Dark Curse

The night was bitter cold. He shouldn't be feeling it-Carpathians could easily regulate body temperature, but he wanted to be cold. It was a feeling. Not emotion-butsomething . Cold was like bitterness maybe, and bitterness was an emotion. Maybe that was the closest thing to a feeling he would have before his death.

Nicolas De La Cruz walked the length of the village with long, slow strides, his face turned from the people who shared the walkways with him to prevent them from seeing his eyes. He knew the normally dark, midnight-black color glowed a deep ruby red. Icy cold swirled in the pit of his gut, and deep inside, where his soul should have been there was only a small black piece left-and that, too, was filled with holes. The centuries of hunting and killing the vampire had long since taken their toll.

He lifted his face to the swirling clouds laced and heavy with snow. This was his last night. He was done with his fight. He had served his people and his family with honor, held fast through the centuries and hunted more of his fallen comrades than most. Tomorrow he would walk into the sun and end his long, barren existence.

He was far from his home and his brothers. His oldest brother, Zacarias, would be unable to stop him from such a distance, in fact, wouldn't sense his end until it was far too late to stop him. He wondered how long it would take for the sun to burn him clean. A long time with the stains on his soul, but still, his brothers wouldn't have to share the intensity of the suffering of his last few minutes of life.

He shivered, grateful for the cold on his face and skin, grateful he could feel physical sensations. Emotions-he had lost those so long ago they were a distant memory, or maybe not really his memory at all. Three of his brothers had found lifemates and shared their newfound emotions with him. In some ways their happiness made it so much harder to bear being so alone.

He had come for one last walk through the village before meeting with Mikhail Dubrinsky-prince of the Carpathian people. He'd traveled far to deliver a warning, yet now, he wasn't certain it was safe for a face-to-face meeting-especially in the close confines of the local inn. Already heartbeats were loud, bombarding him with the need for rich, hot blood. Sharp teeth pushed against the inside of his mouth and saliva gathered in anticipation of the feast.

It wouldn't take much to let himself taste-just for a moment, one time-the hot rush of adrenaline-laced blood that would give him a glimpse of lost emotion. And a woman... He would love to feel a woman's soft skin, inhale her scent, pretend for just a moment he had someone who belonged to him, would look at him with love-genuine love-not that greedy heat that came the moment a woman knew his material wealth.

If he could feel regret, it would be not for the countless times he had to destroy an old friend, not for the many souls he'd freed and laid to rest, but that he'd never felt the true need for a woman. He'd never held a woman he loved in his arms and worshipped her with his body.

The whispers in his mind grew stronger, tempting him with the things he had never known in his long life.

Women had been attracted to his looks, his power and his money. He had used them for sustenance, but he'd never been able to know what it was like to feel the pleasures a woman could bring his body, the peace she could bring to his mind. One taste. Just one. He could sink his teeth into soft skin and feel the flow of life, hear the quickening rhythm of her heart beating in tune with his. She would fear him, his domination, his complete supremacy over her. Life or death. He had that power.

His heart slammed hard in his chest. His body stirred to life. He scented prey. A fragrance beckoning to him. Calling out from the beauty of the night. He had only to take that one last taste and he could experience everything before the sun rose and burned him clean. He turned his head and saw her standing in the shadows. The breath left his body in a rush.

Her skin was pale and flawless. Her hair was pulled back in a long, thick braid. Her eyes were wide, large and sparkling, glowing slightly. She seemed to be waiting for someone. A man? A low growl rumbled in his chest and he felt his body react to the thought. Detached as he was from his actions, he found it all interesting. He had never felt threatened by man or beast or monster, yet looking at this young woman, he knew he would fight to the death for a chance to taste her blood, to feel the softness of her skin, to hear her heart match the rhythm of his.

For the first time in his long life, he actually had erotic images of his own, not drawn from someone else's mind. They rose up to taunt him. This woman writhing and moaning, pleading with him to give her everything. He wouldn't feel a thing when he took her offering, but maybe, if he took her life at the same time, he would have that one moment...

