Dark Curse (19 page)

"You look like a trapped kitten, about to hiss and spit fire at me. Go to sleep. We will sort this out the next rising."

With that, he lay back, dragging her with him, rolling onto his side, his eyes closing—dismissing her. Lara held her breath waiting, not knowing what to look for. It didn't take long. His breath left his body in one rattling exhale and he lay completely motionless. She was chained to a dead man.

The trembling started somewhere in her legs and ran up her body so strong she was afraid she would go into convulsions. She lay staring at the ceiling, her heart beating too fast, too loud, her chest hurting, lungs burning from lack of air, her mind screaming. She was a prisoner with no control, no power, no say over her own life. It was only a matter of time before he would demand sex and she would succumb to his wishes because she would be unable to stop her body from needing his.

She shuddered. From there, he would take her blood. It was the nature of all Carpathians to take blood and she had sensed, more than once, his desire to take hers. She'd rather be dead than to live enslaved. She couldn't survive without control in her life, without a say in what she did. She couldn't allow herself to be used for food, or, as she feared would happen, sex and food.

Lara thought of her past, the few memories she did have of her childhood and knew she could never relive those times as an adult. She lay awake as the sun rose to its height and her body became so leaden she could barely move. When the sun began to sink, she began trying various spells to rid herself of the iron shackle binding her to Nicolas, but no matter what she tried, she couldn't counter his guards.

She stared up at the gem-studded ceiling without seeing it, tears swimming in her eyes. There was so much left undone that she'd promised to do, but it was too late. Her first promise had been to herself and she refused to even consider anything else. She just needed to work up enough courage to escape in the only way left to her.

* * *

Nicolas awakened, drifting, taking one shallow breath every few minutes, allowing his mind and spirit to find peace in the quiet of Carpathian twilight—not fully gone, but not far from the surface. Lara had hurt him and he couldn't remember the last time anyone had ever done such a thing: He hadn't known anyone could. He knew he should wake fully and face her, but he needed to sort out his unfamiliar emotions. She had certainly pricked his pride when she'd accused him of being addicted to the rush of his power. Honor had sustained him these long centuries, not addiction, and it was the only thing he had to offer her. She had stripped him of even that with her careless accusation.

He had wanted to throttle her, yet at the same time, the need to kiss her, to dominate her body with his, had risen up like a terrible demon possessing his mind. She should have been grateful for his honor. Without it, she would have found herself naked and writhing under him. She owed him deference and respect. She was so young and inexperienced in all things. She should rely on his wisdom and trust him. He had done nothing but try to protect her, but she persisted in acting like so many of the women, demanding foolish and dangerous things without thinking them through.

His chest felt heavy, a strange sensation when he should have been weightless. His wrist burned and ached. Fear skittered up his spine and found its way into his consciousness. His spirit reacted, reaching for his body, abruptly taking possession. Nicolas came aware instantly.

He heard the sound of ragged, thready breathing and smelled—
death
. He shifted his body, and felt Lara, ice cold, lying beside him. Turning his head, he saw her face, eyes wide and unseeing, staring at the ceiling. A wave of his hand dissolved the shackles, allowing him to roll over and come up on his knees beside her, reaching for her limp arm, his heart nearly stopping, then beginning to slam hard and fast in his chest. Her wrist was torn open, obviously a deliberate attempt to end her life. Her own teeth had ripped the ragged tears, opening her vein so that blood ran down the side of the bed.

Veriak ot en Karpatiiak. Köd alte hän
. By the blood of the prince. Darkness curse it. What has she done?

Swearing, he brought her wrist to his mouth, using his tongue and healing saliva to seal the vein and sweep close the wound.
Lara! Come to me
. It was a demand. And he was furious that she would do such a thing.

What was she thinking? Didn't she know what would happen?
Lara
! Desperation was setting in. She'd been like a wolf caught in a trap, willing to chew off her foot, or end her life rather than be captured and held prisoner. He had lain beside her, angry, righteous, and all the time, she had been quietly ending her life.

He gathered her into his arms, rocking her gently as he shed his physical body to enter hers. She needed blood. Fast. Her body labored, her mind had already shut itself down to keep from brain damage. Had she been human and mage without Carpathian, she would already be dead.

He found her spirit, flinching from his light—from him.
Come to me, o jelä sielamak. Light of my soul, stay with me
.

His arrogance had driven her to this. He hadn't seen her as a person, so much as
his
. His savior, his possession, his to do his bidding. He'd been so sure of himself, so certain of his rightness. Nicolas De La Cruz, informing his brothers how they should handle their lifemates, so certain he knew best for everyone around him, after all, he was faster and smarter and had lived so much longer. And yet his own lifemate, the woman he had sworn to protect, to make happy, he had driven to this—taking her own life rather than submit to him.

He crooned to her, wooed her, soothed her as he gathered her spirit to him to prevent her from going so far he might not be able to bring her back. Keeping her secure, he returned to his own body.

He had needed her to know who was in charge. He needed to establish his dominancy like some conquering warrior, to prove to her that when he said something she should listen because he knew best. This was his failing. He hadn't taken the time to know her, to understand her, or even to give her credit for keeping her word. She had chosen life for them and she placed herself in his hands for all time, trusting him. And he'd destroyed that trust—and them.

He hadn't seen her as someone separate from him, with her own thoughts and feelings. His family had been cursed "too" everything. Too smart. Too fast. Too assured. Too dark. There in the darkness of the cave, deep beneath the ground, holding the ice-cold body of his lifemate, he admitted the truth to himself.

