Dark Storm ('Dark' Carpathian Series)

by Christine Feehan

  She shuddered as the noxious sensations radiated out from the village, but she stood her ground. As she processed the information, she realized there was more, that the rhythm and pulse of the surrounding area vibrated in opposite tune. She could feel the earth fighting to expel the blemish on the land.

  Holding hands, Riley and Dax walked together toward the village. They walked into three more traps, each of which Dax quickly dispatched, and then they broke through the forest into the cleared area of the village, and Riley found herself standing in the middle of the most horrifying sight she’d ever seen. Words failed her. The sheer number of bodies strewn across the ground defied belief.

  “Mitro must have visited the outlying areas during his first night and brought more villagers here,” Dax said. “I have never seen him work this fast before.”

  In the center of the village was a horrific altar of sorts. A wooden dais bore a crude throne fashioned from what looked like wood and human bones. Great black wings soared out on two sides, each covered in layers of black feathers. The wings were covered in blood that refused to dry in the humidity of the jungle. Like a macabre waterfall, blood continued to drip from the blood-soaked dais to the black ichor-covered ground below. Riley and Dax carefully circled the dais. Pinned like a crucified Jesus to the back of the bloody wings was Marty’s tortured body, naked except for the insects that were feeding or hatching in his open wounds. Bile rose in Riley’s throat. Most of Marty’s organs were hanging free outside his body; his back had somehow been fused with the dais, and it was his blood dripping down the front. As they approached, the bloody, disfigured face lolled to one side and a bubbling groan wept from his lips.

  “Oh, my God. Dax! Dax, do something! He’s alive. He’s still alive!”

  With a wave of his hand, Dax sent all the insects fleeing their feast. He stepped up to the dais and placed a hand just over the boy’s collarbone. Bloody eyelids fluttered. Haunted eyes rolled up to focus on Dax. How Marty was alive, let alone still conscious, Riley had no idea. Her heart was breaking as she looked at him, and tears streamed down her face.

  Dax held the contact for several minutes, clearly searching Marty’s mind for information he could use. When he was done, he turned his head just slightly toward her, not making eye contact. “Riley, look away.” It was the closest Dax had ever come to a plea, and she almost did as he asked. Instead, she squeezed the hand she still held. She knew what he was going to do, and she wouldn’t let him do it alone.

  In that instant all pain was gone, memories of horror were gone from his mind, so Marty only remembered happy moments in his life. Dax waved his hand, and Marty gave one last sigh before succumbing to his horrible wounds. Riley didn’t need to be told that there was nothing they could do. The boy was too far gone. Her tears continued to fall as Dax walked them away from behind the dais.

  Clouds formed unnaturally fast, dark and mean. Lightning raced from one side of the sky to the other. The electricity was palpable in the air, but it was Dax being so closed off that truly unnerved her. For the first time she felt him mentally slipping away, and she let him go. She understood the need to distance oneself when faced with such horrors.

  “Marty was here to study ruins with his professor and Todd, his friend,” Dax said, staring at the gathering storm. “He had a love for history and especially the study of how myths and gods were created. Mitro spent a lot of time in this part of his brain. I believe the vampire may be considering making his own cult, using the volcano and the dragons and local legend.” His voice was neutral, but even without the connection she thought she detected shame.

  “This is not your fault, Dax.”

  He went on as if he didn’t hear her. “Mitro used Marty to learn about the modern world, or at least as much of it as he could. He took his time while he made the village people sacrifice each other in his name. Pedro was one of the first to die.”

  “Dax …”

  Dax cut her off. “Yes, Riley, this is my fault. Every child, every man, every woman … their deaths are my fault.” Dax raised his hand and lightning sprang to his fingertips, gathering into another ball of light and fire.

  “Do we know where he is?”

  “Before coming here Marty and Todd spent time in a city, filled with people. Mitro spent time reviewing those memories. I think the city appealed to his latest aspirations.”