Her head snapped around and her gaze locked on him. There wasn't the instant look in her eyes he had come to expect-woman spotting attractive male. She looked like a predator, gaze burning, mouth firm. Her body was all woman, dressed in layers of clothing, a high-necked dark sweater with long sleeves that covered her wrists. A pair of dark leggings that ran into serviceable boots covered shapely legs. A wraparound skirt was cinched at her small waist with a wide leather belt and hugged the fitted leggings but gave her ease of movement and a long, warm cloak hung from her shoulders to her knees.

There was something familiar about her, as if they may have met before. Try as he might, he could not look away from her. Always with women he had the upper hand, drawing them to him with his looks and dangerous air, yet he had the feeling this woman wasn't at all consumed with desire for him.

Again he had a visceral reaction deep in his gut. A need for her to want him.Come to me now. Offer yourself to me . There was shame in using the gift of his voice to entrap and enthrall her, it would have made the fantasy better to have her come to him of her own accord. Afterward he might even be able to convince himself she wanted him, but not like this, with compulsion.

Her body jerked. Her chin went up and the bright eyes smoldered.As if she knew . She began to walk toward him. He moved into deeper shadows, his heart pounding. He could already taste her in his mouth, feel her soft skin sliding against his. His blood surged hotly.

She was of average height and his size dwarfed hers, but she had womanly curves and looked strong. She moved with fluid grace, not at all stumbling and halting as if fighting a compulsion. For a moment the clouds parted and light spilled across her face. His gut knotted.

Stop! Go back. Get inside. He had to save her. His hands shook-actually shook-and damn him forever to hell, his body stirred, hot and hard and aching for her, when in all his years he had never had such a response. Her life-her very soul as well as his-was in danger. Even as he warned her, he took a step toward her. Wanting her. Needing her. If he touched her, if he got too close, they would both be lost.

A frown flitted across her face. She pressed her palm to her body, down low and halted, looking confused.

Lara stared hard at the tall, wide-shouldered man coming toward her. He was the most classically beautiful man she'd ever seen in her life. His face was raw masculine beauty, his eyes so dark they were nearly black, yet when he turned a certain way, they glowed like rubies, causing a chill to race down her spine. He moved with unbelievable grace, his body flowing, ropes of muscles rippling subtly like a giant jungle cat on the prowl.

She didn't have reactions to men, no matter how hot they were. Her body remained as cold and as frigid as the ice chambers she'd spent the first few years of her life in, yet looking at this man, everything changed. Her breath quickened. Her pulse raced. Her stomach somersaulted and even her womb reacted, clenching hotly. But so did her birthmark. And her birthmark heralded the arrival of one thing-vampire.

The problem was, the mark seemed to have a short in it. One moment it burned with scorching heat and the next it went cool and lifeless. She had the blade of her knife up against her wrist, concealed by her long sleeve, the handle securely in her fist. She wasn't taking any chances, no matter how hot he was.

And then there was his voice. Velvet soft. Pure seduction. A night melody of dark promises, one moment beckoning, the next rejecting. The first time he spoke his command she had been certain he was a vampire drawing her to him to allow him to feed on her. The next moment he seemed to be trying to warn her off, yet he continued forward, his black eyes drifting over her face as if he owned her.

Nicolas couldn't stop walking toward her-as if he, not she, was the one under compulsion. He was going to have to call to Mikhail for help to save her. But he was so far gone, it was possible he would engage in a battle with the prince over her. And Mikhail couldn't be risked, not if their species was to survive.

Go! He warned her again, his voice low and firm, but he failed to bury a compulsion in his tone. As much as a part of him wanted to save her, the other part, standing off detached and greedy for one moment of true life, offeeling before he ended his existence, couldn't quite be noble enough to help her escape.

