Dark Peril (49 page)

She adjusted her angle slightly as he faded back into the shadows. He would move. A foot. A hand. It didn’t matter what part of his anatomy he exposed; she would have him.

Brodrick sighed overly loud. “Reggie, you may as well come away from there.”

Annoyance edged his voice. Fingers of alarm tracked down her spine. She shivered, frowning. He was up to something. Her one advantage was that they wanted her alive. Brodrick would never kill her and certainly neither would his companion. She was far too valuable alive. She was a full shifter with royal blood. Brodrick wanted an heir. As disgusting and despicable as that sounded, she knew his intent. She tasted bile in her mouth, but her gaze never left the shadowy figure moving back and forth behind the veil of dense brush.

Brodrick moved again and she fired from where she lay on the ground, the arrow rocketing through the brush. He screamed. Cursed. She heard the heavy fall of his body as he went down, crashing into brush. She sent up a silent prayer there were nettles growing there.

“I’m fucking going to make your life hell, you little bitch,” he raged, his snarls reverberating through the forest. “Every day you live will be nothing but pain. I know more ways to cause pain to a bitch in heat than you ever imagined.”

In the small confines of the root cage, Solange found it difficult to fit another arrow into the crossbow. She wiggled around, trying to stay quiet. Her leg brushed against the thick wood on her right side as she tried to get her arm in position. Something grabbed her ankle, pinning her hard to the ground. She felt the jab, a sharp sting, even as she abandoned the crossbow, pulled the knife on her thigh from its sheath and in one motion rolled and stabbed, driving the blade deep in the side of the man holding her down.

Come now!
She sent the frantic call to Dominic.
They got me with a needle.

She’d known Brodrick was up to something. They’d misled her by snapping twigs, making her think Reggie was to her left. Stupid, stupid mistake. She tried to stay calm, breathing evenly, not wanting whatever they injected into her to move too fast through her system. They thought they had time. She’d go to sleep and they’d drag her out and have her at their mercy. They were unaware of Dominic.

Reggie spat curses as he staggered back away from the roots. He made it about seven feet, staggered and went down to his hands and knees. “Brodrick. Get over here and help me.”

He was out in the open where she could shoot him at will with an arrow. Using slow, careful movements, Solange fit another arrow into her bow and waited, this time as far back in the cage as she could get. They wouldn’t be able to fit through the tangle of roots easily with their stocky bodies, and she wasn’t going to make it easy for them.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. Her vision blurred. Around her, the twisted roots moved slightly, as if they might be coming alive.

“Brodrick,” Reggie wailed. He had his hands clamped tight against his side. Blood dripped steadily through his fingers.

“Stop whining,” Brodrick snapped. “You let the little bitch stick you. I told you she was lethal. You underestimated her.”

“Why is it,” Solange asked, her voice sounding tinny and far away, “that the man who attacks the woman always gets upset when she fights back? I’ve never understood that.”

“I don’t mind a little fight. It adds to the enjoyment when a woman fights, all that delicious fear,” Brodrick said, ignoring Reggie’s increasing distress. His partner began to drag himself toward the brush. “I love to watch their faces as they beg and plead, so willing to do anything for me, endure anything for me, just to live.” His laughter was taunting, filled with contempt. “Believe me, you’ll do the same.”

She had a good direction on him now, if he stayed put, but she had to hurry. Her arms were beginning to feel like lead. She wiped the sweat from her eyes with her elbow, building the picture of him in her mind. His size. His shape. He was standing behind the fern and brush, his shadowy outline becoming distorted.

“You should have killed me when you had the chance,” she said, wanting his response, wanting one more reassurance of his position. Her vision was astonishingly blurry.

“When you give me a son, it will be my pleasure, and you’ll take a long time dying,” he replied, supreme confidence in his voice. “Just like old Reggie.”

Reggie slumped on the ground, moaning, but his strength had run out with his blood.

