Dark Melody (Dark 12)

"Come here to me, my love," Barack said softly, gliding to his lifemate even as he gave the command. He enfolded her in his arms. "You are drooping with weariness and you must feed."

"Cullen needs blood fast, Barack, or he may not make it. I am not a true healer like Darius or Gregori. I have never attempted such a healing before." Syndil rested her head on his chest, her fatigue catching up with her. "I do not know if I have done enough for him. My gift is in healing the earth, not humans or Carpathians. You must give him blood."

"You come before Cullen, Syndil," Barack said gently, his voice an invitation. Beneath her ear his heart was a steady beat; she could hear the beckoning of his blood, the ebb and flow of the essence of his life.

Her arms circled his neck and she moved against him, restless and in need.

Syndil said his name softly as she slowly began to unbutton his shirt, her fingertips smoothing over the heavy muscles of his chest. She felt his body clench in answer, in anticipation. As always, she wondered anew at the beautiful mystery of their union. Barack. Her lifemate. She had known him throughout her long existence, and yet had not known the wonders of a true union until recently. The simple act of feeding was no longer just that. It was erotic and filled her with pleasure, with needs far beyond satiating hunger. She nuzzled his chest, smiled when his hands gripped her hair and his body moved aggressively against hers. Teasingly she nipped his chest, swirled her tongue over his jumping pulse, allowing the movement to trigger her incisors.

Barack groaned and pulled her tightly against him, wrapping her close while she fed. In the midst of the danger, with Cullen at the top of the society's hit list, Barack still felt the jolt of urgent need riding him hard. Syndil was careful - he could feel the hunger in her, sharp and fierce - but she took only enough to sustain her so Barack could give Cullen necessary blood as well. Afterward, Barack would always have a connection to Cullen, and Cullen to Barack, but they had no choice. If the mortal was to survive, he needed their healing blood to aid in repairing his damaged organs. Very carefully she closed the tiny pinpricks with the healing agent in her saliva and lifted her head, her eyes drowsy and slumberous. Barack bent his head at once to find her mouth, kissing her hard. "I am very proud of you, Syndil," he said softly.

"He is brave," Syndil replied, "and a good friend to us. He has risked his life many times. I wish Gregori or Darius had come to do this."

"You did fine." Barack reluctantly released her and sat on the edge of the bed. "I will give him blood, Syndil, and then we must take both of them out of here. Do not allow the woman to give you any trouble. Take control of her at once. No chances."

Syndil ruffled his hair as if he were a mere boy instead of the enormously strong man that he was. "Stop with the woman bit, Barack. Have you not touched her mind?"

"Who would want to except to command?"

"She was terribly traumatized. She does not see things she is afraid of because her mind does not allow it. She is merely protecting herself. It is the only way her mind could remain sane. Lisa is reliant on Corinne and clings to her as a safety net. Corinne is much stronger and must have realized it at an early age. She protects Lisa from the outside world, and Lisa knows she cannot get along without her. I have looked into her mind. She knows she needs a buffer."

Barack ducked his head, ashamed. "I do not deserve you. I never have."

"Very true," Syndil said complacently, "but I think I will keep you around anyway." She watched as he bent and lifted Cullen into his arms. Observing the expression on his face, her heart skipped a beat. Barack felt strong affection for the human, something few of their kind ever experienced. It was always necessary to keep a distance from humans so that no one ever found evidence their species existed. It was becoming more difficult as computers and travel made the world a much smaller place.

Barack murmured the ritual healing chant softly as he forced his blood into Cullen. A small amount only to aid in the healing of his broken and torn body. By their laws they should not have done so. They should have allowed him to die naturally, but Darius ruled their family, and to them he was a higher authority than the Prince of the Carpathians. It was Darius who had decreed Cullen was to be saved if possible. To Barack and Syndil, that meant they could use any means possible.

Syndil brushed back Cullen's hair with gentle fingers. "I am happy he is the one who found Lisa. He will always care for her and appreciate her goodness, where another man might see only her weakness."

Barack's black eyes fixed on her face. "I have apologized for my error."

She smiled at him. "It was an idle comment, not directed toward you, Barack, but I am glad you feel remorse for prejudging Cullen's choice so harshly before you touched her mind to find out if she was worthy of him. She will love him and be faithful. She will want only to please him and make him happy. Theirs is a good match. He needs to be needed, Barack."

