Dark Demon (Dark 16)

"Damn it," Natalya whispered fiercely as she gathered the fallen hunter into her arms and looked around her, feeling desperate. "Don't do this." Over the years Natalya had tried to gather information about the Carpathians, partly because she knew she carried their blood, but mostly because she believed knowledge gave her advantages. She was fully aware they needed rich earth to heal. She used it on her wounds upon occasion. "I can't even pack your wounds with soil. The vampires have ruined the earth around here." She gave Vikirnoff a small shake. "What's left of the wolf pack might come back drawn by the scent of blood, or worse-that creature with the claws beneath the ground. Come on, wake up." The man weighed a ton. Okay, not a ton, but he may as well have. She was not going to wait around for the Troll King and his vamp buddies to make another try for her. They'd slunk off with their hearts in their hands and tails between their legs, but if they knew what a predicament she was in, they'd be back. "Fine, you big lug, I'll carry you. You just had to be a hero, didn't you? You couldn't leave when I asked you to, could you?"

Natalya tried a firemen's lift, but nothing happened. She was strong. She was stronger than most humans, but he was a dead weight and slippery with blood loss. She tied her pack on him, not wanting to lose her things and made a second attempt to hoist him to her shoulder.

Woman. What are you doing? In spite of his seemingly unconscious state, he managed to sound wholly exasperated.

Natalya nearly jumped out of her skin. "What does it look like? Someone has to save your butt and since no one else is waving their hand to volunteer, you're stuck with me." There was no way she could haul him down the mountain. No way. The dread inside of her was growing as each minute ticked by. "You were supposed to be unconscious, not waiting to see how you can aggravate me."

Leave me.

"If you aren't going to say anything helpful, just shut up. I need to think. If you hadn't insisted on staying and fighting we'd be long gone." Natalya wanted to shake some sense into him. She'd never seen anyone so battered and wounded manage to survive. By all rights he should be dead. And the thought of his death was frightening to her. The more

afraid she was, the more she wanted to lash out at his stupidity. It hadn't been necessary to fight. They could have run. He just had to be gallant and save the world.

"I have one shape-shifting ability," she admitted. Natalya had to deceive just about everyone she met, but she never deceived herself. It was a luxury to be able to admit who and what she was, show what she was capable of for the first time in years. She watched his face for his reaction. "Just one on my own. I'll be able to carry you on my back, but you'll have to stay awake enough to hold on. Do you think you can?"

Vikirnoff didn't open his eyes. Whatever you need.

His voice was far away. She swallowed hard. She needed to pack his wounds as soon as possible and that meant moving him immediately. "It's going to hurt."

Natalya stripped, folded her clothes and stuffed them into the pack tied to him. She had wandered alone for years, unable to stay in one place too long for fear of giving herself away. She had been alone without friends or family and it had been long since she had experienced the exhilaration of shifting in front of another being. The freedom to be herself was a powerful lure she couldn't resist.

She was not fully human. She was not fully mage. And she was not fully Carpathian but a combination of all three. Her mage father had gifted her with the nature of the tigress in the hopes it would alleviate the needs of her other side for a family and give her some balance as the endless years passed. To some extent, she supposed it had, but the idea of being able to share a real part of her true self with Vikirnoff, that he would know her for what she was, felt wonderful.

She took a deep breath, losing herself in the familiar shape and feel of the tigress. Muscles rippled beneath her luxurious striped fur coat and she stretched, showing the black and orange camouflage bands to their full advantage. Sharp claws raked the ground and she lifted her muzzle to scent the air before arching her back and lowering her body to the ground. She had no idea she was holding her breath, waiting for his reaction, until he spoke, her eyes blazing a vivid blue at him.

His eyes opened and he reached his hand to stroke the deep fur. You are beautiful. Your eyes are the exact color of the ice lakes.

She tried not to be pleased. She didn't want to feel a response to him, only do her duty as a human being, but she couldn't help the rush of warmth his words caused. Can you slip onto my back and put your arms around my neck?

The tiger was a solitary creature and in its form, Natalya didn't feel yearnings for a family and community. For a brief time she was able to have respite from her natural needs as a woman, but she found, even deep within the form of the tigress, she was acutely aware of Vikirnoff as a man.

He lay out full length on his stomach, his arms sliding around her neck. The long walking stick stuck in the loop of her backpack poked her body and hurt. He felt it and adjusted immediately, a groan slipping out as he did so. You do not shift in the same way a Carpathian shifts. Is that why you have only one form?

