Dark Magic (Dark Series - book 4)

by Christine Feehan

not human, despite the way your mother raised you. I am responsible for your life, as you are for mine. It is the way of our people, and the only thing protecting humans from our darkness. Our women are cherished, protected, treated with respect, guarded for the treasures we know they are.” The dark shadow on his chin rubbed along the top of her head in a curiously soothing gesture. Little strands of her hair caught in the stubble, weaving them together. “Your mother has much to answer for, filling your head with human nonsense when she should have been preparing you for your true destiny.”

  “Why do you call it nonsense? Because she wanted me to be able to choose for myself what I wanted? To make my own destiny? To savor freedom? I don’t want to be owned.”

  “None of us can choose, Savannah.” His arms tightened briefly, and his warm breath found her ear. “Lifemates are born to one another. And

  freedom

  is a word that can mean many different things.” His voice was so beautiful and gentle, at odds with his matter-of-fact words. “Go to sleep, and escape your fear for a time.”

  She closed her eyes as she felt his lips brush her ear, then slide to her neck. She savored the touch, took it into her body, and hated herself for it. “You go to sleep, Gregori. I want to think.”

  Teeth grazed her skin, right over her leaping pulse. Then his tongue stroked, easing the sharp sensation. “I do not wish you to think any more,

  ma petite.

  Do as I say, or I will send you to sleep myself.”

  She paled. “No!” Like any Carpathian, Savannah knew just how vulnerable she would be when the sun rose and sleep took her body. If Gregori commanded her into the deepest sleep of the Carpathians, she would be completely under his power. “I’ll sleep.” Deliberately she slowed her breathing, slowed her heart.

  Beside her, Gregori concentrated on the entrances to his lair, sealing them with ancient spells. Next he focused on the gates to the wolves’ kennels. They swung open, releasing the wolf hybrids to roam and guard the upper stories and grounds of the house. Savannah still thought to escape him. But Savannah had no idea just how powerful he really was. And because he had promised himself he would always give her truth, he could not say the pretty, empty words that might ease her fears. The acquisition of knowledge had helped to keep his mind and body strong in the endless years of empty blackness. He had waited for Savannah, his lifemate, since before her birth. The moment he had touched Mikhail Dubrinsky’s woman, Raven, healing the terrible wounds she had suffered at the hands of some misguided vampire slayers, giving his pure, powerful blood to help save her life, he had known she would provide him with his lifemate. That the child growing within her would be his. And he had done everything he could to ensure that outcome.

  When the human hunters had tried to kill Raven Dubrinsky, Gregori had saved her and the child within her, sealing the bond between him and the newly conceived female being with his own powerful blood. He had ensured she could not escape him, whispering to her, soothing her, enticing her to stay in his world despite the wounds to her fragile little body. Having gone to such extremes to bind his lifemate to him before she was even born, he would never let her go now.

  He pulled Savannah’s body as close to him as possible, fitting his larger frame around hers protectively. Roberto traveled with a pack of renegade Carpathians, vampires now, killing, raping, creating mindless human puppets to serve them. If they had all tracked Savannah here to San Francisco, the city would soon become their killing ground. Gregori had to take Savannah to safety, but he knew he would not be leaving the humans of the city to face the threat alone. Aidan Savage, a powerful Carpathian, was in this region, and he would hunt down the renegades and destroy them. Aidan was an able hunter, one feared by the undead.

  Gregori stroked Savannah’s hair gently. For her sake, he wished he could give her the freedom she so desired, but it was impossible. Instead, she would be chained to his side for eternity. He sighed, then slowed his heart and lungs in preparation for sleep. As an ancient, he had often had to bring Carpathian justice to the renegades, just as he would have expected Mikhail to bring it to him if he had waited too long to claim Savannah and save himself from his own darkness. But he seriously doubted if anyone, even Mikhail, the Prince of their people, could overpower him if he turned vampire. He could not afford the risk. Savannah must remain his. He drew a last breath, taking her scent into his body and holding it there as his heart ceased to beat.

