Dark Carousel

by Christine Feehan

  Vadim's voice boomed. Quickly, they're coming. Now is our chance to get her.

  Firm hands yanked at her. She was turned into a hot embrace, a hard body radiating such heat it nearly burned her skin. A mouth crushed hers under it. The tunnel was gone and she was left freezing, shivering uncontrollably, her body icy, so cold her insides felt like shards of icicles that could shatter at any second.

  It took a moment to realize Tariq held her tight against his body. His arms surrounded her and his head was down so that he could whisper in her ear, reassuring her, talking so softly she didn't think she would understand the words. It took a moment to realize she couldn't yet hear him because part of her was still in the cold, dark past.

  Her legs barely held her up and she burrowed closer to the heat of Tariq's body. Clinging, when she wasn't a woman to cling. Crying when she wasn't a woman to do that anywhere someone could see. She couldn't stop the terrible tremors or the continuous shivering any more than she could the tears.

  Tariq wrapped Charlotte in his arms, holding her close, her ear over his heart, while it pounded with fear for her. He realized when he waited for her to return that somehow she actually managed to go back into the past when she touched an object. He knew astral projection was possible, but to actually go to a specific place in the past and hear and feel what was happening around her was far too dangerous. He'd never heard of astral projection taking one's spirit to the past.

  Instinctively he knew she shouldn't interact with those from the memory she had accessed. The longer she remained in the memory, the more withdrawn and cold her body had become. Her skin felt like ice and she was barely breathing until it had reached the point where he felt desperately terrified for her. When he'd caught her by her arms and forced her head up, her eyes were blank, and that had been the last straw.

  "I should never have put you through that." Allowed her to put herself in such a position. He was asking this woman, the one woman, his miracle, to join him in a world that would be terrifying for her. He'd spent lifetimes in it. Centuries. Taking blood to survive, sleeping in the ground, hunting the vampire, all of that was familiar to him. Not one single aspect of his world was comfortable to a woman raised in the modern world. Not. One. Single. Thing.

  She didn't move, just took the shelter and comfort he offered, her hands fisting in his shirt. "You had to know. I had to know. The enormity of this . . ." She broke off, drew a ragged breath into her lungs and held on tighter. "It's so unreal. You've lived with this knowledge, that you could become--that--a monster like no other."

  Tariq's heart stuttered at the sound of her voice. Soft. Distressed. In tears but trying to hide them. Her body trembled against his, shivering continuously, probably without her knowledge. Stroking a caress through her silky hair, he cupped the back of her head and held her to him.

  "Coming into my world means dealing with vampires and their puppets. With their cruelty." He hated that for her. Hated that he needed her so much he knew he was going to bring her into his world no matter what. No matter that she deserved different--a good man who would worship the ground she walked on. The thought of it set his teeth on edge. He tightened his hold on her. He'd lived with honor for centuries. In his world, the male was born imprinted with the ritual binding words that tied his lifemate to him for all time. It was done. No reversing it. No going back.

  "I'm sorry for that, sielamet. I'm not sorry that I found you, or that I claimed you, but I am sorry that you have had to see and feel the things you have."

  "It made no difference to them if it was a child or a woman or a man." Charlotte continued to whisper, as if saying anything too loud, admitting vampires existed, made them all the more real to her. "Fridrick murdered my brother and Genevieve's grandmother."

  "I know," he answered just as softly. He looked around him, up at the crumbling ceiling of the tunnel. "I'm sorry." Meaning it. Knowing that she wouldn't be able to separate him from his world. He was solidly in it, regardless of the trappings of humans. The club. His clothes. The way he deliberately lived among them.

  Charlotte's body stiffened, and she tilted her head to look up at him. To meet his gaze. He was a little shocked by what he saw there. Tears still swam in her eyes, turning the color a deep emerald. Little droplets clung to her long lashes. But there was steel there. Pure strength. She didn't look at him like a woman defeated. She didn't look as if she blamed him for bringing her into the insanity that was his world.

