Dark Demon

"Natalya! Hurry. You're late again. Grandfather is going to be angry with you."

"I don't like going to see him. He has scary eyes."

Razvan puffed out his chest, his mop of tawny hair falling into his eyes. "I'll protect you. If he is mean to you, I'll tell him we're going to leave."

Natalya sucked in her breath and skidded to a halt, her silky hair flying in all directions. She shook her head solemnly. "No, Razvan, he gets very angry when you stick up for me. I don't want him to punish you. I know he was mean to you the last time you got mad at him for making me cry. You were too quiet and you didn't tell me what he did to you."

"I don't care what he does to me. I won't let him hurt you. Not now, not ever."

"Why won't Father come back ? I don't like being all alone. Mother is dead and Father went off and left us and now we just have Grandfather. I don't like him. You know Father wouldn't want us to live with Grandfather. He didn't like Grandfather either."

"Ssh." Razvan looked around, his too-old eyes suddenly wary as he threw his arm around his sister's shoulders. "Don't say that. He might hear you. He always knows what we talk about unless me meet in our dreams. We have to be careful, Natalya. Don't trust anyone. Don't trust Grandfather and don't be alone with him. Something bad could happen."

Natalya spun around as something thudded against the door. When she turned back, Razvan was gone. Alarmed she ran down the familiar steps leading to her grandfather's workshop and pounded on the door. It was locked and no one came to let her in. She slid down the door to the ground, tears running down her face. Razvan would be punished because she hadn't obeyed. He would suffer the wrath meant for her.

Through the sound of her sobs she heard her twin's voice. He sounded far away from her. "Natalya? Where are you? I can't see you? Something's wrong with me. Am I dead? Did you kill me? No, no, the hunter killed me... Where are you, Natalya? Tell me where you are!"

Razvan's plaintive cry wrenched at her heart. "I'm here, Razvan. At the inn."

Natalya woke with a start, tears running down her face. Her legs were cramped from staying in the same position for so long and her heart was pounding. Adrenaline flooded her body.

She and Razvan had been ten years old when their father had disappeared. She hated when reality or nightmares intruded into her precious memories of Razvan. She had no recall of her grandfather. She could only think that the events of the day had brought him into her dreams. Guilt weighed heavily on her mind and in her heart. Razvan was dead, killed by a merciless hunter and her guilt had entered her beloved dreams and twisted them, giving her a bad taste in her mouth and making alarm bells chime like crazy.

What had awoken her? She glanced at Vikirnoff. He remained still, no hint of breath moving through his lungs. No discernible heartbeat. She was still suspicious. She had seen him like that before yet he had been reading her thoughts.

Uneasiness spread through her mind. Her stomach churned and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. She snatched up her guns and stood listening at the door. Nothing. She ran her hands over the door. The safeguards were intact, some of the strongest she'd ever woven. Still, the feeling wouldn't go away. Something was not quite right. She glanced nervously at the bed.

Vikirnoff lay as if dead and then suddenly, without warning his eyes snapped open and his breath hissed out in a deadly snarl. Natalya nearly jumped out of her skin. His gaze shifted immediately to her face.

What danger has awakened me from my slumber?

So you feel it, too? She turned in a circle in the center of the room, trying to become a timing fork to ferret out the threat.

Get out of here. Go now, Natalya.

She crossed to the window and ran her hands over the drapes. She had no idea what she was searching for, but she didn't find anything. The feeling of dread was overwhelming. It's a good thing I have a big ego or you'd crush me with always wanting me to go away. She shot Vikirnoff a quick assessing glance. Should there be need, he would not be able to fight physically. He couldn't move at all, paralyzed by the time of day. She was tired and sluggish herself, but she had her weapons and whatever threatened them was going to get more then it bargained for.

She faced the door again. She felt a terrible dread each time she turned in that direction. Her gaze shifted around the room. The danger was palpable, but she couldn't find the source.

Natalya, get out. You must go. You can make it out the window. Protect your eyes and leave this place.

It isn't after me. It's after you. She was certain she was right and she didn't even know what it was.

She stepped back toward the bed, and positioned herself between Vikirnoff and the door. Her hands sketched an intricate pattern, while she murmured an ancient revealing spell. Whatever stalked the hunter was cloaked and it had to have known how to slip past the safeguards woven around the door. She didn't want to think of the possibilities of what that would mean.

