Dark Demon (16 page)

There was a sudden silence between them as they both felt the earth shudder. Natalya's eyes met Vikirnoff's in understanding. "The sun has set."

"Yes, it has and the earth is protesting as the vampires rise. I feel the presence of more than one of them." Wincing, Vikirnoff sat up gingerly.

As if there had never been a binding spell
. "As if I spent ten minutes weaving air." She watched the flex cuffs fall away to lie useless on the floor. She shook her head. What was the point in summoning up anger? She should have known he couldn't be trapped that easily. She was smarter than that. He was an ancient hunter and far more powerful than she'd given him credit for. Let him underestimate her. She wouldn't make the same mistake with him again. "Why didn't the binding spell work on you?" Better to find out. Knowledge was power and she could see, with Vikirnoff, she would need every edge she could get.

His eyebrow rose at her mild tone. "I was in your mind. As fast as you wove it, I unraveled it," he admitted. Both hands went to the hole in his chest and pressed tightly. The blood drained out of his face, leaving him pale and sweating tiny beads of blood.

She put her hands on her hips. "Maybe you should lie back down. Do you have the least idea how truly irritating you can be when you're acting all heroic?"

"I'm beginning to. The vampires have risen and at least one is heading our way. We cannot allow them to come to the inn. You know I will draw them here, just as you will. I am much stronger than I was last evening."

"Last evening you were near death so that's not saying much." She gave a small sigh when she saw him swing his legs over the edge of the bed. He was going to get up and watching him suffer in silence was heartbreaking to her, despite her earlier anger with him. "Please tell me it isn't that jackass, Arturo, or worse, Henrik. He is dead and gone this time, isn't he?" She attempted to interject humor into the situation, hoping to distract him.

"Henrik can not rise again. His heart was incinerated."

"Henrik was a true Freddie. I'll probably miss him."

"You seem obsessed with this Freddie person." Vikirnoff's gaze captured hers.

Natalya shot him a quick grin. "You sound jealous. Freddie Kruger is a lovely man, king of the late night movies."

Something in her tone warned him he was being teased. It was an unfamiliar situation for him, but one he thought he'd better get used to. "He isn't real?" She was trying to get past their argument and he was grateful. His entire body was screaming in pain and he knew he was more than likely headed for battle.

"No. He's a character in a string of horror movies. I can't believe you haven't watched him. What else is there to do at night when the rest of the world is asleep?" Natalya turned away from Vikirnoff's too-intense gaze. He could melt a woman at fifty paces and sharing a bedroom with him was just too intimate, especially with his shirt off. The man had a chest on him. Even with a hole in it.

Natalya was rather shocked she noticed his chest. And his eyes. And his mouth. He flashed a small grin at her. His smile made him look younger. She desperately wanted to see it again. The unexpected yearning was so strong she fell back on her cultivated flippant attitude and made herself remember she wasn't about to accept his claim on her. "Your mouth would be perfect if you kept it closed.
And
, just so you know, the moment the vampires are away from us, you will remove this binding spell, or I will, and you might not like how I do it." She dragged fresh clothes from the drawers. "I take it we don't have much time."

"I do not want Arturo to realize you are friends with Slavica and her family. Vampires take great delight in killing the families and friends of their enemies." He did not want to start another argument with her over the ritual words. She had been furious, her righteous anger blazing with a dangerous fury. He wanted a chance to think things through before he broached the subject again.

She poked her head around the bathroom door as she wiggled into her jeans. "You sound like that's said from experience."

"I have had many experiences with the undead, Natalya, and none of them have been good. This place is overrun with vampires."

"That's because I'm here. They always follow me now. They have a for a while, which is strange, considering they left me strictly alone for years."

"Which would explain why you didn't know you had to incinerate the heart."

"It was rather annoying."

"I can imagine. Do you have any idea why they are after you?"

Natalya pulled her close-fitting shirt over her head and came out to find him immaculately attired. She instantly felt disheveled in comparison. Even his hair was neat and tidy and there was no sign of blood or even a wrinkle on his shirt. He was hunched over, favoring one side, but his clothes were perfect. She shoved her feet into her thick socks and shoes and dragged on her shoulder harnesses for her guns and extra clips. "Arturo said he wanted me to perform a small task." More than anything she wanted Vikirnoff to lie back down or find a resting place somewhere to heal. She knew it was futile to argue with him so she didn't bother to try.

Vikirnoff watched her slip a multitude of weapons into loops and compartments in her clothes. He couldn't help but admire the efficiency of her movements and the familiarity with the weapons. She knew what she was doing and was obviously skilled in the use of each weapon on her person. She was especially skilled with the sword. "You have no idea what the particular task is?"

She shook her head. "But a short while ago, I suddenly developed a compulsion to go to the mountains and find a particular cave." She said it as matter-of-factly as she could, not with the heart-pounding terror she often felt.

His gaze narrowed on her. Dark. Intent. Speculative. "Compulsion is a very strong word."

"It's a very strong compulsion." She hadn't told anyone other than Razvan, and then, only in her dreams. From the moment she realized she was under compulsion, she had been terrified of who or what had managed to slip under her guard and take control of her. She studied Vikirnoff's face. He was in and out of her mind often, yet she was barely aware of him when he shared her mind—and that was disconcerting. She was powerful and she had barriers. What had happened to dull her psychic senses so that Vikirnoff could get past her shields into her mind? It was a question she intended to answer when vampires weren't hunting her.

He shook his head. "I did not do this thing to you. Allow me to search for the hidden threads. There is always a path back to the sender."

She gasped and took a step back. "No. I've searched and found nothing. I don't want you running around in my head."