She turned her head, her gaze searching the shadows and rooftops for danger. He was almost on her when she turned back to him. Up close she was so beautiful. Breathtaking really. Her skin looked exquisite. Her scent was faint and alluring, drawing him. He felt almost in a trance, if that were possible for one such as him.

His fingers circled her wrist like a bracelet, light, yet made of steel.

She moved then, whirling around, into him, her elbow connecting with his sternum. Nicolas barely felt the blow that would have rocked a human. Suddenly his arms were locked around her and his face was buried in the thick mass of her hair. It was soft. Heaven.

The blood in her veins ebbed and flowed like the tide, pounding through her, making him know he and she-were alive. Not existing, but living. Standing there in the beauty of the night with the scent of the forest surrounding him as he took his last feast.

The whispers in his head turned to a possessive roar. This one was his alone. He didn't hesitate, he lowered his face to her shoulder, nuzzling the sweater aside to expose the bare flesh of her neck and the pounding pulse there. He made no effort to calm her, or put her under a compulsion. The adrenaline in her blood would heighten the experience, give him a rush of feeling so that he would always retain this moment. He sank his teeth deep and took the essence of her being deep inside him.

"Let go of me, you bastard," Lara snapped, shocked at the sudden pain, shocked that after all those years of swearing to herself no one would ever-ever-take her blood by force, she was locked in the arms of a vampire.

As a child, she had been used solely for food. Her father and great-grandfather had ripped into her veins and taken from her as if she were nothing, not human, not Carpathian and certainly not mage. She had been a food source and nothing more.

Rage swept through her. Shook her. Took her by surprise. She had never been so angry in her life. And yet, after the initial bite, the dark, erotic seduction made some part of her want to be a part of him, made her want to succumb to the fire and heat-to give her life for his.

Clenching her teeth, she fought the sensation of need and desire pulsing through her body. She wouldn't go that easily, or give in. She had no idea a vampire could be so cunning. One minute triggering an alarm, the next warning her off and then the bite. The absolute seduction of that bite.

She gripped the knife in her fist and tried to get a little room in order to move her hand toward his ribs, but she was facing away from him and it was difficult to feel where he was when lightning sizzled and crackled in her veins, robbing her of her ability to think.

Nicolas was so far gone in the ecstasy of her taste and shape and feel that it took a moment to register that she had spoken.Let go of me, you bastard . The words echoed in his mind, burst through his subconscious and took a hold of his heart.

Emotion flooded in with dizzying speed. Fast and sharp and jumbled so that it was impossible to sort anything out. The love he felt for his brothers came tumbling into his heart and mind. Anger. Rage that he had been following an honorable path yet had been so close to turning. Shame. For the near brush with the monster he had been hunting for centuries. More shame for the sins he had yet to confess to the prince-sins committed against the leader of their people. Not in action, but in their hearts and minds of Nicolas and his brother. Joy for the woman in his arms who would save him from a fate that would have dishonored not only him, but his family as well.

So much to try to sort out all at once. And all while his body was hard and hurting, his groin so full and thick the material of his clothes caused physical pain. He wanted her. Needed her. Had to have her. The taste of her was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. This woman. His lifemate. The woman he had searched for across several continents, the woman he had spent centuries looking for. The only woman who could restore his emotions.

He opened his eyes and her hair dazzled him. There in the darkness it burned bright red, but as he watched, his eyes played tricks on him, so that waves of colors glowed metallic and coppery. He couldn't find the strength of will to pull away from her, to stop the sweet fire sliding down his throat, tying them together in the way of his people. Somewhere, far off, he could hear his own mind screaming at him that he was losing his mind, that he had found her too late and that he was killing her, but he couldn't stop.

Pain ripped through his left side, startling him out of his trancelike state. He jerked his head up without swiping his tongue across the twin pinpricks at her pulse to close the wound. Blood trickled down her neck into the earthy tones of her sweater. He could see the garment, a dazzling color, hues of browns and gold, with red drops scattering and pooling in the yarn.