  The sun rose above the mountains, rays of light bursting through the windows of the huge, isolated home. Polished oak gleamed. Marble tile glistened. The only sound that could be heard was an occasional soft padding of the wolves as they patrolled the first, second, and basement stories. Outside, too, more wolves moved restlessly throughout the grounds, along the high, heavy fence enclosing them on the property. The fence was more for the protection of any wandering humans than to keep the animals from marauding in the countryside. Their bond with Gregori was strong, the estate and preserve huge. The wolves would never leave of their own accord.

  The sun did battle with a thick layer of clouds, valiantly spreading its golden rays throughout the afternoon. The wind began to pick up, swirling leaves in little eddies on the ground. Beneath the earth, the large chamber was silent. Then in that silence a heart began to beat. A rush of air filled lungs. Savannah scanned her surroundings, testing the nature of Gregori’s imprisoning protection. Beside her, Gregori lay as still as death, one arm wrapped possessively around her waist.

  Savannah allowed relief to flood her body. She had one secret no one other than her wolf knew. Most Carpathian children did not survive their first year. During the critical period when their bodies demanded more than milk but rejected all food and blood, her mother, who had once been fully human and unable to feed on her own kind, had given her diluted animal blood. Although Savannah was small and fragile compared to most Carpathians, she had thrived on her mother’s mixture. And, determined to live as normal a life as possible, Savannah had stuck to her unusual diet during her growing years, hoping it might render her different from other Carpathians and able to forge her own future.

  At the age of sixteen, Savannah had begun to experiment with the possibility of going out in the sun. Her mother had told her so many stories of life in the sun, across the ocean, stories of freedom and travel. Savannah, in turn, faithfully related each one to her companion, the wolf.

  Daringly, she began to wake herself earlier and earlier, slowly exposing her skin to the sun, hoping to build up an immunity Carpathians did not have, forcing them to go to ground in the daylight and come alive only in the night. Sometimes the pain was too much for her to bear, and she would stop her outings for a few days. But Savannah was tenacious when she made up her mind to something, and she wanted to walk in the sun.

  Although she was never able to tolerate the sunlight beyond eleven in the morning or before five in the evening in the summer months, her skin had adjusted to the sun’s rays. She did have to wear the darkest of sunglasses during the day and in the bright lights on the stage, but otherwise she seemed to escape the terrible Carpathian lethargy the diet of human blood caused. She had sacrificed some of the speed and strength of her race, but she had the freedom of walking in the light, as her mother had described.

  Savannah closed her eyes, remembering a time she had sneaked out while her parents slept deep in their underground chamber. The sun was still up, and, feeling particularly pleased with herself, Savannah made her way through the deep forest up to the cliffs.

  She began to climb, trying to improve her speed and strength. But she had faltered near the top, slipped, and lost her footing. She’d grasped the rock face, scrambling for a hold, digging deep grooves in the cliff with her nails curved into claws, but she couldn’t hold on. She fell but twisted in midair with all the agility of a cat, hoping to land on her feet.

  But she had failed to see a broken tree root protruding from the cliff face and pointing up like a sharpened stake. It drove through her th
igh, tearing through flesh, muscle, and bone, pinning her in place. Her dark glasses fell from her nose to drop to the forest floor below. Savannah screamed in pain, blood pouring from her wound. For a moment she hung there; then the root gave under her weight, and she landed hard on the rocky ground.

  At first she couldn’t breathe, the air knocked from her lungs. Keeping her eyes tightly closed against the terrible light, clenching her teeth, she pressed both hands to her wound and sent out an anguished, desperate call to her wolf. Later, she wondered why she had not hesitated to call him, had not thought to call her parents. He answered immediately, waves of reassurance flooding her mind. The wolf was far away but was coming quickly to her aid.

  While she waited, Savannah dug her fingers into the rich soil, mixed it with saliva from her mouth, and packed the wound. It hurt, rivaling the glass splinters of sunlight piercing her skull through her unprotected eyes.