  Dax threw the ball of flame straight down at their feet. Waves of lightning and fire in every color spread in an instant, burning everything but them. Dax took her arm and guided her back toward their camp. The fire retreated from their every step. “I believe he wants to go to a place where there are young people that will worship him as he believes he deserves.”

  When the village was out of sight, Riley looked up at Dax. Otherworldly and beautiful, his expression looked carved from stone.

  Riley had had enough of his stoicism. She could feel how much he was suffering. She reached up, grabbed the back of his hair and kissed him hard. At first, he held firm and then their world turned to a fire as hot and wild as the one they’d just left as he let her take him to someplace far, far different.

  12

  Riley knew she wasn’t alone the moment she woke. She was surrounded by Dax’s scent. Warm. Masculine. Wild. Dangerous—which was strange because she instantly felt safe.

  “Open your eyes.”

  Her body responded to that soft, hypnotic voice, melting, turning liquid. She lifted her lashes and looked into his face. Desire, raw and electric, sizzled through her body until heat pooled low. He looked sinfully beautiful, the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. There was nobility in that carefully carved face. Each feature was distinct and etched with an artistic hand. His short, spiked hair, obsidian black, nearly sparkled, giving her palms a tingly feeling and forcing her to curl her fingers tightly into fists to prevent her from running them through that thick pelt. God, he was gorgeous.

  Her breath caught in her throat. He was lying beside her on his side, his body curved protectively around hers, on one elbow, his head propped up by his hand, his eyes drifting possessively over her. The look in his eyes stole her sanity. There was desire, stark and raw that set her blood surging hotly, bringing every single nerve ending in her body alive.

  Riley was reluctant to sit up, savoring the feel of his hard muscles, the impressive length and thickness of his heavy erection lying tight against her bottom and the heat from his body warming her. He smiled at her, a flash of white teeth, his strange eyes claiming her. The multifaceted eyes glowed at her with small orange-red flames illuminating the colors of diamonds. His free hand was in her hair, as if he couldn’t resist the feel of it. His long fingers massaged her scalp, sending the most delicious sensation through her.

  She blinked up at him. “Hello.”

  He inclined his head. “Good evening. I brought you something.”

  His hand reluctantly slipped from her hair, and she actually followed the descent of that warm touch with her head, wanting to rub against him more. Was there shyness in his voice? Not quite, but certainly a hesitant charm she found intriguing. She turned over and as he sat up, so did she, stifling a yawn. He traced the pad of his finger down her cheek to her lower lip.

  “You have this very tempting lip that makes me want to lean over and just bite,” he said very softly.

  She found herself blushing. She wasn’t a woman who blushed, but then men didn’t say blatantly sexual things to her as a rule. Her mother always told her she was intimidating, unapproachable and too striking. The combination, according to Annabel, was lethal when meeting men. Only the bravest would dare to get shot down. Of course mothers had to say things like that—maybe they even believed it. Riley had never bought into her mother’s explanations.

  His finger caressed her lip, soft brushstrokes threatening to steal her sanity. She had an incredible, and completely out of character urge, to draw that finger into her mouth. He was temptation personified—the serpent in the garden—and she was falling f
aster than Eve ever thought of eating that apple.

  She made a sound, she knew she managed something, but his eyes, with those small red-orange flames flickering with such heat, surrounded by the longest lashes she’d ever seen, were so distracting and intense.

  “Do you want your gift?” he asked softly.

  Her gaze dropped to his perfectly molded mouth. If she leaned forward just a few inches …

  “Sivamet, are you awake?”

  There was laughter in his voice. Riley had it bad, because that laughter resonated through her body, setting every nerve on fire. She managed a nod, completely mesmerized by him. She had wanted out of the classroom, wanted some adventure, but she had never considered she might find … him.

  “This is an ancient tradition,” he explained as he gave her a single flower.

