Dark Peril (14 page)

The cracks widened, drawing Solange’s attention again, now several feet long, the ground opening a good inch across. It was impossible to see how deep each crack went.

Look out!
It sucked that she didn’t even know his name.
On the ground, a trap.
She didn’t know what kind of trap, but it was closing in on him, ring after ring of spiderweb cracks. She sent the detailed image into his mind.

Dominic.
The name was given to her in a calm, detached tone, even as his sword parried thrust after thrust, the vampire clearly trying to maneuver him toward the widening, gaping holes in the forest floor.
I am Dragonseeker.

Solange frowned, the adrenaline running wild, the blood in her veins pumping in a ferocious, almost violent reaction to the parasites in the vampire’s blood. She actually could feel the reaction inside of her, as if her blood rose up to fight the blood of the vampire in complete revulsion. Everything inside of her felt feral and uncontrollable, yet he was the exact opposite. Dominic. That was all. As if he was strolling through a meadow of wildflowers, not in the fight of his life.

She took a breath, watching the way the master vampire maneuvered him, stepping back, drawing him in, turning left, then right, attacking, retreating, but keeping Dominic’s attention on him as he expertly wielded his sword. That terrible razor-sharp blade sliced into Dominic’s chest, shredding elegant clothes and leaving deep slashes across his skin.

The master vampire and Dominic anticipated one another’s moves, a very violent ballet that was terrifying yet so mesmerizing, she couldn’t look away. All the while those rings kept circling Dominic, coming closer and closer. To her horror, spiders began to pour out of the cracks. She recognized them immediately. Brazilian wandering spiders were highly venomous and aggressive. The spindly legs spanned a good five inches, and they seemed to pause, rearing back to stare at Dominic with their eight eyes, the two largest glowing with the same ruby-red maniacal hatred Demyan’s eyes held. They displayed red jaws, a signal of anger, evidence of their readiness to attack.

Solange knew from experience that Carpathians could push deadly venom from their system, but with multiple, excruciatingly painful bites, Dominic would have problems fighting the master vampire. She couldn’t spray the ground with fire to incinerate them, but she could perhaps disrupt Demyan’s battle plan. She had no idea how to get through those spinning blades but she was willing to try. Before she had a chance to let him know, she felt the stirring in her mind.

Distract him with your arrows and I will call down the lightning to burn these creatures. Watch for the faint blurring just below his heart. I will attack hard. He will be hard put to keep the knives in various patterns. That is his vulnerable spot.

She should have known he would have the same plan as she did. In her dreams, they often discussed the battles they’d been in and they definitely thought alike. She took careful aim, breathing deep for calm, her eyes on the spot just below Demyan’s heart. The knives were terrible, glinting, silvery bursts that never seemed to show an opening. She waited with complete faith that Dominic would maneuver the master vampire into her line of fire. She’d get one, maybe two arrows off and he’d attack her. She had to be ready to abandon her perch, but she wasn’t going to ground, not with those spiders everywhere. She didn’t have the Carpathian ability to remove the venom from her system.

Dominic, as calm as ever, ignored the thousands of eyes staring at him and glided close to Demyan, coming in at an angle and forcing Demyan to sidestep or go backward. For one tiny second his armor faltered, repeating the pattern, and Solange let the arrow fly. It wasn’t even close to a kill shot, but it sank into the spot just below the heart and exploded. The air charged fast, her hair standing on end. She leapt.

Instantly, the world around her exploded with heat and a great burst of light. The force knocked her backward in the air. She used her flexible cat spine to turn, hands seeking a branch. She had no choice but to drop her crossbow to save herself. She needed both claws to catch what surface she could to keep from hitting the ground, now on fire, the spiders burning and popping with hideous shrieks, a foul stench permeating the air, making her cough.

She dragged her body up into the tree, her strength waning. She saw Zacarias glance at Dominic, who gave an imperceptible nod. Her heart jumped. They were in communication and they were planning on an all-out attack. Zacarias drove through Drago’s defenses with an ease that made her realize he’d been deliberately keeping the lesser vampire alive for some reason she couldn’t fathom. He slammed his fist through the chest wall, nearly lifting the undead into the air with the force.