Barack stopped the flow of blood from his wrist with a casual stroke of his tongue. "I am certain you are right, Syndil." He touched Cullen's mind to be sure that he was breathing easier, that his body had accepted the small amount of blood and was utilizing it to heal the terrible wounds. "We must take him out of here quickly, Syndil, to the safe house where we can better protect him. Call Lisa back to us."

Syndil took a step toward the closed door, then stopped abruptly, her alarmed gaze going to Barack's. "They are here. They have come for Cullen. We should have known they would move quickly to eliminate him. They consider him a threat and a traitor. Of course they would want to finish the job."

Barack could feel the vibrations of violence in the air, coming toward the room. "Four of them." He said it unnecessarily, tersely; Syndil could pick up the thoughts of violence as easily as he. "I will take Cullen, while you remove Lisa from danger. Call me if you have need of my aid to shield the two of you." He was already scooping Cullen easily into his arms, creating the illusion that Cullen remained lying helpless and still in the bed alone.

Syndil gave a very feminine cough of derision. She was an ancient, capable of walking unseen among humans and keeping Lisa from being seen as well. She dissolved instantly into mist and streamed from the room as the four human assassins shoved open the door. They stood a distance from the bed, pointing weapons at the motionless body they perceived to be there. The sound of the guns was muted, like a soft spitting that no one would hear beyond the door. Barack dulled it even further, directing the security guards and nurses away from the area to keep the humans as safe as possible.

Barack, waiting in the corner with Cullen in his arms, watched as the assassins repeatedly shot into the bed. None of them saw Barack - he had cloaked his presence - but they could feel the unusual coldness permeating the room. One of the society members moved forward to check the body, and as the others watched, Barack slipped past them. He heard their shouts of consternation and angry frustration that they had been so easily tricked, and once again Cullen had escaped their vengeance.

Hurrying down the long hall away from the assassins, Barack called out to warn Darius of the plot.

They are here, he communicated simply. With Darius, there was no need for embellishing. Darius protected his own, and he considered Cullen part of their extended family. Darius would come in all haste and bring justice to the assassins.

There was no need for Barack to inform Syndil of what was happening since he was always a shadow in her mind. He was well aware of her taking control of Lisa and shielding both of them from prying eyes as they made their way out of the hospital. Syndil put Lisa in a hypnotic trance in order to transport her in the fastest way possible, through the air, just as Barack was doing with Cullen. The two humans would be taken to a safe house deep within the mountains where they could be more adequately guarded.

Corinne sat in her bed regarding Dayan steadily. The healers were chanting softly, she could hear them in her mind. The atmosphere was soothing, tranquil even, but she was on the verge of a discovery. What was it she was thinking? That Dayan wasn't human? Not of this world? What, then? An alien being? She shoved at the hair tumbling around her face as she studied Dayan's mesmerizing features. Did it matter so very much one way or the other? How had they taken her to a cave deep within the earth and performed an exotic healing ritual that had actually worked? Was all of it real, or only parts of it? She pushed the idea of a blood exchange out of her mind.

She laced her fingers through his. "Tell me, Dayan, the truth about all of you. I need to know. What are you?"

The healing chant stopped abruptly at her softly spoken words. Desari glanced at Darius. "Perhaps we can return at a more convenient time to check on you, Corinne," Desari offered gently. She smiled sweetly at the healer. "Gregori, would it be an inconvenience to return at a more suitable time?"

Gregori lifted an eyebrow at his sister. Aloud he sighed. "I think it would be best. We will return later."

Darius cautioned Dayan silently.

Be very careful, Dayan. She must not be upset in any way. Gregori will monitor her heart from a distance, and I will watch over the infant. She has need of answers, and I believe she is more receptive than you give her credit for.

Corinne watched as the three Carpathians left the room and quietly closed the door behind them, leaving her alone with Dayan. He stood up abruptly, restlessly.

She looked up at him with her large, clear eyes. "I think it is time for you to talk to me about what and who you are. Start at the beginning. Where are your parents?"

"They are dead - murdered, as your mother was," he answered starkly. Dayan paced restlessly across the room, swept a hand through his long hair, leaving it disheveled in the wake of his marauding fingers. He suddenly reached down and caught up his beloved guitar, holding it close to his body like a talisman.

