Julija was the only friend Elisabeta had that Ferro knew of. The little mage had risked her life, allowing herself to be captured by Sergey in order to try to free Elisabeta. Ultimately, she was the one to bring Elisabeta to the Carpathians’ attention, allowing her to be rescued. Julija was a strong woman and lifemate to Isai, another one of his brethren from the monastery. Julija held great power and she went her own way in life.
The two women were modern-day examples of what Ferro knew Elisabeta would be comparing herself to and most likely aspiring to be. While he wanted that self-confidence for her, he knew he was not a man who would be compatible with either Julija or Lorraine, as much as he might respect them.
The way her mind moved in his was delicate, feminine, wholly beautiful, a whisper of a touch rather than a bold demand. It was unexpected, her soft, womanly presence that seemed to fill every lonely place in his mind. The experience of her sharing his mind was beyond intimate. He had spent centuries alone, lost in that gray void of nothing.
She brought life to him. Scent. He could inhale and bring her into his lungs. He would know her anywhere. Her scent was distinct. Exotic and rare. She had a faint fragrance of orange, the Italian bergamot he had encountered but never thought about. The orange held a note of lime, and the two citrus fragrances mixed with rare camellias, adding just a touch of spice to the blend. The scents mixed with sandalwood and vetiver, an Indian grass root. For Ferro, that scent would always be associated with Elisabeta.
Color. She brought vivid, bright color into a world of gray. He hadn’t known there were so many shades of green. Or blue. Just looking at her hair, that dark silk, shining in the moonlight, he could see so many colors, and she had given him that. The garden, the lake, the sky, the birds and even the ground itself. She had made him see the world again in an entirely different light.
Touch. He had never allowed anyone to touch him unless he planned to use them for sustenance, or he planned to kill them. Elisabeta showed him that touch could be something different, something warm and gentle. Tender even. Touch could mean so many things other than the precursor of death. Then, there was the feel of her skin, like the finest satin. Her hair, like silk. In a very short amount of time he had learned the beauty of touching.
Sound. Her voice was like music to him. Soft. Intimate. Pouring over him like a gentle summer breeze. When she spoke, her voice was pleasing, moving through him, equally as effective as the touch of her fingers on his skin. That soft sound was that potent. He could almost feel the notes dancing over him, brushing his skin intimately, first there and then here, stroking and caressing, one moment soothing him, the next making him want to go up in flames.
Ferro had lived centuries, much longer than most, and yet he had not tasted many things. Blood was blood. One needed it to survive. There was no taste. No rush. Nothing whatsoever other than when he was wounded and starving that made him crave or need more blood. Until he had tasted his lifemate’s blood. It was exquisite. Almost beyond comprehension. He could barely make himself stop feeding once he’d started. Her taste was some kind of aphrodisiac, something beyond description he would always crave. He thought about it, and the taste would come to him, vivid in his memory and then in his mouth.
“I do not like you feeling sad . . . Ferro.” She stumbled a little over using his name but was brave enough to say it. “We are both changed. You have been very kind to me, more than I imagined anyone would ever be. I have never had a rising such as this one. For that I have to thank you.”
The pads of her fingers swept over his jaw, her touch light, sending ripples of heat moving through his veins. Her voice was very sincere. He had merely taken her across the healing grounds and into the gardens. The kindness he had shown her was so basic that he wanted to weep for what little she expected. She was more concerned with his sorrow than what she was feeling. In fact, she was completely focused on him now, all thoughts of herself and her fears were gone. She had immersed herself completely in him, in an attempt to find a way to ease his sadness.
Carpathian healers shed their bodies to become wholly spirit, losing all ego, all sense of self, in order to heal. In a sense, Elisabeta, while retaining her body, did something very similar. She lost all ego, all sense of herself, and thought only of Ferro, moving gently through his mind, seeking ways to brighten his spirit.
Those gentle fingers of hers on his jaw, stroking heat into his veins, wreaked havoc with his emotions, with his physical control, when for centuries he had always been completely disciplined. Abruptly, he rose, taking her with him, setting her onto her feet, giving his body some respite, a little shocked that he would need that.
“I want to show you our home, minan piŋe sarnanak. Hopefully it will be a place of solace and happiness for you. It does not have bars on the windows or doors, and you can walk out of it when you wish, but if I am not with you, I prefer that you let me know when you wish to leave the safety of the walls. I have woven strong safeguards into it so the vampire and his puppets cannot penetrate from any direction in his attempts to get to you. If you choose to visit your friends, as you will naturally wish to do, if you let me know, I can safeguard you.”
That was difficult for him. Much more so than he had thought it would be. He wanted her to have freedom. He told himself that a million times. She needed to know she wasn’t a prisoner. He never wanted her to feel that way with him. He wanted her to feel cherished. Treasured. Always. But he wasn’t the type of man to have his woman casually leave a place of safety when she was in danger. Not at her preference. Not on a whim. Not when he could so easily command her to stay. Her friends could visit her there if she wanted to see them.