She knew he was too weak and shouldn't be trying to converse, but her thoughts were tumbling around in her head so fast, frantic to share with someone. I wondered about that when you held the image of mist in my head and I was able to change. It was both frightening and wonderful.

The tiger snarled at a lone wolf slinking through the trees. The wolf backed away from the much larger predator despite the lure of fresh blood.

It is humbling that you gave your trust to me. I will not abuse it.

She started to deny that she'd given him her trust, but she refrained from correcting him. She had wanted to save her life and he had been the lesser of two evils when the underground creature had grabbed her with spiked claws. Even in the form of the tiger, her ankles still burned, a constant reminder of the terror of that moment.

The tiger hurried through the forest, carrying the man on its back until it was several miles from the battlefield, and down near the richer rolling hills. She was much more careful, taking her burden through more open ground cautiously as she approached the farms. Many of the farmers were beginning to start their day. Twice a dog barked at them and abruptly stopped and backed away. Both times Natalya felt the surge of power and knew Vikirnoff had silenced the animals.

She had made the decision to save Vikirnoff's life and that meant she would have to donate blood whether she wanted to or not. She was practical about it once she made up her mind. She was part Carpathian and she had to have blood to survive. She didn't take blood that often, but when it became necessary, she had no qualms about it. Natalya left Vikirnoff nearly unconscious beside a sheaf of hay and she approached a farmer, calming him with a mage spell and taking his blood.

Unlike full-blooded Carpathians she couldn't remove the farmer's memories. She attempted to dim his memory and make it feel like a dream, but, no doubt, rumors of vampires would sweep the countryside. The only thing that mattered, though, was getting Vikirnoff into her room, out of the sun and away from people as quickly as possible.

Near the inn, she laid him down in the shelter of several bushes, shape-shifted and hastily dressed. "Don't make a sound. Last night, there was a suspicious man in the bar. I don't know why he's here, but he made my alarm bells go off and I never ignore them. I don't want to take a chance on being seen when we go in. Let me just take a look to see if everyone's still in bed."

His hand fumbled for hers. "You don't have to do this."

Her heart did a funny little fluttery thing she found annoying. "Just don't move." Natalya pulled her hand away and wiped her palm on her leather pants, trying to erase the strange electrical tingling he seemed to cause whenever she touched his skin.

"It's getting light," Natalya's voice turned unusually husky. She cleared her throat. His fingers on her bare wrist felt too intimate. "We have to get inside before the sun comes up. It took us too long to get here. The farmers were already working, remember? We had to hide. Just rest while I take a look around."

She knew she sounded gruff, but her emotions were so unfamiliar and intense around Vikirnoff. She certainly didn't want to feel compassion for his terrible wounds or admiration for his stoic refusal to complain. She needed to keep an emotional distance at all times. Just saving him made her feel like an utter traitor to her brother.

But she had saved him and now he was her responsibility. Natalya didn't take her responsibilities lightly. She sniffed the air cautiously, searching for signs of anyone up, but she found only Slavica's scent in the kitchen, so she pushed open the door with stealth and studied the large room.

Slavica stood at the sink peeling potatoes for breakfast. Natalya stole up behind her. "You work too hard."

The innkeeper swung around, potato and knife in hand. "You! Natalya, you frightened me." Her eyes widened with concern as she took in Natalya's appearance. "What happened to you? Are you injured?"

Natalya realized she had blood smeared all over her. Most of it belonged to Vikirnoff. "I'm fine. I have someone with me I need to get up to my room, but I don't want anyone to see us. Will you help me? He's injured."

"How bad?" Slavica was practical.

Natalya grinned at her. "You're so great. Thank you. He's in bad shape. He's lost way too much blood but I can't take him to a hospital."

"There is a hidden stairway," Slavica confided. "This inn was built on the site of an old monastery and part of that building was retained and incorporated into the inn. Only our family uses the stairs and rooms for our living quarters."

"If you wouldn't mind keeping a lookout, I'll go get him," Natalya said. The relief sweeping through her was tremendous.

Natalya hurried out the kitchen door and ran down the path leading to the dense shrubbery where she had left the hunter. She skidded to a halt when she saw him, slumped, his eyes closed, his face pale, almost gray and small dots of blood beading on his brow. Her heart jumped and her stomach rolled. "Vikirnoff? Do you think you can walk the last few yards to the room?" She couldn't very well become a tiger again, but he looked so worn and

pale it frightened her.

He opened his eyes and managed to climb to his feet with her aid. He stood swaying unsteadily until she slipped her arm around him. "Just a few more minutes and you can lie down." Natalya encouraged him.