  "Fridrick murdered my brother and Genevieve's grandmother," she repeated. "I was already in your world, Tariq, only I had no idea what I was facing. I was at a huge disadvantage. Now I'm not. Now I have you and the others, and this time, I found his weaknesses. All of their weaknesses. Never tell me you're sorry for bringing me into your world. I was already there and you saved me. Fridrick would have taken both Genevieve and me in the parking garage had you and your friends not come along."

  He couldn't deny the truth of that, but still, she surprised him with her acceptance of him. For him, the time was so slow. He'd searched for her for too long, and he knew the moment she gave him back the light for his soul. He knew she was his everything. It wasn't the same for her. She was human and he was moving her fast into his world.

  He could tell himself--and her--that it was to keep her safe, but the truth was far different. He wanted her for himself and he wanted to ensure she was with him. He didn't want her on the surface while he was in the ground. He wanted her body pressed close to his while they slept. He wanted to wake up with her in his arms.

  Now, with his fierce little warrior glaring up at him, he knew she was strong enough to accept the children he cared for, as well as Emeline and Mary and Donald Walton. His motives for bringing her into his world didn't matter to her. She had made her decision, and she trusted him with her life and the lives of the two people she held dear--Lourdes and Genevieve.

  "We have to hurry and get out of here," she murmured softly. "I need to see the rest of it, but I want to go fast. I feel . . ." She broke off, looking around her, apprehension pouring off of her. He isn't entirely gone. I feel him. Vadim. It was his voice talking to me and now I feel as if he's crouched there inside me, watching and waiting until I make a mistake.

  She communicated with him on their more intimate path, but Tariq immediately relayed the message to the others sifting through the rubble.

  There is no need for her to see these dead women or feel what was done to them, Dragomir said. There has to be a blood bond between your woman and Vadim. Find the source, Tariq, or she will become a liability we cannot afford.

  Tariq went very still, the predator in him uncoiling. Unsheathing claws. The threat was there. Dragomir was ancient. Extremely dangerous. He had been one of the ancients, so powerful and deadly that he had locked himself in the monastery with others like him. They could no longer be in the world and have those around them be safe. They were considered the most dangerous Carpathians living, which made them the most dangerous creatures on the face of the earth.

  Dragomir and the others believed it was dishonorable to seek the dawn rather than give in to the never-ending whispers of temptation. When even those whispers stopped and there was only a dark void of nothing, they knew too many kills had destroyed them. They had no hope, no memories, nothing but their honor and strength to keep them from killing anything that came near them.

  Dragomir was of the old school, unused to the modern ways, and he believed their women would follow where their men led. He had recently left the monastery because he'd been given renewed hope that his lifemate existed and was in the United States, specifically California. He had stopped on his way north to aid Tariq when the call went out for aid against Vadim. Tariq no longer knew if that was a good thing. Dragomir would be hard to kill, even with several experienced hunters close.

  Deepest respect, Dragomir, but you do not get to say what my woman can or cannot do. Do not think to threaten her. He couldn't keep the menace from his voice. He would fight to the deat
h for his lifemate.

  As would I. She is yours; that makes her one of us. She is my sister, deserving of my protection for that alone, but with what she has done here this night and what she intends to do for those children, respect is part of that as well. She should not be here to see these women ripped apart and babies suffering every moment of their existence within the womb. This is . . . beyond anything I have ever seen. It is not for the eyes of an empath.

  I agree. Because it was true. Charlotte had no business anywhere near those bodies they had found piled up like so much garbage in one of the rooms. Women and stillborn babies, stacks of bones dating back to when the city was first built. Vadim had planned his takeover carefully and patiently--two traits that no vampire had ever had before.

  If Vadim is in your woman's mind, he can use her eyes to spy. That is a fact, Tariq, and that has to be dealt with. Once she is safe inside the compound, he will find it much more difficult to reach her with the safeguards in place.

