Dark Slayer (31 page)

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Authors: Christine Feehan

Tags: #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fiction

BOOK: Dark Slayer
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“I know the vampire injured you, Ivory, and you took care of me rather than heal your wounds. I need to see what is left of the damage.”

“Really, scratches. Nothing.”

His eyebrow raised. “I recall his shoving an arrow into your breast right over your heart.” As he spoke a ripple of pain crossed his face. “When you pulled your hand from his chest it was nearly severed.” Razvan swallowed hard, his dark brows coming together in a frown. “He withdrew the arrow from your body, twisting it to do the most damage, and plunged it two inches lower, driving it deep. He was enormously strong and he punched your breast, right over your heart, with tremendous force. I heard your sternum crack.”

Had he? She didn’t even remember. She remembered Razvan had come to her aid in spite of his condition, sending a fiery blast at Sergey’s back, shoving him onto her fist so she could get to the blackened heart. When Sergey had attacked by bringing down the house and forming spears that flew at her from everywhere, Razvan had used his strength to form a barrier around her, taking the brunt of the wooden spears in his own body.

“He broke your wrist.”

How had he noticed when he had been so horribly mutilated? Ivory shook her head, unable to speak, not when his gaze moved over her body with brooding allure, touching her in places deep and secret and feminine.

He had to quit reciting the list of her injuries, so pale in comparison to his own. His voice was so gentle, she couldn’t get it out of her head. The way he looked at her body when he spoke, as if her injuries were all that mattered to him, the healing of them, the fact that the vampire had hurt her. When she touched his mind, she felt nothing but his need to make certain, to see for himself, that she was wholly healed.

“Mother Earth and the healer aided me, and several Carpathians including the prince gave us blood to speed our healing process. I am fine.”

“Nevertheless.”

There was a note in his voice that fascinated, thrilled and repelled her all at once. She was unsure how to react to his demand and that confused her.

“What would you have me do?”

He held out his hand to hers. “Let me see.”

She moistened her lips, feeling a little shaky, on unfamiliar ground, but she held out her hand to him so he could see the faint lines where the earth had healed the lacerations and knit the bone back together. She was unprepared for the feeling of his gentle fingers stroking over her skin. She felt his touch all the way to her deepest core, and then her heart stood still while his mouth moved over each of the faint white lines and his tongue swirled and stroked a velvet pleasure over her skin.

“You do taste like salt and sin,” he said, and his voice roughened with hunger.

She pulled her arm away. “Are you satisfied?”

He shook his head, his gaze locked on hers. “Open your vest.”

Her breath actually hitched in her lungs, burned there, raw and hot. Her womb clenched and spasmed, sending ripples of urgent need radiating through her body. His request wasn’t sexual. It didn’t need to be sexual. Her body didn’t have to grow damp and hot with flames licking over her skin and turning her blood into a molten stream that thickened in her veins. She could just be cool about this, one warrior reassuring another. Her hands went to the silver buckles.

“Let me.”

His voice was husky, maybe even shook a little, but it made her weak. So much so that she obeyed his silent command when his hands came up and covered hers to halt her unsteady fingers and gently push them aside. The pads of his fingers brushed against the swell of her breast, sending ripples of awareness through her body. His gaze remained locked with hers as he slowly unbuckled the vest and allowed her full breasts to emerge. Only then did he drop his gaze.

She heard him inhale. A sharp, sexy sound that curled her toes. She felt his breath warm her breasts, and her nipples answered by hardening into two tight peaks. She felt exposed, vulnerable, but she couldn’t move, mesmerized by the look on his face, the stark, raw desire, the unrelenting hunger and admiration in his eyes. When he stroked his fingertips, feather-light, over the faint lines along the swell of her breast and then again lower, his thumb brushing along her nipple, lightning streaked from breast to belly and then lower, so that her thighs spasmed and her core grew hotter and wetter.

Razvan bent his head toward her. She wanted to stop him. She thought to take a step back, terrified of the feelings coursing through her body and the sudden terrible need that welled up out of nowhere, threatening her hard-won peace of mind. She had chosen him, but she hadn’t considered that the physical and emotional pull between them would be so strong. She could barely breathe when he touched her, and she had no control over her body’s reaction to him. She held her breath, waiting. Wanting.