Solange drew a deep breath, and as she exhaled, she fired the arrow. Brodrick grunted. She waited, heart beating fast. The ground shook as Brodrick went insane, breaking through the brush, destroying everything in his path, his rage boiling over. Roaring, he rushed her shelter, smashing through the roots, driving right through the splinters of wood to grab her hair. He jerked hard. Solange sprawled on the ground, releasing the crossbow from her numb hand. He dragged her out of what was left of the root cage and threw her to the ground.

Look at him. Keep looking at him.
Dominic’s voice was calm.

She felt that same calm.
I have to do this.

In a detached way, she heard the fists hitting her body, saw the snarling, twisted mask of hatred rising over her, but she didn’t feel anything other than a sense of purpose. This monster had killed nearly everyone she’d ever loved. He’d destroyed countless lives as well as an entire species. She watched him with an indifferent, impassive look that enraged him further. He bent over her, his hand on her shirt. Before he could rip it from her body, she poured every ounce of energy and will into the hand holding the knife.

She slammed the blade home, right into his black heart. She didn’t have enough strength to push it as deep as she would have liked, but judging from the eruption of blood pouring around the blade, she was certain it would be enough to kill him. His eyes widened in complete shock. She could see he had never entertained the idea that a mere woman would be able to defeat him. Rage replaced shock and his hands dropped from the hilt of the knife to her throat.

Before he could wrap his fingers around her neck, a blast of white-hot energy knocked him back and away from her. Dominic knelt beside her, his hands running gently over her body. Everywhere he touched, bruises healed.

“I have to push the sedative from your body, Solange,” he said and proceeded to do so.

He helped her into a sitting position. Solange rested her head against his chest for a moment. “Thanks. I’m still shaky.”

Sensing movement, Dominic whipped around, his body shielding Solange as he faced Brodrick. The man ripped the knife from his chest, and using his last strength, went to throw it at Solange. Dominic spewed fire, a Dragonseeker trait rarely used. The flames engulfed the shapeshifter, burning bright red-orange.

Solange raised her eyebrow. “I didn’t know you could do that. It’s kind of freaky.”

He kissed her. “Just do not make me angry and you will never have to see it again.”

She laughed softly. “I want to go home.”

“Josef is finally finished. I can take down the laboratory,” he told her. “And then we can go home.”

With her eyes on the fiery conflagration, and Brodrick’s screams filling the air, she sighed softly. “Get it done, then. I want to sleep for a month.” Her nightmare was finally over. The other shifters would scatter and they’d be someone else’s problem. Hopefully they would go where the law could reach them.

Dominic concentrated on the laboratory itself, building the image in his mind. He had paid attention to every structural point. Beneath the earth he pushed the first wave up directly beneath the building. The earth shook. Brodrick crumbled and writhed on the ground. In the distance they could hear the loud thunder as the laboratory shook apart. Dominic didn’t stop until the last block was smashed and there was nothing left.

He turned and looked through the falling rain toward the sky, bringing down the lightning one last time. The bolt slammed into Brodrick’s writhing body, incinerating it completely. The white-hot energy jumped to Reggie and turned him to ash.

He held out his hand to Solange. “Home, my own. We have that little bundle of fur and claws to feed.”

Solange put her hand in his and without a glance toward the blackened ashes, she walked side by side with her lifemate toward home.

20

You’re the calm in the storm, the most gentle power.
In your hands, I’m a flower. Near you, my heart beams.

SOLANGE TO DOMINIC

T
he smallest of sounds woke Dominic. Soft weeping. His heart stuttered awake, his eyes snapped open and he turned his head to find Solange. She huddled a foot from him, knees drawn up, head down, the fall of her sable, sun-kissed hair hiding her face from him. But she wept. His Solange. His heart and soul.

For a moment he could barely breathe, anxiety rushing through him. They had exchanged blood for the first time before going to sleep. He had waited several risings to ensure all the parasites were gone from his body before they had tried their first exchange. She didn’t appear to have experienced any ill effects, but . . . The process itself had been difficult when it should have been erotic. Solange could not be put under compulsion. She had to voluntarily take his blood on her own, and she had struggled, but she’d trusted him enough to see it through.

“Solange.” His voice was infinitely tender. “What is wrong, my own?” He couldn’t help merging with her, afraid the exchange had injured her in some way.