Color, after centuries of shades of gray. Beautiful, amazing color. He looked down at his side from where the pain emanated. The handle of a knife stuck out of his ribs. She stepped back away from him and spun to face him. Her eyes were twin jewels, burning bright, a deep emerald, not just green, but actually emerald. Even as he watched, the color swirled and changed, going from deep green to arctic blue. The blue was the color of the ice glaciers, clean and pure and ice-cold, but burning with intensity and fire.

He smiled at her. "Te avio palafertiilam. Entolam kuulua, avio palafertiilam."

His voice was low, a dark seduction that slid over her senses, like velvet playing over her skin, arousing her. Lara had heard those words before, long ago when the aunts sang her to sleep. They sang of a great love story. A man-as dark as sin. A woman-bright as light. Only that woman could save him from the worst suffering of honorable death, or the worst fate of becoming the vampire. She had the power to restore his lost emotions, to restore bright, beautiful colors to the world. The love story had been the one beautiful thing in her life as a child and she had clung to it, needing something to hang on to.

Te avio palafertiilam. Entolam kuulua, avio palafertiilam. You are my lifemate. I claim you as my lifemate. The words were so beautiful, so connecting, she could feel them echo in her heart and mind. They had been the words in her story and she dreamt of them, thought them romantic. But the man hadn't been so seductively beautiful and so utterly dangerous. And he certainly hadn't taken his lady's blood without permission. It was wrong. A violation she wouldnot permit.

Ted kuuluak, kacad, kojed. I belong to you.E lidamet andam . I offer my life for you. As he spoke the words in that perfectly calm, soft voice, he gripped the handle of the knife and yanked it from his body. Blood gushed down his side. He held out the weapon to her, handle first.

Lara swallowed hard, raising her gaze from the wound to his face. There was no anger. No expression at all. Just a strange serenity that shook her. She moistened her suddenly dry lips and reached out to take the knife. Her fingertips brushed his. Electricity sizzled up her arm. He merely opened his arms wide, presenting his heart as a target.

Pesamet andam. Uskolfertiilamet andam. Sivamet andam. Sielamet andam. Ainamet andam. His teeth flashed very white in the darkness. "I give you my protection. I give you my allegiance. I give you my heart. I give you my soul. I give you my body."

She realized he wasn't talking figuratively, but literally. He was offering to stand there while she drove a knife into his heart and took his life. This was no vampire. She had no real idea of what he was, but the words he was uttering were in the Carpathian language, a language as ancient as her aunts had been. And the words were a ritual that bound two halves of the same soul together. She had never believed in that love story, not truly, even though she knew the kinds of things that could be wrought with elements and energy and magic. But as he spoke each word in that soft, seductive tone, his black eyes glittering with possession and absolute determination, she could feel the ties forging like steel between them.

"Are you crazy? You have to be out of your mind. Don't stand there like an idiot. You need to stop the bleeding."

His eyes never left her face.Sivamet kuuluak kaik etta a ted. Ainaak olenszal sivambin . "I take into my keeping the same that is yours. Your life will be cherished by me for all my time."

She flung her head up, her red braid whipping across her shoulder, glacier blue eyes crackling and glittering with anger. "Really? Is this what you call cherishing me?" She pressed a hand to her neck where

the thin trickle of blood continued. "Youtook from me without permission. Without asking. Without one thought for how I might feel."

All the while she reprimanded him, her gaze kept dropping to the blood pooling at his side. He had to stop it. If he was Carpathian-and he had to be-he could close the wound on his own and keep his life's essence from flowing away.

Te elidet ainaak pide minan. "Your life will be placed above my own for all time." His expression didn't change. He kept his arms outstretched, presenting her with a kill target. His black gaze never left her face. His expression was utter, absolute serenity, although his eyes blazed with a dark possession.

Fury shook her. "You won't have a life if you don't heal yourself."