His hair touched her first. Soft strands of black and white silk brushing seductively over her skin. Every cell in her body came to life. The breath burned in her lungs. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides as she struggled not to bury them in his hair and cradle his head to her. She was in his mind, and knew this inspection was as necessary to him as breathing. And now it was to her.

At the first gentle touch of his mouth she jumped, and in spite of her every intention, she found her hands buried in that silky fall of hair. His tongue flicked out to swirl over each line and circle, to flick over her nipple, sending darts of fire racing to her belly and spreading even lower. Her hands tugged him closer even as a low moan escaped. His tongue slid along each line, his healing saliva providing a balm to the deep ache that was still there.

When he lifted his head, his eyes were so dark they were almost black, so blue they were like midnight and so hot with desire she thought she might melt. Her hands trembled and she forced her fingers to let go of the silky strands so he could stand tall. She just stood there while he slowly buckled her vest, enclosing her breasts behind the tight leather.

Ivory took a deep breath, shaken, but proud of herself for standing. “Are you satisfied?”

Razvan’s eyes lit up with a male amusement and he deliberately shifted to ease the thick bulge in his trousers. “Not hardly, but I have assured myself you are healing well, and that will do for now.”

The color crept up her neck. She shook her head. “You are crazy, but in a good way.” She looked back toward the rich black soil, desperate to find something to divert her attention—to divert his attention from her. She gestured toward the ground where they could see the traces of excessive salt running like king’s gold in deep veins through the darker loam where the wolf pack still lay sleeping.

“Are you ready for this? They have been attended to by others, Vikirnoff and Nicolas, Natalya sometimes, but they will be ravenous for us. Feeding is part of the ritual of sealing the pack together. They’re like my children.”

Razvan knew she needed the distraction to feel in control again. Emotions were difficult for her. His heart fluttered in his chest and he found himself smiling at her. Happy. Just to be alive. Just to be with her on this crisp, cold evening, with the moon spilling light over her blue-black hair, framing her face so that she looked as angelic as she did sexy.

“I am certain they will be happy to be out of the ground after all these weeks,” he agreed. “Let us do this and bring our family back together.”

He found he was as anxious as she to see the wolves. They had become family to him. He had spent so long in her mind that her deep affection for the pack members had transferred to him as well. “As children go, they are a fairly wild bunch.”

Ivory laughed with him, sharing his humor over the pack. She stretched her arms and called softly to her pack. “Awake brothers and sisters. We will run free this night. Come with me. Join with me.”

She sent Razvan another quick smile that managed to raise his temperature and quicken his heartbeat. The soil boiled up into a geyser and one by one the six wolves leapt free, shaking their gorgeous silver coats and rushing to Ivory, nearly knocking her over. She sank to the ground, laughing, her arms surrounding them as they greeted her with more enthusiasm than manners.

Raja and his mate, Ayame, turned to Razvan and he sank down beside Ivory, surprised when the big male leapt at his chest and rubbed his body along Razvan’s in greeting. He realized just as he had accepted the pack as family, they had accepted him as Ivory’s mate. Joy swept through him. A family. Another gift from Ivory. He sank his fingers into the thick fur and roughhoused a little, ignoring the show of teeth, feeling the wolf’s laughing intent.

Each animal took its turn coming to him and greeting him, being welcomed by him and reaffirming its position in the pack. He found he was particularly fond of Blaez, the second-in-command. He was quietly confident and very alert to danger, taking his cues from Raja, yet guarding the pack with a fierceness that told Razvan he would have had a pack of his own had his circumstances been different. He felt that same fierce protectiveness toward Ivory and the pack, and there was a sense of kinship when he stroked his hand through the thick fur and scratched the alert ears.

The pack was eager to feed, needing the bond, and he waited for Ivory to make the decision on how she wanted them fed.

You feed Raja and Ayame and then I will. Next Blaez and his mate Gynger. Last will be Farkas and his mate, Rikki. If we start off that way, they will accept your leadership faster
.