  That was also the truth. Tariq glanced down at the top of Charlotte's head. Her hair was thick and glossy, begging him to bury his fingers deep. He did so, gripping the mass and tugging until she turned her face up to his. She smiled up at him, giving him reassurance, willing to put herself out there all over again. Absently, she brought her finger to her mouth and sucked on it. It was sexy and instantly his body stirred with hunger in spite of the inappropriate setting. She did that a lot.

  Tariq went still, everything freezing with the memory of her bringing her finger to her mouth when she had accessed the memories from the carousel horse--memories of Vadim and his brothers on the night they had chosen to give up their souls. He'd been carving the carousel horse earlier and they'd been with him. They had left, found out the news of their sister and returned to recruit him to their cause. When he refused to go, they had attacked the village, going after each and every one of the humans Tariq had befriended.

  Charlotte's eyebrow went up. "What?"

  She returned the tip of her finger to her mouth, and this time he caught the small wince, as if it was hurting her. His breath left his lungs and he shackled her wrist and brought the hand out of her mouth, turning it up for his inspection. The finger was wet from her sucking on it. A nervous habit? Or some other reason? He turned the finger to every angle. A little red at the fleshy part of the pad, but no discernible injuries, no breaks in the skin.

  "Does this finger hurt?"

  She kept her eyes fixed on his. His Charlotte. Too intelligent. Already thinking. Very slowly she nodded. "I got a splinter when I jerked my hand back from the carousel horse."

  He closed his eyes, the memory of her pulling her hand away from the wood fast, the moment she had connected with the past and had seen Tariq carving the horse. She'd known it was him and she'd been frightened. Of course she would be. People she loved had been murdered in a way depicted in horror films. Knowing he had lived centuries she had to have thought he was a vampire--like Fridrick.

  "Did you pull the splinter out? Did you get all of it?"

  She frowned and tried to pull her hand away, shaking her head. "When I looked again, the splinter was gone."

  "What part of don't touch it did you not understand?"

  He knew he had an edge to his tone, but o kod belso--darkness take it--he'd told her not to touch the peje thing.

  She yanked her hand away from him, eyes narrowing. "What part of I'm a grown woman and don't need anyone telling me what to do do you not understand?"

  His woman had a bite to her, but he'd known that all along. She couldn't be wild and passionate in bed and not have a temper. Still, his woman wasn't going to defy him when it came to her safety. That was totally unacceptable and always would be. He tightened his hold on her, pulling her up onto her toes, her face close to his. He stared down into her eyes, wanting her to know he was serious.

  Uh-oh. Charlotte let her breath out slowly. She'd just come up against the predator. Civilized, sophisticated Tariq Asenguard, owner of several fabulous and popular nightclubs, was gone and in his place was something altogether different. He was really upset with her. Her heart jumped and began to pound slowly. Instinctively she knew this wasn't about her defying him and touching the carousel horse when he'd told her not to--and that's what scared her much more than his terrifying demeanor. Something was very, very wrong, and it had to do with that cursed horse.

  "In all matters to do with your safety you will obey me," he bit out.

  It wasn't the time to laugh so she bit down very hard on her lower lip. Seriously? He'd used the word obey. She hadn't been very good at obeying her parents and certainly not her older brother. It wasn't the time to inform him that she definitely had a problem with anyone thinking they were her authority figure.

  Tariq had lulled her into a false sense of security. He'd looked modern and come off modern, unlike his caveman friend Dragomir, who was just plain scary. She'd smash him over the head with something hard if that Carpathian belonged to her. She might kick Tariq in the shins very soon if he continued to throw words like obey around, but . . . He yanked her even closer, so that she was on her toes, her body tight against his and that very handsome face inches from hers. Her heart pounded hard in her chest, but deep down she knew--she knew--with absolute certainty that this man would never hurt her. Never. He could posture all he wanted, but he wouldn't harm her.