There was a horrible sucking sound as he extracted the heart and flung it into the fiery blaze Dominic called down. At the same time, Dominic timed his throw, slamming his blade straight through the knives. Sparks became fireworks, the blades grinding to a halt, shattering and dropping to reveal Demyan’s blood-streaked body.

The master vampire roared his hatred, taking in Drago’s body as it turned to ashes, his gaze leaping to Zacarias. The knowledge that the two hunters were working in conjunction hit him. Solange saw the shock on his face. Instantly lianas dropped from the trees, coiling like living snakes around Dominic as he thrust his fist toward Demyan’s chest. Solange shed her clothes hastily, tearing off her blouse and shoving her jeans aside. She leapt from the tree to the rolling ground, shifting with practiced speed. The vines wrapped Dominic tight, pinning one arm and covering his mouth and nose. One looped around his neck, drawing tight around his neck as another grew the head of a viper and reared back, teeth exposed to strike at his eye.

The jaguar rode out the sudden upheaval of ground beneath it, setting itself, waiting. The moment the swell subsided, she charged Demyan, rushing at him from behind. His attention was on Dominic, directing the vines that were imprisoning him. The jaguar hit the master vampire full force, teeth sinking into the back of his head. Powerful jaws clamped down on his skull as the momentum of the jaguar’s attack drove him forward to impale his chest on Dominic’s outstretched fist.

As Solange jumped back, Zacarias picked up Dominic’s discarded sword and, with a fierce swing, cut the blade through Demyan’s neck. His head went flying and Solange turned away, unable to look at the sight of a head rolling across the ground, right into the fire. His screams raked at her insides, and even in her jaguar form, she felt bile rising. Dominic tossed the heart into the blaze and the two Carpathians stood, heads down, breathing hard, while around them the ground blazed with fire and the vampire blood burned through skin to bone.

Solange made her way to the tree where she’d left her ragged clothes, not looking back. She knew the two Carpathian males were seeing to their wounds, healing themselves as best they could before trying to clean up the area and remove all the vampire blood as well as parasites to aid the forest recovery.

She dressed behind some brush, considering making a run for it, but she was too tired to even try it. She couldn’t help with the cleanup. She’d be lucky to find a safe place to sleep. Steeling herself, she squared her shoulders and turned, nearly bumping into—
him.

6

My dream lover and lifemate,
You know every part of me.

SOLANGE TO DOMINIC

S
olange stared up—and up. Dominic was far taller and larger in life than he seemed in her dream. This was no shadowy figure, but a real man, flesh and blood standing before her. He was an imposing figure, his shoulders wider, his chest more muscular, everything just
more.
Her gaze traveled up his body, noting every wound, noting the narrow hips, the tapered waist and the ripples of muscle over the flat belly. Her lungs refused to draw air. She literally had no idea how to react to him.

Her gaze got stuck on his mouth. He had a beautiful mouth, his lips very sculpted. She just stood there, her heart pounding, her mind screaming, staring at his mouth, unable to look away or look further up his face. She felt small and insubstantial beside him. She felt feminine. Like a girl. A young, silly girl who had no idea of the world between man and woman. She was at such a disadvantage.

She was likely to blurt out something insulting. She pushed people away when she felt vulnerable, and she’d never felt more vulnerable in her entire life. This man could break her heart. She knew that just by standing in his presence, and when her heart was involved, she was at her most lethal. Her claws were tipped with venom. She could be very mean, capable of cutting him into little pieces with insulting words. She had perfected her sarcastic, uncaring attitude until it was an art form.

She’d already lost him and she hadn’t even opened her mouth. She couldn’t do this. She could fight any battle asked of her, walk unafraid into the heart of the enemy’s camp and steal a woman out from under them to set her free, but she couldn’t do this. She pressed her lips together tightly, legs trembling, turning to jelly, wanting to run. She tasted fear in her mouth.
Fear.
Her. Solange Sangria, afraid of a man. She detested the feeling.

