frantically, calling to him as nothing else could. The pulse in her neck jumped rapidly and he smelled her fear. He could hear her blood rushing through her veins, hot and sweet and alive, giving him life.

He couldn't speak to reassure her; his mouth was too filled with his lengthened teeth and the need to crush his lips against the warmth of her neck. He dragged her closer still, until her much smaller body was nearly swallowed by his. Her heart took up the rhythm of his. The air burst from her lungs in terrified gasps.

Around him, he was aware of the vampires drawing closer, the shuffling of their feet, their cavernous mouths gaping wide in anticipation, strings of saliva dripping down while their pitiless eyes stared with wild glee. The night fell silent, only the sound of the girl struggling for air and the thundering of her heart filling the air. His head bent closer, lured by the scent of blood.

He was starving. Without blood he would be unable to defend himself. He needed this. He deserved it. He had spent centuries defending humans-humans who despised what he was, humans who feared his kind…

Manolito closed his eyes and blocked out the sound of that sweet, tempting heartbeat. The whispers were in his head. In his head. He swung around, shoving the girl behind him. «I will not! She is an innocent and will not be used in this manner.» Because he was too far gone and might not stop. He would have to fight them all, but he might be able to save her yet.

From behind him, the woman wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her lush, woman's body tightly against his, her hands sliding down his chest, his belly, lower still until she was stroking him, adding lust to hunger. «Not so innocent, Manolito. I'm yours, body and soul. I'm yours. You have only to taste me. I can

make it all go away.»

Manolito snarled, whirling around, shoving the woman from his body. «Go! Go with your friends and stay away from me.»

She laughed and writhed, touching herself. «You need me.»

«I need my lifemate. She will come to me and she will take care of my needs.»

Her face changed, the laughter fading, and she yanked at her hair in frustration. «You cannot escape this place. You are one of us. You betrayed her and you deserve to stay here.»

He didn't know-didn't remember. But all the temptation in the world would not make him change his mind. If he was to stay alive without food for centuries, enduring the torment of it, so be it, but he would not betray his lifemate. «You would have done better to tempt me to betray another,» he said. «Only she can judge me unworthy. So it is written in our laws. Only my lifemate can condemn me.»

He must have done something terrible. It was the second accusation of its kind, and the fact that she wasn't fighting at his side spoke volumes. He couldn't call her to him, because he remembered very little-certainly not a sin he had committed against her. He remembered her voice, soft and melodious, like an angel singing from the heavens-only she was saying she would have no part of a Carpathian male.

His heart jumped. Had she refused his claim? Had he bound her to him without her consent? It was accepted in his society, a protection for the male when a female was reluctant. That was not a betrayal. What could he have done? He would never have touched another woman. He would have protected her as he had Jacques's lifemate, with his life and beyond if possible.

He was in a place of judgment, and so far he didn't seem to be faring very well, and maybe that was because he wasn't remembering. He lifted his head and showed his teeth to hundreds, maybe thousands, of Carpathian males who had chosen to give up their souls, decimated their own species, ruining a society and a way of life for the rush of feeling rather than holding on to honor-rather than holding on to the memory of hope for a lifemate.

«I refuse your judgment. I will never belong with you. I may have stained my soul, perhaps beyond redemption, but I would never willingly give it up or trade my honor as you did. I may be all the things you have said, but I will face my lifemate, not you, and let her decide whether my sins can be forgiven.»

The vampires hissed, bony fingers pointing accusingly, but they didn't attack him. It made no sense-with their superior numbers they could easily destroy him-yet their forms grew less solid and seemed to waver, so it was difficult to distinguish between the undead and the shadows within the darkness of the rain forest.