Dark Slayer (38 page)

“Spiders could never do this,” Lojos said. “Magic is at work here.”

“You think?” Nicolae was sarcastic. “We are being made fools of.”

“Or perhaps you are simply being fools,” Gregori offered.

Vikirnoff snarled at him. “Say what you like, Gregori, but if they have nothing to hide, they would not have gone to such lengths to hide from us.”

As he spoke the branches overhead stirred, flakes raining down as spiders scurried along the intricate webbing. One began to lower itself toward Vikirnoff, drawn by his voice.

Gregori, placing his feet carefully in the obvious minefield of snares, moved closer, should his aid become necessary.

The spider stopped level with Vikirnoff’s eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment. Vikirnoff could see the fangs dripping with venom. The spider began to weave another web, this time forming words as if programmed. It took some time for the spider to connect the silken lines.

Fear not. I have arranged for safe passage through spider territory
.

Vikirnoff felt his gut tighten. Safe passage. As if they were children unable to make it through the ice spiders’ realm on their own. The blow to their pride was deliberate. A slap in the face.

Vikirnoff was tempted to roast the entire colony by calling down the lightning.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Gregori said. “If Ivory or Razvan used magic and befriended these spiders, chances are they left protection behind for them. They traded something for your safe passage.”

“We didn’t ask for their help,” Vikirnoff snarled, his teeth snapping together.

Above their heads the trees came alive as thousands of spiders shifted and moved. Vikirnoff wished he’d never set out on the journey in the first place but he wasn’t about to tell Gregori that. Forcing back his anger, he inclined his head to accept whatever agreement Ivory and Razvan had made.

“Hopefully you are right about them and they haven’t traded their safe passage by giving us to the spiders for their winter food.”

“I would not allow that to happen.”

That was almost as hard to swallow as the couple arranging safe passage. Vikirnoff swore silently. They had no choice now. They had to continue forward, and he knew the healer wore that particularly annoying smirk.

They were lowered back to the ground almost at a snail’s pace, making Vikirnoff want to scream in frustration. Another delaying tactic. And then each was rolled out, one by one, so the silken strands binding them could be preserved, another absolutely humiliating torture for experienced hunters. And if Gregori mentioned spankings again, he’d kill the man and damn the consequences. While the hunters were being rolled out like sausages, an opening was prepared through the webs so when all seven hunters were once again standing beside Gregori, there was a way through the thick forest.

Uneasy now, the group continued to follow Vikirnoff as he set out to track Ivory and Razvan through the dark interior and back out the other side. They found themselves in the worst possible place and the spiders worked quickly to close the passage behind them.

The Valley of Mists lay between two tall mountain peaks, rising abruptly at near vertical angles. The gorge was narrow and treacherous, nearly always entrenched with thick, icy mist, the particles small enough to nearly freeze lungs when inhaled. No one, not even Carpathians, could see through the heavy veil of mist that hung like clouds. Snow and ice often calved off the angular cliffs, and avalanches were frequent in the area.

The wind often came in off the highest peaks on a spiraling down-draft to howl through the canyon at breakneck speeds, carrying voices, wreaking havoc with auditory senses. Few animals could live in the valley; snow leopards reigned, but even they stayed away from the base of the mountains where the snow and ice sloughed off with thundering force.

The hunters heard the sound of a woman’s laughter and figures moved in the mist. Tomas glanced at his brothers and they moved forward only four steps into the valley and disappeared.

Vikirnoff looked at Gregori. “They chase ghosts, don’t they?”

Gregori shrugged. “I would imagine they do.”

Vikirnoff closed his eyes and sent his mind seeking the blood trail. It was lost in the mist. Not even the faintest trace remained. “They probably dissolved into mist and are mixed in this thick soup. I could spend months trying to trace them.”

“You will not find them,” Gregori said.

Tomas, Mataias and Lojos returned. “We are chasing phantoms. They play with us, but they are no longer here.”

Vikirnoff shook his head. “I hope your prince knows what he is doing, Gregori.”

