Dark Celebration (18 page)

There was no answer, only the sound of his own heart thundering in his ears. He inhaled sharply, scented the two leopards and… He stilled, fighting for calm. He inhaled again. Blood. Not just any blood—Syndil's blood.

He shoved open the door to the bedroom to find the two large cats, Sasha and Forest, curled on the bed. They both raised their heads and gave him a long, slow appraisal. Sasha bared her teeth while Forest openly snarled.

Barack's heart jumped. The leopards always traveled with the band and never acted aggressive toward any member of the band, not even when they were in a bad temper.

He snarled back at them, closed the door and whirled around, racing back out into the night. He inhaled again and found her scent—the direction she'd taken. At once he shifted on the run, taking to the air to move more swiftly, his heart pounding in fear for her. He followed her scent through the forest until he came upon a clearing of scorched ground. A terrible battle had been fought here. Trees were bent and twisted, leaves shriveled, and in places the ground was scarred from the acid burn of the unholiest of creatures—the undead. He caught sight of her and his breath stilled in his lungs.

Barack watched the woman kneeling on the blackened ground, her arms spread wide, palms hovering just above the earth. Snow fell softly over her, coating her hair and clothes so that she appeared to sparkle. From his angle he could see the concentration on her face, her eyes closed, long lashes forming two thick crescents. She appeared serene, her entire energy focused on her task. She looked beautiful—a little fey, her black hair gleaming beneath the coating of snow, flakes on her long lashes and her sinfully perfect mouth whispering a crooning song of hope and encouragement to the barren land.

He stood, his heart pounding in his chest, the terror of not finding her safe in their home receding while love stormed in to fill every part of his heart and soul until there was no longer room for any other emotion. Syndil. His lifemate. Of course she would be healing the earth. She would have heard it moaning in pain, the evil spreading slowly through the soil, poisoning and burning every living thing. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen—could ever imagine. Beneath her hands, green grass sprang up through the snow. Small shrubs and trees pushed their way to the surface as she sang softly, coaxing growth.

Desari, with her pure, incredible voice, could bring peace to people. With just her voice she could wrap an audience in satin sheets and candlelight, and make them remember old loves and tarnished hopes. Syndil's voice also held great power, but hers was bound to the earth. Scarred and damaged lands called to her. She could never ignore their summons. Few could hear the screams and cries as she did, and even fewer could heal where blisters and lesions lay raw upon the land.

Syndil astonished him with her power. He watched as she shifted left, then right, moving up the slope, touching a badly damaged tree, enticing new growth, expunging the hideous results the undead had left behind in the soil. She stood and turned toward the small creek—the water no longer running, but standing still even though the creek bed was filled to capacity. Dark brownish-red stains covered the surface of the water, and tentacles spread out from a discolored gelatin-like ball altered the composition of the water. Thousands of tiny white parasites made up the round globe, and many used the tentacles as tiny arteries and veins moving out away from where the rest congealed in a large mass.

Lifting her hands, Syndil began to sing, oblivious to Barack's presence, her entire focus on the damage to the land. He always knew the moment she was near, yet she hadn't the slightest idea her lifemate was close by. It should have upset him, but he couldn't help the surge of pride in her. Whenever she committed to healing the earth, she was totally, unswervingly focused, often expending far more energy than she could afford. Just as a healer of people was left drained and swaying with weariness, so was Syndil when she healed the earth.

Her voice swelled with power, and the parasites writhed as if in pain. The jellied mass shook ominously. Barack moved into a better position to defend his lifemate. The air reeked, the smell so noxious, in spite of the falling snow, the foul odor nearly gagged him. Barack inched closer to peer at the congealed mass. The creatures looked almost like maggots, but much smaller. The stench of evil permeated the entire area.

He looked around him, quartering the area with every one of his senses, scanning for signs of an enemy. Was this the aftermath of the vampires who had died here during the attempted assassination of the prince? Or was it another, much newer threat? He stepped closer to Syndil, stretching out his hand to her, but as her voice filled the night with her strength, the small parasites began to explode, much like popcorn, leaping out of the jelly ball in an effort to get away from her voice. Once in the exposed air, they burst.