The offer of leadership in the pack was another great gift. He knew, after a century of being led by Ivory, they would always respect her and follow her, and she was now stepping aside in order to get the pack to follow his lead as well.

It is not necessary. I do not mind the present order. I may end up planning our battles but you will be leading us. I will protect you with everything in me
.

She looked at him with soft eyes. “I mind. I want them to accept you as I have.”

His stomach clenched in response, his groin thickening. But it was his heart that was most in danger. He drank her in as he offered his wrist to Raja, the rich beauty of her, not so much her physical body, but the light in her soul that shone over his.

The silver alpha wolf looked at Ivory and then obediently trotted over to Razvan and accepted the first feeding as was his due. Razvan fed the big male, all the while keeping his gaze locked on Ivory.

For so long he’d had nobody in his world, no one to send him warmth, to make him smile, to care whether he lived or died—and yet now there she was, sitting like some forest princess in the middle of her unusual wolf pack, willing to share her life with his, even if it was so he could aid her in destroying Xavier. He would take that—he’d take any reason at all, as long as she included him in her family.

“You are as essential to me as the air I breathe or the soil we rest in.” He wanted her to know that he would have chosen her no matter what their destiny had been. He wanted her to know that because of her, the sacrifices in his life had been more than worthwhile.

She shot him a look from under her thick lashes. “You are my lifemate, my other half.”

He smiled at her, refusing to feel a sting at her reminder. She didn’t have to feel the same way. “That is not what I am saying to you. I am not asking for anything in return, Ivory. I just felt it was important for you to know how I feel.”

The alphas were finished feeding from Ivory now and the second pair took their place as the smallest ones fed on Razvan. He was beginning to get a little dizzy. Ivory hadn’t been kidding when she said they would wake up ravenous and would want to bond with the ritual blood.

Ivory ducked her head and he saw her fingers curl deeper into Gynger’s thick pelt. The tip of her tongue moistened her bottom lip, drawing his immediate attention. He’d made her nervous again, and that endeared his fierce warrior to him all the more. She wasn’t the least bit comfortable talking about emotions. The wolves pressing close to her and winding around their mates seemed to give her the necessary impetus to answer him.

Her chin came up and her eyes reluctantly met his briefly before her long lashes once again veiled them. “You mistake my meaning.”

That was all he was going to get out of her, but it was enough for him. The slow burn that started in his belly mixed with the blaze of love in his heart, making for a potent combination. He savored the feeling of wanting her. He had never thought he would feel that for a woman. He abhorred the crimes his body had committed and never thought to feel the powerful draw between lifemates for himself, yet every moment in her company strengthened his emotions for her and the urgent needs of his body.

He knew, deep inside, a beast had been awakened by this one woman. Only she could set that part of him free. Only she could tame that wild part of his nature. He watched her fingers move through the fur of the wolves and knew he wanted those same fingers stroking his skin. He had kissed her in their shared dream and he could taste her in his mouth, on his tongue, filling his senses with the wild rain of her, the scent and taste of a new storm washing the forest clean.

Laughing, amazed that he was alive and with her, he reached for the change, let it take him, the wonderful wrenching of muscle and bone, the stretch of tendons and sinew as his body bent and changed, as his skin itched and then fur burst through, his own luxurious pelt of black and silver, the markings distinct. His muzzle was elongated, his mouth filled with teeth and the delicious sense of freedom. His paws were large and moved over the snow and ice easily as he circled around his mate, pushing playfully at her with his nose.

The pack instantly pushed up against him, eager for the run, tails up and swishing as they nudged their noses against Ivory, wanting her to hurry.

“Okay, okay, you monsters,” she acquiesced, laughing.

Through his wolf’s eyes, Razvan watched her embrace the change, going to ground, the movement graceful and fast, so that one moment she was standing tall, elegant and beautiful, and in the next she was on all fours, a sleek, gorgeous wolf with a silvery coat. There was no mistaking her eyes; they glowed a soft amber as she looked at him, her mouth smiling.

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