Te avio palafertiilam. Ainaak sivamet jutta oleny. Ainaak terad vigyazak. "You are my lifemate. You are bound to me for all eternity. You are always in my care."

She hissed out her breath, teeth snapping together. "You don't just get to claim me and think it's all going to work out. Not when you've taken my blood without my consent." Her heart was pounding as she watched his life ebbing away with the flow of blood. "Do something."

"It is not my choice. Life or death is the choice of my lifemate. If you reject my claim, then you are condemning me and I willingly die by your hand."

Her blue eyes were twin chips of burning ice. "Don't you dare blame your death on me." But she was already springing toward him, unable to stop herself. Her throat nearly closed with fear as she clamped both hands over the wound in his side. She wanted to shake him. Literally just grab him and shake him until he saw how utterly ridiculous he was being.

So much for her romantic love story. "You might be the hottest man in the village, but your brain is about the size of a pea," she muttered under her breath. "Close the wound. I don't have that kind of ability."

"Then it is life you choose for me."

His voice was enough to make a woman want to strip and jump him and the effect he had on her annoyed her more than anything else.

"You deserve to die just for being stupid," she snapped, but she didn't let go of his side, pressing tightly, making certain to clamp down and prevent further bleeding. "Now heal yourself."

He gave a slight, old world bow. "As you wish."

That voice was seduction itself. Her body tingled, her breasts heavy and aching. She didn't want him touching her, or brushing her face or body with his black gaze. She could hear his heart matching the rhythm of hers. Air flowed in and out of his lungs in tune with hers, a soft sighing so that their breath mingled together. Everything feminine in her, everything she was, Carpathian, mage and human, rose up to meet the male in him.

"I wish for you to get yourself some psychological help. You can't seem to make up your mind whether you're a vampire or a hunter." She deliberately injected scorn into her voice.

His expression didn't change. He didn't even blink, but she'd scored a hit. They were connected now, all

those unbreakable threads she felt between them allowed her to read his emotions and gave her an insight to the predator she was prodding. Her heart stuttered and her stomach did a funny little flip.

He didn't move, yet he was closer, much closer, his body pressing against the small palms of her hands where they were buried into his side. "Have no fears,palafertiil , I have made up my mind."

She didn't like the sound of that-the soft purring in his voice that sounded more like a threat than a reassurance. She felt the heat suddenly bursting from his body, saw the flash of white light glowing around her hands. His flesh grew hot, although it didn't burn her, merely cleansed the blood from her skin. She dropped her hands abruptly and stepped away from him, looking up the long length of his body to his incredible face.

His body up close was too masculine, too strong, too everything. Wide shoulders, solid-he looked invincible-even though she'd managed to get a knife into him. She swallowed fear and took another step back.

"I have to go."

"We go together. You cannot pretend I have not claimed you and that you did not reject my claim. You chose life for me. Our souls are one."

Lara frowned. She had a vague idea of the ritual binding words from the story her aunts told her. The words were imprinted on the male before birth. Once uttered, they bound two souls together so one could not survive without the other once the ritual was actually complete. She didn't know what the rest of the ritual was, but if it involved sex with this man, she really wasn't up to the task.

She tilted her head and looked at him with a cool steady gaze. She didn't feel cool or steady, but she wanted him to understand her-to know that if she'd ever been serious about anything in her life, she was serious about this. "I know very little about your traditions or culture. Just stories my aunts told me when I was a child, but no matter what you've done to tie us together, know this: I don't know you. I don't love you. I don't care anything at all about you. I spent the first years of my life a prisoner and I will never¨C never-allow anyone to imprison me again. If you try to take anything from me by force, if you try to break my will or manipulate my mind, I will fight you with the last breath in my body. So you make up your mind-choose life or death for us."

His eyes darkened to obsidian, glittering with a sensual lust that burned through her body. He cupped her chin with gentle fingers and bent his head slowly. Mesmerized, she couldn't pull herself away. She could see the long length of his lashes, the tiny crinkled lines around his eyes, the straight nose of the aristocrat, the mouth sinfully carnal, but stamped with the mark of a man who could be cruel.