“
Our
prince,” Gregori said. “Each of you swore allegiance.” This time there was no amusement. None. The silver eyes glinted at each of the hunters as if marking them. “Ivory and Razvan refused the offer of the book. Mikhail tested them in every way and they passed each test. I cannot say the same for any of you.”

He simply dissolved and streamed away, up and over the forest with its spider colony, back toward Carpathian territory, leaving the others to follow.

15

“I
think you have a devious mind,” Ivory said as she once again resumed her physical form, standing in the memory room of her lair. “Leading the hunters into the Valley of Mist and then going beneath the ground rather than through the mist was a stroke of genius. There was no way they could track us, not even through the call of blood.”

“The earth welcomes us and covers all tracks. I knew they could never follow our scent, even with the call of blood.” Razvan grinned at her. “I would have liked to have been there when they realized they were trapped in an illusion and fighting with snowmen, not ghouls.” He burst out laughing.

She stretched her arms wide to allow the wolves to take their normal shapes. “We did not make any friends.”

“We do not need friends. In any case, if they are without emotions, they could care less one way or the other.” He frowned. “I do not envy Mikhail his job.”

“Especially trying to destroy that book. He has no idea of the evil things inside of it.”

Razvan was silent for a long moment. “I should have spoken with him more about the book and its destruction. I dislike the idea of my aunts having to deal with anything involved with Xavier, but they, better than anyone else, would know how best to destroy the book.”

The concern in his voice moved her. The man had more compassion in him and more drive to protect those he loved than any person she’d ever met. Ivory turned toward him, her gaze drifting over him slowly. He took up a lot of space there in the confines of her home. His shoulders were broad and his physique very masculine. There was little soft about Razvan, although he had the calmest, most serene nature she’d ever run across as a rule. He glanced up and caught her looking at him.

Her heart leapt. There was stark, raw hunger in his eyes, glittering at her, devouring her, drinking her in. Her mouth went dry. They were alone. She moistened her lips. Wanting him. Even needing him. Fear gripping her.

“Razvan.” His name came out husky, her voice shaken.

His smile was slow, his voice as thick as molasses. “Ivory.”

The way he said her name made her body go hot and damp and her heart pound more. There would be no going back. It was all or nothing with him, she knew that about him. Once he touched her, claimed her, made her part of him, she would be lost. Completely. How much of her would disappear? She ached for this. For him. She was on fire for him. Almost desperate, when desperate wasn’t part of her makeup.

She held up a shaky hand before he could take a step toward her. “If you ever betrayed me, I would kill you. I would, Razvan. You have to know that. There would be no forgiveness. I have not trusted another person in centuries. Others do not matter, but you—you would matter.”

“I would expect nothing less from my woman.”

A slow, sexy smile curved his mouth and burned in his eyes. Hunger stared back at her. Desire. Lust. All things she could cope with. But there was love, pure and honest and so real it took her breath away, shaking her to her very core. Something inside her welled up. Burst. Opened to him. For him. This one man. If she took him in, her love for him would consume her. She had so much to give, but she’d been alone for so long . . .

He held out his hand to her. “I have been alone, too.”

She wanted to make him understand the enormity of the decision. Did he know what it would cost her? Did he know how terrified she was? Did he have any idea how bad she was going to be at a relationship?

His smile widened, giving her a flash of his white teeth. He leaned down and brushed a gentle kiss over her mouth. There was no way to save herself from her treacherous heart. She had already committed to him. She had fallen for his smile. His gentle nature. His iron will. Everything about him drew her. Even his stubborn streak and that absolute boyish sense of humor.
Everything
.

There was more danger to her here, in this man, in this moment, than from the most powerful master vampire imaginable, or from the most ferocious of battles. Loving him too much, as she would—maybe already did—might destroy her. She could put her physical body back together, but not her heart, not her soul—not the very essence of who she was.

“Trust me, beloved. I know I am asking more than any other has dared to ask, but look into the soul we share and trust me.”