Vikirnoff watched Natalya through half closed eyes.

Even in the darkened the room, his eyes burned, but he couldn't look away from her. Natalya seemed to glow. Power radiated from her, surged in the air around them. Electricity snapped and crackled. Natalya's hair flowed around her, rising upward toward the ceiling. Her hands pressed forward, her voice never ceasing.

Something shimmered in the room. Transparent. A shadow, bent over and creeping along on the floor. Natalya could barely see it as it inched toward the bed. Insubstantial, the shadow was made of ever-moving black and gray smoke. Fierce flames burned in the eerie red eyes. For a moment her heart ceased to beat, then it went into overtime, pounding so hard she was afraid it would leap out of her chest.

Vikirnoff. This is a shadow warrior. There was awe in her voice and ragged horror. Better to face three vampires and a legion of humans.

You must leave now.

She wanted to leave. She was so frightened it amounted to terror. You cannot defeat a shadow warrior in your condition. Even if you weren't so badly wounded, it's full day. The sun alone would put you at a terrible disadvantage. I can't leave you defenseless.

Listen to me, Natalya. This thing is legendary. I have only heard of them and their skills. I have never faced one. But even if you were a seasoned hunter at full strength it is said that no one can hope to win a battle with a shadow warrior. We thought them long gone from this world.

Natalya watched as the whirling cloud of vapor stood fully upright. Most of the time, the creature appeared to be nothing more than smoke, but there were moments she caught a brief glimpse of armor. The flames in the sunken eyes burned madly as the creature looked around the room. All the while the smoke was in constant motion, swirls of gray and black that seemed no more than a vague transparent film.

Self-preservation was strong in her and Natalya looked longingly at the drape-covered window. Why isn't he attacking?

Vikirnoff could lie passive, conserving his strength in order to have one chance at saving Natalya. There was no sense in wasting time arguing with her. She was strong-willed and he doubted if the bond between lifemates would even allow her to leave on her own. That bond, coupled with her personality, would make it impossible. He had to wait for an opportunity to use everything he had to save her life. Legend says movement attracts them. He is not paying any attention to you, but he searches for me.

The shadow was moving through the room slowly. Once, the gray smoke passed over Natalya and the thing hesitated, but moved on. Only the ancient wise ones used the shadow warriors.

There was only one ancient wise one capable of commanding the shadow warrior, Natalya.

Her heart sank. Xavier. She was well aware of the legendary rumor that she knew was a fact. Xavier, her grandfather, the dark mage, had been the one to create the weapon. Unfortunately she didn't know how they could be destroyed. She lifted her chin. Perhaps she was somehow responsible for this attack.

Taking a deep breath, she reached for her sword and in one smooth motion, stepped in front of the near-helpless Carpathian.

What do you think you are doing? His breath left his body in a rush of fear. His chest lifted and fell and that small action combined with Natalya's movements caused the shadow

warrior to swivel its head directly around toward him, the flaming eyes glowing with fervor for the kill.

Don't talk. I can't be distracted. She was already sweating, not a good sign.

Natalya watched the insubstantial shadow closely. The warrior raised its sword in the traditional manner. She raised hers in answer.

Vikirnoff watched her, his heart in his throat. She appeared perfectly balanced, her body light and graceful. Rather than a linear pattern, she moved with circular, gliding footwork, deflecting the warrior's sword as it arced toward Vikirnoff. Metal clashed on metal and sparks flew. Natalya danced away, slicing at the shadow as she glided once more directly into the path between Vikirnoff and the warrior. Her sword sliced through empty air.

The warrior turned directly toward Natalya. He grew in stature and substance, taking on a much more solid and powerful form. He towered over her, the flickering red of his eyes, tracking her every movement.

Vikirnoff forced his body to move. It took every ounce of discipline he possessed, every bit of strength of will to overcome the gripping paralysis in order to bring his arm up and wave it in the air. It only lasted a few seconds and the arm flopped lifelessly across his chest, but the warrior turned immediately toward him, drawn by the movement.

The shadow glided with astonishing speed, sword whistling toward Vikirnoff. Natalya deflected the strike and answered, a blur of motion, her hair crackling, the color going as black as midnight and her eyes burning a bright blue, as she spun around the warrior, sword slicing completely through the shadow at least three times.

