Dark Sentinel

by Christine Feehan

  If I am Carpathian, can I do that as well? That would make things so much better. Knowing the bad guy no matter which crow he chose to occupy. She liked the idea of it.

  I can teach it to you. He will take many forms, Lorraine. Not just this one.

  Still, I’ll be able to tell it is him if he’s a stinking crow, and I can teach the children and other women. That way, there will be more eyes on him, if he is watching.

  They replayed her memory over and over in slow motion several times before the master vampire was spotted.

  “There he is,” Andor said. “Up high in the pine. He’s hidden by most of the branches, but his eyes catch the moonlight every now and then. He’s almost directly in front of Lorraine.”

  She had been so busy watching herself and the crows flying around her that she had forgotten to look in the trees to try to spot the crow Sergey occupied. Now, she took her time, looking carefully through the branches until she found him. He looked bigger and meaner. Definitely more menacing. His eyes were baleful, brooding, staring down at her without blinking.

  She shivered, and this time, uncaring the others might see, shifted in her seat to move closer to Andor. He slid one arm along the back of her chair, his hand curving around the nape of her neck. The other, he pressed to her hand on his thigh and just held there.

  “Start it very slowly, Andor,” Tariq advised.

  She didn’t know how many times they went over this part. It always left her feeling slightly sick and unclean no matter that Gary had reversed the spell. It was just the sight of those crows coming at her again.

  In the replay, the crows flew at her, disorienting her. Some were in her face. She was hit with wings, battered so that she threw her arm into the air to try to protect herself from the large bodies flying around her head.

  Then the large crow was there, wings outstretched and flapping, talons digging at her back for a purchase to hold himself on her while he slammed his beak into the back of her skull. He ripped downward viciously with his curved beak. For a moment, she felt that all over again and her free hand flew to the back of her skull. Immediately Andor was there, his palm shaping her head, his thumb and fingers gently massaging.

  This is nearly over, csecsemõ, and you are safe here.

  She might be, but what of the others? She might be the vampire’s instrument to strike at them. It hurt watching the crow hit her so hard with his beak. She looked at the eyes. He was there. The enemy. The master vampire orchestrating his battle with one thought only—to do this to her. If that was the case, what had he actually done?

  “Andor, turn the memory slightly. Can you get a good look inside his beak?” Gary asked.

  The others were silent while Andor did as the healer requested. They studied the bird. His mouth was open, the hooked upper beak stuck in the laceration it had created at the back of Lorraine’s skull. Lorraine found her heart beating fast. Was there something in the beak? Something besides that tongue? It was black and evil-looking, coming to a sharp point.

  “Look at the tongue,” she said. “Crows don’t have tongues like that. Could he have stabbed me with it and something was on the end of it?” She shuddered at the idea of that wicked tongue touching her, even if it was only on the back of her head.

  Several of the Carpathians got up to examine the scene closer. “I do not see evidence of anything on the tongue or in the mouth,” Lojos said. “Do you see anything?” he asked Andor.

  Andor shook his head. “Tariq, we have gone over this, multiple times, and there is nothing in that bird’s mouth, in its beak or on its tongue.”

  Lorraine, looking at those disturbing, creepy eyes, didn’t want them to stop until they figured out the puzzle. She wrapped her arms around her middle. “Maybe we should go, Andor. I don’t want anyone to come to harm here. There are children. He managed to cast a spell with crows during a battle. Why would he do that if he didn’t have something up his sleeve?”

  Tariq shook his head. “Lorraine, leaving is not the answer, especially not this rising. Andor has told me that he plans to convert you this night. The bed of healing soil is the best soil we could find anywhere here in the United States. It was brought in from all over. We know it is free of parasites. We test often, especially before and after every use. All of the Carpathians here will gather to help with your conversion, just as they did when our Liv was converted.”

  She glanced once more at the birds flying in circles around her in the memory and then looked to Andor to make the decision. She was all out of decision making. It was up to her lifemate to decide what they were going to do.