  So why was she so scared? Why was she terrified beyond anything she'd ever known? Charlotte flung her arms around his neck and leaned into the pillar of strength she knew him to be. He felt solid. He was solid. A rock. An anchor. The world he lived in was something she didn't understand. It seemed to be filled with nothing but danger. It shifted continually until she felt she was on a carousel that never stopped spinning. The world moved up and down like the horses and spun out of control, making her dizzy. But Tariq never seemed to be caught up in the effects of the world, or even the danger. He was solid. Real. Someone to count on.

  "He's in me because of that splinter, isn't he?" she whispered. The terror that came on the heels of that reality shook her. Vadim, the vile, hideous monster who tortured men and could throw little girls to flesh-eating creatures so callously, was inside of her.

  Instantly, Tariq's body language changed. With his arms he enfolded her, sheltered her, comforted her, just as she knew he would. His mouth nuzzled the top of her head. "We'll get him out, sielamet, but it isn't safe here. We need to get you back to the compound. Dragomir was right when he said Vadim could use you to spy on us if we're not careful."

  She gasped, her fingers curling into his shirt tightly, bunching the material while she hung on to him. "I can't go back there, where Lourdes and the other children are. He can't ever get his hands on Liv again. She wouldn't survive a second round with him intact, Tariq. You know that. She's barely hanging on as it is." If she were a danger to these men--the Carpathian hunters--then what would she be to the children?

  "The compound is protected. Vadim compromised Emeline as well by taking her blood. She has to stay inside the fence, where we can protect her night and day. He can send an army of puppets at us during the day, and now, after seeing those human males, we know he clearly has others as well. We knew he was recruiting humans to do his bidding, but not like those men. They were different somehow. Just the fact that he gave them Carpathian blood and they wanted it--something is very wrong. During the hours of the day, we have to rely mostly on safeguards to keep Vadim's army out."

  She took a breath. "You sleep during the day." She had to know. Maybe she had known all along. He'd told her, but she hadn't really listened. "Not because of working at the nightclub. You have to sleep during the day."

  He nodded, his gaze holding hers captive. "Yes, we'll all sleep during the day. We can be up in the early morning hours and after the sun sets, but the effects of the sun are devastating on Carpathians." He moved, taking her with him. "We have to get you out of these tunnels and back home. I've put the call out to the others and we'll go out as a gro
up. You'll be in the center."

  It was an order, nothing less. His tone held no compromise. Was implacable. She heard that command in his voice, and she didn't give a damn. Fighting for independence was one thing when her life and sanity weren't at stake, but when she had to rely on his strengths, she wasn't about to quibble over what tone he used. Clearly he was a man used to giving orders. Right then, she was supremely grateful for his ability to take charge.

  Charlotte didn't want to take a step out of the tunnels into the open. She felt extremely vulnerable, more so than she'd ever felt in her life. She had to trust these men--especially Tariq--to know what they were doing. Their grim faces told her she was in trouble. They expected an ambush. Because of her, Vadim knew exactly where they were.

  She turned that over and over in her mind while she walked in the center of the tight-knit group through the last tunnel, the one leading out. If Vadim was inside her and could find her and talk to her, did that mean it could go both ways? Could she locate him? Track his whereabouts for the Carpathians? The idea made her feel less like a victim and more in control. She needed that, to feel in control.

  One of the triplets stepped in front of the group and held up his hand.

  "Lojos, Tomas and I can make a diversion, send it out first to trigger any traps they've set for us. Give us a few minutes," Mataias said.

  She liked the way the leadership changed among the Carpathian hunters. No one seemed to be considered more in charge than any other, although Dragomir was the scariest man she'd ever encountered--in his way he rivaled Vadim and that was saying something. Siv was a very close second.

  Immediately, as if by common consent, the rest of the pack stepped back to allow the three men to take the lead.

  "The rest of you construct a safeguard around Charlotte so Vadim cannot see into her mind. Whatever he has placed in her, you have to disrupt," Lojos said.