"This place is dangerous," he told Natalya as they entered through the kitchen. He offered a tentative smile to Slavica when she gave an alarmed gasp. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"I'm honored to have you, sir. My home is your home." Slavica curtsied, her hand going protectively to her throat. "This way, quickly. The workers will be here any moment to prepare the food. You must hurry."

Vikirnoff stiffened, holding up his hand for silence as he glanced toward the kitchen door. Muted voices drifted toward them. He waved his hand and the voices faded, the workers moving away from the room.

Natalya felt the shiver of pain rippling through his body as he expended energy to send the kitchen help away. She took a better grip on his waist and urged him toward the back of the room where Slavica pulled open a panel in the corner. The stairs led both to a door into the private residence and upward to the second story.

"Just a few more minutes," Natalya whispered. She wished he'd complain just once. Her ankles and side throbbed and burned and her injuries weren't nearly as severe as his, yet Vikirnoff was silent, not even grunting when his battered body was jarred as they went up the narrow stairs. He barely leaned his weight on her, careful of her side, but every once in a while his palm settled over her injury. Each time he did she felt warmth and the pain lessened, but she noted he became weaker and much paler.

"Stop it," she hissed. "I mean it. I've had a hundred wounds like this. I know when they're bad and mine isn't. The vampires were being careful not to inflict any grave injury on me. I can deal with it later." She pushed open the door to her room and halted, inhaling deeply. "Someone has been in here."

Slavica shook her head. "The maids clean in the morning hours. You left in the evening. They would have been finished."

"There is no one here now," Vikirnoff said, "but a man has been in this room recently. He smells of pipe tobacco and cologne."

"The man from the bar last night," Natalya said. "What is his name, Slavica?" She helped Vikirnoff to the bed.

"Barstow, Brent Barstow. He comes through our village several times a year. He says he's on business, but..." The innkeeper trailed off shaking her head.

Vikirnoff glanced at her sharply. "But he makes you uneasy."

"Very uneasy," Slavica conceded. "And he's asked questions of my daughter Angelina. I didn't like his questions."

"Questions about..." Vikirnoff prompted.

Natalya felt his pain as if it were her own as he stood there swaying, probing the innkeeper. She had the urge to just knock him unconscious, throw him on the bed and be done with it.

"He wishes to know about the people residing in this area," Slavica answered.

The moment Vikirnoff sank down onto the soft blankets he turned his face away, but not before Natalya caught another much sharper ripple of pain he couldn't quite hide. She couldn't prevent herself from brushing strands of black hair off his brow. "Slavica's a nurse, a healer. She can help you."

"She must attend your injuries first," he decreed.

Natalya snatched her hand away. "There you go again." She was angry with herself for the silly melting sensation touching him produced in the pit of her stomach. Could she be any more pathetic? "Don't be giving me orders." She winced at the harshness in her tone and turned away from him to fuss at pulling the heavy drapes over the windows and balcony door to block out the morning sun.

Slavica sat on the edge of the bed. "He will need other things, Natalya. In the kitchen there is a wooden bowl in the cupboard. Take that and fill it with the richest soil you can find in the garden." She leaned forward and swept the strands of hair that had so bothered Natalya from Vikirnoff's forehead, her fingers lingering against his cool skin. "You've lost far too much blood. I must send for your prince. He'll want to know you require aid."

Vikirnoff caught her wrist. "You know what I am." He could read that she did. Few humans knew of their existence, not only for the protection of the Carpathian people, but also for the humans. If Slavica had knowledge of their species, she was under the protection of his prince. "Who are you?"

"I'm Slavica Ostojic. My mother's name was Kukic. And you are?"

Before answering he took a long, careful probe of her mind and was shocked to find she had a friendship with the prince of his people. He had heard rumors that Mikhail Dubrinksy had friends in the human world, but it was a rare occurrence to trust humans with the secrets of their species. "Vikirnoff Von Shrieder." He gave his name reluctantly, unable to fully overcome his natural reticence. He believed in few words, keeping his own counsel and taking action when necessary. This was an unfamiliar situation and he was feeling his way.

"This inn has been in my family for a hundred years. Mikhail Dubrinsky helped my mother to keep it when things in our country were complicated. He has always been a friend to our family and we have treasured that friendship."

Vikirnoff had trouble focusing on the woman's explanation. Hunger nearly overwhelmed him. The heartbeat of the women reverberated through the room and echoed through his head. The scent of blood nearly overwhelmed him and every instinct he possessed demanded he feed to save his life and that of his lifemate.

