Dark Destiny (13 page)

"You are not a monster, Destiny. Our people face many problems. Our men lose their ability to see in color, to feel emotion after two hundred years. Everything fades. In the old days, when our people were plentiful and our lifemates were close, it wasn't so. Now we feel the scarcity of lifemates acutely. With no women to give us children, there was no hope for our dying race. Many of our males have chosen the momentary rush of power, the high of a kill over honor and a barren existence. That forces us to hunt them despite the fact that they are often family and friends. Each kill we make spreads the darkness until it consumes us. It is not an easy life, tormented by fading memories of color and laughter and what it was like to have genuine emotion."

Destiny rubbed her temples. She didn't like to think about his life, or touch on his memories. A barren life of gray and white, an endless desert stretching out in front of him. Until she had connected with him. She saw clearly his worry for Vikirnoff. She saw clearly his need of her.

"Some human women with psychic abilities are capable of being converted to our species. You are obviously one of those women. We need children. Our women, our children, are precious to us, true treasures. We protect them with everything in us. Our women and children are our only hope."

"And that's what the vampire did to me, right? He converted me. How?"

"It takes three blood exchanges, but with a lifemate, it's not painful or terrible in the way you experienced. When we make love, it's natural to share each other's essence. To want our blood to flow in each other's veins. It's almost a compulsion. When we are with our lifemates, kissing them, skin against skin, exchanging blood is a beautiful need."

His voice seemed to whisper over her, a soft temptation she couldn't think about. "I see what you're trying to say to me. I look into your mind and heart and I can see that you mean what you're saying. I only wish this were all true, Nicolae, but it can never be for me. I believe that what you say about Carpathians is fact. I sense goodness in you, along with the crouching beast. But you and I both know I wasn't converted by you. Or by a Carpathian male. I can smell tainted blood miles away. The stench is disgusting. Do you believe I can't smell it on myself? In the cave, they called me to join them. You heard them calling me. Even the undead recognize what I am. Perhaps if one of your kind had converted me, I'd be all that you say, but it was a vampire, and his blood runs in my veins."

"You can be healed."

"Can you heal my memories? Can you remove the things that were done to me? You think you made me into a killer; Nicolae, but it wasn't you. It was never you."

"I taught you to kill, Destiny. No matter how necessary I deemed it, killing was foreign to your nature. It is not to mine." He was not going to allow her to feel as if she were born a monster. "
I
touched your mind with mine. I still do. The shadows there are of a vampire's making, not yours. Already my blood has lessened the burning in your veins. With time we can overcome what he has wrought."

Destiny shook her head. "I've lived with this forever. If there had been a way to fix it, I would have done so already. I may be partially in your world, but I'm also in the world of the undead. I'm unclean. I know it before I open my eyes, before I take my first breath on rising. I've killed so many times, I can never remove the blood from my hands." She looked at him, unaware of the terrible sorrow on her face.

Nicolae saw it and it turned him inside out.

"I examined your memories, Nicolae. I've had so many years of studying your mind, the battles and techniques used to kill. You don't feel anything when you attack. You don't know hatred. And you don't know rage. You don't know satisfaction and joy in killing. I do. Is that what you want in the mother of your children?" She turned away from him, hating him for making her confess her failings aloud. Making her see herself so clearly. "You never felt; I felt too much. I
wanted
to kill. You had no choice."

He glided closer, his heart breaking for her. "You didn't have a choice either, Destiny," he reminded. "He didn't give you choices."

"There's always a choice. You said yourself that the males can give up their lives rather than become vampire. I see in your mind the steadfast resolve to do so if it becomes necessary… and yet I didn't make that choice."

His hand swept down the line of her hair, caught the nape of neck and held her still. "You were not made vampire, Destiny. You are Carpathian."

"Then why do I feel hatred and the desire to kill? Why am I like him and not like you, Nicolae? Do you think it makes it easier to have you near me, knowing what I am, what I've become?" She placed her palm on the wall of his chest, fingers splayed wide, and tried to push him away from her.

