Christine Feehan 5 CARPATHIAN NOVELS

by Christine Feehan

Natalya tried a firemen’s lift, but nothing happened. She was strong. She was stronger than most humans, but he was a dead weight and slippery with blood loss. She tied her pack on him, not wanting to lose her things and made a second attempt to hoist him to her shoulder.

  Woman. What are you doing? In spite of his seemingly unconscious state, he managed to sound wholly exasperated.

  Natalya nearly jumped out of her skin. “What does it look like? Someone has to save your butt and since no one else is waving their hand to volunteer, you’re stuck with me.” There was no way she could haul him down the mountain. No way. The dread inside of her was growing as each minute ticked by. “You were supposed to be unconscious, not waiting to see how you can aggravate me.”

  Leave me.

  “If you aren’t going to say anything helpful, just shut up. I need to think. If you hadn’t insisted on staying and fighting we’d be long gone.” Natalya wanted to shake some sense into him. She’d never seen anyone so battered and wounded manage to survive. By all rights he should be dead. And the thought of his death was frightening to her. The more afraid she was, the more she wanted to lash out at his stupidity. It hadn’t been necessary to fight. They could have run. He just had to be gallant and save the world.

  “I have one shape-shifting ability,” she admitted. Natalya had to deceive just about everyone she met, but she never deceived herself. It was a luxury to be able to admit who and what she was, show what she was capable of for the first time in years. She watched his face for his reaction. “Just one on my own. I’ll be able to carry you on my back, but you’ll have to stay awake enough to hold on. Do you think you can?”

  Vikirnoff didn’t open his eyes. Whatever you need.

  His voice was far away. She swallowed hard. She needed to pack his wounds as soon as possible and that meant moving him immediately. “It’s going to hurt.”

  Natalya stripped, folded her clothes and stuffed them into the pack tied to him. She had wandered alone for years, unable to stay in one place too long for fear of giving herself away. She had been alone without friends or family and it had been long since she had experienced the exhilaration of shifting in front of another being. The freedom to be herself was a powerful lure she couldn’t resist.

  She was not fully human. She was not fully mage. And she was not fully Carpathian but a combination of all three. Her mage father had gifted her with the nature of the tigress in the hopes it would alleviate the needs of her other side for a family and give her some balance as the endless years passed. To some extent, she supposed it had, but the idea of being able to share a real part of her true self with Vikirnoff, that he would know her for what she was, felt wonderful.

  She took a deep breath, losing herself in the familiar shape and feel of the tigress. Muscles rippled beneath her luxurious striped fur coat and she stretched, showing the black and orange camouflage bands to their full advantage. Sharp claws raked the ground and she lifted her muzzle to scent the air before arching her back and lowering her body to the ground. She had no idea she was holding her breath, waiting for his reaction, until he spoke, her eyes blazing a vivid blue at him.

  His eyes opened and he reached his hand to stroke the deep fur. You are beautiful. Your eyes are the exact color of the ice lakes.

  She tried not to be pleased. She didn’t want to feel a response to him, only do her duty as a human being, but she couldn’t help the rush of warmth his words caused. Can you slip onto my back and put your arms around my neck?

  The tiger was a solitary creature and in its form, Natalya didn’t feel yearnings for a family and community. For a brief time she was able to have respite from her natural needs as a woman, but she found, even deep within the form of the tigress, she was acutely aware of Vikirnoff as a man.

  He lay out full length on his stomach, his arms sliding around her neck. The long walking stick stuck in the loop of her backpack poked her body and hurt. He felt it and adjusted immediately, a groan slipping out as he did so. You do not shift in the same way a Carpathian shifts. Is that why you have only one form?

  She knew he was too weak and shouldn’t be trying to converse, but her thoughts were tumbling around in her head so fast, frantic to share with someone. I wondered about that when you held the image of mist in my head and I was able to change. It was both frightening and wonderful.

  The tiger snarled at a lone wolf slinking through the trees. The wolf backed away from the much larger predator despite the lure of fresh blood.

  It is humbling that you gave your trust to me. I will not abuse it.

  She started to deny that she’d given him her trust, but she refrained from correcting him. She had wanted to save her life and he had been the lesser of two evils when the underground creature had grabbed her with spiked claws. Even in the form of the tiger, her ankles still burned, a constant reminder of the terror of that moment.

  The tiger hurried through the forest, carrying the man on its back until it was several miles from the battlefield, and down near the richer rolling hills. She was much more careful, taking her burden through more open ground cautiously as she approached the farms. Many of the farmers were beginning to start their day. Twice a dog barked at them and abruptly stopped and backed away. Both times Natalya felt the surge of power and knew Vikirnoff had silenced the animals.

  She had made the decision to save Vikirnoff’s life and that meant she would have to donate blood whether she wanted to or not. She was practical about it once she made up her mind. She was part Carpathian and she had to have blood to survive. She didn’t take blood that often, but when it became necessary, she had no qualms about it. Natalya left Vikirnoff nearly unconscious beside a sheaf of hay and she approached a farmer, calming him with a mage spell and taking his blood.

  Unlike full-blooded Carpathians she couldn’t remove the farmer’s memories. She attempted to dim his memory and make it feel like a dream, but, no doubt, rumors of vampires would sweep the countryside. The only thing that mattered, though, was getting Vikirnoff into her room, out of the sun and away from people as quickly as possible.

  Near the inn, she laid him down in the shelter of several bushes, shape-shifted and hastily dressed. “Don’t make a sound. Last night, there was a suspicious man in the bar. I don’t know why he’s here, but he made my alarm bells go off and I never ignore them. I don’t want to take a chance on being seen when we go in. Let me just take a look to see if everyone’s still in bed.”

  His hand fumbled for hers. “You don’t have to do this.”

  Her heart did a funny little fluttery thing she found annoying. “Just don’t move.” Natalya pulled her hand away and wiped her palm on her leather pants, trying to erase the strange electrical tingling he seemed to cause whenever she touched his skin.

  “It’s getting light,” Natalya’s voice turned unusually husky. She cleared her throat. His fingers on her bare wrist felt too intimate. “We have to get inside before the sun comes up. It took us too long to get here. The farmers were already working, remember? We had to hide. Just rest while I take a look around.”

  She knew she sounded gruff, but her emotions were so unfamiliar and intense around Vikirnoff. She certainly didn’t want to feel compassion for his terrible wounds or admiration for his stoic refusal to complain. She needed to keep an emotional distance at all times. Just saving him made her feel like an utter traitor to her brother.

  But she had saved him and now he was her responsibility. Natalya didn’t take her responsibilities lightly. She sniffed the air cautiously, searching for signs of anyone up, but she found only Slavica’s scent in the kitchen, so she pushed open the door with stealth and studied the large room.

  Slavica stood at the sink peeling potatoes for breakfast. Natalya stole up behind her. “You work too hard.”

  The innkeeper swung around, potato and knife in hand. “You! Natalya, you frightened me.” Her eyes widened with concern as she took in Natalya’s appearance. “What happened to you? Are you injured?”

&nb
sp; Natalya realized she had blood smeared all over her. Most of it belonged to Vikirnoff. “I’m fine. I have someone with me I need to get up to my room, but I don’t want anyone to see us. Will you help me? He’s injured.”

  “How bad?” Slavica was practical.

  Natalya grinned at her. “You’re so great. Thank you. He’s in bad shape. He’s lost way too much blood but I can’t take him to a hospital.”

  “There is a hidden stairway,” Slavica confided. “This inn was built on the site of an old monastery and part of that building was retained and incorporated into the inn. Only our family uses the stairs and rooms for our living quarters.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind keeping a lookout, I’ll go get him,” Natalya said. The relief sweeping through her was tremendous.

  Natalya hurried out the kitchen door and ran down the path leading to the dense shrubbery where she had left the hunter. She skidded to a halt when she saw him, slumped, his eyes closed, his face pale, almost gray and small dots of blood beading on his brow. Her heart jumped and her stomach rolled. “Vikirnoff? Do you think you can walk the last few yards to the room?” She couldn’t very well become a tiger again, but he looked so worn and pale it frightened her.

  He opened his eyes and managed to climb to his feet with her aid. He stood swaying unsteadily until she slipped her arm around him. “Just a few more minutes and you can lie down.” Natalya encouraged him.

  “This place is dangerous,” he told Natalya as they entered through the kitchen. He offered a tentative smile to Slavica when she gave an alarmed gasp. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “I’m honored to have you, sir. My home is your home.” Slavica curtsied, her hand going protectively to her throat. “This way, quickly. The workers will be here any moment to prepare the food. You must hurry.”

  Vikirnoff stiffened, holding up his hand for silence as he glanced toward the kitchen door. Muted voices drifted toward them. He waved his hand and the voices faded, the workers moving away from the room.

  Natalya felt the shiver of pain rippling through his body as he expended energy to send the kitchen help away. She took a better grip on his waist and urged him toward the back of the room where Slavica pulled open a panel in the corner. The stairs led both to a door into the private residence and upward to the second story.

  “Just a few more minutes,” Natalya whispered. She wished he’d complain just once. Her ankles and side throbbed and burned and her injuries weren’t nearly as severe as his, yet Vikirnoff was silent, not even grunting when his battered body was jarred as they went up the narrow stairs. He barely leaned his weight on her, careful of her side, but every once in a while his palm settled over her injury. Each time he did she felt warmth and the pain lessened, but she noted he became weaker and much paler.

  “Stop it,” she hissed. “I mean it. I’ve had a hundred wounds like this. I know when they’re bad and mine isn’t. The vampires were being careful not to inflict any grave injury on me. I can deal with it later.” She pushed open the door to her room and halted, inhaling deeply. “Someone has been in here.”

  Slavica shook her head. “The maids clean in the morning hours. You left in the evening. They would have been finished.”

  “There is no one here now,” Vikirnoff said, “but a man has been in this room recently. He smells of pipe tobacco and cologne.”

  “The man from the bar last night,” Natalya said. “What is his name, Slavica?” She helped Vikirnoff to the bed.

  “Barstow, Brent Barstow. He comes through our village several times a year. He says he’s on business, but . . .” The innkeeper trailed off shaking her head.

  Vikirnoff glanced at her sharply. “But he makes you uneasy.”

  “Very uneasy,” Slavica conceded. “And he’s asked questions of my daughter Angelina. I didn’t like his questions.”

  “Questions about . . .” Vikirnoff prompted.

  Natalya felt his pain as if it were her own as he stood there swaying, probing the innkeeper. She had the urge to just knock him unconscious, throw him on the bed and be done with it.

  “He wishes to know about the people residing in this area,” Slavica answered.

  The moment Vikirnoff sank down onto the soft blankets he turned his face away, but not before Natalya caught another much sharper ripple of pain he couldn’t quite hide. She couldn’t prevent herself from brushing strands of black hair off his brow. “Slavica’s a nurse, a healer. She can help you.”

  “She must attend your injuries first,” he decreed.

  Natalya snatched her hand away. “There you go again.” She was angry with herself for the silly melting sensation touching him produced in the pit of her stomach. Could she be any more pathetic? “Don’t be giving me orders.” She winced at the harshness in her tone and turned away from him to fuss at pulling the heavy drapes over the windows and balcony door to block out the morning sun.

  Slavica sat on the edge of the bed. “He will need other things, Natalya. In the kitchen there is a wooden bowl in the cupboard. Take that and fill it with the richest soil you can find in the garden.” She leaned forward and swept the strands of hair that had so bothered Natalya from Vikirnoff’s forehead, her fingers lingering against his cool skin. “You’ve lost far too much blood. I must send for your prince. He’ll want to know you require aid.”

  Vikirnoff caught her wrist. “You know what I am.” He could read that she did. Few humans knew of their existence, not only for the protection of the Carpathian people, but also for the humans. If Slavica had knowledge of their species, she was under the protection of his prince. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Slavica Ostojic. My mother’s name was Kukic. And you are?”

  Before answering he took a long, careful probe of her mind and was shocked to find she had a friendship with the prince of his people. He had heard rumors that Mikhail Dubrinksy had friends in the human world, but it was a rare occurrence to trust humans with the secrets of their species. “Vikirnoff Von Shrieder.” He gave his name reluctantly, unable to fully overcome his natural reticence. He believed in few words, keeping his own counsel and taking action when necessary. This was an unfamiliar situation and he was feeling his way.

  “This inn has been in my family for a hundred years. Mikhail Dubrinsky helped my mother to keep it when things in our country were complicated. He has always been a friend to our family and we have treasured that friendship.”

  Vikirnoff had trouble focusing on the woman’s explanation. Hunger nearly overwhelmed him. The heartbeat of the women reverberated through the room and echoed through his head. The scent of blood nearly overwhelmed him and every instinct he possessed demanded he feed to save his life and that of his lifemate.

  Slavica bent close to him and his gaze immediately riveted on her pulse. It beckoned and seduced, that small throbbing rhythm. His mouth watered and his incisors lengthened. He leaned toward her neck for a long moment, needing. Simply needing. Abruptly he pulled back. He would not take from one under the protection of his prince. To shut out the terrible hunger, he tried to concentrate on his lifemate.

  Natalya fussed with the curtains, but all the while her confused emotions battered at him. The room shifted and whirled as he listened to the ebb and flow of blood moving through veins. His every instinct was to protect her, to claim her. His body and soul roared for hers, yet she tried to stay closed off to him. Her scent drove him to a fever pitch.

  “I must send word to the prince,” Slavica repeated. “He would be annoyed with me if I did not.”

  Vikirnoff closed his burning eyes in weariness, realizing his injuries might prevent him from keeping Mikhail Dubrinsky safe for some time. “The prince is in danger. Send him that message. It is far more important than worrying about my wounds. I will heal. I have had worse and will again no doubt.”

  Hearing the tired note Vikirnoff couldn’t hide, Natalya glanced at him. She had been studiously avoiding looking at him, but now she saw the lines of pain etched deeply in his face,
the blood on his chest as Slavica cut away his shirt. Her heart seemed to skip a beat and then go crazy as she viewed his terrible injuries. She knew his back would have rake marks, long deep furrows where her claws had rent him from shoulder to waist. She was ashamed of herself. She’d been too slow in stopping the attack when he had dropped from the sky between her and the vampire, yet she could find no blame or resentment in Vikirnoff’s mind.

  His body was hard and muscular and ravaged with pain. Everything in her cried out to touch him, to ease that pain. She became fascinated by the way Slavica’s hands moved over Vikirnoff’s bare skin. Soothing him. Examining. Touching. Natalya’s breath caught in her throat. The hands mesmerized her. Infuriated her. Something dark and ugly stirred inside of her.

  The curtains slipped from her hands so that the early morning light spilled over her. Vikirnoff, sensing sudden danger, turned his head, eyes wide open to see Natalya fading into the wall, the streaks of light camouflaging her body so that it was difficult to see her without straining. In spite of the pain movement caused, he turned on his side, gaze narrowing to focus more fully on her.

  Natalya’s entire demeanor had changed. She no longer appeared fully human, instead she had become a dangerous, powerful predator. Even her sea-green eyes had changed color, taking on a pearlescent appearance, fixed and focused on Slavica as if on prey. There was a stillness to her that spoke of a tigress on the hunt, muscles locked into position, gaze intent and fixed on the nurse.

  “Mrs. Ostojic, Slavica,” Vikirnoff said, his voice quiet, his tone commanding. “Move slowly around to the other side of the bed. Do it now.”

  Slavica glanced at Natalya as she rose. A small rumbling growl emanated from the corner where Natalya had faded into a blurred image. Hand to her throat, the innkeeper shifted her weight carefully, easing to her feet and putting the bulk of the bed between her and the woman.

  Ainaak enyém, what has you so upset? Vikirnoff had little understanding of women, and even less of his lifemate. It was easy enough to understand that emotions were intense and neither understood exactly what was happening to them. He was fighting the battle of darkness and intellect had little to do with primal instincts. With Natalya so near and yet still not anchoring him, he was far more dangerous than he had ever been. Her chaotic emotions bombarding him were a recipe for disaster. Was the same thing happening to her? Were they both too close to animal instincts because neither understood what was happening to them?