Solange with a man. For the first time in her adult life, she was terrified. Absolutely terrified. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t face this—the one person on earth she had given her soul to. She had opened her soul to him, told him every secret desire, every fear,
everything.
Jaguar-women were naturally submissive to their males. They fought until the strongest, most aggressive dared to mate with them, and they submitted to the male. She was preprogrammed for that fight/submit dance between male and female, and it terrified her. She could never acknowledge that side of her personality. She could never submit, yet that part of her wanted to, so she pushed it deep, submerged it totally beneath the fighter, hidden from all eyes—all but his.

She shivered—or trembled; she honestly didn’t know which. He caught her chin between his thumb and finger in a firm grip. Birds took wing in her stomach. His touch was just as she imagined, gentle but impossibly firm, the touch of a man in complete command of himself—and of her.

“Look at me, Solange.”

His voice was every bit as gentle as his touch. A low caress, like velvet against skin. Tender, but a command nevertheless.

She struggled with her nature, with the heat between them, the need in her for a soul mate, for someone to share her lonely life, a need so strong she could barely think with wanting to be everything he desired. Someone like her might get lost in someone like him. Another man, one less—just less—and she would be able to save herself. The other side of her, fierce and proud—the side she was most familiar with, the one she took refuge and comfort in—would never respect a lesser man.

Silence stretched between them. It was sheer agony to obey. It was worse not to. He left the decision completely up to her, but the force of his personality was daunting.

“Does it require courage, then, to look at me,
kessake
—little cat?” That soft voice that stroked over nerve endings shook her.

He sounded so deceptively gentle, yet she’d seen him rip the heart from a master vampire. She actually trembled.

“I believe, if there is one woman with courage on this earth—it is my lifemate.”

Her gaze jumped to his. Locked with those cool green eyes. No, they were slowly going as blue as the deepest water, changing color as the warrior in him gave way to the man. Her stomach somersaulted. Her heart contracted.

He smiled at her, a slow, sexy smile that took her breath. His teeth flashed at her, perfect and straight. His straight aristocratic nose, even his scars belonged—enhanced rather than detracted from his potent masculine aura. Everything about him seemed so perfect. She stood there soaked to the skin, shivering, her hair hanging in damp trails, wild and out of control, her body covered in scars, bruises and lacerations, streaked with blood and reeking of sweat instead of perfume.

His thumb slid over her lips, the softest of brushes. His palm framed the side of her face. He looked at her as if there were no other woman in the world. An illusion, but it warmed her when she was cold inside.

“Hello.”

That simple greeting accompanied by that intense blue gaze burning over her, that slow, sexy smile and the dark, melting voice, turned her inside out. She moistened her lips, wanting to answer, but no sound would come out. She could only stand there helplessly looking up at him, wishing she was Juliette or Jasmine. Anyone but Solange Sangria.

“I need to inspect you,
sívamet—
my heart.”

Her heart jumped again.
Inspect her?
For what? To see if she was good enough for a man like him? A thousand ugly smart-ass comments welled up, but she couldn’t utter a word, she couldn’t even look at him. Mutely, she shook her head. Tears burned behind her eyes. She wouldn’t hold up to any inspection if he was looking for the perfect woman.

Her hair was all over the place, muddy and straggly. She was covered in river water and blood. She tried to imagine what her body would look like to him. She was
not
removing her clothes. Jaguars were not modest, but in front of
him
? No way! It wasn’t happening. For one horrible moment she pictured herself standing in front of him, nude, hands behind her head, presenting herself to him. She had thunder thighs. She didn’t want to think about her hips or her butt. Okay, she did have nice breasts, and a narrow waist, but she had ropes of muscle everywhere. She was too heavy . . .

Panic took over. She nearly hyperventilated. His hands were gentle on her skin and she closed her eyes, shoving down a sob. She would not run from him like a coward. She was royalty, although Juliette often said she was a royal pain in the butt—which was true. How did other women handle this?