Slavica bent close to him and his gaze immediately riveted on her pulse. It beckoned and seduced, that small throbbing rhythm. His mouth watered and his incisors lengthened. He leaned toward her neck for a long moment, needing. Simply needing. Abruptly he pulled back. He would not take from one under the protection of his prince. To shut out the terrible hunger, he tried to concentrate on his lifemate.

Natalya fussed with the curtains, but all the while her confused emotions battered at him. The room shifted and whirled as he listened to the ebb and flow of blood moving through veins. His every instinct was to protect her, to claim her. His body and soul roared for hers, yet she tried to stay closed off to him. Her scent drove him to a fever pitch.

"I must send word to the prince," Slavica repeated. "He would be annoyed with me if I did not."

Vikirnoff closed his burning eyes in weariness, realizing his injuries might prevent him from keeping Mikhail. Dubrinsky safe for some time. "The prince is in danger. Send him that message. It is far more important than worrying about my wounds. I will heal. I have had worse and will again no doubt."

Hearing the tired note Vikirnoff couldn't hide, Natalya glanced at him. She had been studiously avoiding looking at him, but now she saw the lines of pain etched deeply in his face, the blood on his chest as Slavica cut away his shirt. Her heart seemed to skip a beat and then go crazy as she viewed his terrible injuries. She knew his back would have rake marks, long deep furrows where her claws had rent him from shoulder to waist. She was ashamed of herself. She'd been too slow in stopping the attack when he had dropped from the sky between her and the vampire, yet she could find no blame or resentment in Vikirnoff's mind.

His body was hard and muscular and ravaged with pain. Everything in her cried out to touch him, to ease that pain. She became fascinated by the way Slavica's hands moved over Vikirnoff's bare skin. Soothing him. Examining. Touching. Natalya's breath caught in her throat. The hands mesmerized her. Infuriated her. Something dark and ugly stirred inside of her.

The curtains slipped from her hands so that the early morning light spilled over her. Vikirnoff, sensing sudden danger, turned his head, eyes wide open to see Natalya fading into the wall, the streaks of light camouflaging her body so that it was difficult to see her

without straining. In spite of the pain movement caused, he turned on his side, gaze narrowing to focus more fully on her.

Natalya's entire demeanor had changed. She no longer appeared fully human, instead she had become a dangerous, powerful predator. Even her sea-green eyes had changed color, taking on a pearlescent appearance, fixed and focused on Slavica as if on prey. There was a stillness to her that spoke of a tigress on the hunt, muscles locked into position, gaze intent and fixed on the nurse.

"Mrs. Ostojic, Slavica," Vikirnoff said, his voice quiet, his tone commanding. "Move slowly around to the other side of the bed. Do it now."

Slavica glanced at Natalya as she rose. A small rumbling growl emanated from the corner where Natalya had faded into a blurred image. Hand to her throat, the innkeeper shifted her weight carefully, easing to her feet and putting the bulk of the bed between her and the woman.

Ainaak enyem, what has you so upset? Vikirnoff had little understanding of women, and even less of his lifemate. It was easy enough to understand that emotions were intense and neither understood exactly what was happening to them. He was fighting the battle of darkness and intellect had little to do with primal instincts. With Natalya so near and yet still not anchoring him, he was far more dangerous than he had ever been. Her chaotic emotions bombarding him were a recipe for disaster. Was the same thing happening to her? Were they both too close to animal instincts because neither understood what was happening to them?

Why are you allowing her to touch you like that? The accusation should have been ludicrous, but he sensed the way she held herself so tightly under control. To Natalya, the accusation was very real. She saw a woman's hands smoothing over the body of her lifemate. The emotions ran too strong, too intense, possibly fueled by his own terrible hunger, by his own rising beast.

Vikirnoff touched her mind. A red haze spread and gripped her. Instincts as old as time, hot with passion, animalistic. There was something buried deep in her he had yet to encounter, something she protected, but it was rising to the surface and it was every bit as dangerous and as powerful as a predator on the hunt.

He fought to keep the intensity of their emotions from affecting him. It was his duty to protect his lifemate, to see to her well-being. He had to find a way to defuse the situation until she could get herself under control.

"Slavica, perhaps you would get the necessary soil and herbs. You know what we need. Natalya will watch over me." Vikirnoff never took his gaze, or his mind, from his lifemate. He didn't dare. The effort was draining, but the alternative was unthinkable. Natalya should have been not only healing him, but as his lifemate, anchoring him. Instead, she was triggering his every animal instinct so that not only did he have to fight himself, but he had

to provide the anchor for Natalya.

"Are you certain you'll be safe?" Slavica whispered the words.