  Hurry!

  she urged, weak from loss of blood.

  The wolf loped out of the forest, his own streaming eyes narrowed to slashing slits. He took two incredible leaps to her side, assessed the situation, and trotted to her glasses. Picking them up carefully in his mouth, he dropped them into her lap. Then his tongue lapped at the wound in a curiously soothing gesture. Savannah’s arm slipped around the glossy neck, and she buried her face in the thick pelt of soft fur, seeking strength.

  For the first and only time in her life, she asked to feed, knowing she would not survive without blood. She was grateful for the strong bond she had with the wolf, enabling her to explain her need without words. The wolf exposed his throat without hesitation. As gently, as reverently as she was able, Savannah had sunk her teeth deep into the wolf, her mind striving to calm his. Her effort proved unnecessary. If anything, the wolf calmed her, giving of himself freely, without reservation. She was astonished that she felt no revulsion in feeding directly from the animal instead of from a cup her mother handed her. Afterward she lay with her arms around the wolf while it continued to lap gently at her wound. She could have sworn that the wolf had somehow gotten into her body, along with its blood, and somehow soothed the terrible wound in her leg. She felt heat and light and energy spreading through her, healing her. She felt no fear, surrounded by the protective, unconditional caring of the wolf.

  Her wound had healed miraculously fast, and she never mentioned the incident to her parents because she knew they would be furious with her experiments, with her going out into the sun. They would have been appalled at the chances she was taking. But she never regretted her decision to refrain from using human blood or to expose her skin to the sun’s rays. It led to freedom, the freedom that was going to allow her to escape now.

  “I’m sorry, Gregori,” she whispered softly. “I cannot put my life into your hands. You are far too powerful for someone like me to try to live with. Please find someone else and be happy.” She knew she never would be, but she had no choice if she didn’t want this potent Carpathian ancient to take over her life. Her teeth tugged at her lower lip. In spite of her resolve, she found herself strangely reluctant to leave him. And he would take her life over; he couldn’t help himself.

  It was true she would remain alone. She could not return home or even seek out her wolf. She was doomed to walk the earth alone. But something in her, strong and proud, would not allow this man to dominate her, choose her life for her, dictate to her. He had been right; she knew what emptiness was, to be totally alone in the middle of a crowd. She was different. No matter how hard she tried, Savannah would never be human, and she would never be Carpathian. She knew, although she would never admit it to anyone other than her wolf—she had confided the truth to the animal—that she could not possibly be with any man but Gregori. But she would be alone for an eternity rather than be owned by him. She understood that she would never crave another man as she did Gregori; her soul was already in his possession. And she wanted to explain things to him, to make him understand. But Gregori was not a male to heed anyone’s logic other than his own.

  Gregori was one of the ancients, the most powerful, the most knowledgeable. The Dark One. He was a deadly killer, a true wild Carpathian male. The centuries had not softened his macho attitudes or changed his beliefs. He believed absolutely in his right to her, believed she belonged to him. He would protect her with his life from all harm, see to her every need and comfort. But he would rule her absolutely.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered again and attempted to sit up.

  A heavy weight in the middle of her chest prevented movement. Her heart lurched uncomfortably. Terrified that she had disturbed Gregori’s slumber, Savannah gazed at him. He remained still and silent, without a flicker of life. Savannah took a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm herself. This time she slid cautiously sideways as if scooting out from under something. Instantly a band tightened around each ankle. When Savannah looked down at her feet, there was nothing there, nothing holding her, yet she couldn’t move. Something was anchoring her in place.

  For a brief moment she considered that some other Carpathian male—or vampire—had tracked them to the lair. But no Carpathian would dare disturb Gregori. Somehow, in his deep sleep, Gregori was controlling her.

  Easily. Casually. So certain of his own power, so unruffled by her defiance, he could sleep through it. There was no doubt in her mind that it was Gregori preventing her escape. She lay still and allowed her mind to focus on her ankles, looking for a path, anything that could give her a clue to how the invisible manacles worked and how she might escape them.