His expression hardened. "I asked as a courtesy."

She snapped her teeth together. "Do you do it on purpose?"

"What?"

She yanked her pack to her and added two water bottles. "Irritate the hell out of me?"

"Perhaps it is a gift."

She shouldered the backpack and stood up, trying not to smile. His tone was teasing, a blend of smoke and sensuality that definitely had melting possibilities, but it was the fact that he tried to tease her that set her pulse pounding. "I'm heading for the mountains. They'll follow me and stay away from Slavica and her family." She looked at him. "Are you coming?"

"Of course."

"Are you strong enough to pack me out of here?" Her chin was up, but there was worry in her eyes. More than worry. Anticipation. Hope.

At last. Something he could give her. He steeled himself for the torment, his answering grin slow in coming. "You want to fly."

"If you plan on following me around, I may as well have fun and make use of you." Natalya shrugged her shoulders, trying to look nonchalant, when she was so eager to fly through the sky she could barely contain herself. She had phenomenal athletic abilities, and she was able to shape-shift into one form, that of a tigress, a gift given as her birthright, but she had dreamt of soaring through the night sky most of her life.

Vikirnoff studied her averted face. It was a secret desire she was sharing with him, one she hugged to herself and felt silly for wanting. He stood up and held out his hand. "Well, let us do it then."

She hesitated before taking his hand. His fingers closed around hers, solid and strong and incredibly warm. His thumb brushed across the back of her hand. She was acutely aware of him as they flung open the door to the balcony.

"Your injuries can't possibly be healed," she said as they stepped up to the railing. "Can you do this? We can find another way to the mountain if we need to. The tiger can carry you."

He pressed a palm over the hole near his heart as he let go of his physical self to inspect the damages to his body. Natalya had done a good job repairing the injuries. His body was trying to heal from the inside out. The wounds were still there, raw and painful, but tissue and muscle were knitting quickly. A few days in the ground or utilizing ancient blood and he would be as good as new. He came back to his body and nodded. "I am much better, thanks to you, Slavica and the richness of the soil. How are your ankles?"

She considered misleading him, but didn't want to risk the humiliation of being caught in a lie. In any case, it might be important. "It's strange, but I can still feel the creature gripping me. Sometimes I feel as if he's pulling on my legs."

"I was afraid of that. I healed the wounds and I searched for poison and bacteria he may have injected into you, but he was more than the undead. I think he marked you."

She was silent, staring out into the night. She loved nights in the mountains. The air was always crisp and clean and when the weather was clear, the stars sparkled endlessly. "You mean he can track me? Or draw me to him?"

"He may think that, but I don't. He prepared a trap for you and he must have been studying you for some time before he sprang it. I believe he thinks he can draw you to him with his mark, but I believe he is wrong. I think you're too strong-willed and would fight with your last breath."

Although Vikirnoff sounded worried, Natalya couldn't help but be pleased with his assessment of her personality.

Vikirnoff glanced at the sky. Dark clouds spun and boiled to the north. "I must let Arturo know he has a serious rival for your affections." He jumped up onto the railing and crouched down. "Do you want to me to carry you, or do you want to ride?"

His choice of words made her stomach flutter. "Ride." She liked control. She was no baby to be held in his arms while traveling across the starlit sky. She was going to have her eyes wide open and a smile on her face. She had been alive a long time and she believed in embracing each new adventure, each new opportunity to gain knowledge. And the threat of vampires hunting her was not going to diminish her joy in the novel experience one iota.

She climbed onto his back and circled his neck with her arms, laying her body down the length of his just as he had done when he rode the tiger. His muscles bunched, contracted. Warmth seeped into her body. Her breasts pressed into his back and ached with the need to be closer. She pushed aside the rising physical awareness of him. Nothing would mar this moment for her.

Vikirnoff let his breath out slowly. This was torture. Sheer torture. He could barely keep the beast in him leashed when her blood called to him, when every cell in his body demanded hers, when his lifemate was lying across him, her body imprinted into his skin, his flesh, his very bones.

The scent of her blood, the sound of the life moving through her veins called to him, tempted him when he was in such need. Hunger raged through his body and mind, but he forced control, called on a thousand years of discipline and emptied his mind of erotic images of her, filling it instead with the form of a giant bird.

A small sound escaped Natalya as his bones crackled and popped, stretching to accommodate his wings and the body of an owl large enough to race across the sky carrying a woman. Iridescent feathers covered his body and his hands curved into sharp talons to grip the balcony railing. Agony filled every cell in his body and flooded his mind so that he had to use every ounce of discipline he had learned over the centuries to hold the form of the owl. His body shuddered with the effort and for a moment his lungs burned for air as he came to grips with pain.

"This is fabulous!"

The uninhibited joy in her voice was worth the terrible agony in his body. It was worth every wrenching tear of his injured muscles and organs. He knew nothing of women and even less of lifemates. He was aware he was making every mistake he could possibly make, although he didn't understand why. He had lived far longer, his experiences far exceeded hers, his nature demanded he protect her, yet she seemed to be offended when he attempted to impart wisdom or protection to her. But this—this simple thing he gave her and she was overjoyed. Her joy took away the pain as nothing else could.

Laughter bubbled up in her, spilled out as he sprang into the air and gained height, flapping his tremendous wings and circling above the inn. He cloaked them, preventing the townspeople from seeing them, although he was certain they would hear her laughing as bird and rider gained the skies.

He flew over the rolling hills dotted with a half dozen farms. The sharp eyes of the owl spotted a group of men heading back to the farmhouse, glancing uneasily toward the north.
We need blood
.