A growling hiss of displeasure came from Natalya's direction.

"Thank you, yes." A soft growl of his own accompanied the words and he kept his face averted from Slavica, his gaze holding Natalya locked in position.

Vikirnoff needed desperately. The heartbeats were so loud it was almost a roar in his head. He needed blood and a way to control the danger emanating from his lifemate. He willed the nurse to get out before disaster struck. Trying to hold Natalya in check was difficult when his life was ebbing away from the loss of blood.

Slavica moved slowly, intelligent enough to sense the danger, and courageous enough to walk around the bed and make her exit, pulling the door closed behind her.

"Come here to me," Vikirnoff ordered, his tone dropping an octave until it was velvet soft and hypnotic.

Natalya shook her head as if trying to clear the haze from her mind. Unlike others Vikirnoff called to him, his lifemate was well aware she was under compulsion. Strangely she didn't fight him as she could have, instead she took a reluctant step forward, compelled by his black, black eyes and the stark hunger she couldn't define. The same hunger was in her, clawing with very real pain and power, threatening to consume them both.

She was acutely aware the appetite was mixed with desire, with lust, a passionate need that bordered on obsession. Fascinated by the intensity in his eyes, she emerged from the shadows, one slow step at a time, almost in freeze-frame.

She looked ethereal, her muscles moving suggestively beneath the bands of skin glowing strangely in the faint light. Not quite real. Definitely not human. Vikirnoff tried for a moment to probe deeper into her mind, to uncover the secrets that lay hidden behind her strange brain patterns. Hunger beat at him without mercy. Hers? Or his own? He couldn't separate the two. He couldn't tell which were his emotions, so intense, swirling out of control. Was she jealous? Or was that his own beast rising with a ferocious need?

Women were of the light. Did they feel the razor-sharp clawing at their gut? On the verge of killing? Unblinking, he watched the way she emerged out of the faded bands of light coming toward him. Her strangely colored eyes focused on him and stared as if he were the prey, not the other way around. The tigress was on the hunt and the tension stretched to a screaming point. Danger thrummed in the air between them.

Natalya couldn't stop moving forward. She felt in a dream, one she wasn't in control of, standing off to the side, watching the action with a pounding heart and screaming at herself to wake up. She honestly didn't know if she intended to kill him. She feared him. She sensed the darkness in him rising and self-preservation was strong in her, yet she was

unable to stop each step forward.

Vikirnoff's fingers shackled her wrist. Enormously strong. Incredibly gentle. His touch set her heart pounding and her knees inexplicably turned to rubber. She sank down onto the edge of the bed. His hands slid up her arms, fingers tunneled through her hair and settled in a frame around her face. His black gaze burned over her, held her captive. She couldn't look away from him even as he forced her head toward his.

Natalya felt her stomach turn over. Every nerve ending leapt to life. She felt but she couldn't move. He lay injured, a hole in his chest, bleeding from the deep rake marks she'd made in his back and countless other wounds, weak and seemingly vulnerable, yet she went to him like a willing sacrifice.

His lips touched hers. Cool. Firm. Velvet soft. Her heart jumped in her chest. He trailed kisses from the corner of her mouth to her neck, tiny pinpoints of flames dancing over her skin. In her mind she screamed at herself to run, yet no sound emerged and she leaned closer to him, lifting the hair from her neck.

She wanted his touch. Needed to feel his hands on her. He belonged to her. No other woman had the right to touch him, to smooth fingers over his bare skin and be so close as to exchange air.

Fire raged in Vikirnoff's veins and stormed through his mind until thunder roared in his ears and the need to assuage his terrible hunger, a hunger that was mixed with sexual need, with possessive lust, was near frenzy. He inhaled her scent, took it deep in his lungs. Listened to the ebb and flow of life sizzling through her veins. She was calling to him, a timeless, haunting call of female to male, an aphrodisiac that enhanced his every sense. His tongue tasted her pulse. He felt her reaction, the swift intake of her breath. Her breasts brushed against him, a soft enticement that added to the strange roaring in his head.

Natalya felt his tongue swirling over her pulse and her womb clenched in anticipation. There was white-hot pain that gave way instantly to erotic pleasure. Her blood flowed into him like nectar. He shifted her in his arms, holding her close to him, one hand sliding up her body to cup her breast, thumb teasing her nipple into a taut peak.

Her body went into overdrive, weeping with need, hot with excitement, coiling tighter and tighter until she was nearly pleading with him for relief. Clothes hurt her too-sensitive skin. She wanted to be under him, his body ramming into hers hard and fast, filling her emptiness. She clawed at him, trying to get closer, arching into him, deliberately rousing him further.