  The blossom was large, much like a lily but shaped like a star. The petals were open to reveal the inside, the ovary a deep ruby red with two striped filaments. The shape and size of the stigma brought the color flooding to her face—that particular part looked like a very large erection. She knew flowers, her mother grew every kind, but this one, stunningly beautiful, definitely could be used to explain sex.

  “Taste it.”

  She blinked at him. Swallowed. She didn’t know why that sounded sexy. Everything he said and did seemed to be sexy.

  “Use your tongue to stroke along the …”

  “Um. I get it.” She couldn’t possibly.

  Her eyes, captured by his, refused to look away. She was caught there, in those mesmerizing eyes, trapped, unable to defend herself. Her tongue darted out and she touched that bulbous head tentatively. At once taste burst through her mouth, vibrant and spicy. Addicting. She licked along the underside and all around the head, seeking more of the elusive flavor.

  Dax leaned closer until she could feel his warm breath against her neck. “Do you like it?”

  “It’s amazing,” she admitted. “I’ve never tasted anything like this.”

  “The flower takes on the taste of the giver.”

  His gaze bored into hers, compelling her to get every last drop, the intensity of desire sending a shiver through her body. Why in the world would she find his declaration hot? And why couldn’t she stop devouring the fragile flower, craving that spicy taste. The petals, soft velvet, held his scent. She felt surrounded by him with each stroke of her tongue, drawing that nectar into her body.

  “Hand it to me.” He didn’t take his eyes from hers.

  Reluctantly she took one last lingering lick along the stigma and handed him back the flower. Holding her gaze, he dipped his head, his mouth in the bloom. His tongue found the filaments and ovary, devouring the nectar collected there. She’d never seen anything so sexy in her life. Her entire body went hot.

  “Your taste is addictive.” His gaze burned into hers. Blatantly sexual.

  A flood of liquid heat added to her discomfort. Tension coiled in her belly, slithered through her deepest core until she crawled with need. She pressed her lips tightly together as he took his time obviously savoring the inside of the flower. His gaze burned over her, those tiny flames growing hotter and wilder as he ate out the night flower.

  By the time he lifted his head, his eyes were glowing. “Kneel up for a moment.”

  She didn’t think to question him, too caught up in his sexual web. Whatever the pull of lifemates, the physical attraction between them sizzled and she didn’t want to miss one intoxicating moment.

  She knelt.

  He nodded approvingly. “Sit back on your heels and open your thighs.” As he gave her the command, he held the flower cupped in both palms, solemnly, as if it was of great importance.

  Heart pounding, she complied. He placed the flower exactly at the junction of her legs, petals whispering against her open, jean-clad thighs.

  “Tied vagyok.” His gaze for the first time left hers, to drift possessively over her. “Sívamet andam.” The flames in his eyes leapt high, while the multifaceted diamonds glittered and burned. “Te avio päläfertiilam.”

  His softly spoken words sounded beautiful, but more, she recognized a ritual quality to the presentation and knew he was telling her something important to him. Her entire body had reacted to those nearly whispered words. His voice was a weapon, she decided, especially when he spoke in his own language. The tone was as hypnotic as the words and she found herself straining to understand. “In my language please,” she asked.

  “Tied vagyok means …” He frowned, searching for the words in a language he’d just acquired. “‘Yours I am,’” he said simply.

  Her heart jumped. This amazing warrior, so beautiful, so protective and sexy was hers?

  “Sívamet andam would be, ‘my heart I give you.’” He touched her face gently, tracing her cheekbones, her jawline and chin and then back up to the curve of her mouth, as if memorizing every detail.

  Blood surged hotly through her veins. She felt him inside of her, a part of her. Riley pressed her lips tightly together. Something important was happening, but she didn’t know what. She didn’t want to say or do the wrong thing. A part of her wanted to run. She had no doubt Dax believed exactly what he was saying—he was giving her his heart. He was larger than life. One of the heroes from a movie who could save the world. She thought of herself as … ordinary. Here in the rain forest where there was no one else, she probably looked like a great find, but there was an entire world waiting for him.