Instead of physical pain he felt the remnants of her nightmare, the child desperate to hold her mother, and he wanted to weep for her. There would always be moments of sorrow in her life he couldn’t prevent, couldn’t heal no matter how much he wanted to. He crossed the short distance between them and sank down beside her, drawing her into his arms, cradling her on his lap, his face buried in her shoulder. He rocked her gently until she calmed and grew silent.

She pressed her hands over her ears. “I dreamt of my mother, and when I woke up, I couldn’t stop crying. The sounds are so loud, Dominic, everything, even my own tears. The sound of water, of small animals and insects. I can hear what is happening outside the cave and I can’t turn it down. My head hurts from all the noise. And the sounds were so amplified, and you were so utterly silent . . .” She trailed off. She pressed a hand to her heart. “And now I can hear the sound of my heart pounding. I was so afraid even though I knew
intellectually
you were safe.”

His hand went to the nape of her neck, massaging the tense muscles. “I am so sorry about your mother, beloved. We will meet her again in the next life and she will welcome you with open arms. And I am sorry I frightened you.” He tightened his hold in an effort to comfort her. He wasn’t her mother, but he loved her fiercely. “Let me see about your hearing,” he added gently.

Carpathians could hear the beat of wings in the distance, the smallest of stones rolling down a hillside. Dominic and Solange had exchanged blood and the conversion was beginning, but she should have been able to turn her hearing to an acceptable volume. Dominic left his body, sending his spirit into hers, examining her carefully, trying to determine what his Carpathian blood had done to her.

His blood should have begun the process of conversion, yet the cells were distinct, her cells bonding with his, separate yet together. It didn’t make sense. Her jaguar seemed perfectly intact, other than the Carpathian blood cells piggybacking on hers. There was no chaos, no antibodies rushing to thwart the process at all. It was as if their bloodlines had merged, one on top of the other, coexisting rather than competing for dominance.

Her hearing was a different matter. Already acute due to her jaguar, the Carpathian blood had amplified her abilities until sounds were overwhelming. He moved through her, checking for other differences. There were subtle changes, nothing like he expected would happen. Puzzled, he returned to his own body.

“Is that better? It is a matter of turning down the volume. When something is not quite right, think of how it works and you can fix it just as I have done for you. If it is not enough, you can try it yourself to see if it works.”

She turned her tear-wet face against his throat and sighed. “Yes, that’s much better, thank you. I’m sorry I woke you. You shouldn’t be up yet.”

Everything in him went utterly still. She was right. His body knew the exact time of each rising. He had lived centuries and there was no doubt that he could tell the time of night when it was safe to rise. He had no doubts that the sun was still high. This time of day his body should be leaden, impossible to move. He was at his most vulnerable with the sun so high. Even beneath the earth he would feel the prickly sensation that threatened to burn his skin, yet he was perfectly comfortable. Uneasiness stirred. Every Carpathian needed a built-in warning system, and his seemed to be missing.

“The sun has not yet set.” He made it a statement, but his mind was shocked at the realization. The sun was still in the sky and yet just minutes ago, he had walked over to her, sat down, pulled her into his lap. He had moved with no difficulty, no lethargy. Impossible! He was an ancient, and the sun, still in the sky, should have rendered him helpless.

She bit her lip, her eyes going wide, the shock betraying her comprehension. “If the sun is still out, Dominic, should you be awake? Can that hurt you? To be awakened while the sun is still up?” Anxiety was in her voice.

“Waking is not the problem.” Very gently he put her from him and stood. “
This
is the problem. I should not be able to move right now.”

He studied her face. She had changed very subtly. Her cat’s eyes were still direct and glowed there in the dark, giving evidence of her excellent night vision, but not in the same way as before.

“What?” She touched her face. Sudden panic crossed her expression. She shifted without hesitation, ensuring her jaguar was safe.

Dominic had seen her shift so many times and she’d been incredibly fast, but this time he barely blinked and she was fully jaguar. The cat stretched languidly and nudged him with her head, clearly unaffected by the Carpathian blood. He was more puzzled than ever.