  There is much pain involved in a conversion, Lorraine. If we go . . . I cannot shoulder it all for you, others have tried and found it impossible. With the others, it will go much easier.

  Then we stay. But if it looks as if something is wrong, we get out of here fast. I refuse to endanger any of these people, especially the children.

  “We will stay,” Andor said. “We will return to convert Lorraine two hours before sunrise.”

  Tariq nodded, and they all rose. Andor retained possession of her hand as they said their good-byes to the ancients surrounding the table. Her knights. That was how she thought of them. All of them. She knew it was her protective instincts, honed sharper by the loss of her family, but she wanted to take care of them all.

  18

  I’d very much like to show you the night, Lorraine. Is there anything in particular you would like to do or anywhere you would like to go?” Andor asked as they left the main house. His fingers tightened around hers as he pulled her in close to him. They had stopped to briefly confer before choosing a direction.

  She nodded toward the carousel sitting out in the open. “I love that. The animals are amazing. They look as if they’ve been shaped from wood. Does it work?”

  “Tariq put that there for the children. He carved all the animals by hand and then painted them. Now, Charlotte helps him. He has dozens of old carousel horses that need restoring and that just happens to be her expertise. They are both a little obsessed.” He said the last to get a rise out of her. It was all he could do not to smirk when she scowled at him.

  “It isn’t obsession to share a passion for something,” she reminded, giving him that snippy little note in her voice, the one he loved.

  He grinned at her. He hadn’t even known he knew how to grin. He took her over to the carousel, and, his hands around her waist, lifted her onto one of the horses. Instead of riding one as well, he stood beside her, his arm around her waist as the platform began to spin and music played. She laughed. He shook his head, because flying was so much better and he was going to show her that as soon as the carousel stopped.

  “What is the thrill of this?” he had to ask, because it never made sense to him. Tariq tried to explain it, but he just didn’t get it. They were going around and around in the same spot. If one wanted to ride a horse, there were flesh-and-blood horses to ride. He got why children might love the ride, but grown-ups?

  “You are an arrogant Carpathian, Andor,” she told him. “You think because you can fly, you have the ultimate in entertainment.”

  “Better than this,” he countered.

  “Maybe, but don’t ruin my fun.” She laughed again as the horse rose and fell with the music and the platform spun. “This is a very fine carousel.”

  “I could do better.”

  She raised an eyebrow, one arm slung around the horse’s neck. “You think?”

  She was so beautiful she took his breath. Her hair fell around her face and tumbled down her back. Her green eyes were alight with mischief and a sense of fun he had never known. She gave that to him, that feeling of happiness and excitement he’d been missing for far too many years. He couldn’t take his eyes from her.

  Andor waved a hand toward the carousel and as she went around, the horse straightened out the direction and too
k her right off the platform and into the air. It still rose and fell with the same rhythm, but this time it climbed higher. Lorraine gave a little soft cry of shocked elation and clutched at the wooden neck.

  Andor rose with the horse, straight into the air, his arm still around Lorraine’s waist to prevent any accidents. Below, he could see the compound, the lake shining in the moonbeams. Above their heads was a blanket of stars. Her soft laughter moved over him like the brush of velvet, caressing his skin, making him feel more alive than he’d ever felt.

  Her laughter sang across the sky, warm and intimate, surrounding him with joy. He had done that for her. He’d spent so much time in her mind, reliving that nightmare moment when all the joy and laughter had faded from her life. He’d given her back the ability to feel those emotions. She mourned her family—that he couldn’t take away—but she’d found a way to laugh again with him, and he was grateful he’d given her that gift.

  Andor knew he was bringing Lorraine into a world of danger, but it was also a magical place, with moments just like this one. He spun the horse, changing direction, and Lorraine’s hair flew out and around her like a living cloak. Her laughter scattered musical notes of silver and gold all around them. When she realized, her breath caught in her throat and she turned her head to look at him, eyes so bright they rivaled the moon.