  “There is only one lifemate for our species, Riley,” he said.

  Her entire body clenched. Wept. Electricity sang in her veins. She wanted to believe that she could have him, but truly it was absurd. They barely knew one another. He was from ancient times. She was caught in some kind of intense dream she didn’t want to wake from.

  “What does te avio päläfertiilam mean?” Was that her voice? So husky and sensual?

  He frowned, concentrating, trying to come up with a suitable translation. “You, wedded wife, my.” He shook his head. “‘You’ is equated to lifemate. Wife is your closest word. Your marriage ceremony is the closest to the binding ritual I can find in Gary’s memories. I am saying you are my lifemate.”

  She blinked at him. “Is this a marriage ritual?”

  He shook his head, a flash of white teeth sending another surge of desire skittering through her body. His teeth looked strong, straight and just pointed enough that she found herself a little frightened, which only added to the exhilarating experience.

  “When the ritual binding words are said, that is equivalent to your marriage vows—but more. That cannot be undone. This is more like …” He broke off, clearly searching Gary’s memories for an analogy. “This ceremony is important for us both.”

  He rubbed the bridge of his nose, a gesture she found endearing. “I’ve courted you in the way of my people and this ritual ensures fertility and acceptance.”

  Her heart jumped again. Her body burned. “Fertility?” Her voice sounded squeaky even to her own ears.

  “Our women don’t have many children in spite of the longevity. This flower is important to our preserving our future.”

  “It is?” She glanced around her, keeping her voice low. Their conversation seemed so intimate—so sexy. As always, she and Dax were secluded away from the others. When he arrived, he always seemed to find a way to isolate her before waking her.

  “You need to repeat the words back to me,” he said, his voice dropping an octave lower.

  He shifted to his knees, opening his thighs wide. Her breath hitched in her lungs.

  “Take the flower in both open palms and place it …”

  “I get it,” she said hastily, color creeping up her neck and face.

  She tried to pull her fascinated gaze away from the impressive bulge in the front of his jeans. The material was stretched taut, looking as if at any moment it would give way. She’d never been so enamored, sexually frustrated or interested in a man. She’d even dreamt of him. The erotic dreams only added
to her shyness with him.

  Very carefully, so as not to bruise the petals, she scooped up the flower and, cupping it carefully in both hands, she transferred it to the vee between his open legs. The sides of her hands brushed along his thighs. She could feel his powerful muscles and the tremendous heat emanating from his body. Her hands shook, so she deposited the flower quickly and placed her moist palms on her own thighs.

  “You say the words back to me,” he encouraged.

  She had listened intently to the accent and the words, but saying them aloud to him instead of Gary was intimidating. Not only that, but did she mean them? Was she his? She enjoyed being with him, was intrigued by him and felt safe with him. He had a sense of humor, was intelligent and was a walking god of sensuality. She didn’t feel alone anymore. Everything about him appealed to her—but could she trust it? Did she have the ability to hold a man like Dax? When this adventure was over, what would they do?

  Dax leaned toward her, his breath warm on her face, a whisper against her lips. “Ainaak sívamet jutta, which means ‘forever to my heart connected,’ is exactly what you are. All these doubts of yours must be laid to rest. There is no other for me. You can turn me away, but you will be condemning me to a half-life. You possess the other half of my soul. You have only to touch my mind, Riley, and you will know me far better than others will know their partners in their lifetimes.”

  “Don’t you think this is happening too fast?”

  “I am not familiar with your society or culture,” he admitted, “but in mine, we have certainty. You are my other half. There can be no mistake. You restored my emotions and the color to my life. Your soul completed mine. My heart calls to yours. I crave the taste of you and I burn for your body. There is no doubt in my mind.”

  How could she not respond to that? He made her feel beautiful. Intelligent. The only woman in the world. She wasn’t ready to give that up. In any case, what did she have to go back to? Her parents were gone. There was nobody. But …