Corinne smiled to herself. His guitar. She was beginning to notice that he needed it in his arms when he was nervous, and he was nervous now. He was adept at asking her questions and invading her mind to get to know her, but he didn't like that same spotlight turned back on him. She had never seen him so nervous. "Dayan." She said his name softly, gently, and patted the bed beside her. "You look like a caged leopard in a zoo, pacing back and forth." She didn't add that he reminded her of a little boy clutching his favorite blanket. "Is it so bad to trust me with the truth?"

He looked down at her, his black eyes brooding and moody. "What happens if you cannot accept me as I am? What happens if I frighten you with the truth and your heart fails you?"

"Do you think I'm that weak, Dayan?" she asked gently. "My body is fragile - I've learned to accept that - but I'm not a weak person. I never have been." She held out her hand to him. "Stop pacing and sit by me."

Dayan stood for a long moment, his guitar across his chest, his eyes reflecting inner turmoil. Slowly, reluctantly, he crossed the room to sit carefully on the bed beside her. He enveloped her small hand with his larger one. "My heart could not take your rejection, honey. Not for one moment. Be very sure that you want to have this conversation now."

"I am certain, Dayan. You think your feelings for me are very strong. Well, I have loved before. John." She said her husband's name and silently watched Dayan's involuntary wince. "Don't feel that way about him, Dayan. He was a remarkable man and deserved far better than a woman who didn't love him the way he should have been loved. I know how strong my feelings for you already are. I tried to tell myself the attraction was purely sexual, but I think about you - your expressions, the way you smile, the turn of your head. Everything. Even the silly things like how you can be childish sometimes. I find myself thinking it's an endearing trait. That's not due entirely to chemistry."

He sighed. "I am not going to ask what is childishly endearing."

She smiled at him. "No, you're not. You're going to tell me about your childhood. About yourself, so I get to know you."

He brought her fingers to his mouth, wanting - no needing - the reassurance of being close to her. "I grew up with Darius, Desari, Barack, Syndil and another called Savon. We were alone as children, with no adult to guide us. It was Darius who took responsibility for us. He was six years old and already showing signs of great power and strength of will. It was Darius who took most of the risks for us."

His teeth were nibbling anxiously at her fingertips, but he seemed unaware of it. Corinne regarded him steadily. "How did a group of children like that slip through social services? How did you all manage to eat and sleep?"

"We were separated from our people and were believed to have been murdered along with our parents. There was a shipwreck, and we ended up in Africa. That is where we grew up. Our band travels with leopards; we raised them. We actually learned quite a bit from animals. It was a difficult time but also very rewarding."

Corinne's small teeth scraped at her lower lip. She believed him, although it seemed impossible that six children could survive in Africa alone. The continent was wild and untamed. Something in her recognized the truth in his simple explanation, yet she knew there was much more he wasn't telling her.

"Dayan," she said softly, bringing his dark gaze to hers. "You either trust me or you don't. You have to make up your mind."

"What if I tell you I am not human?" He said it quietly, his teeth biting harder at her knuckles. "What if I told you my parents had died during the Turk wars? Would that frighten you away from me?"

Corinne's heart accelerated for a moment, and she was glad for the diversion, happy to be able to concentrate on slowing it down, giving herself time to think. She had suspected there was something not quite human about Dayan, but to hear him confirm it was something else altogether.

The Turk wars? What did that make him?

"I would hope I'm not that big a coward. Are you something other than what you've shown me? Because the man I'm attracted to is gentle and caring and unbelievably wonderful." She was feeling her way, trying to encourage him and yet give herself the time she needed to assimilate the information he was giving her.

He looked away from her, unable to face her condemnation. "I want to be gentle and caring, Corinne, but in truth I am a predator," he said regretfully. "You are all that is good and right within me."

Corinne shook her head in denial. "You're so much more than a predator, whatever that means, Dayan. You're a poet without equal. The words that pour out of your soul, the incomparable music you make - that is who you are. The other is a part of your nature, perhaps, but only a small part. You couldn't say the things you say, the beautiful words you give to me, without feeling them deep within you."