Ivory kept her gaze locked with his. His eyes. His gorgeous, wild, midnight blue eyes that held so much. All for her. Only for her. So much hunger. So much desire. So much love. Her mouth trembled as she placed her hand in his and let him lead her into their bedchamber. Her heart pounded so loudly she was certain he could hear it.

Razvan closed the door on the wolves, leaving them settled in the larger memory room. He waved his arm to set lights flickering on a hundred miniature candles set into small indentations in the rock wall. The flames danced, throwing shadows across Ivory’s face. Her skin looked porcelain, rose-petal soft and inviting. Her eyes were enormous, burnished gold, liquid and frightened like a wild creature trapped by a predator, looking at him with a mixture of longing and innocence that was both intoxicating and irresistible.

He reached behind her and pulled her thick braid over her shoulder to release the tie, his fingers tunneling through the silky strands to loosen the tight weave so that her hair tumbled around her face and cascaded down her back. The texture of her hair, so soft, the strands running through the pads of his thumb and fingers, brought the smoldering embers into a slow burn. She didn’t flinch or turn away from him, nor did she lower her gaze from his.

There was courage in Ivory, an abundance of it. Courage he knew was a huge part of who she was. Ivory didn’t give up. If she committed herself to him, she would give everything to him, hold nothing back. He loved her all the more for that trait, that absolute unswerving characteristic that made her a dangerous hunter, but would also make her a fiercely loyal partner and a fantasy lover.

He wanted to take his time, explore every inch of her, every secret shadow and hollow, every intriguing, mysterious feminine curve. He could barely breathe with wanting. His hands moved to the buckles of her vest. He knew each buckle intimately, having committed them to memory earlier—the leather straps with the double holes—the tiny crosses embedded in the steel of each metal clasp and the three metal rivets on each side of the buckle and strap, also embedded with a cross—the cross that represented her faith and shining soul.

Of course either of them could have removed her clothes with a single thought, but he wanted the pleasure of unwrapping her. He wanted to take his time and offer her every single moment of pleasure he could give her—build her need from a smoldering ember into a raging firestorm.

She didn’t move, but he felt her sharp inhale and her breasts rose and fell against his knuckles as he worked the straps apart and pushed the material off her shoulders for a slow unveiling of her magnificent body. Her breasts spilled out. Soft. Enticing. So tempting he cupped the soft weight in his palms, all the time watching her face.

He saw the swift pleasure overtake her, the flush of color, the slight glazing of her eyes as his thumbs brushed over the taut peaks of her nipples. Holding the twin soft mounds in the palms of his hands felt like a miracle, the sensation beyond his fantasies. He’d given up those dreams long ago—so long ago he couldn’t even remember if he’d ever had them—yet she stood before him, her soft feminine curves a gentle weight in his hands and her enormous eyes looking at him with such trepidation . . . and anticipation.

He brushed a kiss over her forehead, then down to the corner of her left eye. A small shudder went through her body. He kissed the tip of her nose and the corners of her mouth. Her lips parted slightly. Hunger welled up in her, swamping him so that for a moment his mouth hovered a scant inch from hers while he fought for control.

He took her breath first, drawing it deep into his lungs, and then he took her mouth, his lips settling over hers, absorbing the shape and texture, the soft firmness, the building heat. His tongue slid along that slightly parted seam, the small invitation.

Ivory’s breath caught in her throat. He was leading her down an unknown path of temptation, and she was just too far gone to resist. His kiss was sinful, his mouth a wicked excitement that filled her with such need she couldn’t stop her response. He whispered something, sexy, nearly imperceptible, as his tongue swept into her mouth, exploring the hot recesses, running seductively over her teeth and claiming her body for his own.

She knew that was what it was. A claiming. Taking her body and making it his own. His thumbs brushed across her nipples and she nearly cried out, the sound strangled by the lump rising in her throat. Streaks of fire raced from her breast to her clit and her womb clenched. He kissed her over and over until she felt delirious, but one part of her was always focused on his hands. On waiting. On needing.