Dark Tarot (Dark Carpathians)

“You didn’t tell me everything the cards said. You’ve picked them up, shuffled and laid them out twice now without reading them aloud to me. You don’t like what you see.”

Adalasia looked more unsettled than ever. “You come from a very old family, Sandu. Very old. Your lineage is as old as mine. Older.”

He didn’t tell her that he was an ancient. There was no rebirth. She might see that in her cards and not believe what they were revealing to her. He simply nodded his head. “I have no memories of my family or my childhood.”

Her vivid blue eyes softened with compassion. “That must be terrible for you.”

He shrugged. “I’m used to it.” He studied her expression. “Why are you so afraid of me that you put that same fear into your cards?”

She tapped her finger over the table beside the fanned-out cards. “The needles in your skin? You think that was fear?”

He hesitated, knowing it was more than that. One didn’t lie to their lifemate. But he could tell a partial truth. “That was power answering power. The cards are tuned specifically to you, although they recognize me, don’t they? I feel the way they would accept me as your partner, but you’re afraid of me. Because you fear me, they do as well.” Sandu kept his voice very low. Gentle. He didn’t like that his back was to the window. She kept lifting her gaze to it rather anxiously, as if she saw the enemy approaching. His alarm system was going off.

She raised her chin. “I am not afraid of you. It’s more that I’m afraid of the path we’re both bound to now that you’ve arrived. I have to admit, in spite of the reassurance that I’m supposed to go in that direction with you . . .” She scooped up the deck and placed it carefully in a faded velvet pouch, coming to her feet. “We have to go now. Hurry. With me.” She held out her hand to him.

Sandu refrained from smiling. His lifemate really had it in her pretty little head that she could not only give him orders but that she was protecting him. He wrapped his fingers around hers and obediently followed her lead, making certain his much larger body was between hers and the front door of the shop. His woman had a lot to tell him. She didn’t want to reveal her secrets, and he was reluctant to take them from her, something that would be easy enough to do if she persisted in refusing to share details with him. He wanted her trust, and trust had to be earned.

Adalasia moved quickly between the heavy cases in the antiques store, opening an ornate door to a back room. There was confidence in her step. The moment Sandu had closed that door, she picked up the pace, rushing now toward the exit leading outside.

“Wait,” Sandu caught at her waist, halting her. “Someone is out there. They expected you to make a run for it.” He set her to one side to listen, scanning the alley. “One man, standing just to the side of the stairs. You stay behind me, Adalasia.”

She bent, drawing her skirt up to reveal soft boots and then the bare skin of a shapely leg. Up higher, on her thigh, she wore a leather harness. She drew a wicked-looking knife from the scabbard and concealed the blade against her inner wrist. “Go,” she whispered, glancing back toward the front of the store.

He opened the door and was out, moving with blurring speed, straight at the man waiting for Adalasia to emerge. The watcher held a gun in his hand. He looked to be somewhere between thirty-five and just under forty. Olive-complected, he was a handsome man with dark hair and eyes. Sandu read his intent; it wasn’t to murder Adalasia but to kidnap her for some purpose Sandu didn’t have the time in that second to pull out of the man’s mind.

Sandu hit him hard, at the last moment remembering to use the strength of a human. A strong human. Very strong. At the same time, he reached for the weapon, easily took it from the assailant, turned and caught up with Adalasia as the man crumpled to the ground. She gave a muffled little cry as she sidestepped the body. He groaned and writhed, tried to rise and fell again.

Adalasia took the lead again, nearly running along the back alley, turning a corner and once left and then right, circling back around to the store, Sandu pacing right behind her.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to get home.”

She wasn’t in the least out of breath, which told him she was in very good shape.

There had been an apartment over the antiques store. Sandu considered that she lived there. When she caught up a ladder and went up it fast and was on the roof, he was certain he was right. He followed her up.