Кристин Фихан - Dark Song

“That’s enough, Elisabeta,” Ferro said finally, gently stroking her hair. “In all the years of my existence, no one has ever tasted the way you do. I hope it was the same for you.”

She reluctantly slid her tongue across the pinpricks to close them and lifted her head away from temptation. She nodded. “It was.”

He continued to stroke her hair. “That is a good thing. I want you to come to me when you are hungry. If you can’t find me, reach out to me. Don’t wait until you feel starved. You will need extra feedings for a while.”

At once panic set in. “I won’t be with you? If I’m not with you, won’t I be in the ground? I can’t be on my own. I won’t know what to do.” Her heart rate had gone crazy and her lungs burned for air. She couldn’t do this. She really couldn’t. She couldn’t even look around her, let alone be on her own. Just because he held her and gave her blood and gave her permission to speak didn’t mean she could maneuver her way through a world she didn’t know or understand.

She clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from blurting out another word. It was already far too late. He could read her mind anyway. She’d gone from appearing half normal—or at least she hoped she looked that way—to looking insane. He was stuck with crazy. She did try to crawl off his lap back to the welcoming soil. It was impossible to move when Ferro didn’t want her going anywhere. He simply clamped his arms around her and held her to him.

“You are having another panic attack. Breathe. I am not going to leave you on your own until you are ready. Stay still, piŋe sarnanak . Just breathe while we go over a few more rules.”

She could do that. Rules made her feel safe. She liked rules. He stroked her hair in that soothing way he had, and she found herself following his breathing pattern. She liked that he called her “little songbird.” It sounded a little like an endearment. He wasn’t making fun of her, or taunting her. He seemed only gentle when he could crush her so easily.

“I know that you are very afraid of Malinov attacking this compound.”

She gasped at his audacity in naming the master vampire. She even put her fingers up to cover his lips before she could stop herself. It was a terrible transgression, and the moment she did it, she knew she should be punished. She dropped her hand into her lap and bowed her head.

“I’m sorry. Truly. I shouldn’t have touched you without permission. There is no excuse. Whatever you deem is a fit punishment . . .”

Ferro caught her hand and returned her fingertips to his lips. “I am your lifemate. You are allowed to touch me when you wish or have need. Sometimes those needs will be for comfort, other times they might be sexual. You might just want to feel close. Whatever the reason, there is no need to ask for permission. I intend to touch you at will.”

She was confused, frowning at him. “But I belong to you. You have the right to touch me when you desire to do so.”

He shook his head. “I belong to you as well, Elisabeta, but we are lifemates, not master and prisoner. Not master and slave owner. Not vampire and captive. Those days are over for you. He will not get you back. You have every right to say no. To me or to anyone else.”

Elisabeta was more confused than ever. Shocked even. She didn’t understand what he was telling her. It sounded so farfetched she was afraid he was trying to trick her. The inevitable panic began to well up and she pushed her fist into her mouth, biting down hard on her knuckles. She didn’t understand anything. The cool earth looked so good to her. She understood the richness, the wealth of the soil. The way it surrounded her body and eased the pain in her joints the tiny cage had caused when she couldn’t exercise properly or get enough blood to sustain her. This world she found herself in now was so foreign to her that she didn’t understand even one small part of it.

Ferro stroked more caresses in her hair, soothing her. “We are going to start with simple things. Do you remember how to clothe yourself or is this something the vampire insisted he do?”

That shamed her. “He did if he allowed clothing. He always made decisions.”

“Do you prefer to wear dresses or trousers?”

Her heart accelerated. Was it a trick question? What did he prefer?

She’d never worn trousers in her life. Not once. She knew Julija wore them, but they looked as if they might be uncomfortable. Would Ferro want her to wear them?

“Do you want me to wear dresses or trousers?” she countered, trying not to sound as timid as she felt.

“This is about what you want. There is no right or wrong answer, piŋe sarnanak , only what you would really prefer.”

She couldn’t possibly choose. There was no way. She hadn’t made a choice in hundreds of years. Not one single choice. She shook her head, refusing to look at him, refusing to answer.

Elisabeta expected him to be angry, frustrated, to lose patience with her, but his hand continued the gentle strokes in her hair. She realized her long, thick hair—hair that had never been cut—was clean, and as he burrowed his strong fingers into it to massage her scalp, the strands slid through his fingers free of tangles.

“I prefer dresses, but I am an ancient warrior, Elisabeta, not at all modern. I have not had time to catch up to this world. I do not want to color your choices with my own. Still, if you prefer me to choose for you at this time, I will show you two different dresses that I really like, and you can decide which one to wear this evening and which you will wear next rising. Is that acceptable to you?”

She would still have to make a choice, but he liked both dresses and, in the end, she would wear both of them. Her only choice was which to wear tonight and which the following rising. The thought of making that decision was still difficult but exciting. It was a decision. Her decision. Ferro was letting her choose.

“Yes, I like the idea very much,” she agreed.

“But it is still a little scary to you,” he said.

Of course he would know. There was no hiding her pounding pulse from him. She bit her lip and nodded slowly, daring to lift her lashes and sneak a peek at his face to see if he was exasperated with her. She wouldn’t blame him if he was. He looked so invincible, as if nothing in the world had ever frightened him. Nothing. How could he sit there so calmly in the middle of the healing grounds, taking his time as if he had nowhere else in the world to be but right there with her, sorting out the terrifying new world she found herself in?

“When you get very frightened, piŋe sarnanak , always remember that you have only to look into your mind and I am there with you. You can hear our song. It soothes you every rising. The sound of the rain calling to you to awaken. When you hear that, it is our combined heartbeat. No matter even if I am holding you, if you wish to soothe yourself first, our song is there in your mind. I will admit, I prefer to be the one to care for you, but I want you to know that you are capable of standing on your own two feet always. The vampire took that from you, but I intend to give it back to you. You are not without your own power, Elisabeta. You will learn, with time, to believe in yourself. To know you’re strong. I want that for you.”

She was his lifemate. More, she had spent centuries tuned to the slightest nuance of her master’s voice. His body language. His breathing. “You do want that for me, but you do not want that for you.” It was utterly daring of her to state what she knew to be truth aloud, to basically contradict him. Had she done so with Sergey, it would have earned her such a beating she wouldn’t have been able to move for a month. Maybe she was testing Ferro’s limit. The truth of his rules.