Dark Tarot (Dark Carpathians)

Adalasia was very familiar with the feeling of the cards. At the moment, they were calming, the aftermath of the storm. Petru didn’t lift his fingers until every white spark of energy had ceased, and she realized he was protecting her, as if he thought the deck might burn her in its ferocity. She couldn’t help the quick look she sent to Sandu or the way her heart reacted, melting a little at the way his ancient brethren had so quickly bonded with her.

You allow them to share your mind and emotions, Adalasia, Sandu reminded.

These men, her lifemate and his brethren, the ancients, they were guardians, protectors, and they did so automatically, never thinking of themselves. She blinked away the tears burning behind her eyes and forced herself to have a calm mind. She had trained herself to see a pool of water without a single ripple. If a thought came that shouldn’t be there, she let it go across that pool, the wave taking it away from her, so she could only see and hear what the cards were telling her.

She nodded at the stacks. “Turn over the top card from each of the stacks.” Her mouth was dry. She did her best to try to follow the heartbeat of her lifemate. Steady. Strong. Reliable. Please, goddess. Not that the goddess could do anything about his lifemate. She could only provide the answer. It was just that . . .

Petru turned the top cards over with no hesitation. The breath nearly exploded out of Adalasia’s lungs. There she was. His lifemate. Alive and well in the century with him. Danger surrounding him. That was not entirely unexpected. Betrayal. A terrible sacrifice.

“There you have it. You don’t seem to get off any easier than Benedek or Sandu with your lifemate.”

“I have a lifemate,” Petru said as he stood. “That is all that matters. The rest can be handled. Thank you, sisarke. You have given me much this night.”

Adalasia reflected on his simple statement as she cleansed the cards in preparation for her next reading. That is all that matters. The ancients reduced everything down to what they believed to be the most important. In the end, Benedek and Petru had lifemates. They had committed to guarding her with Sandu and would stay before setting off on their journey to find their lifemates. She hoped the cards would be more specific now that the question had been answered.

Again, she went back to the table. Sandu was at her back. His touch was light on her shoulders, as if he knew the burden was becoming a little more difficult with each reading. She felt, almost as if by fate, giving the first two lifemates, the other two might suffer a different end.

Afanasiv Belan. Siv. He had lighter hair, like Sandu, with streaks of silver or platinum, and blue-green eyes that could pierce right through to a person’s soul. He was, to Adalasia, the most unpredictable of all the brethren, and the most like Sandu.

Like the others, he was hidden behind that solid barrier in his mind, but she felt that same demon lurking close, as she had with Sandu. She knew it was there in the others, that they were all dangerous, but in Siv, as in Sandu, maybe they had just lived that little bit longer or seen just a few more battles. The scarring on their souls was thicker and more widespread. He was just . . . feral. She was a little terrified to hand over the deck to him. The goddess seemed to be very exacting when it came to judging anyone asking their question about lifemates.

Siv’s eye color had deepened to a kind of turquoise, like the deepest clear sea. Hypnotic. Mesmerizing. Insistent. He wasn’t going to let her pass on him. She took a deep cleansing breath and gave in to the knowledge that no matter what, these men faced their fate head-on. Alone. With their heads unbowed.

Adalasia extended the deck of very ancient tarot cards to the man sitting so casually across from her. Without hesitation, Siv wrapped his large, calloused hands around the deck. At once, the cards reacted, power against power, just as they had with the others, only this time, she could see cyclones of water bursting around the deck and between his fingers. The sound of the wind increased so that it roared ferociously through the chamber. The flames in the sconces burst high and then went out.

Afanasiv didn’t move. He didn’t change expression, but the green swirled darker through the turquoise, a dangerous mix of color that looked as ominous and as turbulent as the cyclones spilling out around his large hands. Adalasia watched the power struggle play out, although it wasn’t really much of a struggle. Siv refused to enter into any kind of retaliation, not in the least upping his strength. He simply held the cards loosely while the cyclones leapt and whirled and the wind shrieked through the chamber.