He was as solid as a rock, unmoving despite her insistence. "You are not like the monster who stole a child from the safe haven of her home. You are not like the creature who destroyed a young girl's right to a world of innocence. You are nothing like the depraved one who reveled in torturing and killing others. I see into
your
mind just as clearly as you see into mine. I know who you are, Destiny. I will always know."

"Intimacy." She murmured the word and there were tears in her eyes. "You look into my mind and call it intimate. I call it hell."

He drew her into his arms. "Your hunger is beating at me. I feel it deep inside me, an endless, empty ache." His fingers bunched in her hair and he turned her face into the hollow of his throat so that his pulse beat strongly beneath her lips. "I feel how his blood burns like acid in your veins. Let me replace it with my blood. Let me give you that small gift. That is true intimacy, Destiny, knowing what you need and providing it."

"And what of your needs?" Almost helplessly she rested her head there against his throat. Her mouth was already moving over his skin, the temptation far too great to resist. She could remember the exact taste of him. The feel of his arms, his skin. The power flowing into her body. "What if I can never provide you with what you need? The thought of a man touching me is…" She trailed off, inhaling his scent, taking it deep into her lungs. It could never be. It was too late for the things in his mind.

She didn't want a man touching her, yet every nerve ending was on fire for him. An unfamiliar heaviness had settled in her body. Her breasts felt swollen and ached for his touch. Not a man's touch. His touch. Only his touch. Tears burned, threatened to consume her. If she cried, she might never stop. She might drown the world with her tears. "I don't need pity. I never asked for pity." She said it with her lips tasting his skin, his heat. Absorbing him into her. She actually felt his body hardening, his muscles taut against her softness, his heavy erection pressed tightly against her.

"I am not giving you pity, Destiny. This is love." He said it tenderly. Coaxing her. "Yours for the taking. This is unconditional love. Nothing more, nothing less."

His arms were strong and warm; her body fit perfectly into his. "Your body wants my body," she whispered, the terrible sorrow welling up in her like a fountain. Her voice was husky and ragged. She was damaged for all time, a broken thing, forever contaminated by evil.

His hand clenched in her hair, pushed it aside to expose the vulnerable nape of her neck. He ached for her. For himself. "Of course my body wants you. That is only right and natural, Destiny. You are my true lifemate. There is no other for me, nor will there ever be. Look beyond my body to see into my heart and my soul. See yourself the way I see you. Courageous and beautiful. You are everything. Look into my mind and see that I want only to be what you need."

She couldn't look into his mind. Or his heart. Or his soul. She was afraid she would find just what he said. Happiness and hope. A glimpse of what might have been. She knew exactly what she was. She lived with her body and her mind and her scarred soul every rising. Dreams had no place in her world. Destiny closed her eyes and allowed her incisors to lengthen. She needed to feed. That was all. That was all there could ever be between them. He was prey like every other man. Nothing more. Never more than that. She meant to drive her teeth deep, hoping to hurt him, hoping to drive him away from her.

It was impossible to hurt him. She couldn't do it. Her tongue swirled over his pulse, her breath warm and soothing. Her body moved on its own, restless and with a sense of urgency, pushing close to his, her hands moving over his chest, his back, shaping the defined muscles while his skin grew hotter and his breath grew ragged.

Nicolae whispered her name softly, hoarsely, a plea for mercy, his body going up in flames. Destiny wrenched herself out of his arms. She was shaking, her expression a mixture of fear and anger. "Go away from me," she said. "Stay away from me. I'm afraid of what I'll do to you if you stay." She backed away from him. "Please, if you really care, just go to some other land where I know you'll be safe."

He watched her leave and made no move to follow her. The chaos of her mind was too turbulent. A boiling mass of violence and rage, hurt and fear. Nicolae remained where he was for a long time, his head down, breathing deeply to get through his sorrow. To get through her pain. When he touched his face he was shocked at the blood-red tears he wept.