Barack's hand fell to his side. He looked at the trees, twisted, bent and blackened, the sap oozing out of numerous lesions, congealed with the same brown-red gel. Parasites bubbled up from half-a-dozen trees to drop lifeless to the ground. Barack waved his hand toward the sky. At once the wind picked up and the air charged, crackling and snapping. A whip of lightning flicked across the layer of carcasses in the snow, turning them instantly to black ash. With a howl of fury, the wind scattered the remains in all directions while the snow rained down and once more covered the earth with a pristine white blanket.

For the first time, Syndil turned her head, her large, dark eyes soft—almost liquid. A ghost of a smile curved her mouth, drawing his attention to the beautiful shape of her lips, and his heart clenched, a vise squeezing hard enough to hurt. All those years he had spent with her, never once realizing she had been driving his need for sex. Never once had he looked at her any way other than as a foster sister, yet all along she had kept his emotions safeguarded. It was no wonder that not once had he been satisfied with another woman. It had become laughable over the centuries, the terrible need clawing at him until he thought he might go insane if he didn't touch a woman's skin, bury his body deep within hers. There had been so many willing, yet he was trapped in some kind of mindless torment, needing them—yet none could fulfill his desires.

At times, Syndil still felt he had betrayed her, but at last he understood the endless cycle that had been happening to him. Looking at her, inhaling her scent, the brush of her hair or fingers turned his body into a hard painful ache that only she could assuage. He'd had a hard-on for so many years he could no longer count, and looking at her only made it happen all over again. Only now she was his—a gentle, sexy woman he didn't deserve, but who somehow managed to love him all the same.

"What are you thinking about, Barack? You look sad."

One did not lie to one's lifemate. In any case, she had only to touch his mind to know. "I remember the precise moment I realized that it was
you
arousing my body to such a painful ache. You stood by a stream brushing out your long hair. I found myself fascinated with every stroke of the brush and wishing I could feel your hair against my bare skin. I wanted to lose myself in all that silk, and I knew you had been the one I wanted all along—it was you I'd been searching for among so many women."

"How long ago was that?"

"We were in France."

"That was fifty years ago."

He nodded. "I thought what I felt was wrong. We were children together, a family. It seemed—distasteful. I was afraid I was tainted in some way. I would watch you after that; every move you made seemed sensual, seductive. And I hated the men watching you—coming close to you."

"But you still went off with other women."

He shook his head. "I kept up the illusion, but I already had had too many unfulfilled nights. What was the use? Other women no longer drew me once I figured out what was happening."

"I saw you." There was pain in her voice, and it made him wince.

"You saw me flirt and walk off. I took blood and left them with false memories. The nights were torment, Syndil. Sometimes I thought I was in hell." He reached out his hand to her. "I had a terrible secret and I could never share with anyone. I lusted after you to the point that I could not let you get too close to me. I was always afraid someone would discover the way I felt about you. At the time I would have given anything that it was just lust, easily satisfied. It was so much more—is so much more."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"A Carpathian male should always—
always
be in control of himself. We wield too much power to be ruled by anything but our brains. I could not control my body or my thoughts when I was close to you." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I know everything about you, Syndil. The way you tilt your head just slightly when you're considering whether or not you are going to participate in a conversation. You tug on your left earlobe when you are worried. You have the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. I know you're so fragile and yet at the same time, you are incredibly strong."

A slow smile chased the worried frown from his face. "I always walk behind you to the stage so later, when I'm alone, I can feel the sway of your hips and the brush of your hair."

"You never told me this."

He rubbed his lower jaw. "It is a little humiliating to admit I have been obsessed with you. And when I knew I couldn't take it anymore, that I had to admit the truth, even if it meant leaving our family, you were attacked by Savon, our trusted brother."

Syndil glanced away from him, back toward the stream. The water ran cold and clean, all traces of the poison gone. Barack followed her gaze and as always, when he saw the result of her work, it left him feeling humble and proud of her.