He lengthened his nail and drew it across his chest, opening his vein. He couldn't even promise her he wouldn't repeat his mistakes, the darkness in him may have gathered strength over the years, but it had been there from the beginning. Even with his lifemate close, it was a living, breathing entity inside of him and it demanded those around him go his way.
I will fight my nature as much as possible, Lara
. He murmured to her softly as he pressed her mouth to the wound over his heart.
I will be all things to you. Come back to me and let me show you I can be what you need
. He had only considered how much she must change to be what he needed. How had he been such a fool?

She didn't respond. Not to the scent of his blood, and not to his coaxing words. In the end he had to resort to a command, wincing as he did so. How could she ever resolve living with one such as him? How could he protect her from his own nature? Even now, when she so clearly chose death over living with him, he imposed his will on her.

Juosz és olen ainaak sielamet jutta. Drink and become one with me. Live with me. I will never be perfect, but I will do all within my power to make you happy. Drink and live
. It was a command—a compulsion—and he put every bit of power he could summon into the directive because he was not able to let her go. He would choose life for her and spend the rest of the time they had trying to convince her he had done the right thing.

Her mouth moved against his bare chest. He was unprepared for the strange reaction of his body. The heat exploding into fire. The fullness in his groin. The burn of need in his veins. He threw back his head and absorbed the feeling, took it deep and held on to it. The call of one lifemate to another. His soul had called to hers and hers had answered. Their minds sought one another, needing the constant closeness between them. Now his body was calling, determined to awaken hers. Where was his heart? Did he even have one? Was that part of the curse of the De La Cruz family? Maybe they really didn't have hearts—or maybe it was just him. Although right now, right at this moment, he felt like his was breaking. He ached for both of them.

His life force flooded her starving body, organs and tissue and brain greedily reaching instinctively for nourishment—for life. He made certain he not only gave her enough to replace what she had lost, but enough for a formal blood exchange. Their first true exchange and it was much needed. He had to find a degree of control to combat the darkness that had grown so strong over the last few centuries. His one fear had been that of turning vampire, becoming the most loathsome of evil creatures, yet now, with his lifemate to provide the light to his darkness, he should have been free of worry. Without the formal blood exchange, even with the claiming ritual, until they met as one in body as well as soul and mind, he was a danger to everyone—but mostly he was dangerous to her.

Nicolas cradled Lara in his arms, close to his chest, still rocking. The sun had gone down some time ago and the night was on them. He had no idea when she had managed to harm herself or how long she had lain awake contemplating harming herself, but her spirit was a long way from her body.

"
O jelä sielamak
. Light of my soul, come back to me." She struggled and at first he thought it was to stay away from him, but then he realized her spirit was trapped elsewhere. She had drifted away on a sea of blood and wherever her spirit had roamed, past or present, or the shadow world, she was trapped in a web she couldn't get out of. Without hesitation, he merged his mind fully with hers, following the path to find her and guide her back to the land of the living.

Chapter 8

Nicolas shivered. It was cold. For the first time in his life, when he tried to regulate his body temperature, it was impossible. The cold was mind-numbing. And there was so much fear, wave after wave swamping him. Fear was not an emotion he was intimate with and the waves were overwhelming, keeping him off balance, his stomach churning and his heart beating too loudly. He didn't question that he shouldn't have a heart—or hear one, not while he was without his body, he simply accepted whatever happened and continued after her.

He found himself in a child's body. She was so tiny, her heart wild. Terror—her terror—settled into his mind, filling every corner, every compartment until he breathed it in and out, until it was living inside his very soul. He stared through horrified eyes at a man chained to the wall of ice. A young woman sat beside him weeping as she tried to wipe the beads of sweat from his face.

Razvan
/father
.

Nicolas breathed through the terror and tried to focus on what was happening. Razvan was nearly drained of blood, weak, barely able to talk coherently, his voice low and trembling so that the woman leaned close and pressed her ear to his lips in order to hear him.

"Shauna, get her out before it's too late. You have to let her go."

Lara's mother shook her head, tears running down her face. "She's too little, Razvan, she'll never make it on her own."

"Better she die than let him get his hands on her."

"I can't bear it. I can't bear to lose you and her. There has to be another way."

"I will need blood and you've already given me too much."

"She hates giving blood. She's too young to understand," Shauna said, but she was already lifting the little girl with copper curls onto her lap.

Instead of feeling comforted, Nicolas was swamped with Shauna's fears as well. Living in the body of the child-Lara he struggled against the arms holding him tightly, fought, kicking and biting as Shauna extended the child's arm toward the man lying pale and ravaged. His heart felt as if it might explode. He tried to shift, to get away from the teeth coming at his small, exposed wrist. He had always been fast and strong, his powers honed at a very early age when few boys could even think of shifting, yet now he was powerless to free himself. He could only wait, watching those teeth come closer and closer to his flesh.

His body shrank away from the hot breath. He heard whimpering and felt Lara's spirit desperately fighting to free itself. The small arm was already covered in scars. This wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last. There was no escaping those sharp teeth tearing through her skin to get at her tiny veins.

Nicolas pushed Lara behind him, shielding her as those teeth tore into his wrist. Pain blossomed, stole his breath, punched him in the gut. His vision darkened and blurred. He couldn't minimize the pain as he always had done, he had to let it wash over and through him, accept it to keep from passing out. Even as a child he'd been able to control pain over the many mishaps of shifting too close to the ground or slamming into a tree while flying. Although a man, he was merged deep with Lara, reliving those early years and he was as helpless as she had been. Merged so deep with her, he was not Carpathian, able to push pain aside: He had to suffer through it as she did.