Chapter Six

The moment Destiny placed her foot on the steps in front of the church, she felt the vibrations of violence. She had tried to leave Seattle, go back to being a nomad, roaming the world, but after several risings, she had reluctantly returned. She had deliberately stayed away from the neighborhood, determined to move on. Determined not to care about any of them. Not purple or pink-haired ladies or Mary Ann or Nicolae. None of them mattered to her. Not a single one.

But she was a woman of honor. She had unfinished business with Velda and Inez; she'd given her word, so she had no choice but to return. She told herself honor was her only reason, but it was a lie and weighed heavily on her heart.

Destiny stared at the church doors. She had come back to this place, her one anchor, her last refuge, her sanctuary. Even in this holy place, something evil had followed her. She moved up the stairs cautiously, her footfalls silent, almost gliding above ground. She moved with all the stealth of a hunter. Destiny's hand was steady as she pushed open the doors to the church. At once she scented blood. The smell was nearly overpowering, a dark richness that beckoned and warned. She felt her heart accelerate and her pulse jump. The palms of her hands were sweaty as she widened the opening. Her stomach knotted, and hunger heightened into a terrible craving.

She scanned the church, found no one hiding, but the reverberations of violence were strong. She lifted her foot and hesitated, trepidation filling her soul. "Father Mulligan?" She called out his name softly and resolutely stepped across the threshold.

Nothing happened. Not a single lightning bolt slammed down from the sky to incinerate her for such a sacrilege. Her heart settled down to a steady rhythm as she gained confidence. She could see easily in the darkened interior. Several candles lit in a small alcove to her left were dim pinpoints of flickering lights. She spotted the priest lying on the floor near the altar. In his brown robes he looked like a dark heap of rags cast aside on the marble stair leading to the altar. Destiny knelt at his side. "Father—not you," she whispered. "Who would hurt you?"

The priest remained motionless for several heartbeats. Destiny leaned close to him. She could hear his ragged breathing. He was alive, but she was afraid to touch him. He looked so fragile, she was afraid she might hurt him. And a part of her was afraid that if she touched such a holy man, she might be struck dead on the spot. The priest groaned, lifted his fingers to touch his bloody scalp. His lashes fluttered, and then he was looking at her.

"Father? Who did this?" She inched back, automatically seeking the shadows.

"Child, I'm afraid you're going to have to help me sit up. I'm quite dizzy." His Irish brogue was still thick despite many years in the States.

"Touch you, Father?" She sounded horrified. "What if I hurt you?"

He managed a smile. "I don't think you're going to do any more damage to my hard head than has already been done. Give me a hand."

Taking a deep breath, Destiny put her arm gingerly around his shoulders. When nothing happened, she took a firmer grip. Very carefully she helped him into a sitting position. He felt much thinner than he appeared in his robes, his bones protruding and fragile.

His body was trembling, and he swayed as if he might not be able to sit alone, so she kept her arm around him. She realized he was older than she had first thought.

"When I realized he was going to hit me, I thought of you and all your late visits. I knew God would send you to me." He tried a wink and winced instead. "Just to stack the odds a bit in my favor, I sent up a little prayer to ask God to get a message to you."

"Well, he sent for me a little late." She was nobody's heroine. It angered her that anyone would hurt such a generous, compassionate man. "God must have been sleeping when you sent Him the message. He just now delivered it." She had no idea why she had come to the church but somehow she had felt an urgent need to visit.

"You're here—that's all that matters."

"Can you stand up?" His extreme pallor worried her. "Maybe I'd better call an ambulance."

"No, no, don't do that. Just let me sit here for a moment and rest." The priest patted her hand gently as if reassuring her. "If you call an ambulance, we'll have to explain all this, and it would be better to get to the bottom of it ourselves."

Destiny frowned at him. "You're not making any sense, Father. You have to call the police. Whoever did this should be punished."

He slumped closer to her, leaning more of his weight against her. "No, that's why I needed you." His voice sounded weaker. "You can't go to the police. It was one of my parishioners. He isn't like this. I don't know what got into him. He didn't need the money—there was nothing much to take—but there was no reasoning with him." He closed his eyes and sagged completely against her. "I'm counting on you."