He opened her hand, studied her lifeline for a moment before pressing a kiss into the center of her palm. "I felt so many things in my youth, so much music, it seemed I was music. I heard it everywhere, in the earth and sky, the trees, the animals. I heard it and knew it was my world. Slowly it faded away. It was terrifying to realize I was going to lose it, so I wrote songs, hundreds of songs, thousands of songs, pouring out the notes and words and committing them to memory. Over the years those memories were what I relied on to get me through the darkness. I didn't feel the words or music anymore, but I had the memories to sustain me. I could touch others who felt the joy of love and laughter and draw upon their emotions to create what I needed."

He studied her face, his black gaze drifting over her possessively, lovingly, with so much hunger and need she could feel her body melting under his scrutiny. "You cannot possibly understand until you are able to merge your mind fully with mine. I knew utter bleakness, a black, empty void. Without my music, without my soul, I wandered the earth not understanding what I was, not willing to accept what I was. What I am."

She touched his face with gentle fingers. "What you are is a man with exceptional gifts, Dayan. The things you are talking about I see occasional glimpses of - I won't pretend I don't - but that is not who you are."

His perfectly chiseled lips curved into a beguiling smile, and he deliberately drew her finger into the moist cavern of his mouth. "You think I am an alien being from another planet." There was teasing laughter in his voice.

Corinne found herself grinning at him sheepishly. "It could happen."

"I am Carpathian. We are as old as time, doomed to wander the earth until we make the choice to give up our lives. Our males are dark, deadly predators; the beast lies strong within us, ever growing until such time as we find our lifemates to anchor us in the world of light."

Corinne knew he was telling her something of great importance, but she truly didn't understand him. "I have never heard the term Carpathian.

If I still remember my geography, there is a range of mountains, the Carpathian Mountains in Romania and Transylvania..." She trailed off as the significance of that region hit her. She remembered vividly the strange twist her dream in the cave had taken. She was silent for a moment, gathering her courage. "Did you give me your blood?" she asked very quietly, unsure whether she wanted him to answer her.

"Are you certain you want the truth?"

She shrugged her shoulders, a delicately feminine motion. "I want the truth, Dayan, though I'm not certain I can take it. I wasn't dreaming in that cave, was I? It all happened just as I remember it. All those people were there to help you save my life. And you gave me your blood. Why? What did that do for me?" She tried to be very analytical about it, afraid that if she dwelled too long on the subject, she would be sick.

She swallowed hard. "Why did you feel it was necessary?"

"To save your life and the life of the baby." Dayan watched her expressive face carefully, was a shadow in her mind monitoring her thoughts. He listened to her heart and breathing for signs of extreme stress.

Corinne sat very still, allowed her heart to follow the stronger, steadier beat of his. She nodded, not fully comprehending but knowing she was getting closer to the truth. If his blood could save her daughter, then it was worth everything to her. She gathered her courage, watched his face intently. "Are you a vampire, Dayan?" She felt somewhat ridiculous asking such an absurd question, but she had never seen him in the daylight hours. Also, he was too mesmerizing. And if her strange dream had been a reality, he had given his blood to her in a rather unorthodox manner.

Dayan wanted to smile at her thoughts. Corinne was struggling to understand, heading in the right direction, while at the same time totally disbelieving her own wisdom. He liked the idea that she found him too anything. He was also aware that she had banished the actual picture of receiving his blood from her mind.

The pad of his thumb rubbed gently, soothingly, along her inner wrist. "Not a vampire, honey, but we share some of the same traits. A vampire is the undead, a Carpathian male who has chosen to give up his soul for the momentary pleasure of feeling the power of the kill. He is deceitful, treacherous and depraved. Wholly evil. Carpathians hunt down and destroy vampires. It is necessary for the preservation of mortals and immortals alike."

She stared at him with enormous moss-green eyes. Her mind went from racing to perfectly blank. She just stared at him. Carefully she cleared her throat, stalling for time. He believed every word he was saying. Either Dayan was telling the absolute truth or he was totally insane. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "Obviously, I don't know what to say." Her voice was neutral.

Dayan leaned down to brush the top of her silky head with his mouth. "You are not crazy, honey, and neither am I. Think about it. What can you hear that you should not be able to hear?"