It made no sense to him to leave such a dangerous decision in anyone’s hands but his own. He was the one who would have to fight Sergey Malinov. He would not use his lifemate as the bait to draw the master vampire to him. He would choose the time and the place of the battle. It would not be where there were children around. Or women. Or his woman. Not when he had so much to lose.
“Have I angered you?” Elisabeta asked.
Ferro realized he was striding along the path and immediately shortened his steps to accommodate her. “No, Elisabeta, I was thinking of you leaving the house and what that might entail.”
She gave a quick shake of her head. “Please do not ask me to do such a thing, even to see Julija, not without you. I know I am not capable of that.”
Not only did her voice tremble, but so did her entire body. That shamed him. Ferro didn’t want that for her. He didn’t want her so frightened she was nearly paralyzed with terror at the mere thought of venturing out on her own. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her thin, shivering form under his shoulder for protection.
“Elisabeta, I have told you that you do not have to do anything that is frightening to you. I do not intend to leave you alone unless it is strictly necessary. In that event, I will put you in the ground where you will sleep, or I will leave you with Julija or someone you feel very safe with. You are not expected to entertain or go off on your own at any time. In fact, I would not like it.” Ferro felt the instant relief flooding her mind.
He had always been a decisive person. He knew exactly how to conduct a battle. He avoided humans and Carpathians alike. He was direct when he wanted something and commanded others, expecting instant compliance with his orders. He didn’t bother with niceties. He had no need and no time for such things. Now, with Elisabeta, he was feeling his way, completely at odds with not only his own personality but his own character and needs.
He stroked a caress down the back of her head as they stepped out of the protection of the gardens into the open. Elisabeta gasped aloud, stopped and actually turned to flee. The yard ahead of them seemed to be filled with people when there was only Isai Florea and his lifemate, Julija, standing on the front porch of a little Victorian replica of the main mansion, talking with Emeline and Dragomir Kozel. Both Dragomir an
d Isai were Ferro’s brethren from the monastery, as was Andor, the third male who was standing on the stairs of the little Victorian house with his lifemate, Lorraine.
Ferro caught Elisabeta around the waist and pulled her tight against him. She moaned and buried her face against his ribs. I can’t. Too many. Too many. Do not ask me to do this. It is too big. Too much. Hurts my eyes. My stomach. I can’t. I can’t do this.
She repeated the chant, a mantra in her mind, in his, over and over until he realized she didn’t know he could hear her. He felt her tears. Heard them in her voice. They dripped in her mind, yet his clothes, his skin, remained dry.
Ferro tried to assess what was happening to her, all the while breathing calmly for both of them. His heart remained steady. He pried her fingers off his shirt and placed her palm over his heart so she could follow the rhythm.
Breathe with me, sívamet. I am with you. We do this together. You do not have to speak. You do not have to look at them. I stand in front of you at all times. I will simply tell them I do not allow you to speak to others yet. We are new and you are getting used to a new master. A small well of humor he didn’t know he had welled up at the thought of the modern women hearing him state that. He didn’t know Emeline and Julija very well, but he was very familiar with Lorraine and her ultra-forward thinking. Her head might explode.
I do not want this woman’s head to explode. This does not seem kind.
It will not literally explode, Elisabeta. She will not like me referring to myself as your master. Nor will she like me saying you cannot talk to anyone else but me.
Why? Elisabeta tipped her head up to look at him curiously, her dark eyes roving over his face as if he were her anchor.
Ferro couldn’t help himself. He bent his head and brushed her lips with his. It was the briefest of contacts, but her lips were quivering, just that little bit, just enough to break his heart, and he wanted to reassure her he would take care of her.
“Did you notice how well you were able to walk? I did not feel you stumble once. You learned simply by looking into my mind and taking what you needed from me. Just keep putting your trust in me, Elisabeta. I know that is difficult when you have had no reason for centuries to have faith in anyone, but if you keep looking to me, I give you my word, I will not let you down. Lifemates cannot deceive one another. You can hear lies if you listen for them.”
She didn’t answer him, but her body felt as if it might shake apart any moment.
“Tell me what you fear the most. What is the worst of what is happening to you right this moment, piŋe sarnanak?” He phrased the question as a command because she responded and was most comfortable with an outright order to answer. She didn’t seem to like room for making her own decisions under stress.
She moistened her lips, glanced around her and then quickly buried her face again in his ribs. “It is too much. Too big.”
He was in her head, careful to keep his touch light so she didn’t feel as if he was being intrusive. Her mind was in chaos and he could hear her weeping. At once he began to set that sound to the beats of rain in their song, the one he’d composed for her. The one he’d used to draw her from the safety of the earth’s embrace.
“Don’t look around you as I take you to our home, Elisabeta. We will cross the open space, but you can anchor yourself in my mind. I can carry you if you prefer.” He hadn’t wanted to embarrass her, but she wasn’t a modern woman who would worry about what others thought of her.
“Why are all those people staring at me?”
“They are my brethren. Julija has been waiting to see you.” He felt her instant withdrawal and then the self-loathing. “You are not a coward. You have already done far more than I expected this rising. They can wait until you are settled.”