This isn't working. He's worse than good old Freddie. Think, Natalya, you're good at this sort of thing. Think of what to do, she admonished herself.

He's gaining strength with the enemy. Do you feel it?

There has to be a way to defeat them. I refuse to believe they're invincible. She would not believe it. There had to be a way. In truth, she hadn't felt the growing power in the warrior, she was too busy trying to keep Vikirnoff alive. The shadow warrior wasn't trying to kill her. It merely saw her as a nuisance in its way. She continually intercepted the warrior's killing blows, preventing him from destroying Vikirnoff. The hunter was right, though. As the swords came together, her arm and body nearly went completely numb from the force he was generating.

You cannot kill what is already dead.

What did the legends say, Vikirnoff? She stepped in front of the bed again, fending off the flashing sword.

This time when the blades met, she stumbled under the sheer vigor of the blow.

Stop all movement.

If I stop, this father of all Freddies kills you. That's unacceptable. And before you get too excited by that and think I don't want you dead, I just plain hate losing.

It is too many hours before sunset. I cannot aid you with physical fighting.

Natalya parried another blow and took several slices at the armor-plated warrior. Her blade moved through smoke. Physical fighting. The words repeated over and over in her head. It was impossible to fight a shadow warrior and win.

What are they made of? Vikirnoff, hurry! What are they made of?

They have no substance. They are like Carpathians when we turn to mist. Small molecules, vapor, air. Even water. Dust. Whatever is around to form the particles is used. But he is dead, Natalya. Already dead. You cannot kill him.

It has to be more than that. It has life, essence. A spirit. Natalya parried another blow and sliced futilely through gray and black smoke.

The spirit of a lost warrior, taken from the grave without permission and forced to obedience without rest. That's what a shadow warrior is, right? she asked.

Vikirnoff again made a supreme effort to redirect the shadow warrior's attention back to him and away from Natalya. If it slays me, remain absolutely still. It will ignore you and leave.

Natalya deflected the blade of the shadow warrior from Vikirnoff's throat and sliced through the transparent body once again, whirling away from the bed so that the warrior tracked her across the room away from the hunter. Stop being so noble. You set my teeth on edge. This thing is really making me angry. Trust me, that is not a good thing. They're already dead. Think, Natalya. Call on your skills. She continued to instruct herself, staying very focused on the warrior.

I'm telling you it feeds off energy. The more you move, the more emotion you give it, the stronger the thing becomes. It's growing in stature, but not form.

I have a plan. Close your eyes and keep them closed. You'll have to trust me.

Vikirnoff immediately merged his mind with hers as she spun in a graceful circle, a blur of motion as she kept the warrior's attention fully focused on her. Even in the dire circumstances, Vikirnoff found her a beautiful, deadly combination. Grace and power, perfectly balanced, she moved with blurring speed, spinning in circles across the room, blade flying as she gained the covered balcony door. Her gaze shifted once to him, even as she parried another blow from the warrior. Vikirnoff saw her entire body vibrate with the force of the shadow warrior's strike.

Your eyes! It was the only warning Natalya was going to give him. If Vikirnoff wouldn't listen to her, even in the midst of a dangerous situation, that was on him. She gritted her teeth and caught at the drape, jerking the heavy covering down. Bright light spilled into the room through the glass of the French doors.

Instant agony seized her, abruptly cut off. She deflected another blow, her feet dancing in an age-old pattern, whirling and slicing as she glanced toward Vikirnoff. She could feel the light eating at her flesh, burning her eyes, but it had to be a million times worse for him. Cursing, she abandoned her plan and fought her way back to his side. Inwardly she damned herself for a fool. The shadow warrior gained strength with every moment while she grew weary. The hunter was going to die anyway. She was dumb, dumb, dumb, to keep fighting for his life.

Her sword whistled through empty space when she should have decapitated the warrior. His answering blade narrowly missed her waist and jarred her arm when she deflected it. She grabbed the quilt with one hand and yanked it over Vikirnoff's body to cover him completely.

The shadow warrior went after the movement of the quilt, drawn by the scent of the hunter. The deadly sword thrust into the quilt and a fountain of blood erupted. Natalya's breath hissed out in fury from between her clenched teeth. She lunged at the warrior, trying to drive him back with her shoulder, but she fell through his body, staggering to keep her balance and whirling to face him.

