Кристин Фихан: Dark Song

Elisabeta reacted, both with fear and with hope, tightening her fingers in his, knowing he was in her mind, although his touch was so light she could barely feel him there.

“ Sívamet , do not let your hope grow too much.” His voice was very gentle. “After so many centuries of not remembering, you most likely will not be able to on your own. Your brother, Traian, is here with his lifemate, Joie. He did search centuries for you, refusing to give up when everyone else did. He will return as many memories to you as he is able.”

She didn’t want to think too much on what her brother would expect of her and how much she would disappoint him. Instead she considered that it was twice now that Ferro had called her sívamet . His heart. An exact translation was “my heart.” For some reason that made her stomach do a slow-rolling pitch and then continue into a complete somersault. He was slowly stealing her heart when she thought she no longer possessed one. She thought Sergey had chopped her heart into little pieces and removed them from her one by one. He had taken her trust and stomped that into those pieces and then strewn them across the ground like so much trash because he had no use for such things. Somehow, Ferro was finding them. She didn’t know how he could do that. Just that he could frightened her more than everything else combined.

“Sergey is a vampire, Elisabeta, but in his own twisted way, he felt something for you. You provided him with some emotion, which is why he survived so many years when others completely failed. He needed your heart, sívamet , and your ability to allow him to feel if just a little emotion, twisted and obsessed as it was.”

She kept her eyes closed, one hand in his, the other fisted in the back of his shirt, matching her steps to his as they entered the house. It was cool inside, and she pretended it was just another cave. Another cage. She wasn’t lost, and a monster’s puppet with wicked serrated teeth wasn’t going to jump out at her and tear at her flesh and try to devour her alive while her master laughed in amusement.

Abruptly, Ferro spun around and swept her into his arms. “Elisabeta, you are breaking my heart. Why would this vampire treat you so cruelly to make you so frightened to enter a new dwelling? Your mind is consumed with terror. I feel every one of your senses flaring out, seeking his puppets, certain they will set upon you at any moment to try to rip as much flesh off you as possible before he calls them off. Why does he do this to you?”

She pressed her forehead to his chest, refusing to meet his eyes. Refusing to answer.

Ferro caught her chin and forced her head up so that she was looking into glittering iron-colored eyes. Those eyes had gone hard and scary. “He did this too many times. I command you to answer me.”

Elisabeta touched her tongue to her suddenly dry lips. “I refused to give him access to your soul. I told him I would suicide first. He allowed his puppets to consume children and I carried out my threat. He was barely able to save me that time. Twice more he did things to others I couldn’t tolerate, and I suicided. After that, he only punished me. I knew you would survive if I died. I would be reborn with your half of our soul intact, but if he was able to take it from me, you could be made his servant, and he would have been able to corrupt or harm you in other ways. I couldn’t take the chance.”

She rushed the confession, ashamed that she couldn’t think of any other solution than to suicide when she had been told the Carpathian hunters in the monastery had endured for centuries and locked themselves away because they hadn’t believed in meeting the dawn and giving up on their lifemates. That was only showing him once again that she was a . . .

“Do not.” He hissed the command at her in obvious displeasure. “If you persist in thinking you are a coward, I will insist on punishing you, Elisabeta, and I promised myself I would not frighten you. Still, it is there in your mind. I see the image as clear as day. You continue to view yourself as a coward in spite of my dictates to you. This is a clear rule I have set for you. One of the very few I have given you.”

She tried to duck her head, but his hand under her chin refused to budge. It was true. He hadn’t really given her too many rules. That was probably part of the problem she was experiencing. She needed clear lines at all times. She couldn’t help trembling a little, wondering what her punishment was going to be. Ferro was a very big man and extremely strong.

The pad of his thumb slid gently over her bottom lip twice. “I told you what your punishment would be, piŋe sarnanak . Surely you listened to me.”

Panic rose. What had he said? Had she blocked it out because it was so terrible, she couldn’t face it? Over the centuries, Sergey had subjected her to so many punishments, she was fairly certain she had managed to encounter all of the nonlethal ones.

Ferro bent his head toward her, a faint smile in his eyes. “I do not think minan piŋe sarnanak listened at all,” he murmured, not sounding angry.

He sounded velvet soft. Like faint paint strokes brushing gently over her mind. Something else she couldn’t identify, something that turned her inside out. His lips brushed hers with such exquisite gentleness her heart turned over. Everything else in her froze. He kissed the corner of her mouth and then his teeth tugged at her lower lip and every nerve ending in her body leapt to life. She had never been so aware of herself as a woman. Her breasts ached and felt swollen and hot. Her nipples tingled and felt like hard pebbles. Lower, between her legs, she went damp and her sex clenched.

“Do not think you are a coward, Elisabeta. You are a very courageous woman. You are my woman. I am one of the most feared hunters on the planet. You are my lifemate for a reason. You are hän ku vigyáz sívamet és sielamet , keeper of my heart and soul, and you did just that. You guarded both for centuries under the worst of circumstances. I want you to remove my shirt, piŋe sarnanak . I have something to show you. Something that is for you alone.”

He stepped back and she actually felt the loss of both his strength and heat. Her hands went to the buttons, little squares she recognized as old-fashioned. Her lifemate hadn’t caught up with the times in his clothing as he had with hers. She pushed the little squares through the buttonholes and the edges of the material fell open so that he could shrug off the shirt. She took it automatically, rather than allowing it to fall to the floor.

He had tattoos scarred into his body, inked in the ancient language. He turned so she could read what he had so painstakingly put into his skin when Carpathians rarely scarred.

Olen wäkeva kuntankért . Staying strong for our people.

Olen wäkeva pita belső kulymet . Staying strong to keep the demon inside.

Olen wäkeva— félért ku vigyázak . Staying strong for her.

Hängemért . Only her.

Elisabeta read the lines several times, wanting—no—needing to commit them to memory. Seeing the words inked into his skin, knowing he had to have had them done repeatedly in order for the scars to actually take effect, nearly brought her to her knees. Staying strong for her . She had tried to stay strong for him. It was the only thing she had held out for. The only thing she had managed to keep from Sergey—Ferro’s soul. His light. She had that in her keeping and she had steadfastly refused to give it up no matter what he had done to her or to others.

Ferro slid into his shirt easily, and turned back to her, standing still, as if waiting for her to button it for him. Elisabeta did so with shaking fingers.