Dark Promises (Dark #29) (7 page)

He let his breath out slowly, his eyes on her. She was beautiful even in her fear. Her entire body trembled. She lifted a small, delicate hand to her mouth and he could see that it shook. She was tall, with a lot of curves, but she seemed fragile to him.

He heard the murmur of his brethren and turned his head to see Mikhail Dubrinsky, the reigning prince of the Carpathian people, and Gregori Daratrazanoff, his second-in-command, materializing close to him. Close enough for them to be a threat to him. He felt that threat emanating from Gregori, and his brethren did as well. They moved closer, ringing the newcomers, forcing Andre into the middle. Andre was a wild card, but the others would stand with him. None of the ancients residing within the monastery had sworn allegiance to the prince. Not him. Not the others.

Mikhail stepped closer but Gregori and Andre closed ranks instantly, preventing him from moving toward Aleksei. Mikhail held up his hand as Aleksei remained over Gary, holding the man down with his mind, his fist ready to remove the heart. He heard his lifemate make a single sound. Low. One of terror.

“They deserve death.” Aleksei made it a statement, but he knew he didn't want to kill her. He wanted to keep her. He wanted the prince to perform a miracle for him. He thought Gabrielle was his miracle, but he was wrong and the bitterness in his mouth, in his mind, had turned an ugly, dark flavor.

He planned every move in his mind. The speed he would need to kill Gary and then Gabrielle. His brethren would end him when he went into the thrall and he would still have his honor. Still. He waited. For a miracle.

“I know what this appears to be,” Mikhail said. His voice was soft. Low. The sound alone carried power. Not the challenging power of a male hunter, but a magnetic, compelling sound that got into one's mind and took away anger. Rage. The driving need to kill. “I assure you, my word as the prince of our people, this is not what it looks like.”

“She is mine.”

“I am aware of that,” Mikhail said, in that same calming tone. “She does not understand, and the fault does not lie with her, or with Gary, but with us.” He indicated Gregori. “We are solely responsible for this mess.”

Gabrielle cried out. Low. Afraid. He half turned so he could try to reassure her without putting himself at risk. She looked terrified. “Don't,” she whispered. “Mikhail, don't.”

“You are his true lifemate, Gabrielle. He won't harm you. He will cherish you and protect you.”

Gabrielle shook her head, tears running down her face. “No. I won't accept him. I can't. You can't ask me to do that.”

She really was frightened, and it was clear to Aleksei there was something he didn't understand about the situation. She was breaking his heart standing there, one pleading hand out toward Mikhail, the blood streaking her soft wrist. Imploring him.

Aleksei sought to reassure her. He spoke in the ancient language. Clearly she didn't understand, continuing to stare at him with frightened eyes. How that could be, he didn't know, but he switched to English and translated for her. “There is no reason to fear now. I am here, your true lifemate. This man will not touch you again.”

She shook her head, tears spilling down her face. “No, you don't understand. I refuse. I refuse to be your lifemate. I
love
him. I'm
his
.”

Fury filled him. He'd spent centuries looking for his woman. Centuries of bleak loneliness. Hope faded, and all he had left was his honor. She would not take that from him because she was afraid. Carpathian women knew their duty. They understood what could happen when a lifemate was stripped of his other half.

She dared to love another man? Choose another man? She was
his
. His reward. His anchor. His only hope. She had no right to refuse him. He felt the bloodlust rising in him, felt his teeth lengthen. He didn't hesitate, not when a Daratrazanoff was trying to take his woman. Not when she was too frightened to do right by him. Not when dishonor was a breath away.

“Te avio päläfertiilam. Éntölam kuulua, avio päläfertiilam. Ted kuuluak, kacad, kojed. Élidamet andam. Pesämet andam. Uskolfertiilamet andam.”

“Stop! Stop it!” Gabrielle screamed the words. Frantic. “Mikhail, please. Stop him. You have to make him stop.”

He heard the tears in her voice and that tore at him, but he couldn't stop. There was no way to stop. Not even to comfort her. Not even to reassure her that she would be safe with him. Rage was still there. The bloodlust hadn't subsided.

“Sívamet andam. Sielamet andam. Ainamet andam. Sívamet kuuluak kaik että a ted. Ainaak olenszal sívambin. Te élidet ainaak pide minan. Te avio päläfertiilam. Ainaak sívamet jutta oleny. Ainaak terád vigyázak.”

He spoke firmly, in a deep, commanding timbre. He used his ancient language and felt every word ripped from his soul. Even as he uttered the binding words imprinted on him before he was born, he felt the ties binding them together. His soul to hers.

She cried out with each completed vow. As if he'd struck her. As if, somehow, he'd ripped out her heart and soul. Before he could step close to her to soothe her, he heard the warning growl from the Daratrazanoff on the ground. And it was a growl.