  “That’s so beautiful, Andor. How did you do that?”

  He swung up behind her onto the wooden horse as it rocked and swayed, riding up and then down across the sky. His arms went around her, holding her securely so there was no chance of her falling.

  “You’ll be able to do that,” he assured as he nudged the hair from the nape of her neck so he could put his lips there.

  “I love the way the notes look, sparkling like that all around us.”

  “That is the way your laughter feels to me,” he admitted. “Have you ever been on a horse when it was bucking? Or rearing?”

  He felt her swift intake of breath and then the wooden horse reared up on its back legs, pawing at the air with its front hooves. Lorraine clutched his arms but laughed, scattering more silver and gold notes around them. The horse snorted, its breath great puffs of vapor, leaving a trail behind them as it began to buck, lifting its hind end and dipping its head as it hopped across the sky. Andor settled them back into a more sedate pace, the wooden animal moving with an easy rhythm that sent her body deeper and tighter against his.

  “Do you want to fly without the horse?” He whispered the temptation in her ear.

  She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. One arm curved back to wrap around his head, and she leaned to offer him her lips. There was no resisting that invitation. He kissed her and immediately their fire took over, consuming him, taking them both to that place he would never take for granted.

  Little tongues of fire licked at his skin and spread embers in the sky all around them. They looked like tiny fireflies of orange and red. Crackles of electricity added to the symphony of their combined music. He kissed her over and over, loving the feel of her body moving against his, her mouth so hot it could ignite a volcano.

  Do that thing. Her voice was pure seduction.

  His heart jerked hard in his chest, but not nearly as hard as his cock. That thing?

  The one with the clothes. Wave your hand and they disappear. I want to feel you against me. Like Lady Godiva on her horse. You have heard of Lady Godiva, haven’t you?

  Her voice was soft and seductive, purely sensual. What man could resist? He couldn’t. He would give her anything she asked for. There was an image in her mind, her facing him, arms around him, the horse moving in that same up and down rhythm as if it was still on the carousel platform and riding in its circle.

  He waved, and their clothes were gone. He found himself holding her naked body in his hands, all that soft skin, her curves, her spine rubbing along his front. His cock pressed tight against her, and he cupped her breasts into the palms of his hands. They rode for a few minutes that way, her head back against his shoulder, her body finding that rhythm and relaxing into it.

  Andor hadn’t known such contentment. He hadn’t known there was such a thing as this kind of serenity. Passion rose, but it was a long, slow burning climb, and he let it take both of them. She was content with her head back against him and his thumbs moving gently over her nipples. Small little brushing caresses. Persistent, but not demanding.

  Her breath moved in and out. His followed. He slid one hand down her belly, feeling every muscle. Feeling how soft she was. Taking that in. Sliding the pad of his finger around her belly button. Tracing that small circle, mapping her body in his mind. Claiming every inch he could take in with his palm and spread fingers. He found the junction between her legs and his fingers trailed down, curved in, his thumb finding that hot little button that gave him gasps and squirms when he brushed and caressed it.

  You are so hot and slick, Lorraine. I cannot wait much longer to be inside you. He had enjoyed just rocking with her, going along and allowing their passion to smolder and then burn slowly, but the moment his fingers found her hot cream waiting to welcome him, to bathe him in all that fiery silk, slow had gone out the window.

  Again, her soft laughter surrounded them with such joy, his heart turned inside out. You are so beautiful to me. Everything about you. Thank you, sívamet, for saying yes.

  What did I say yes to?

  Her hands went to his, the one caressing the junction between her legs. Her fingers surrounded his wrist and she moved her body, sliding on the two fingers curled into her. It was a sensual, heated feeling. He pressed closer to her, his fingers plunging and retreating, his thumb stroking and flicking as if that sweet little bud was the string of a violin he was playing.