Vikirnoff' felt the power and lust sweeping through him, soaking into his injured body, supplying him with heat and excitement and strength. His body raged at him for a fulfillment that would be impossible in his present state. His demon rose fast and ferociously, roaring for his mate, demanding he claim her, that he tie them together for all eternity. She tasted like nothing he'd ever experienced and he knew he would need to return

again and again and he'd never get enough.

In defiance of the roaring beast, he forced himself to pull back and deliberately swept his tongue over the pinpricks in her throat. A part of him wished he'd taken from the swell of her breast, but he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from possessing her body. He didn't altogether trust himself. In his aroused state, he would have died to possess her. Taking her would have cost him his life, and he was far too close to the edge for clear thinking. Better to take precautions than indulge his instincts.

He shifted her until she lay across him, her green eyes staring up at him, mirroring the same lust that had taken control of his body. He bent his head to her side, holding her still while he examined her wounds. It took only minutes to separate himself from his body and go into hers with his spirit to heal her wounds from the inside out. He paid particular attention to the puncture wounds on her ankles. The scent was unlike any he'd encountered and he wanted to be able to recognize it anywhere. The wounds were deep, all the way to the bone, yet she had never said a word and had insisted Slavica attend to him-until her jealous nature had overtaken her. She felt the pull of a lifemate every bit as strongly as he. She didn't want it. She didn't understand it, but it was fierce and strong and their souls were nearly already united and he hadn't yet bound them together.

Vikirnoff pulled her closer still, holding her head in the palm of his hand as he slashed his chest. He urged her close to him, until, of her own accord, her mouth moved, tongue tasting delicately. He groaned under the sensual assault. Natalya moved against him, her tongue swirling over his skin, healing the long thin line, just as his had closed the pinpricks.

Vikirnoff swore softly in his own language, prepared to try again when her teeth sank deep. The pain flashed through his body like lightning, gave way to pure erotic pleasure. His head lolled back and his eyes closed. He gave himself up to the magic of the moment, the true blood exchange between lifemates. He would always be able to find her, touch her mind at will, summon her, call to her, share her body and mind and soul. There was ecstasy in the sharing and a promise of passion.

She flicked her tongue to heal the small pinpricks and kissed her way up his chest and throat to find his lips. She was hot with need, her mouth demanding, tongue dueling with his, seeking more.

His hands crept their way under the leather camisole, kneading her breasts, his own demons taking hold. Natalya was a powerful anesthetic and aphrodisiac rolled into one. Pain disappeared as hot blood rushed to his groin, as his need to have her overcame the last coherent thought. He was crazy to want her when he was so near death and if she couldn't find the will to stop him, he just might perish, but he couldn't pull back. His body was a hard knot of desire, his veins sizzling, awareness settling in his groin with painful need. His beast roared, unleashed and leapt to claim her.

Natalya moaned softly, giving herself up to the sudden command of his mouth. Hot. Hungry. Wet. His teeth tugged at her lip, his hands busy at her breasts. Persuasive. Rough.

Insistent. She slid her fingertips over his chest and felt him wince as she touched his open wound. His wound. What the hell was wrong with her? She was practically raping a badly wounded hunter!

Natalya pulled away from him with a soft cry of alarm. His arms slid away from her body leaving her bereft. Wound so tight she thought she might scream. Needy and aching. She backed away from him, her palm pressed to her neck. Her pulse throbbed in tune to the frantic pulsing in her womb, the wild sound drowning out the echo of her name as he whispered it. She could taste him in her mouth. His scent was on her skin. Worse, her body was alive with a need and hunger of her own, every bit as sharp and terrible as his. She blinked rapidly, trying to quiet her rioting heart. The dreamlike state was dissipating, confusion lifting. He was a hunter. Guilt and shame burst over her, struck at her like a heavy fist.

She wanted him. No, it was worse. She needed him. The idea was insane-and entirely unacceptable. He had to have done something to her. No vampire had ever succeeded in trapping her or taking over her mind, but he had. She hadn't felt his invasion, but she knew she would never have allowed him to touch her body. To kiss her. And he had taken her blood and, oh, God, she had taken his. She had been prepared to be a donor. But not like this. Never like this.

Natalya drew a knife from the sheath strapped to her calf and advanced on him with purposeful steps.

Vikirnoff watched her calmly as she approached the bed.

"You did something to me. You forced me to accept you." Her eyes blazed fury at him, once more going from green to a strange swirling of pearlized colors. "I despise your kind, yet I was willing to harm Slavica, a woman I consider my friend. You did that to me. Why? I could have left you to the vampires."