Her breath caught as his hair brushed her face. She felt his mouth on her neck. Hot. Burning. Velvet soft. His tongue rasped over the twin pinpricks at her frantically beating pulse, stopping the tempting trickle of her blood.

I choose life for us.

The words slid into her mind like a caress. She moistened her lips as he straightened to his full height. "Fine then. We understand each other." She turned to go back to the inn-to safety, because no matter what this man agreed to, she knew she wasn't safe with him and it wasn't entirely his fault.

Once more his fingers settled around her wrist like a bracelet. Warm.

He stroked the pads of his fingers against the bare skin of her inner wrist, halting her. "I do not think you quite understand me and I would not want you later to say you were not in possession of all the facts."

Lara turned back reluctantly. "I'm listening."

"You are the one woman-the only woman-mywoman. This is something I take very seriously. Your health. Your safety and your happiness. I will see to these things, but I will not share you. I will not allow others to interfere in our relationship.No other . Man or woman. If you have a problem with something, you tell me. If you are afraid of something, you tell me."

"I don't know you. And I don't trust that easily."

"I did not say it would be easy. I just want you to understand who I am."

She couldn't push down the rising panic. She saw him exactly for what he was. A predator. A hunter. A man who made decisions and expected those around him to follow his lead. Already the ritual words had bound them together. She could feel the pull of him on her mind-even on her body.

Lara let her breath out slowly. "I don't share my blood."

His lips curved into a small smile. She caught a brief glimpse of his white teeth and then that predatory smile was gone and he once again wore a face carved of stone. "I noticed."

Color rose in her cheeks. "I have toget back inside. I have a friend who is hurt. Maybe you can help him. You obviously know healing."

All warmth leeched from his eyes. "Your friend is male?"

She shivered, suddenly cold. "Yes. I came with two colleagues. We're doing research nearby and we're staying here."

"What kind of research?" There was a bite to his voice, a note of suggestion.

Now her entire body was blushing. She was annoyed with herself for the fluttery nerves in the pit of her stomach. She was trying to establish herself as someone to take seriously, yet each time she looked closely as him something inside her seemed to melt.

He scared the hell out of her. She had faced monsters, yet she hadn't been as afraid as she was at this moment. This man had changed her life for all time. He stood calm and resolute, implacable even, looking at her with possession in his eyes and a mouth that was so fascinating, she could barely tear her gaze away, yet she knew he was one of the most dangerous creatures living on the earth.

"Well, it's hard to explain. Mostly we do sexual research together. You know, sex in every culture down through time."

"Very funny."

"You deserved it. You had that tone."

"I had a tone?"

She swept her green gaze over him and began walking back toward the inn, very aware of him pacing beside her with the silent stride of a jungle cat. "Actually, I explore caves and I've been researching life forms in ice caves." There was an edge of haughtiness in her voice. "So answer my question: Do you know much about healing? Or do you know someone who does? We were attacked by a hybrid-part plant, part snake-and very venomous."

He caught her elbow and brought her to a halt. "Did it bite you?" He was already running his hands up and down her arms, tilting her head this way and that. And then she felt the thrust of his mind against hers.

It was such a shock, the sheer intimacy of his mind merging with hers. There was nothing at all soft about him. He could erupt into violence with swift efficiency. When she had thought him one of the most dangerous creatures on earth, she hadn't even come close to understanding the killing machine that he was, yet he hid nothing from her. He didn't attempt to pretend to be different than he was, and she saw that he could. He could have appeared gentle and sweet, but he gave her the respect of showing her exactly who and what she was dealing with.

Lara inhaled sharply. Her aunts had told her Carpathians were powerful. They had presented them as heroic, hunters of the vampires, protectors of human and mage alike. She was unprepared for the ruthless, merciless mind of the hunter. And he was beyond any arrogance she'd ever known.

