Dark Celebration (20 page)

He swept his arm around her head and dragged her against him. "You're an idiot, Syndil. You love me and that is all that matters. The rest of this is just silliness. I'd make love to you standing on my head if that was how you wanted me." He caught her chin and forced her head up. "Do you really think I can't look into your mind and see how much you love me?"

"But you have to suppress your own nature all the time, Barack."

He burst out laughing. "Being a dominant, overbearing male isn't always best, Syndil. Don't you think Darius has to occasionally suppress that side of him for Tempest, and that she might wish he'd do it a little more? And Julian definitely has to work at it for Desari. The same with Dayan and Corinne. It's our nature to be in command, but you are the light to our darkness. Unrelenting dominance has to be balanced by you."

"But you were never like Darius, Barack. You get bossy, but…" She trailed off, but there was hope in her eyes when she framed his face with her hands.

"Because all of us allow Darius to lead us does not mean we do not have these natural traits. You didn't see them in me before because we did not share minds. Darius is a strong leader. We are content in his leadership." A small grin flashed briefly on his face. "He does most of the work, and that suits me just fine. But in the end, we all have the traits nature dictated to us. The point, my beautiful love, is that you, as my lifemate, bring me balance."

"I do?"

He bent his head to press a small kiss over each eyelid. "You do," he assured her. He trailed kisses down her face to the corner of her mouth. "And I am grateful. Darkness spreads and we have to fight it every day."

"But it wasn't in you—not like the others," Syndil said.

"Because of you. Even before I made my claim on you, you were already providing a balance for me. Syndil, you aren't just my lifemate. You're my life, my only love, my world. I have known you since you were a babe, I watched you grow into a remarkable, talented, unbelievable woman. Look at what you do with the earth. Who else can work such a miracle?" He kissed the tip of her nose, feathered his lips over hers and slid his tongue along the seam of her mouth. "I was in love with you long before I ever knew what a lifemate was."

"Are you sure, Barack?" There were still tears gleaming in her eyes, but her lips moved against his. "You have to be sure."

"That is the only thing I'm sure of." His mouth found hers and he lifted her gently, settling her over his lap, waiting for her to settle over him like a sheath over a sword.

Syndil's breath caught in her throat. He filled her, fit so snug, so exquisitely tight that the silky friction sent fire dancing once again through her veins. One moment she was in tears, the next he was lifting her toward the heavens. She linked her fingers behind his neck and eased back, her body moving in a familiar rhythm as she began to ride him. She couldn't imagine how she had gotten through her life without him. He made her feel beautiful and extraordinary when she was certain she really wasn't.

"I love you, Barack." She pulled back to look into his eyes. "I really love you."

The sight of her took his breath. Her full breasts swayed sensually, her nipples peaked and hard in sexy invitation. Her small waist and hips undulated, eyes slumberous, mouth swollen from his kisses.

"I know you do," he murmured, and brushed a kiss across each eyelid. He could barely speak with the sizzling heat rising so fast, so ferociously, with every bit of pleasure that more dominant position had given him. Deliberately he shared his mind, shared what she did to his body as well as his heart. "You're my life, Syndil, and I don't want you forgetting it again."

She moved with him, a counterpoint to each thrust, driving their pleasure ever higher. Barack was her world and his acceptance of her meant everything. Maybe she couldn't lie beneath his body, but she could enjoy other sensually arousing positions and she could make the most of each and every one of them.

Barack's arms tightened possessively and a small thrill went through him that she didn't protest, or pull away. Her muscles clamped around him, squeezing like a fist, so slick and hot and tight that he couldn't hold on a second longer. He threw back his head and yelled to the night in joy, feeling her body ripple with pleasure around his. For a while neither could breathe properly, or even speak—just feel.

Barack recovered first, kissing the top of her head, her ears and finally her soft mouth. "I love you, Syndil."

"I'm beginning to believe you really do," she said softly as she rose with her usual grace. She held out her hand and he stood beside her, a tall, strong man who loved her enough to give her space and time.

Dressing in the easy manner of their people, they strolled, hand in hand, back through the snow to the little cabin. It looked inviting, cozy even, and Syndil picked up the pace, drawing him with her. "You will help me cook something, won't you? Corinne assured me the recipe she gave me was easy and fast."

"I have my doubts about that," he teased, "but I'm willing to try."

As they walked up the narrow path to the cabin, the smile faded from his face. Barack frowned and took a careful look around, the back of his neck suddenly itching with unease. He paused before pushing opening the door to the small cabin, sweeping Syndil behind him with one arm. "I don't like the feel of this. The silence."

"It's snowing. It's always quiet when it snows."