  Her soft groans moved through him like a lazy melody. Soft. Sweet. Perfection. He nuzzled her neck, wanting to take her blood. No, needing to do so. He kissed the small spot over her pulse where it was calling to him. Hot. Wild. Telling him she was as needy as he was.

  “What did I say yes to?” she prompted again.

  “Me. You said yes to me,” he answered and then sank his teeth into the amazing gift that was Lorraine. The taste of her burst in his mouth, rushing through his veins like a freight train. All his. Everything he would ever need.

  A fresh flood of liquid heat coated his fingers and she arched into him and pressed her breasts into his cupped palm. She cried out, the sound of her voice adding to the erotic moment, driving his passion up even further. The horse between their thighs rocked and danced through the air, keeping her legs open for him while he indulged his desires.

  “I need you in me.” She whispered the entreaty, reaching back to wrap her arm around his head. “I love this so much.”

  Tell me what you love.

  The way I’m everything to you. The way you can’t conceive of a life without me. There was the briefest of hesitations. I feel that way about you. The admission came in a shy offering.

  He wanted more of her blood. So much more, but that had to come later. In the healing grounds, surrounded by his people. He couldn’t imagine how he was going to keep his body calm during the exchange, but there was no other way, not when he wanted to lessen the pain for Lorraine’s conversion.

  He knew others had converted their women without the aid of others and it had been horrendously painful. Rumor had it, some of the women barely made it over to the other side, the process was so agonizing. He didn’t want that for Lorraine, not if he could prevent it.

  Andor forced himself to stop the flow of her blood, licking across the two tiny holes in her neck to seal them closed and numb them a little more so they wouldn’t hurt at all. He turned her head to his and took her mouth. Kissing Lorraine was heady. Passionate. Perfect.

  She poured herself into her kisses, taking him straight to paradise. There was no way to become used to that first feeling of her mouth on his. Of her
tongue following his. Tangling or dancing with his. The sweet heat. The scorching passion. She gave it all to him.

  “Please, Andor.”

  Her soft entreaty. He loved the way she did that, pleaded for his body, as if he could ever deprive himself. She wasn’t a woman to hide her needs. She asked for what she wanted. Sometimes she demanded. No matter, he was more than happy to oblige.

  “Do not turn around. I am going to lift you. You use your hands on the base of my cock to guide me inside you.”

  She nodded. So eager. He loved how she didn’t try to hide how much she wanted his cock. He caught her hips and lifted. She held his shaft in her hands and guided the broad head to her entrance. She was slick with need, and he found himself shuddering with pleasure as she slowly settled over him, swallowing him, her tight channel gripping like a vise as he slid inside her.

  She didn’t stop settling over him until she was fully seated and he was buried in her. He wrapped his arms around her for a moment, holding her to him, his hands cupping the soft weight of her breasts in his palms. He caught at her nipples, tugging and rolling gently. She was especially sensitive there and each pinch and tug of his fingers caused a shudder and more scorching hot liquid to surround his shaft.

  The horse moved one way, Lorraine another and Andor was caught in the middle. It was the best place to be. Every small move she made sent heat rushing through him. Her body squeezed and massaged his. Her soft little cries accompanied the gripping and milking, that exquisite torture that had his breathing raw and his body in the throes of passion.

  He stood the waves of magic as long as he could and then he picked up the pace, the horse rocking wildly up and down, pushing him deep into her, adding to the weight of him as he thrust harder, feeling that burn through his body. Flames licked at his skin, over him, into him, surrounding his cock as he took her higher and higher.

  Her body clamped down hard on his. The strength of those small muscles defeated him every time. There was no hanging on when she did that—surrounded him with her scorching tight sheath and then milked and grasped so greedily. The explosion came from somewhere in the vicinity of his toes and rocked up his calves to his thighs. From there, his balls drew up tight and hot, his seed swirling mercilessly into an explosive volcano. Then his cock was jerking wildly, shuddering and pulsing with absolute need.