“I don’t want any of them to feel as if I am rejecting them, especially Julija. She has gotten me through so much. Without her I wouldn’t have made it,” Elisabeta confessed in a small voice. She still kept her face tucked against his chest to keep from looking at the open spaces around them.
“I will tell them you are not ready yet and I have forbidden any contact at this time.”
At that, she pulled her head free from his shirt and looked up at him, her eyes searching his. He could see a breathless kind of hope on her face. Again, he couldn’t stop himself. He bent his head and brushed his lips over each eyelid before he lifted her in his arms, cradling her close to him.
I am taking Elisabeta to our home. She will not be visiting at this time.
He sent the decree on the pathway forged between the monastery brethren rather than the common Carpathian pathway. Sergey Malinov had once been a Carpathian and he would have access to that pathway. If, for some reason, there was a breach in their safeguards, there would be no chance that the master vampire would know Elisabeta had risen from the healing grounds.
The women have been waiting for some time to speak with your lifemate, Ferro, Isai said. There was no inflection in his voice. Not even one of protest.
Ferro. Lorraine had no problems objecting. You can’t keep her to yourself. This isn’t the Neanderthal days.
Ferro didn’t bother to answer. He gathered his lifemate into his arms and took to the sky. She muffled a startled cry and clutched his shirt, her face once more buried tight against his chest.
Did the vampire transport you through the air? He must have had you fly.
No. I would wake up in new places.
Ferro was not used to the emotion gathering in the pit of his belly, a dark ugly rage that simmered like an explosive volcano slowly gathering force. He breathed through it and let it go. Rage had no place in his life. Malinov was going to pay for the crimes he’d committed against the Carpathian people, and against Ferro’s lifemate, but his death would come from a place of justice as Ferro had been delivering for centuries. There was no other way.
He took his lifemate to the house his brethren had purchased for him, a property that had been added to the growing acreage of the protected compound. The site was nestled in between Isai and Julija’s property and Andor and Lorraine’s land. The hills were gently rolling and the land had groves of trees on it and, more importantly, water that added to the colors of all the various plants scattered around the property.
The house had been built by a famous architect, at least that was what Andor had told him, a man whose vision was to keep the landscape so pristine that the house would be difficult to see until one actually walked up to it. Andor and Lorraine had also bought property with a home designed by the same man. Ferro had viewed the property and home with an eye toward defense, escape and the ability to get to the ground undetected from anywhere above the house.
Now, as he brought his lifemate to the Spanish-looking home, he thought he should have consulted with the women to see if the house met with their standards. Elisabeta would entertain her friends there, make a life there. She might sleep beneath the master bedroom, but she would live within those walls. He set her feet very gently on the wide verandah, his hands on her waist to steady her.
3
There’s light in the darkness, waiting to be seen;
Just as I wait for you, a king for his queen.
Open your eyes, piŋe sarnanak,” Ferro said in his soft, commanding voice.
Elisabeta took a deep breath and forced herself to obey. She liked his voice, and no matter how afraid she was of her new life and the huge terrifying changes, so far, although things had been overwhelming and emotional, they had all been good. She loved that he called her “little songbird” or, even better, “his little songbird.” Those variations created a strange new feeling in her, an affection that seemed to be growing the more she was with him.
She found herself looking at a tall massive door to a house. Ferro stood directly behind her, his hands at her waist, holding her close to him. She was grateful for his presence. She had no idea why the
y were standing on that cool, wide verandah, but suddenly her heart was beginning to accelerate again. Something new. Something she was going to have to learn.
“Ferro.” She whispered his name in a kind of protest.
“No one is here. Just the two of us.”
“It is too big.” It was. The door was gigantic. For Ferro it wasn’t, because he was a big man. His shoulders were wide, and he would go through that door so easily, but she was thin and felt insignificant. The door was tall and wide and seemed enormous to her. What could it possibly lead to?
“This will be our home. You will be mistress here. Not a prisoner, Elisabeta, but mistress.”
Already she was shaking her head. She knew nothing of taking charge of a house. She couldn’t possibly entertain his friends. Or clean a place that size. How did one know what to do? When she was little, did she live in a house? She tried to remember, and immediately her head exploded with such pain it nearly drove her to her knees. She knew better than to cry out, but both hands flew to her head and she hunched in on herself.
Ferro instantly shielded her, taking the pain away and soothing her mind. “The vampire placed a block on your memories so the moment you try to access anything to do with your family or childhood, you experience pain,” he explained.
She had come to realize that some centuries earlier, but that hadn’t stopped the occasional times when, unbidden, she reached out to try to remember something important to her.
Ferro wrapped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her back to his front. “He took so much from you, Elisabeta. We will get it all back, but you need to be patient with yourself. He had you for centuries. This process will take time. Do not judge yourself so harshly. This house is merely that at the moment—a house.”
“But you want it to be a home for you.” She pressed her lips together and then tried again. “For us.”
Dark Song Page 5