Stop your heart and lungs! It was a demand, accompanied by a strong push of compulsion at Vikirnoff. Her fear for Vikirnoff amounted to terror. She slammed her sword again and again against the warrior's, preventing his renewed attack on the hunter.

Her heart sank. They were both dead. She'd killed them with her confidence. What had she been thinking? She knew the effects of sunlight on the Carpathian race. Blisters were forming on her skin. She knew Vikirnoff would be fried even with the small exposure he'd suffered. And all the while her strength was draining. She couldn't fight the shadow warrior forever.

You need the door opened. With every ounce of his last remaining strength, Vikirnoff used telekinetic power to undo the safeguards and the locks to thrust the balcony door wide open. Your plan is a good one. A warrior's luck to you.

She recognized the words from somewhere as a formal ritual between hunters. Somehow the words calmed her mind and allowed her to think clearly again. She began a graceful, spiraling attack, constantly in motion, drawing the shadow warrior across the room, away from Vikirnoff and towards the open door. Her voice began a soft murmur as she drew on her legacy, the powers of earth, wind and spirit. She needed luck, more than luck. She needed a miracle.

"Hear me now, dark one, great warrior torn from your resting place, while I call on earth,

wind, fire, water, and spirit."

The shadow warrior lowered his sword and was still for the first time since he had been revealed to her.

"I call each to me and bind them to me and with them, I invoke the right of shadow law. The dark mage's blood runs in me. Heed what I say. I command the wind"-she flung her arms into the air and brought the wind howling into the room-"to come to me, to carry my warrior home."

The shadow warrior remained standing, sword at ready, his glowing eyes fixed on Vikirnoff. Well, at least she had his attention. She knew spells, thousands of them. She just had to come up with the right combination.

She faced the warrior and seemed to grow in stature. Her hair crackled with electricity as she lifted her arms toward the shadowy figure. Most things were bound by blood. She could do this if she just thought it through. "By shadow law, through ancient's blood, I claim my right by mage's blood."

The warrior jerked as if she'd struck him. His fiery eyes shifted from the bed and focused completely on her. Natalya's heart rate increased dramatically. She wanted his attention, but he was intimidating. Her hand tightened around her sword as she sorted through ancient spells for words that might release him. "That which was brought forth, I now return, by power of air and fire that burns."

The wind increased, tugging at the gray smoke that made up the shadow warrior's form. The flames in the eyes leapt and burned, so that sparks actually flickered in the swirling smoke. The sight was terrifying.

It is working. Vikirnoff, holding the merge, saw her brain functioning at high speed, sorting and discarding spells, turning words over and over in her mind, rearranging them and putting them together. He was astonished and awed by her amazing ability with so many ancient teachings.

Natalya swallowed hard and pressed on. I need to send the warrior back to the nether world and seal him there for good.

I feel your power. It is alive in the room and surrounding him.

Natalya took a deep breath. She could do this. She was born to do this! "Shadow and dust shall be reclaimed, earth sealing the tomb from whence you came." She was gaining confidence. This was her realm of expertise like no other in her. "Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, warrior return, breathe your last." Her voice swelled with command. "Air, earth, fire, water, hear my voice, obey my order, thrice around your grave do bound, evil sink into the ground. I now invoke the law of three, this is my will, so mote it be."

The shadow warrior stared at her a long moment with his fiery eyes. He bowed slightly

and gave her a small salute with his sword. The wind rushed through the room howling, reaching for the warrior, dragging the smoke and dust out the door into the air.

The shadow warrior was carried away, his spirit set free at last, his insubstantial form blown into a million molecules and scattered across the sky.

"May you find eternal peace in another realm while the wind takes what is no longer yours to the four corners of the world so your rest may never again be disturbed."

Natalya dropped her sword and sagged against the wall, her arms aching, eyes streaming, skin burning in the glare of the sun. She found herself sobbing, her chest tight and painful, throat raw. Her body felt leaden, on fire, stretched beyond all physical boundaries. Worse than that was the emotion churning through her. Everything was all mixed up, swirling in a black eddy and clouding reason.

Natalya.

