Dark Possession (32 page)

“Ivory,” Manolito whispered her name. “She was as much ours as theirs. She was bright and happy and caught on to everything so fast. She could fight like a warrior, yet use her brain. There wasn’t a student that could outthink her.”

“What happened to her?” Because that, after all, was what had led up to the bitterness she often sensed in Manolito’s mixed emotions toward his prince.

“She wanted to go to the school of mages. She was certainly qualified. She was bright enough and could weave magic that few could break. But we, all of us, her brothers and my brothers, didn’t allow her to go unescorted anywhere. She was a young woman and chafed under ten brothers telling her what to do. It didn’t matter to us; we wanted to see her safe. We should have seen her safe. She was the beauty that we were fighting for, striving to protect. Her laughter was so contagious that even the hunters who’d long ago lost their emotions had to smile when she was around.”

He pressed her hand to his heart so hard she could feel it pounding in her palm. “We forbade her to go to the school and study with the mages until we could go with her and see to her protection. Everyone knew our wishes and should never have interfered. But, while we were away at a battle, she took her plea to the prince.”

A shudder went through his body. He actually rocked his frame just once for comfort, but MaryAnn felt it and knew that the bite of sorrow was deeper than most would have conceived. Time certainly hadn’t healed the wound. She wondered if the loss of emotion all those years kept the pain fresh, so that when the males could feel again, even past emotions were enhanced and vividly alive to them.

“The prince had no right to usurp our authority, but he did. Even knowing we had forbidden it, he told her she could go.” His voice trailed off to a whisper, and he pressed her hand harder against his chest, as if to ease the terrible ache there.

“Why would he do that?”

“We believed that his oldest son, one we do not name, was already showing signs of illness. The Dubrinsky line holds the capacity for vast power, but with that comes the need for a vaster power to control it. Madness reigns if discipline does not. Vlad’s eldest son had been looking at Ivory, though he was not her lifemate. We would have slain him had he touched her. The tension was becoming palpable every time he returned to our village. I myself pulled my blade on two occasions when he had cornered her near the market. It was strictly forbidden to touch a woman who was not your lifemate, yet there was no question it was in his mind to do so, given the opportunity.”

“I thought Carpathian men didn’t ever look at women other than their lifemates.”

“When they are young, some do, and there is an illness in others, a need for power over the opposite sex, that taints them. It is a type of madness that often takes the very powerful. Our species is not without its anomalies, MaryAnn.”

“Why wasn’t he stopped?”

“I do not think many wanted to believe a son of the prince could have the sickness in his veins, but we knew it. Zacarias, my oldest brother, and Ruslan, the eldest Malinov, went to Vlad and told him of the danger to Ivory. The prince sent his son away, and there was peace for some time. Vlad’s son was returning, and when Ivory asked for permission to attend the school, it was an easy way for Vlad to get rid of an immediate problem. He thought, without her there, his son would be okay.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “In truth, he knew better. Vlad should have come to terms with his son’s illness and given the order to kill him. Without Ivory there, he had more time to study the matter and perhaps find a different resolution.”

“So he allowed her to go.”

“Yes. He sent her away without one of us to protect her. He neglected to send word to us, either, because he knew we would return at once.”

She shifted, circling her arms around him to hold him close. “What happened?”

For one moment he dropped his head onto her shoulder, nuzzling his face against the warmth of her skin. He was cold and couldn’t seem to get warm. With a small sigh of resignation, he forced his head up, forced himself to look her in the eye. “You are my lifemate. Destiny decreed what is between us. I am many things, MaryAnn, and know myself well. I will not let you go. You will have to learn to live with my sins, and I owe it to you to tell you the worst of it.”

She kept her gaze fixed on his, reading more sorrow than betrayal. His love for Ivory had been strong, as had, she suspected, the others’ in both families. With so few women, such strong, protective males would have felt it was their duty and pleasure to protect and serve that one small child. To fail must have been intolerable.