  You will sleep.

  The command filled her mind, low, compelling, iron in velvet.

  Instantly her mind clouded, and her heart slowed. Savannah struggled, alarmed, and fought the desire to do his bidding. It was humiliating that he could control her even while he slept. If he was truly that powerful, what would her life with him be like when he was fully awake and aware?

  A low, mocking laugh filled her mind.

  Go to sleep, ma

  petite.

  It is dangerous to test me this way.

  She turned her head. Gregori lay as one dead. How could he be so strong? Even her father, Mikhail, the Prince of Darkness, did not possess such power. Gregori’s voice was hypnotic, mesmerizing.

  Savannah closed her eyes, exhausted from fighting him. She was overwhelmed with despair.

  All right, Gregori, you win

  —

  this time. All the time, ma

  petite. There was no bragging, no triumph, just gentle calm.

  It was his calm that made her believe Gregori was far more dangerous than she had ever imagined. He didn’t threaten or yell or rage. He stated everything quite evenly or, worse, seemed amused by it. A familiar scent filled her lungs as she inhaled one last breath. The wolf, her wolf, filled her mind with comfort, soft fur rubbing against her arm, her cheek. Savannah kept her eyes closed tightly, afraid of destroying the illusion.

  I missed you.

  She merged her mind with the wolf’s.

  I wish you were really here with me right now. I have always been with you.

  The wolf’s mind accepted her, enfolded her, embraced her with warmth. The mind was so familiar, as if she had walked in it a thousand times.

  I wish that were true, that you were here with me for real.

  The wild scent was strong in her nostrils. For a moment, Savannah held her breath, not daring to breathe. Then, slowly, she lifted her lashes. Beside her, the wolf stretched out, glossy black fur rubbing her skin. The wolf turned its head, revealing its unusual, intelligent gray eyes. Savannah’s heart slammed against her chest. A moan of denial escaped. This was no illusion but the real thing. Gregori, with all his powers, could shape-shift. He was her wolf. How arrogant she had been to assume she was the only one who had perfected the art of going out in the sun. She had thought she was capable of resisting the rays because she fed only on animal blood. If only she had consulted her parents. Why had she kept the wolf he
r secret?

  It had all seemed so innocent and fun, to have a wonderful secret from her parents. But she should have recognized those eyes. Not gray, but piercing, slashing silver. And the wolf had been told her every fear, every desire, her every dream. He knew her secret, innermost thoughts. Worse, they had exchanged blood, she by feeding, he by licking her wound. The exchange was not, perhaps, as the Carpathian mating ritual demanded, but their mental bond was strong, unbreakable.

  She had been so stupid! An ordinary wolf would never have been so intelligent, so able to communicate warmth and security, so able to comfort her. Gregori had forged a bond between them from her early childhood.

  You were lonely. I had no chance, did I? Not even as a child. Not from the moment you were conceived.

  No remorse, only that calm, implacable resolve.

  She shut her mind to him, furious that he had taken such advantage of her, furious that he could have deceived her all those years. She turned her back to him, remembering how the wolf had come to her rescue even with the sun out, nothing protecting his eyes. Gregori might be the most powerful ancient of all, but he was still Carpathian. He must have endured excruciating pain to come to her aid.

  She pushed uncomfortably at the heavy fall of her hair, knowing she should acknowledge that long-ago sacrifice. She wanted to be angry with him, furious. She did not want to feel cared for and protected by her jailer. She didn’t want the racing of her pulse, the delicious warmth spreading through her at the lengths he had gone to for her all those years, to ensure a bond, to ensure her safety and happiness. His explanation was so stark and matter-of-fact.

  You were lonely.

  It was that simple to him. She needed, he provided. The code of the Carpathian male.

  I’m sorry you were hurt on my account.

  She chose her thought carefully, not wanting him to read her confused emotions. She immediately felt the sensation of a hand brushing down the length of her hair, the gentlest of caresses.

  We have a long night ahead tomorrow. You need healing sleep.