She closed her eyes at the sheer intimacy he gave her name. Ainaak enyem, why do you weep when you have destroyed what no one else has ever defeated? You are an amazing woman. A true warrior and I can give you no higher praise.

His tone held admiration, respect, but most of all a dark, purring sensuality that turned her insides to mush. She couldn't look at him without feeling weak-kneed and stupid. She hated to be so confused and emotional and weeping in front of him like the little slip of a girl he had called her.

You need to shut your heart and lungs down. She wiped at the tears on her face and forced herself to her feet. "I'm not giving you any more blood and you're losing it everywhere."

I cannot shut down my heart when you are crying like your heart is broken.

"I absolutely refuse to play Juliet to your Romeo. It's just adrenaline overload, that's all." She pulled the balcony door closed and locked it, trying to find her normal bravado and rid herself of the emotional storm.

It is impossible to lie to me, although perhaps you are good at lying to yourself and do not really know your own mind.

Natalya yanked the drapes over the door, once again blocking out the light. The relief was tremendous. She stood briefly, eyes closed, gathering her strength. She had never been so tired. She wanted to lie down and sleep forever. "How bad is the wound this time?"

He cut my thigh. I was grateful his aim was not a few inches higher.

"Which means you're bleeding all over the place again, aren't you?" She hurried to his side and pulled back the quilt, ashamed that she had taken so much time to recover from her

fight with the shadow warrior.

Vikirnoff was covered in blisters, his skin raw and angry-looking. Blood bubbled up from the wound on his thigh. Natalya didn't give herself time to think. She was already on automatic, pressing her hands to the wound, looking around for the wooden bowl with the remaining soil Slavica had left to refresh the packs.

"You're a mess," she said.

So are you.

She ducked her head, preparing the soil, avoiding his too-intense gaze. She knew she looked like Frankenstein's bride. And he didn't have to sound so gentle. She was going to cry again if he kept it up. It was easier to be angry. She didn't even know what the hell she was crying over, but she couldn't seem to stop.

Why would you think such thoughts'? You are a beautiful woman and you must know it. Look at yourself through my eyes.

She tried to crush the sudden thrill his observation caused. She was so confused. So upset. Her world had turned upside down. Everything feminine in her responded to her greatest enemy.

You are angry with me because you think I did not trust you enough to stop my heart and lungs. That is not so, Natalya. I have relied on my own judgment for well over a thousand years.

"Yeah, I loved your judgment." She rolled her eyes, both hands on her hips. "Your big plan was to die so the 'little slip of girl,' who, by the way, saved your ass yet again, could turn tail and ran! I can't imagine how you managed to survive on your own all that time. It's a miracle."

You did not allow me to finish. I could not leave you without my protection, little though I had to give. It is impossible for me. Your skills are apparent, but I have never heard of a shadow warrior being defeated. I could not go quietly to sleep and abandon you to such danger.

She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. He sounded so sincere. So caring. Thinking of her when he was ravaged by the sun and had suffered yet another wound. She didn't answer him. She worked on his leg in silence, stopping the flow of blood before separating her spirit from her body and healing him from the inside out. She concentrated wholly on the work, welcoming the chance not to think about what was happening between the hunter and her.

When she came back to her body, she was swaying with weariness. "That's the best I can do. Sleep now, Vikirnoff. We have a few hours until sunset."

Before Natalya could move, he whispered something soft, nearly indistinguishable in her ear. Tired, unprepared for an attack, Natalya felt him grip her mind, hold her in his enthrallment. She knew she was succumbing to sleep, her body stretched out beside his, but there was nothing she could do about it. The last thing she comprehended was his mouth moving over the blisters on her face and neck, healing the raw burns.

"Natalya, you didn't notice I had my hair cut today."

Natalya laughed. "I noticed. You're just so vain I wasn't going to say anything to make your ego bigger. You're so busy watching the women watch you, it's too funny."

"Since you give me no encouragement, I have to find it on my own. I fear for any man who falls in love with you."

Natalya tossed her tawny hair and made a face at her brother. "I don't care if a thousand men fall in love with me, I have no intention of falling in love with them. I see how you are once you know a woman has fallen under your spell. That is not for me."

Razvan hugged her. "Don't worry, you'll always be my favorite sister."

"Ha! I'm your only sister. Fat consolation that is."