"Maybe." But something was wrong. A whisper of movement from inside had him closing the door firmly and pushing her away from the cabin. "Get to safety, Syndil. Hide yourself in the trees while I figure out what's wrong."

"Are the cats all right?" she asked anxiously.

"I'm about to find out."

She caught the waistband of his jeans, curling her fingers around the edge. "I'll be afraid out here alone. Let me go in with you. Even if something waits there, I'd rather be with you and know what's going on."

He cursed under his breath for being weak. He could deny her nothing when she was afraid. "Stay behind me, Syndil, and do exactly what I say."

She nodded and moved closer. "Does it feel like a vampire?"

He shook his head. It felt like danger—trouble—something out of sync.

"Not in harmony," Syndil said suddenly, going very still. Her grip tightened on his jeans. "In the house. The cats. I reached for them and they are—crazy."

He turned back to her, pulling her close to reassure her. "It's all right, honey." He felt the leopards prowling within the walls of the cabin, enraged for some reason he couldn't fathom. He tried to reach out to them as he'd been doing since they were young, to calm them, but neither responded. He had to get them into their cage, both for their safety and the safety of any person coming in contact with them, until he could figure out what was wrong.

He slipped inside beneath the door, streaming in as vapor, swirling through the rooms until he found the cats, very conscious that Syndil was right behind him in the same form.

Forest, the male, lay stretched out on a bed, while Sasha, the female, paced back and forth restlessly. The moment he entered the bedroom, Sasha reacted, snarling, showing her teeth, tail twitching as she paced, her eyes darting around the room as she detected his presence. Forest launched his body from the couch, going from a prone position to a full-out attack, claws raking through the insubstantial vapor in an effort to get at Barack.

He streamed away, out of reach, trying to push the cat's mind back toward sanity. Leopards were notorious for their tempers, but this savage behavior was way out of character for either cat. The leopards had been with the Troubadours since they were born and had never behaved in such a manner. Sasha kept looking at the window, acting as though she might break through the glass to escape.

Something is terribly wrong with them
, he told Syndil.
I can't control them
.

Syndil remained silent, listening to the earth.
There is a subtle flow of power
—
of energy. It's upsetting the leopards. There are so many Carpathians here. Most are probably using energy for shifting and other tasks. Maybe the cats are too sensitive to be here
.

Maybe
. Barack doubted it, but he was going to cage the animals.
I'm going to get them to follow me to the cages. I cant direct them inside, so I'll have to trick them
.

How can you do that
? There was trepidation in her voice.

I'll just use myself as bait.

Syndil drew in her breath sharply, fighting back the protest welling up.
I was afraid of that. Be careful, Barack
.

He touched her mentally, his vapor circling hers for just a moment as if he could brush up against her in reassurance. Barack shimmered into his human form right under the female's nose, shifting back almost immediately and streaming through the house, leading the cats to the smallest bedroom, where the heavily barred traveling cage was kept.

He reached out to open the door of the cage, shifting for just seconds so he could use his hand. Forest leapt, raking Barack's arm, tearing deep gouges in his skin before Barack could shift back to mist. He streamed toward the back of the cage, leading the two leopards inside. They followed, raging at him.

Behind them, he waved the door closed. Both threw themselves at the bars, snarling a protest. Barack didn't wait for them to settle down, sending word to Darius and the other band members before taking his natural form.

Syndil was already reaching for him, stroking her fingers down his arm, leaning into him to use her saliva to heal the wounds. "You need to be faster," she told him, her large eyes chastising him.

A slow smile lit his dark gaze. "I don't know, sweetheart. Then I wouldn't have your sexy little mouth all over me, now would I?"

Her eyebrow shot up. "Actually, yes, you probably would."

Chapter 8

Mikhail flew low over the forest, making several passes, quartering the region in an effort to ferret out any danger that might be lurking to harm his people. He touched Raven's mind often, could feel her happiness as she prepared whatever dish she was making for the celebration dinner. He had had no idea she missed cooking, and it shamed him. He had been her lifemate for years, yet he still was discovering things about her. She enjoyed the preparation of a meal, the presentation, the pleasure others received from it.

He felt the mental brush of her fingers over his skin. Felt her smile, the warmth in her eyes.

Yes, I do enjoy cooking for others, but it certainly is nothing I need in my life
—
as you are. My life is full, Mikhail, and I have no regrets
.

Her voice filled his mind with love, kept even the memories of the terrible, haunting loneliness at bay. No Carpathian male who had lost emotion and the ability to see in color and then had it all restored by finding his lifemate would ever give her up. At that moment, he ached inside with love for her. It helped ease the terrible burden of knowing that some of the unattached warriors who had returned for the celebration, men of honor and integrity, would eventually lose their battle with darkness.