“When word came that a vampire had attacked and killed her, we were all devastated. Worse, we were in a killing rage. Ruslan and Zacarias for the first time were not the cool heads they always had been. They wanted to slay the prince. We all did. We blamed him for countermanding our orders and ultimately causing Ivory’s death.” Manolito slowly shook his head. “We could not find her body to even try retrieval from the shadow world, although any and all of us would have gladly followed her to make the attempt.”

MaryAnn’s heart jumped. The shadow world, land of mists, the place where the Carpathians went after death. Where Manolito still partially dwelled. “How can you follow someone to such a place?”

His gaze flickered. “Rumor was, only the greatest warriors or healers attempt such a feat, or a loved one—a lifemate—but any of us would have gladly gone. And obviously it can be done. Gregori did it and then you.”

She hadn’t realized what she was doing when she’d stepped into that other world. At times she still didn’t want to believe it was real. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Apparently it is dangerous to one who is not yet dead.”

She sent him a small, reluctant smile. “Maybe it was a good thing I didn’t know that. But none of you could follow her path, because you didn’t have her body.”

“If the spirit leaves the body, the body must be guarded until the spirit returns and enters it; otherwise our enemies can trap us in the other world for all time.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Suffice it to say, only the dead go there. The reason must be great for a living person to attempt it.”

“That’s what Gregori and your brothers did, then. They followed you into the land of mists and shadows and brought your spirit back,” MaryAnn reiterated, wanting to understand. He was still partially there. If that was so, she had to find a way to bring him wholly into their world again. This was far beyond her realm of expertise.

“Yes, but we did not have that chance with Ivory. She was lost to us for all time, and we seriously began to question Vlad Dubrinsky’s judgment. He had no right to interfere in family matters. It made no sense to us. If his son was mad and he did nothing, was it possible the madness was in him as well? The more we’d discussed what he’d done, the stronger our anger became. We began to think of ways to end his rule. One step led to the next. We realized the other species who were allied with us might fight with Dubrinsky to keep him as ruler, and the Carpathian people would be divided, so we figured out how to get rid of everyone else. The jaguar-men never stayed with their women. The women already were mating with humans and choosing to stay in that form. It wouldn’t be difficult to turn the remaining women against their men and to capitalize on the brutality of the animal form.”

“Which is what eventually happened.”

He nodded. “Worse, MaryAnn, there is no hope of saving the jaguar race. Even if ten couples survived, it is too few to save them.”

“Evolution may have played a larger part than you think. Because you spoke of a plan, one, by the way, you reasoned out intellectually by observing what was already happening, doesn’t mean you had the responsibility of the destruction of the species. You aren’t a god.”

“No, but we did nothing to aid the jaguar in seeing their own destruction. We left them alone, and while we did, the Malinov brothers implemented the plan and helped to push the jaguars to their own extinction. If they have done that, what other parts of the plan have they begun?”

MaryAnn waited, watching the shadows chase across his face, watching him flex his fingers as though they were aching. There was a new note in his voice, the soft rumble of a growl, every bit as sexy as his hypnotic velvet voice, maybe more so. The notes played over her skin, making her feel edgy.

“The humans fear Carpathians because they fear vampires. The legends had to come from somewhere. Whispers and rumors of killings and the loathing and fear grew until the Carpathians were no longer allies of humans. We are now hunted and killed. And with the werewolf, the one ally that we knew had the power to stop us, it would be easy enough to do the same thing, to drive a wedge between the species, divide and conquer. The werewolves were elusive anyway, and driving them underground or secretly stamping them out by arranging killings would slowly dwindle their ranks as well. Eventually someone would have to step into the seat of power to clean up the mess.”

MaryAnn drew back, her breath coming in a ragged gasp. “You didn’t do those things, did you?” The masculine scent of him was in her lungs, surrounding her with every breath she drew. Maybe it was the sound barrier he’d erected, but she couldn’t stop the thrill of drawing his essence into her body, or the way her muscles clenched and her blood sang just being near him.

She wanted to react with the objectivity of a counselor. It was second nature to her, but something else, something wild, was building so that she watched the rise and fall of his chest, the tiny shift in his expression, the crinkle of the lines around his eyes, the shape of his molded mouth and wanted—no,
needed
—to offer comfort without words.