Razvan laughed and sprang away from her, a young colt running fast over the slight hill. "I'll race you home! Come on Natalya, don't be such a girl. You have to run faster than that."

Natalya heard Razvan's voice calling her in the distance. She ran and ran, but she couldn't catch up. He sounded like he was laughing. She loved the sound of his laughter, but she was getting upset that she couldn't catch him. Razvan could rarely outrun Natalya. She had been gifted with incredible athletic skills. And when it came to casting magick, she was often ahead of him in their studies. She knew she had a competitive streak and right now, she was annoyed that she couldn't reach him.

"Stop!" Natalya looked in every direction. "I can't see you."

"I am dead. You cannot follow me to this place. The hunter murdered me and you have not yet avenged me."

Her heart pounded in alarm. "I don't know which hunter killed you."

"It doesn't matter. They are the enemy and they wish us dead. You are my helmed sister, I cannot save you from them, you must save yourself ."

Natalya wrenched herself awake. She had to push through layers of haze and it took every ounce of discipline and control she had. Every muscle in her body felt sore, but her skin was clear, the blisters and the red, angry burn gone as if it had never been. Her neck throbbed, right over her pulse. She covered it with her palm and felt warmth tingling through her body.

Her neck ached. She rolled out of bed and hit the floor running, dashing for the bathroom to stare at the mark on her neck. "Damn, damn, damn it!" She dressed hastily and shoved her things into a pack. "You took my blood again, you demon spawned from the devil. I know you did."

Hunger hit her. Sharp. Terrible. Biting. It crawled through her body and overwhelmed her mind. The whispers intruded, soft and sensuous, beguiling with temptation. Her mouth ached, teeth wanting to lengthen, saliva collecting. She turned her head and her stomach dropped away. Vikirnoff's black eyes watched her and there was hunger in his dark gaze.

Without hesitating, Natalya yanked flex cuffs from her pack and bound his wrists tight. He made no move to stop her, just watched her with that disconcerting, focused stare.

"I'm sorry. Glare at me all you want, but you're dangerous. Even when you're like this, you scare the hell out of me. I'm going to leave and I'll just make certain I have a good head start before you follow me."

Vikirnoff attempted to move and discovered the binding spell she'd added to hold him helpless. His features hardened perceptibly and his eyes grew a fierce black, but he didn't speak. You think I will allow you to leave me?

"I'm not willing to give you a choice. I'm not having you take my blood whenever you feel like it." Her eyes mirrored the gathering storm in her mind. "Do you think I'm so stupid I don't know blood is power?"

I know I will not allow this.

She tossed her hair and shrugged. "Too bad you don't have a say. I'm sorry you're angry, but I'm not lifemate material. Even if we're supposed to be together, and I'm not convinced we are, it wouldn't work out. I annoy you. You irritate the hell out of me. We'd be in counseling all the time." She patted his head, a gesture meant to add to his annoyance, but it turned into smoothing his hair back. Her fingers lingered, stroking the silky strands. The moment she realized what she was doing, she snatched her hand back as if he'd burned her.

Vikirnoff said nothing, but he looked more dangerous than ever. It was amazing to her how much power he seemed to exude, even wounded and tied up.

Natalya didn't know why she couldn't stop trying to defend herself, but she made one more stab at it. "Look, I could have left you in the forest. And I could have let the shadow warrior get you," she pointed out. "I'm tying you up for both our protection. I don't trust

you."

"You are the one who attacked me," he said.

Natalya blinked rapidly. His voice was low and compelling. Her stomach did a peculiar little flip. "That was unintentional and you know it. You dropped out of the sky between the vampire and me. I was attacking him, not you. In any case, I've made up for it by helping you. Had I left you there, the wolves would have returned along with the vampires and you'd be dead or captured."

He glanced down at the flex cuffs. "It appears that I am your prisoner." His voice was sensual, a deliberate implication.

She felt faint color stealing into her neck and face. Her temper went up a notch. "You'll be able to get out of the cuffs once the binding spell wears off. I'm leaving now and that will give me a good head start. You should be fine."

"I will not allow this. Ask me for anything else and it is yours, but not this, Natalya. I am warning you. I will not let you walk out on your responsibilities."