She couldn't prevent the tremor of awareness or the little shiver of fear. The heat of his body enveloped her, warmed her, driving out the cold of the night when she had forgotten to regulate her temperature. She attempted to retreat, slamming down the barriers in her mind. She had always been powerful, but it had been years since she'd had to utilize her abilities to conceal her mind from any other and she was slow and rusty.

"There is no need to hide yourself from me," Nicolas said. Not only was her body shivering, but so was her mind. He had triggered a well of fear, tapping into some long-ago memories of someone close to her who had misused and abused her trust. "I cannot lie to you, nor do I attempt to access what you will not give me freely. I look only for parasites and wounds. The snakes are more deadly than you can know."

She let her breath out, somewhat relieved. He hadn't examined her memories of that lost little girl. He didn't know who she was or what she was. There was always power in knowledge and she trusted no one-least of all the man who could make her body come alive when she had been frozen for so many years. She didn't trust anything that happened so fast, or that walked in an ancient land of enormous power.

"The snakes injected venom into my friend. There were tiny parasitic organisms in the venom and the blood of the snakes burned like acid." As she spoke, she moved away from him, a delicate feminine retreat.

Nicolas wanted to smile. He didn't smile easily. Hadn't smiled in five hundred years, but her girly reaction when she was trying to be a fierce warrior was so cute.Cute . He had never understood that word before. He'd heard it a thousand times but had no real concept of the meaning until that moment. Instincts told him she wouldn't appreciate being considered cute when she thought of herself as tough, so he kept his observation to himself.

She was shorter than most Carpathian women, barely coming up to the middle of his chest, but her body was all feminine curves. She considered herself overweight-he'd caught that small bit of information before he narrowed the flow of information to specifics. He didn't understand that either. She was

perfect, but then he would have thought her perfect no matter what she had looked like. How could he not? She had restored his life, his very soul. He could feel real love for his brothers. He could feel real honor and a sense of duty to his people. She had turned a bleak, gray world into a dazzling wonderland. She was the epitome of beauty to him with her classic bone structure and the jeweled eyes of the Dragonseeker line.

Power crackled in her. This was no shy, retiring maiden, but a warrior prepared to fight him at every turn. She didn't know he had already won the battle. She was part Carpathian and her nature would draw her to him. The pull between them would grow over time and he would make absolutely certain that he was by her side while time worked its magic on his lifemate.

"Stop staring at me like that." She walked faster.

He kept pace easily. "I had no idea I was staring in any particular way."

There was joy in the night as well as breathtaking beauty. He marveled that he could feel it, see it, be one with it. The heavy clouds formed whimsical shapes, drifting overhead with the helpful push of the wind. The village breathed, hearts beating, children's laughter ringing out. Why hadn't he heard those sounds before? Sounds of life and love. Fathers murmuring, mothers calling, children laughing. He had lost the magic of life over the centuries and now it was there, flooding his senses.

Her eyes flashed at him. Green again. Green was her normal color, a dazzling emerald her red hair made deeper. Glacier blue was her power color then. There was satisfaction in discovering that small fact about her. He wanted to know everything about her all at once, but he had learned long ago the lesson of patience and it had stood him in good stead for hundreds of years. Time would reveal her secrets to him and each moment spent with her-finding out the little things, the intimacies of her true self-would bring joy to him.

He even enjoyed the unrelenting ache she brought to his body. It was another sign of being alive-of living and breathing and sharing his world with her. His soul had been so dark, so damaged, he had been unable to feel emotion, keeping pain at bay and guilt and shame, but it also kept away true life.

"You are a miracle to me. Maybe that is what you are seeing in my stare. Sheer wonder." He kept his expression calm, not allowing his joy to overwhelm her, but he did inject the dark seduction of black velvet into his voice so that it caressed her skin and slid deeper into her body, lighting little electrical sparks from breast to feminine channel.

She stopped so abruptly in the open doorway of the inn he nearly ran into her.