"You could not have left me to the vampires," Vikirnoff said. Even with her angry at him, unable to accept their relationship, even though he didn't understand her at all, he knew she was a miracle. A gift. He was shockingly happy as he lay there, waiting for her to see reason. He tried to repress the silly smile that kept wanting to slip past. He knew what happiness was. Finally. After so many centuries. He felt the emotion and it was exhilarating. He had been so close to turning vampire and she had arrived and saved him.

She didn't want to save him. The thought had him puzzled. Women were supposed to want to be with their lifemates, to see to their every need. He had only dim memories of his parents, but he was almost certain that was the way it worked. Unless he could no longer remember how it been between his mother and father.

Natalya's small white teeth came together in a snap of temper. That smirking little smile hovering near his mouth made her want to slap him. "You belong with the vampires. Do you think I can't feel the darkness in you? Smell it? It reeks; a stain there is no way for you

to remove. You deserve death."

"Perhaps I do, but not at your hands. I will admit the darkness is strong in me and I cannot overcome it, but you can. And you will. It is your duty as my lifemate. I will not absolve you of your duties merely because you do not know what is expected of you. It is a situation we both are unfamiliar with, but we will learn. I may not be the lifemate you expected, but you are not what I expected either. We will learn together."

Why did the things he said hurt her? No one, other than her beloved brother, had ever been able to say things to hurt her. She kept those sensitive emotions locked away, yet Vikirnoff's words were almost as sharp and painful as the blade in her fist. Just because he didn't expect her wasn't a rejection of her, was it? And why did she care?

"Damn you to hell," she snapped. Her fury had dissipated abruptly and tears-tears burned in her eyes. She wanted the anger back. She needed it to shield her. Why didn't he fight back? Why didn't he say or do something to give her back her rage?

Natalya clutched the knife handle until it was in danger of becoming a powder in her hands. She forced air through her lungs. "I'll just wait until you're asleep and your body is lead and I'll open the drapes and let the sun fry your worthless ass." She kept her voice low, her words harsh, but inside she was weeping.

She wanted to kill him. He deserved death. Every hunter needed to die along with the vampires they kept in check. None of them had hearts or emotions. Yet, when she looked at him, she saw that faint light of happiness shining for her. For her. No one looked at her like that. And desire blazed in his eyes. How many times had he stepped in front of her to prevent injury from a vampire? He'd tried to send her away from the battle. As much as she wanted to be annoyed by that silly gesture, she felt protected.

Natalya shook her head, refusing to let her brain defend him. He had used some kind of mind control on her. There was no other explanation for her behavior. She would never have voluntarily touched him intimately or allowed him to touch her. Her breasts still ached and felt swollen and painful without his touch. She detested herself. Detested that she was such a weak woman around Vikirnoff Von Shrieder.

She had been jealous. Jealous. The sight of another woman touching him had been more than she could take. Her animal nature had overtaken her. What had ever possessed her parents to give her the nature of a tiger? And why hadn't she been warned about the deadly peril, so very real, a hunter could use on a woman?

She pressed fingers to her throbbing temples. She was wading in quicksand, sinking deeper and deeper the more she struggled against him. Vikirnoff said nothing. All the while he lay simply watching her, propped up on one elbow, his gaze never leaving her face. She was beginning to hate his eyes. That black, fierce gaze, so intense and so hungry for her. His eyes drew her like nothing else ever had-or would. No matter how much she told herself it was wrong, it was a betrayal, she was still drawn to him. Mesmerized by him. In

lust with him. And it wasn't natural. It couldn't be.

Her inability to break his hold on her fed her temper. "I certainly have no duty to you. You have such gall to even suggest it."

"You cannot deny you are my lifemate. Our souls call to one another." His voice softened to a mesmerizing cadence. "Give yourself a little time, Natalya. You will get used to the idea. All of this will work out as it is meant."

She shoved the knife back into the scabbard, her hand shaking. He was seducing her with his eyes and his voice. How could she be so susceptible? She needed armor. How could she be so confused and raw and edgy? She was never like this and yet she didn't seem to have any control over her emotions.

"I want to smother you with a pillow," she lied, hoping to draw a response she could work with. "I can't believe you. No one could ever stand being your lifemate." She could rage all she wanted but he knew he was pulling her in. She closed her eyes and allowed truth to pour out. "I will never be your lifemate. You killed my brother. My twin. The only person in this world that meant anything to me. Do you think for one moment that I'd save you, let alone have anything to do with you?"