Natalya tossed her head, eyes flashing at him. "Who would have guessed the hunter is a sore loser? Talk is cheap, little slip of a boy!"

He still hadn't blinked and his predatory stare kept her heart pounding. She knew he could hear it and it only increased her resolve to get away from him. If it were possible, his eyes deepened into a black that made her shudder with sudden anxiety. He had formed a barrier in his mind, most likely to prevent her from feeling his pain, but it also shielded other emotions, such as anger. Or rage. His eyes were turbulent and as black as the stormiest night.

"Te avio palafertiilam. Entolam kuulua, avio palafertiilam." He whispered the words in his ancient language, his eyes never leaving her face. "Ted kuuluak, kacad, kojed. Elidamet andam. Pesamet andam. Uskolfertiilamet andam. Sivamet andam. Sielamet andam."

"Stop!" She pressed her palm hard against her heart. Whatever he was saying was affecting her. She knew spells. She knew almost all spells, but she didn't recognize the words. She knew Hungarian, but she didn't know his language. It was more ancient even than Hungarian. It didn't seem to matter. She felt every word in her heart and soul.

Vikirnoff's expression never changed and he didn't take his gaze from hers, holding her captive with his eyes and his voice, in spite of the flex cuffs on his wrists. "Ainamet andam. Sivamet kuuluak kaik etta a ted. Ainaak olenszal sivambin."

As he spoke, each word he uttered in that soft, mesmerizing whisper of sound seemed to penetrate deep into her body and mind, wrap around her heart and go deeper still, finding something inside of her that rushed to meet him. "Stop," she pleaded again.

"Te elidet ainaak pide minan. Te avio palafertiilam. Ainaak'sivamet jutta oleny. Ainaak terad vigyazak.'"

A spell. It had to be a spell. She pressed her hands over her ears, but nothing stopped that insidious whisper. Worse, she was beginning to think she was catching some of the words, although she was certain she'd never spoken the language. "What have you done?" She pressed against the wall, tried to make herself smaller as if by doing so she could escape his magic.

She was so certain she'd held him prisoner with physical and otherworldly bonds, but his words had done something irrevocable to her. She felt everything in her reaching for something in him. Needing him. Wanting him. Somehow those ancient words had bound her soul to his for all eternity, as if they really were two halves of the same whole and his words had somehow put them back together.

"What have you done?" she demanded again when he only watched her through his too-black eyes. "Something about giving me your body and soul and heart. You said that, didn't you? Answer me, Von Shrieder. What have you done? What did you say?"

"I claimed what was rightfully mine."

"Translate it."

Vikirnoff studied her pale face. Her eyes were enormous, her lips trembling. "Do not be so afraid. It is a ritual as old as time and no one has ever been harmed by it."

Natalya gnashed her teeth together and opted for a blatant lie. "I am not afraid. I'm angry. Whatever you did is some kind of binding spell, isn't it?"

"You mean like the one you used on me?" His tone was mild.

She felt color flooding her face. "Maybe I went too far," she conceded. "I'll take mine off if you'll remove yours."

"It cannot be done."

He didn't sound remorseful. There was no inflection at all. Her breath hissed out. "I would very much like you to translate what you said into a language I can understand. All spells are reversible if you know what you're doing. And I know what I'm doing."

Vikirnoff studied her face. She was lying through her teeth. He could smell her fear. She might not know, but she felt he had said something that was irrevocable, that her life had been changed for all time. "I cannot translate exactly but this is close. The words are said in our language first and then translated aloud for the woman in a language she can understand, although it is binding without doing so. It is roughly this. I claim you as my lifemate."

Natalya gasped. His voice was sensual, mesmerizing, just as powerful as when he spoke the words in a language she didn't understand.

Vikirnoff continued. "I belong to you. I offer my life for you. I give to you my protection, my allegiance, my heart, my soul and my body. I take into my keeping the same that is yours. Your life, happiness and welfare will be cherished and placed above my own for all time. You are bound to me and always in my care. That is the closest of translations. Males of my species are imprinted with the ritual binding words before they are born. They are given the ability to bind their lifemate for just the very reasons you have shown this evening." He lifted his bound hands to her eye level. "You should have more respect for your lifemate."

"Okay." She paced across the room. "Okay, hands down. You win this round. Now take it off. Undo it."