“No, of course we didn’t. We knew what we were doing was wrong. When the grief subsided and we could see reason, we knew it wasn’t Vlad’s fault any more than it was ours that she was dead. We stopped talking about it and threw ourselves into the hunt for the undead. We became fiends, so much so that all of us lost our emotions much faster than we should have. We made a pact to protect each other, to share what we could of our memories of affection and honor, and we have done so. When our prince put out the call to go to other lands, we answered. The Malinovs did the same. We were sent here, to South America, and they were sent to Asia.”

She leaned in close to inhale more of him, all the while lending him soothing warmth and trying to suppress the rising tide of need. What was so different about him? His confession of wrongdoing? Had that made her more sympathetic to him? Or the fact that he still mourned that lost little “sister”?

She had been angry with him for thrusting her into his life without her consent, for removing her choices, and for not understanding the enormity of what he had done, but she couldn’t help the strength of her emotion for him in trying to understand. For trusting her with his greatest shame. And she knew that was what he had gifted her with.

When he reached out to push a strand of hair from her face, his fingers brushing across her sensitive skin, she shivered.

“The Malinov brothers came to us before we left and wanted to talk.” His voice roughened, and the sound scraped over raw nerve endings, a seduction she hadn’t thought possible. He bent his head, pushing her hair from her shoulder, and his tongue touched her pulse. “They wanted us to renounce the prince.”

Tiny flames danced along her neck and throat, edging down toward her breasts. Her nipples peaked beneath the thin top, and her body felt soft and pliable and so achy she burrowed closer to him. “But you didn’t.” She was positive. She knew he respected Vlad Dubrinsky in spite of the terrible tragedy.

“No, we did not. We could not.” His voice held absolute conviction. “And at that time, neither did the Malinovs. They swore allegiance to him.”

And she loved him for that. For knowing right from wrong. For having such strong loyalties even when he loved the Malinov brothers so much. They had been his family, yet he had known, all of his brothers had known, that to turn on the prince was to turn on their people.

“No, of course you wouldn’t.” She ran her hand up and down his arm, feeling the definition of his muscles beneath her palm. So hard. She closed her eyes, briefly wanting to feel him skin-to-skin. She wanted to seduce him, to take him into her body and fill the emptiness she felt inside of him.

His eyes came alive with such stormy turbulence that her heart jumped. The dark black irises glowed amber—almost gold, taking her breath away. That wildness in her, that place she never wanted to acknowledge, leapt forward in recognition, and she leaned close before she could think, before she could stop herself, brushing his mouth with hers, breathing for him, taking the adrenaline into her own body. Taking his need. Taking his desires. Taking him.

He kissed her back, his tongue sliding into the silken heat of her mouth. Every nerve ending leapt to life. Whatever anger he still held toward his prince, toward himself or even toward the Malinovs slid away, leaving his blood pounding for her.

His arms went around her, and he pulled her even closer, body to body, his mouth on hers, his pulse thundering in her ears. They were merged, mind to mind, and she felt the sudden shift in him, the way every cell recognized her, wanted her,
needed
her. His teeth tugged at her lip, nipped and teased and demanded. Heat flared, driving away the cold of his skin, pushing out the shadows and sorrow of old memories until there was only this—the ultimate feeling. Sheer bliss.

“I want to feel your skin against mine,” he whispered. His hand was already sliding up her leg, along her calf, up her thigh, inside where she ached and craved and needed him. Where she offered him a refuge and haven. His knuckles moved in small circles against her damp core while his mouth ravaged hers.

Around him, the world dropped away. Both worlds. Shadows receded until there was only the bed of flowers and the fragrance and scent of man and woman calling to each other. He brought both hands up to hold her in his arms, hold her against him, one hand cupping the back of her head as he lowered her to the cradling vines. He wasn’t wild this time, didn’t want to be. He took great care, slow and easy, wanting to taste every inch of her, wanting to take them both on a silken journey of pure sensation.