Vikirnoff was silent, touching her memories lightly, seeing the man she loved, feeling her love for him. He shook his head. "I did not kill this man. I have no memory of his face and I remember each of the men I had to destroy."

She turned away from him. To her horror, the tears she'd been fighting blurred her vision. The humiliation was unbearable. Her heart twisted with pain at the thought of her brother's death. "Not you, personally, but a hunter. One of your kind."

"Why would a hunter take the life of your brother?"

There was no inflection in his voice. He wasn't calling her a liar, nor was he admitting such a thing could have occurred. He merely looked at her with his intense black eyes, his face etched with pain and it tore her insides out.

Natalya jerked the leather away from her abdomen to reveal the birthmark that had condemned her brother to death. "I have the same mark. You can't be my lifemate when I bear this mark. It's a death sentence. All hunters will kill us immediately when they see the mark of the wizard on our skin." There was defiance in her voice, expectation in her eyes. She meant to shock him and readied herself for his attack on her.

Vikirnoff stared at the intricate dragon, low on her left side. He let out his breath slowly. "That is no mark of the wizard, Natalya. That is the birthmark of one of the oldest and most respected of Carpathian families. That mark is Dragonseeker. No hunter would kill a man or woman marked as Dragonseeker. It is not possible."

Her chin went up. "Are you calling me a liar?"

Vikirnoff didn't answer her verbally. He invaded her mind. He gave her no warning and no time to stop him, pushing past her barriers so that he shared her life, the love of her brother, his laughter, his caring, the way the two of them were forced to live, hiding and running from place to place, always ahead of the enemy.

Natalya didn't take the merging lightly. She tried to fight him off, to put up blocks, but there was a ruthless quality to Vikirnoff. He pushed further, uniting them together until he saw what he was looking for. She hated the invasion of her mind. To her, it was almost worse than if he had invaded her body. She lifted her hands and gracefully sketched symbols in the air between them, an attempt at erecting a shield to protect her memories, her thoughts, the very essence of who and what she was from him.

The symbols burned brightly in the air for a brief moment, orange and yellow and gold, then slowly faded, leaving her vulnerable.

Her resistance to their merging surprised Vikirnoff, but he ignored it, intent on finding the memories that had shaped Natalya's distrust of Carpathians.

Natalya's grief over the death of her twin was wild and without end. Totally immeasurable. It was still as sharp-edged and painful as the day she had learned her brother, Razvan, was dying. Vikirnoff caught the echo of her brother's name in her cry of sorrow. Her brother had connected with her on a private mental path, in pain, laboring for breath, reaching out one last time with a warning for her to avoid the Carpathian hunters. To run while she could and stay hidden from the scrutiny of that dangerous race. They were liars. Deceivers. And they would kill her the moment they saw that mark. The dragon was the mark of death.

Razvan had been in agony, but he had held on long enough to send the warning to his beloved twin sister. Abruptly, before she could tell him she loved him, he was gone from her. She had never found his body-or his killer. He had not shown her the battle, or the face of his murderer.

"It had to be a vampire," Vikirnoff said, totally shaken as he pulled out of her mind. Her emotions were so raw, so intense, he felt them, too. He took several deep breaths to stay in control. "There is no other explanation. You know they are deceivers. Every one of them."

"It was no vampire," she hissed back. "Razvan knew the difference. Your people waged war on my people simply because a Carpathian cannot stand to lose his woman to another man. My grandmother left her lifemate and it started a war. If Carpathian males can go to war over such a thing, they are perfectly capable of murdering my brother."

"Your grandmother, Rhiannon of the Dragonseekers, was kidnapped and her lifemate murdered. She was murdered. That is the truth, Natalya, and somewhere deep inside of you, you are very much aware of it or you would have killed me when I stepped between you and the vampire."

"Shut up!" She pressed her hands over her ears, but she couldn't stop the way her mind tuned itself to his. The way her heart sought the rhythm of his. Or the way her body burned for him.

And she couldn't bear to be reminded she had nearly killed him. She had allowed the tigress freedom and her claws had shredded his skin from neck to waist.

He closed his eyes in weariness. "I am sorry for the death of your brother. In truth, we all have lost loved ones in the battle against evil."

The knock on the door saved Natalya from having to answer him. Slavica opened the door cautiously. "May I come in?"

"Yes, do," Natalya said. "You're welcome to take care of him." She had to get away, get her wild emotions under control. She had never felt such an emotional roller-coaster and never wanted to again. Exhausted, trying to hide tears, she snatched up clean clothes and ran for the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower."