Natalya jerked the leather away from her abdomen to reveal the birthmark that had condemned her brother to death. “I have the same mark. You can’t be my lifemate when I bear this mark. It’s a death sentence. All hunters will kill us immediately when they see the mark of the wizard on our skin.” There was defiance in her voice, expectation in her eyes. She meant to shock him and readied herself for his attack on her.
Vikirnoff stared at the intricate dragon, low on her left side. He let out his breath slowly. “That is no mark of the wizard, Natalya. That is the birthmark of one of the oldest and most respected of Carpathian families. That mark is Dragonseeker. No hunter would kill a man or woman marked as Dragonseeker. It is not possible.”
Her chin went up. “Are you calling me a liar?”
Vikirnoff didn’t answer her verbally. He invaded her mind. He gave her no warning and no time to stop him, pushing past her barriers so that he shared her life, the love of her brother, his laughter, his caring, the way the two of them were forced to live, hiding and running from place to place, always ahead of the enemy.
Natalya didn’t take the merging lightly. She tried to fight him off, to put up blocks, but there was a ruthless quality to Vikirnoff. He pushed further, uniting them together until he saw what he was looking for. She hated the invasion of her mind. To her, it was almost worse than if he had invaded her body. She lifted her hands and gracefully sketched symbols in the air between them, an attempt at erecting a shield to protect her memories, her thoughts, the very essence of who and what she was from him.
The symbols burned brightly in the air for a brief moment, orange and yellow and gold, then slowly faded, leaving her vulnerable.
Her resistance to their merging surprised Vikirnoff, but he ignored it, intent on finding the memories that had shaped Natalya’s distrust of Carpathians.
Natalya’s grief over the death of her twin was wild and without end. Totally immeasurable. It was still as sharp-edged and painful as the day she had learned her brother, Razvan, was dying. Vikirnoff caught the echo of her brother’s name in her cry of sorrow. Her brother had connected with her on a private mental path, in pain, laboring for breath, reaching out one last time with a warning for her to avoid the Carpathian hunters. To run while she could and stay hidden from the scrutiny of that dangerous race. They were liars. Deceivers. And they would kill her the moment they saw that mark. The dragon was the mark of death.
Razvan had been in agony, but he had held on long enough to send the warning to his beloved twin sister. Abruptly, before she could tell him she loved him, he was gone from her. She had never found his body—or his killer. He had not shown her the battle, or the face of his murderer.
“It had to be a vampire,” Vikirnoff said, totally shaken as he pulled out of her mind. Her emotions were so raw, so intense, he felt them, too. He took several deep breaths to stay in control. “There is no other explanation. You know they are deceivers. Every one of them.”
“It was no vampire,” she hissed back. “Razvan knew the difference. Your people waged war on my people simply because a Carpathian cannot stand to lose his woman to another man. My grandmother left her lifemate and it started a war. If Carpathian males can go to war over such a thing, they are perfectly capable of murdering my brother.”
“Your grandmother, Rhiannon of the Dragonseekers, was kidnapped and her lifemate murdered. She was murdered. That is the truth, Natalya, and somewhere deep inside of you, you are very much aware of it or you would have killed me when I stepped between you and the vampire.”
“Shut up!” She pressed her hands over her ears, but she couldn’t stop the way her mind tuned itself to his. The way her heart sought the rhythm of his. Or the way her body burned for him.
And she couldn’t bear to be reminded she had nearly killed him. She had allowed the tigress freedom and her claws had shredded his skin from neck to waist.
He closed his eyes in weariness. “I am sorry for the death of your brother. In truth, we all have lost loved ones in the battle against evil.”
The knock on the door saved Natalya from having to answer him. Slavica opened the door cautiously. “May I come in?”
“Yes, do,” Natalya said. “You’re welcome to take care of him.” She had to get away, get her wild emotions under control. She had never felt such an emotional roller-coaster and never wanted to again. Exhausted, trying to hide tears, she snatched up clean clothes and ran for the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower.”
4
“Natalya seems very upset,” Slavica said as she lit several candles to fill the room with the soothing aroma. “Is it always so difficult for your women to accept another woman helping you? Even when I am a nurse and you are so gravely injured?”
Vikirnoff gave her a faint, humorless smile. “I have only met two other woman of my species in recent years and it seems to me they were both difficult. I have little memory of those who came before.”
“Natalya is a sweet girl,” Slavica said. “My husband, Mirko, is sending word to the prince, Mikhail Dubrinsky, that you are injured. I told him that one of our guests had broken into Natalya’s room while she was away. That really worries me.” She frowned as she studied the deep hole in his chest. “This worries me as well. The muscle and tissue are shredded right down to your heart. Your artery is exposed and there seems to be infection already forming.”
“Vampires are nasty creatures. They like to leave their mark behind.”
Natalya leaned against the bathroom door and listened to the conversation, ashamed of her unreasonable jealousy. She wasn’t a sweet girl. She was a grown woman much older than Slavica and she should be in total control at all times. Her flippant attitude was carefully cultivated to keep people at a distance, but as a rule, she was in complete control. Meeting Vikirnoff had her emotions ping-ponging all over the place. She didn’t much like the feeling—or herself at the moment.
Of course the hole in Vikirnoff’s chest was worrisome. A vampire had attempted to tear out his heart. What did Slavica mean by that? Was it a mortal wound? Slavica hadn’t even gotten to the tiger claw marks down his back. Was Vikirnoff going to die after all? Natalya had been so busy climbing all over him, she’d nearly forgotten what he’d suffered in her defense. She was completely disgusted with herself.
Natalya thumped the back of her head against the wall in frustration. What is wrong with me?
Nothing is wrong with you. You were given a version of a story and you believed it. You think I am your enemy and yet you are the other half of me and your soul recognizes me. It is no wonder you are confused.
Vikirnoff’s calm voice intruded into her mind. The voice of reason. Purity. Truth. So in control—as if giving her permission to be upset. And it annoyed the hell out of her. Don’t make excuses for me. I’m perfectly capable of making up my own mind. Everything about you annoys the holy hell out of me.
Everything? His tone was mild, but the inflection was suggestive.
Natalya squeezed her eyes closed tight as warmth flooded her body. If his voice could make her weak with wanting him, she was terrified of what might happen if he touched her. She was vulnerable right now. That was the trouble. She longed for a home and a family. For someone to share her life and he came along, all handsome with those eyes and that mouth and body, and she’d tripped. That was all. A small stumble.
Slavica spoke again. “I’ll need your saliva. Mine has no healing properties.”
Natalya’s stomach rolled and her muscles clenched in protest. “Damn it,” she muttered as she flung open the bathroom door. She hurried out, grabbing the wooden bowl filled with rich, dark soil, not daring to look at Vikirnoff. “I’ll do it,” she announced, exasperation coloring her tone. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your freakin’ mouth shut. And you won’t dare smirk, because in all honesty, I have no idea what I’ll do if you are that stupid and insensitive.
I have never been accused of being insensitive. Vikirnoff wasn’t certain that wa
s altogether the truth. His brother’s lifemate, Destiny, had definitely made a few pointed remarks about his lack of knowledge about women.
“Of course, Natalya,” Slavica encouraged. “I’m grateful for the help. Healing a Carpathian is quite different from healing a human.”
“Have you done it before?” Natalya asked, curious. It just didn’t seem likely that the Carpathian race would share such vital information as their way of healing with humans.
Natalya glanced at Vikirnoff, unable to help herself. Her heart shifted uneasily. Had he always been so pale? There were dark circles under his sunken-in eyes. White lines around his mouth were the only real external signs of pain, but she felt it. And she knew he was, in some way, shielding her. That irritated her as well.
She was every bit as powerful and capable as he was. Just because he knew that you had to incinerate vampire hearts in order to kill the undead did not make him more powerful or dangerous, only more knowledgeable. She risked another glance at him as she worked on the soil, trying not to notice the way Slavica touched him. It was impersonal, she could read Slavica’s mind, knew there were no inappropriate thoughts, only her need to help heal Vikirnoff’s wounds. There was also a very real worry that she would not be able to save him. Still, watching another woman’s hands on his body was disturbing.
“Tell me what else he needs,” Natalya said before she could stop herself. A slow hiss of exasperation escaped, but she grimly kept up with her task. She knew the soil was all important, that it would be packed into Vikirnoff’s wounds.
“He needs blood, lots of it. And he needs the earth and someone to enter his body and heal him from the inside out.”
Natalya pressed her back against the wall. Damn the man. I sure as hell do not want to crawl inside your mind and body.
I would not ask it of you.
She ground her teeth together. Of course he wouldn’t ask. If he’d asked, she would have told him to go to hell, but no, he had to be all stoic and heroic on her. He didn’t ask her to bring him back to the inn, but he’d looked at her with his intense black eyes and left her no choice.
I was unconscious.
If you knew what was good for you, you’d be unconscious now. She fumed at him, glaring, but he kept his eyes closed. And that brought her attention to his black lashes and their incredible length.
“I’ve healed myself from the inside out, Slavica. It requires a great deal of concentration and if he stays quiet and doesn’t say anything stupid and make me so mad I want to add a few extra wounds to him, then it may just work.”
Vikirnoff’s mouth curved into a faint smile. “She sounds so loving.”
Slavica laughed. “She does at that, Mr. Von Shrieder.”
“Vikirnoff,” he corrected. “I don’t think now is the time to stand on ceremony. If you are under the protection of our prince, then you are under my protection and a friend.”
Natalya snorted derisively. “You couldn’t protect a wet hen right now, Mr. Charm, so knock off the flirting and let me work.”
Vikirnoff looked confused. “Why would I want to protect a wet hen?”
Slavica covered her mouth with her hand and coughed delicately.
“You’re deliberately missing the point,” Natalya said and sank down onto the mattress, her thigh brushing his.
“I do not understand how or why you are comparing Slavica to a wet hen,” Vikirnoff said with a small frown. “I do not see the resemblance.”
Slavica’s giggle slipped out from around her hand. She hastily sobered and sent Natalya a quick look of apology. “Just lie back, Vikirnoff, and stay still. Natalya, you must teach me the chant that all Carpathian healers use when working.”
“I don’t know it,” Natalya admitted, feeling guilty and ashamed. Why, she didn’t know. She had no reason to know the silly chant. “I’m not full Carpathian and have never lived with their people. I know very little about them.”
Vikirnoff’s fingers caught her chin and raised it. Her gaze flew to his and held there when she wanted to jerk away. For all the severity of his injuries, he had surprising strength. I do not like you feeling ashamed. Why should you know something without ever being taught? Few know the heart of the vampire must be incinerated or he will rise again and again. Even fewer know how to separate mind and body to heal. And the number who know the sacred words of healing is even smaller.
His voice soothed more than his words, brushing over her like silk, enveloping them with an intimacy that brought unexpected tears to her eyes. She choked back a lump burning in her throat and dragged her gaze from his. He was touching her in ways she couldn’t comprehend and her reaction to him frightened her. She was terribly ashamed of her shrewish behavior toward Vikirnoff when he lay on the bed with his chest, thigh and back ripped open, all the while trying to soothe her.
I am having trouble keeping chaotic emotions at bay, why should it be any easier for you? You have no reason to feel shame.
His confession nearly brought on another rush of tears. Natalya bent over his chest, pressing the mixture of healing soil and saliva into the hole so close to his heart. Beneath her fingers, she felt his muscles grow tense. Flicking a nervous glance at his face, she saw tiny beads of blood on his brow. Her stomach protested with a quick rolling lurch. Her breath hissed out between her teeth.
“It’s good, Natalya,” Slavica encouraged. “Vikirnoff teach us the words so we can help when Natalya attempts to heal you.”
Hurry. It slipped out, breathless with anxiety. Natalya bit down on her lip, but it didn’t stop the worry in her mind from betraying her. She hated causing him pain, even when she knew she was helping him with the soil pack. Tell me the words and I’ll relay them to Slavica. And tell me what the words mean.
Kuasz, nélkül sivdobbanás, nélkül fesztelen löyly. It means, “You lie as if asleep, without beat of heart, without airy breath.” Vikirnoff coughed and there was a fleck of blood at his lips. He turned his face away from her to continue. Ot élidamet andam szabadon élidadért means “I offer freely my life for your life.” His gaze flicked over her briefly. You may not wish to continue.
Just give me the words.
O jelä sielam jorem ot ainamet és sone ot élidadet. Vikirnoff coughed again and dragged his torn shirt to his mouth. Natalya could see it was instantly stained with blood. “My spirit of light forgets my body and enters your body.” O jelä sielam pukta kinn minden szelemeket belsõ.
Vikirnoff paused when she took the shirt from him and gently wiped his mouth. Her eyes met his. “What does that mean?”
“My spirit of light sends all the dark spirits within fleeing without.” His hand fumbled for her wrist to hold her still. Thank you, Natalya.
“You’re very welcome. Give me the rest of it before you lose consciousness.”
Pajak o susu hanyet és o nyelv nyálamet sivadaba means “I press the earth of my homeland and the spit of my tongue into your heart.”
“Basically the chant covers exactly the procedure for healing,” Natalya said.
Vikirnoff nodded. Vii o verim sone o verid andam is, “At last, I give you my blood for your blood.” This is repeated while the healer is inside the body. It is a ceremony that has been handed down through time and has much power.
Natalya repeated the words slowly several times to Slavica. The nurse nodded and began to chant, picking up the accents and murmuring the words in a soft, melodic voice.
Natalya took a deep, cleansing breath and let it out. She had often healed small wounds on her own body with the technique of separating spirit from body, but never on another person. It was dangerous and difficult to allow the body to drop away and become the healing energy needed. And to enter Vikirnoff’s body . . . What if she made a mistake? What if she did something wrong and made things worse?
There is no making things worse, ainaak enyém, I cannot hold on much longer. If you do not enter my body and heal it, I will oblige you by dying and save you the necessity of finding new ways to kill me.
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Natalya had no idea if he was attempting humor or if he meant it, but his words steadied her resolve. She flashed him a quick glance. Good riddance, too. You make me crazy.
I know.
There was far too much satisfaction in his purring answer. But there was also an underlying echo of pain. He was finding it more difficult to shield her from the tearing agony that made him sweat blood. Natalya closed herself off from confusion and guilt and doubt. She needed to shed her own skin, put aside her ego and her doubts, the frailties of self and become only pure energy, the essence of life, a spirit so light it could travel without flesh and bones.
She began to chant as well, the rhythmic words helping her concentrate and focus on her task. She felt the separation and, for a moment, panicked as she always did. She forced herself to push through her awareness of self and let go. She knew Vikirnoff was with her, a shadow in her mind. She wasn’t certain if he was there for support, for aid should she need it, or because he feared she might try to kill him.
She found herself back in her own body. Faint color stole up her cheeks. She couldn’t look at Slavica and admit failure. What did I do wrong?
Nothing. You became aware of my presence and allowed it to distract you. It happens with all healers attempting to enter someone else. Try again, Natalya. You seem to be a natural.
I’ve only done this to myself.
But with no training. No one showed you how, but you managed on your own. You must be a powerful healer as were all the Dragonseekers. I am staying with you to ensure your safety. If you wished me dead, you would not be attempting this.
The utter weariness in his voice became her strength and determination. She let her breath out slowly again and freed her mind and spirit from her body. She narrowed her awareness to Vikirnoff, to his broken, bleeding body, the terrible injuries wrought by a vampire, the most evil of all creatures.
It was necessary to stay out of his brain, ignore his memories and his thoughts. She found it was a struggle to separate herself from him. Somehow they were already intertwined and some instinctual, emotional and alien part of her feared his death. She took another steadying breath and once more concentrated on the chant. It was there for her, focusing her energy, drawing her into Vikirnoff’s torn body so that she floated through him, pure white healing light.
Christine Feehan 5 CARPATHIAN NOVELS Page 84
