Кристин Фихан - Dark Song

She wasn’t understanding what he was trying to say. She wouldn’t, because she was so caring and compassionate and it wouldn’t occur to her that he was in any way holding her back.

“Elisabeta, I am sometimes pulled in two directions,” he confessed reluctantly. “You have a giving, loving nature. I do not want to take unfair advantage of you. If I do so, I do it without realizing that I’m doing so. I confess I like you to rely on me, but by encouraging that behavior rather than insisting you speak with others I am only hampering your independence. I do not want that for you.” That was both true and not. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to find the right way to express his feelings honestly.

He wanted to be her anchor. He liked the intimacy of their merged minds when it was only the two of them speaking together, when she looked just to him. On the other hand, he wanted the world for her. The world meant she needed to come wholly into herself as a woman capable of standing on her own feet.

“I want you to always feel as if you are a fully confident woman. Fully capable in your own right of doing anything you feel you wish to do. You will never reach that if I keep you dependent on me as Sergey did.”

That was one of the most difficult, painful confessions he had to make to her. It hurt. He was grateful he was standing behind her, not looking into her eyes. He didn’t like to feel as if he were letting her down in any way, or that he was falling short of what a true partner should be. He was feeling his way with her, still trying to find a balance of letting go and holding her close when she needed it.

Love swamped him, slipped gently into his mind, a warmth beyond anything he’d known, filling him up until there was only Elisabeta and her sweet serenity. Her fragrance was in his mind, that soothing tranquility she projected when she merged with him, when they simply talked intimately. He never wanted to give that up.

You have always encouraged me, Ferro. You opened the door to my cage that very first rising and since have been giving me the tools I needed to learn to fly on my own. I appreciate you so much. I do .

He nuzzled the top of her head, his heart hurting. Pounding with love for her. Swelling with pride. He was a warrior, a skilled hunter, and he couldn’t conceive of the courage it took to face the challenges she faced each rising.

I will always be me, she continued. I will always have the kind of nature I have. It is possible, even probable, the centuries as a prisoner added to my natural sensitivity. I developed certain skills, honed them much more than I might have had I not been locked up. I feel things very deeply and sometimes cannot turn that off. You shield me when I cannot do so. You are my shelter. My refuge. I count on you and retreat when I know I cannot take any more bruising .

“Any more bruising?” He didn’t like the sound of that. He went very still inside. Had he pushed her too hard? Was he guilty of listening to the voices around him instead of being in tune with his lifemate’s needs? “What do you mean, Elisabeta? Am I not taking proper care of you? You promised me you would always tell me if you were upset with anything.”

I do push myself, Ferro. I do because I want to be strong and always stand with you as your partner. It does not upset me to do that, but it does feel as if sometimes I am battered and cannot even look at my surroundings one more moment .

“Elisabeta.” He breathed her name. With reverence. With regret. How could he not see her struggle? He was merged with her, yet he had not known.

He stood in the shadows of the courtyard while around them the music of the Dark Troubadours played, the hauntingly beautiful voice of their singer, Desari, floating into the air, touching all within hearing distance. She had a gift, and yet in that moment, Ferro could hear only what his woman had admitted to him. How had he not known?

He was used to the wild country. The mountains and forests, not the cities with houses and so many people. His instincts were honed beyond even the majority of the Carpathians’ greatest hunters, yet his own lifemate, a gentle, compassionate woman, suffered because he hadn’t been able to see her pain. That was unconscionable. Unacceptable.

He had gone to the monastery when he had proven to be too dangerous even to his own kind. The mists had surrounded him when he was in those thick walls, behind the heavy gates, but that protection had enhanced his instincts, not diminished them.

“How could I not know you were struggling, sívamet ? How could you not share this with me? You had to have found a way to hide this from your lifemate.”

He found himself hurt—and that was a rare and unfamiliar emotion, as was the anger that mixed with it. “Omission is dishonesty, Elisabeta. By your omitting what was happening to you, I was unable to take proper care of you. How did you hide this from me?” He poured demand into his voice, and for the first time he truly didn’t care if he sounded too much like a dominant, demanding male.

She was silent for a long moment while he worked at breathing in and out of his lungs in a deep, natural pattern. He kept his heartbeat steady. He didn’t tighten his hands or his arms on her when he wanted to crush her to him. She needed him to be calm for her. Fine tremors went through her body, all too reminiscent of when she first had risen to his beckoning song.

She had come a long way in a short time, but truthfully, he had expected too much from her. Everyone had. She had risen to the occasion because he had asked it of her. Ferro nearly groaned aloud. Desari’s voice, so hauntingly beautiful, filled the night sky. The sound of the children’s delighted laughter added to the beauty of the evening. His woman stood at the edge of the courtyard with a virtual crowd moving around her. Men and women dancing, dragons in the air, wheeling and dipping as their riders gave the young children a thrill. This was all new to his woman and yet she was expected to participate.

He waited, knowing Elisabeta took her time when she answered anything that she felt was very important to him, choosing her words carefully. He would have stopped her, told her he was the one in the wrong, but he had to know how she hid things from him. It couldn’t continue. He had to have access to all parts of her mind. He never wanted her to suffer, or feel bruised and battered. If they were going too fast in her lessons, or she didn’t want to learn to be so modern, they had centuries to learn. He had to know when to stop her. She clearly wasn’t going to tell him.

I am very sorry, Ferro. I have been alone for so long and had to be so careful of my thoughts that it is automatic for me to compartmentalize. I think of my mind like a beehive and place different thoughts in these little cells. I do not hide things from you on purpose. I would not do that. I turn to you when I know I cannot take any more .

“I do not understand, Elisabeta. I have full access to your mind, yet I do not see these cells you have hidden. Why?” He was careful to keep a neutral tone. He wasn’t angry with her and didn’t want her to think that he was. This misunderstanding was on him. That didn’t negate the fact that he had to see these hidden compartments and always have access to them in case she was “bruised and battered” again.

I had to keep Sergey from seeing into the places of my mind I didn’t want him to see. The same with any of his brothers or cousins, just in case one found out about me. I hid the tiny cells in the walls so they appeared perfectly normal, as if they were part of the structure of my mind. I had centuries to perfect the images and to keep them from ever being given away. Even the healer did not discover them when he repeatedly inspected my mind . There was a hint of satisfaction in her voice.