Dark Demon (9 page)

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."