Corinne continued to gaze at him, looking very young and vulnerable. Her face was pale, almost ashen, and it was becoming difficult for her to breathe. Automatically Dayan did it for her, taking over the job, directing her lungs to push air in and out. "By giving me your blood, did you make me like you?" Her voice was low, a mere thread of sound.

Dayan circled her slender shoulders with his arm. "We do not need to have this talk right now, my love. If you are not feeling up to it, I will remove your memories and we will try again at a later date."

Her eyebrows shot up. "You can do that? Remove my memories?" Suddenly she glared at him. "Have you done that?"

He shrugged casually, without remorse. "Partially. I made them hazy so you would not be frightened, but left them accessible should you ever wish to put the pieces of the puzzle together."

For a moment she stared at him; then she burst out laughing. "This really is crazy, you know, because I'm believing you and it's too bizarre for words."

"I cannot lie to you, Corinne. You have the ability, through our blood exchange, to look into my memories, into my mind, and see that I am telling you the truth. You are my lifemate. I would not attempt to deceive you for any reason."

"And a lifemate means...?" she prompted softly, struggling to comprehend.

"For a Carpathian male, there is only one chance at true life. We lose our feelings early. We have the memories of emotion to sustain us, and we have the ability to touch others so that we can share their feelings, but after centuries of loneliness and bleakness, it is difficult to maintain the illusion that life has meaning. The whisper of power calls us continually, a dark stain spreading over our souls. Some give up and seek eternal rest; others choose the darkness and become the things of legend - vampires."

"If all this is true, how can I be your other half when I am not Carpathian?" She wasn't certain she wanted the answer. She felt like his other half. She felt as if she belonged with him. Every moment spent in his company only made the feeling stronger. She knew nothing about him, yet she felt as if she knew everything. But if she believed what he was telling her, she would also have to believe in the legendary vampires.

"You have psychic ability. Human women who have paranormal abilities often seem to be able to link with us - at least that is what I have been told. Syndil and Barack are lifemates. Desari's lifemate, Julian, is Carpathian. But Darius found a human woman. Her name is Tempest, and she came to us through an ad Desari placed for a mechanic to travel with our band. Desari embedded a hidden compulsion in the ad in the hope that it would draw the right person to us, and Tempest answered."

"Is she human still?"

Dayan brought her fingertips to the warmth of his mouth, nipped gently, tenderly. "Tempest chose to save Darius's life and in doing so was fully brought over into our world. It was her choice, Corinne. Darius did not want any of us discussing the possibility with her, because he did not want to take any chances with her life."

"Chances?" she echoed. She was very tired all of a sudden and wished for the familiar comfort of Lisa.

Or John.

Dayan winced visibly. He knew it was natural for her, as natural as it would be for him to think of Desari or Syndil. He had spent several lifetimes with them and loved them deeply. Yet it bothered him that Corinne wanted the comfort of another man's company, of another man's arms. He knew he would love the baby; he already felt a strong bond with her. And if he was successful in saving Corinne's life, it would be his blood running in the child's veins.

Dayan's heart turned over at the thought of his child in her body. He framed her face with gentle hands. "There have been mistakes - human women who were not true lifemates, and they became deranged. Darius did not want to chance such a tragedy with his lady."

"What about you? You say you've given me your blood. Are you so willing to take a chance with my life?"

Dayan leaned forward to kiss her soft mouth because he had to. He couldn't see and feel her distress, her growing fear, without needing to reassure her in some way. The moment his mouth touched hers, feather-light, a brush only, his body clenched hotly and his blood turned to molten lava. She could do that to him with a look, a touch, with the taste of her perfect mouth. His fingers slipped around her face to clench in her hair, holding her still for his exploration.

Corinne responded immediately, kissing him back without hesitation, the electricity arcing between them as strong as ever. Her body seemed to melt into his with total acceptance. He made her feel instantly sheltered by him, protected. "I would never take a chance with your life, Corinne," he whispered fiercely against the corner of her mouth. "How could you think that? You are my life. My sanity. My music.

Without you, there is nothing. I have known that existence, and I will not go back to it. I believe my blood can save your life. That is what allowed Gregori to heal you to the extent that he did."

"But the repairs won't hold up," she guessed softly, snuggling deeper into his arms. She was very tired and knew she needed to sleep again, but she wanted to be as close to him as possible.

