Dark Tarot (Dark Carpathians)

“The gate. I never once showed you a drawing of the gate. I never described it as having double entries. It is there in the book my mother gave to me, and the gate is exactly as you describe, including the goddess burned deep into the double doors hewn of ancient wood. How would you know that?”

“Look into my memories, Sivamet, but do not see what happens to you in my memories, only concentrate on the glimpses I got through the flames of the gates and the voice that rose to chant with mine.”

He knew it was going to be difficult for her not to see those illusions of her torture, but he really needed her to merge deeper, to find the gates and hear the voice. Particularly the voice. Was that real? It was a low timbre. A rumble like low thunder in the distance. More beast than human. In fact, when he replayed it in his head, each ancient syllable had been a growling snarl.

Adalasia didn’t wait for him to ask again. His lifemate, believing in him, standing with him, Sandu realized how lucky he was. Had he been able, he would have commanded her to remain far from the shadow realm. The ancient in him demanded he keep her safe, not allow her to fight the demons as she’d been trained, but somewhere, he had learned compromise with his new lifemate. He had learned that all the old ways weren’t necessarily the best or only ways. His lifemate was extraordinary.

“You’re staring at me.”

“I like looking at you.”

“It’s distracting.”

A slow smile began somewhere deep. Already, without the answers he needed, she was beginning to work her magic on him. He let go of her hand and reached for her waist, lifting her from where she knelt in front of him to settle her on his lap, facing away from him. He pushed her long thick braid over one shoulder with his chin.

“Now what are you doing?” There was a faint hint of amusement in her voice.

“I cannot distract you if you are facing away from me, Sivamet. There can be no staring. You can merge your mind with mine without fear of interference.” He turned his head so his teeth could find the little shell of her ear. That sweet little earlobe that called to him.

Adalasia laughed softly. “You’re definitely feeling better. Behave while I look and listen.” She merged seamlessly with him and moved through his memories without hesitation.

Sandu found he wanted to distract her, but he didn’t. He merely slid his arms around her, clasping his hands together beneath the temptation of her breasts.

Sandu turned his face into Adalasia’s neck and inhaled the fragrance that was so unique to her. Wild plum and clove. Orange blossom and rose. The natural perfume of her skin drove out the fragmented pieces of demons clinging to his mind. He ran his lips up and down her neck, savoring the feel of her, the scent of her. All the while, he could feel her merged with him, moving in his mind, searching through his memories.

She leaned her weight back against him as she pulled out of his past. “I saw the gate holding strong, just as you saw it, Sandu. I heard the sound of a male chanting the vows with you in the ancient Carpathian language. You were right, he sounded more beast than man. More demonic than Carpathian.”

He pressed his mouth against her pulse. The beat that was steady and rhythmic that called to him. He needed to feel his skin against hers. He had been so close to being the very thing that was trapped behind those gates. A demon beyond all reasoning.

“We don’t know that,” Adalasia whispered, reading him. “We don’t know that he’s that far gone.”

“I reached out to him, ewal emninumam. Once I realized he was an ancient, I tried to connect in the hope that two ancients could break free of the demons. His mind was nothing but red fury, a haze I couldn’t break through. I didn’t want to be right about him. I told myself it was another demon. Another illusion. He’s an ancient Carpathian, Adalasia. For a moment, he even felt familiar to me, as if I knew him. Then all was lost in that red fury. That could have been me. Without you, that most likely would be me.”

More than anything, Sandu wanted to be wrong. He shed his clothing. At the same time, he dispensed with her clothes—everything—not wanting a hint of material on either of them. He only wanted her skin next to his. He needed that. Needed to feel every inch of her body. He waited a moment, thinking she might protest, but she only gave a little moan, her body moving subtly against his. An enticement. An invitation. He cupped the soft weight of her breasts in his palms, thumbs sliding over her nipples.