“Gabrielle.”
The single name was spoken softly. The raw love was so strong it hurt to hear it. The sound made the man exposed, vulnerable, and showed his loss. His despair. The knowledge that she was lost to him for all time.

Aleksei jumped back as Gary Daratrazanoff leapt from the ground. He was even more shocked when he looked at the man's face. He'd witnessed the killing thrall of a Carpathian male who had lost his lifemate on more than one occasion. Each time, he'd been the one to deliver the mercy killing to prevent them from dishonor.

“Gary!”

His woman—Gabrielle—cried out, more frightened than ever. She couldn't fail to recognize the way the man shut down completely. It was a
terrifying thing to see darkness claim a good man. Aleksei moved his body squarely between Gary and his lifemate. The man was in a killing rage. The thrall was impossible to stop, but it was only brought on when a lifemate died. What was going on? Surely his woman couldn't have been Gary's lifemate as well.

He'd had enough. He'd taken all he was going to take from any of them. He whirled, snatched up his woman, tossed her over his shoulder and was inside the gate before anyone could stop him. Behind him, his brethren joined him, sealing the safeguards against all outsiders.

He cared little what the prince, Gregori and Andre would have to do to the Daratrazanoff who had tried to take his lifemate from him. Lock him down, send him to the earth to heal or simply kill him. None of that mattered now. Only his lifemate. The woman who had betrayed him with another man.

He set her down, and she flung herself back toward the gate. He caught her in an iron grip around her waist and walked her backward. Her back hit the wall of their gathering building. Instantly he caged her there, using his large frame to hold her in place. He put one hand on her belly and the other beside her head. She looked up at him with tears swimming in her eyes and a look of utter terror on her face.

His eyes blazed down at her. He refused to be swayed by her fear. “Now you will explain your unseemly conduct and know this, woman, you will suffer punishment should you not obey me.”

G
abrielle glared defiantly up into Aleksei's face. She
hated
him with every cell in her body. She detested the fact that his face was purely masculine and she noticed. She hated that she felt the heat of his body, or saw that his eyes were a clear, startling green. He wasn't handsome in the accepted sense of the word; he was far too dangerous and rough-looking for that. He didn't try to hide the fact that he was a predator from anyone, least of all her. And she didn't care. Not one little bit.

“
Obey
you? That's what you expect? That's
never
going to happen.” She spat the words at him, hoping to goad him into killing her. “You took everything from me. I will never do anything you say.”

His breath hissed out and his eyes went flat and cold. Hard. Terrifying. His hand wrapped around her throat and for one moment she thought he'd actually break her neck. Or strangle her. Her pulse beat into the palm of his hand. She held his stare, but it was difficult. Very, very difficult. The gaping wound in his chest was already closed, his shirt clean of all blood. How he'd managed that she didn't know, but it made her all the more angry at him.

“Do not ever say I did not give you a chance to explain.”

She stuck her chin in the air. “I don't owe you an explanation. I have nothing at all to say to you. Nothing.” She nearly spat the last word at him.

Her heart nearly stopped beating when he transferred his hold from her throat to her hair. He bunched the long strands in his fist, and there was nothing gentle about the way he twisted his hand so that his grip was anchored close to her scalp. He turned and walked rapidly in the opposite direction, forcing her, by her hair, to go with him.

She bit back a scream of pain and beat at his hand and arm. When that didn't slow him down—in fact he didn't even appear to notice—she tried to concentrate on activating the bracelet. Even that let her down. She fought, but the hold on her hair was relentless and every movement she made, from attempting to kick him to hitting him as hard as possible, only increased the agony in her scalp.

Aleksei thrust his lifemate inside the walls of his home. Each of the ancients had their own personal space and this was his. The bare bones of a house. Nothing on the walls. No furniture. What was the need? The ground was the floor. The soil his bed. He waved his hand and instantly there was a soft carpet covering the dirt. That was all she was going to get.

He would have killed her outside.
Before.
Before he'd uttered the ritual binding words and bound her soul to his. He should have. Another mistake on his part. A big one. Now, he couldn't kill her. It was impossible to kill one's lifemate after the ritual words bound them together. He either had to keep her or meet the dawn, something that was so against his nature that he had come here to this monastery, where others like him viewed it as a cowardly act.

He'd lived a life of honor to be brought to this, so close to his downfall he could feel it. The darkness spreading like a virus through him. A breath away. Waiting to take him. He had lived too many centuries and had skills not many had. He would make a terrifying vampire, one that would kill hundreds if not thousands before he was brought down. He knew that. He knew it with every fiber of his being.

He shoved the woman away from him, down to her knees.
She
had brought him to this. She was Carpathian and she knew the consequences of her actions to her lifemate should she betray him. Even her tear-streaked face couldn't stop the rush of fury at her. She would not only bring him down, but she would be indirectly responsible for the innocents he would kill should he turn. And he would turn if he didn't finish this and make this treacherous wench fully his.