"Syndil, there is no one in this world who can do as you've done. Do you have any idea how amazing you are?"

She looked out over the blackened ruins of the battle-scarred land. "There is much to be done here. Our enemies left their poison in the ground to work its way beneath the soil where we rest. If they can turn the earth against us, they have won."

Barack's head went up alertly. She sounded so weary. The energy needed to heal large sections of land destroyed by fire or foul vampire magic was enormous, and he had very little idea of the toll it would take on her to heal what the undead had wrought here with the size of such devastation. She looked pale, her eyes almost too large for her face. She pressed her hands to her chest as if her heart ached. "Syndil." He reached out his hand to her. "Come here to me."

He waited. His heart beating, a small part of him praying she would step forward, eager for his touch, for his aid, but as always, there was that tiny, brief moment of hesitation, the wariness in her eyes, the shadow in her mind she could no longer hide from him. She crossed the distance to him, reaching out. His fingers closed around hers, and he drew her with exquisite gentleness to him. In spite of the fact that Carpathians could regulate body temperature, she was cold, shivering a little. He enfolded her in his arms, shielding her from the snow with his larger frame and using his own body heat and energy to warm her. He drew her scent into his lungs and smelled blood.

"What happened?" His drew her arm down so he could look at it.

She frowned, her body losing some of its stiffness to sink more fully into his. "Sasha and Forest were lying with me on the bed, sweet as usual, and then Sasha began to get agitated. Within minutes, Forest followed suit. They began pacing back and forth, sending out distress calls. I scanned, but the most I could do was feel a hint of power in the air. Not good or evil, simply power."

"That does not explain these scratches, Syndil. They are deep." He bent his head to her bare arm, his lips feathering kisses up and down the lacerations, tongue swirling over the wounds, taking away the pain with his healing saliva. He kissed her arm again and raised his head, one hand cupping her chin so she couldn't look away from the censure in his eyes. "You should have called me immediately. Your well-being comes before all else."

"There was nothing to tell you. With so many Carpathians gathered in one place, there is bound to be power in the air at all times. I just assumed the leopards were reacting to the different feel. They're used to us, but not to the others. They were fine with me until I tried to leave the room. I'm sorry. It's just that I couldn't think of anything else but taking care of this." She swept her hand in a graceful arc to take in the blackened land. "I had been hearing the screaming of the earth since I awoke, and I could no longer ignore the call. I knew it would be difficult and draining, but I didn't expect…" She broke off and looked over his shoulder at the huge area destroyed by the battle with the undead. "It's so large, Barack, so much damage."

There were tears in her voice—in her mind. "You're just tired, sweetheart. You need to feed." There was both sensual invitation and dominant command in his voice.

He tried hard to suppress the rougher side of his nature as much as possible, particularly when it came to anything sexual with Syndil. She was with him—and that was the most important thing in the world to him. Whatever time she needed to develop trust in him—years, centuries, perhaps longer—it mattered little. She could have all the time she needed; he just had to control the dominant nature so prevalent in the males of his species. He wouldn't risk ruining the fragile trust developing between them.

He opened his shirt with a single thought, and Syndil turned her face to press against his chest. The rub of her soft skin against his, the feel of her lips moving just above his heart, her hair brushing over him like silk, all sent urgent need slamming hard to pool in his groin in a painful ache. His fingers tangled in her hair and he cradled her head in his arm, his body clenching in anticipation. There was a heartbeat—two. She kissed his chest, teased with her tongue, scraped once, twice with her teeth. His heart went into overtime. His body hardened more, jerked with eagerness.

Syndil's teeth sank deep, the pain giving way to instant pleasure, his body flooding with ecstasy. He shifted to rock his hips against her. It only inflamed his senses more. Syndil unexpectedly—and for the first time without his prompting—merged her mind with his, feeding him her own sexual desires, the flare of heat, her blood running hot, the erotic pictures of her leaning over him, hair cascading down to pool on his skin while she…