"No, honey, not for long. We are hoping for enough time to give the baby a chance. That is the biggest complication." He chose his words very carefully.

"If my heart won't last, why are you so certain you can save my life?" She murmured the words softly, not really caring about the answer. If he could save the life of her child, she would be more than grateful to him. It would be worth everything, every bad moment in her life.

"My blood would transform your internal organs, convert you to what we are. That is my intention, Corinne. I know you are my true lifemate and I know it will work. There are no doubts in my mind."

She raised her head, pushed at his chest to put space between them so she could look into his black eyes. "Make me like you?"

Her heart had skipped a beat, but went on steadily. She was simply watching him, almost as if she were observing the scene from a great distance. Dayan captured her hand, needing to hang on to her, suddenly afraid the blankness in her mind was a refusal of his intentions. "It is the only way, Corinne, the only thing that will save your life. If you live, I live. We have no other choice. Gregori said your heart was too far gone and he could only hope to keep it going long enough for the baby to be born."

Corinne framed his face with her hands, her green gaze steady. "Perhaps you should have thought to ask me what I might want. I believe in talking things over, and I certainly think a decision this big should be made by me, not for me."

Dayan nodded. "I will not lie to you, Corinne. I thought about discussing it with you and dismissed the idea. As it is, you are very weak; your heart is strained to the maximum. I would have had to explain everything to you - "

"Like you're doing now," she pointed out solemnly.

"I am attempting to explain," he conceded, "but I am monitoring your heart closely to be sure the information is not too frightening. It is not every day that one hears of another species."

"And that is what you are?"

Dayan nodded slowly, his black gaze holding hers, his mind firmly in hers to catch every thought that passed through her brain. "Yes. We are as old as time and we live long lives. Our blood is different, and we have many gifts. We can run with the animals, soar with the birds, become the mist should there be need. But there is a price for these gifts. You would inherit these abilities, but you would also pay the same price."

"Which is...?"

"The sun is harmful to us. Our bodies become like lead, paralyzed in the light of day. Those of us who have not chosen to lose our souls can move about in early morning and early evening while the undead are locked beneath the earth, but we are vulnerable during the afternoon. There are those who hunt us."

Corinne lay back among the pillows, pale and small. She took his breath away with her slight angelic smile. "Don't look so anxious, Dayan," she advised softly. "I am having more trouble believing this than accepting it for myself. I have never been able to run like other children. Now I am stuck on this bed, so weak I can't carry my own baby without help. You are the one keeping my heart beating." Her long eyelashes fanned down, two thick crescents against her white skin. "I am locked to this bed as surely as you say you are locked to the earth. The idea of running with animals and soaring with birds is very appealing to me. And I am already hunted. Remember, someone killed John and made another attempt on me. Although the threat is frightening, I can't pretend it didn't happen."

The relief sweeping through him left him feeling weak. Corinne laughed softly without opening her eyes. "Don't get too sure of yourself, Dayan. I haven't decided if you're a certified nutcase and I should be screaming down the house for help. I'm too tired to figure it out right now, so you're relatively safe at the moment."

"At least you are giving me a chance, Corinne, and I cannot ask for more than that. If it becomes necessary, I can remove your memories permanently."

"You can leave well enough alone, Dayan. I want to know you before I commit my life to your life. I met John when I was eleven years old. I thought I knew him well, but the truth is, I didn't."

He brushed his hand through the silk of her hair, a soothing caress meant to ease the tension in her. "You knew him. He did not know you."

She felt tears welling up out of nowhere. John. She never should have married him, never should have promised what she knew she couldn't give him. She had loved John, but not in the way she should have. Not in the way he deserved.

"Do not cry, baby, you are breaking my heart," he whispered softly, bending to kiss away her tears. He pulled his guitar into his lap, cradling the familiar instrument to him. His fingers began to move, flashing over the strings as if a spell had been cast over him. His offering. His comfort to her. A pouring out of his deepest soul.

Dayan played softly, his voice filling her mind with love and happiness, with dreams of a life together, with fantasies of running through the woods in the form of a wild cat, of flying through the air like an eagle, free and content. Of silk sheets and candlelight. Of children playing in the moonlight, singing along to his music. Of life. He was offering her life.