He tried to shut down his emotions so her tears wouldn't get to him, wouldn't soften him, but his fury was too great, the darkness taking hold of him so firmly he feared if they didn't complete the bonding he would lose it and kill her and as many others as possible. Should the ancients have to destroy him, they would turn as well. Because of her. This harlot. She put them all in danger.

“Take off your clothes.”

Every vestige of color drained from her face, leaving her skin pale and her eyes enormous. She shook her head, wrapped her arms around her body and bit hard at her lip.

He wasn't about to repeat himself. He stepped close to her, caught her hair in his fist and dragged her to her feet. It took a moment with her struggling to get her feet under her. He didn't help her. The moment she was up, he leaned in and sank his teeth into her neck, right over that tempting, pounding pulse.

She cried out, but he let go of her hair and jerked her tight against him. Her blood spilled into his mouth. Saturated his cells. Ruby red. The finest he'd ever tasted.
Ever.
In all the centuries of living, of surviving, of taking blood to sustain him, there had been no other blood that tasted so amazing. Nothing had prepared him for the taste of her. She burst on his tongue like fine bubbles, teasing and eluding his ability to name the mixture of tastes.

He knew he was instantly addicted. He would crave her for eternity. And that was just fine with him. She was his, and she'd earned her place as his slave. No more. No lifemate status for such a treacherous woman. He would feed on her. Enjoy every drop he took from her.

As he fed, he stripped the clothes from her body with his mind, taking great care not to enter her mind. He didn't dare. He didn't want to see her treachery, what she'd done with this other man. That would send him crashing over the edge. He knew it, those images, her feelings for another man. Her
betrayal
.

Deliberately he remained fully clothed, so that she was completely naked and helpless in his arms. He wanted her to know that there was nothing she could do. Nothing. He controlled her. He would have control of her life for eternity. She didn't deserve kindness or love. She deserved humiliation and to serve his every need. Her blood was exquisite. He hoped the rest of her was as well.

He didn't try to soothe her as he aroused her body. He wanted her to know he could bend her will to his. He was an ancient. She was very young for a Carpathian lifemate, but that was no excuse for her adulterous behavior. His hand went to her breast, to her nipple. Even as he rolled and tugged hard, he sent the impression of his tongue lapping over her breast, drawing her into his mouth and suckling.

She cried out. Squirmed. He smelled her heat and still he took her blood. Let himself indulge in his needs. Needs that were sharp and terrible, clawing at him now. His body was hard. A steel spike between his legs, growing into a monster of need. For her. For this woman who had betrayed him.

He closed the wound on her neck, but didn't take away the evidence of his ownership. His gaze dropped to the circle of lacerations on her wrists and, in spite of himself, he raised first one hand and then the other to heal them with his tongue. The fact that he had to do that—that he couldn't stand her hurt—made him even angrier. He opened his shirt with a flick of his wrist. “Feed.” He uttered the command coldly.

She swallowed hard and shook her head, blinking up at him. Her tears continued to flow. He bent his head and deliberately licked up the trail of tears, drawing the flavor into his mouth. Just like her blood, the taste was exquisite. He caught the back of her head with his palm, opened his chest with a single fingernail and pressed her head ruthlessly to him. Again, he gave her no choice, and he knew, once the taste of him was in her mouth, on her lips, she would be just as addicted to his taste as he was to hers.

Her mouth moved against him and the spike between his legs grew even more monstrous. Thick. Greedy. So hungry for her he felt the darkness sliding closer. He had to get her body aroused, in a state of frenzy. His hands roamed over her, not gently, but demanding a response. He felt every swift intake of breath when he found an erogenous zone and he capitalized on it. Still, this was never going to be about her. This would always be about him, and he wanted her to know that from the start.

She could withhold her love and loyalty from him, but he would always have access to her blood and her body. He found both extremely pleasurable. Her body was all soft curves. Her breasts were extremely sensitive. He liked her nipples and knew he would spend hours playing with her body. No.
His
body. She belonged to him—all of her—and no other man would ever touch
her again. He knew he could tie her to him through sex. He knew he could make her want him with every breath in her body. Not love, but sheer hunger. Maybe in a few hundred years he'd get past her betrayal. But for now . . .

His fingers slid down her belly. He loved the feel of her skin and wanted more against him. He got rid of his clothes with a single thought and allowed his hands to take in more of her. Heat emanated from the junction of her legs. Her body moved restlessly against his. Still, he wanted her more aroused. He wanted her to
need
to obey his every command in spite of the fact that she claimed she detested him.

He swiped his finger along her damp entrance, and her entire body shivered. He smiled above her head. She was definitely sensitive, and he was going to enjoy himself. He kept her feeding, knowing his blood would be an aphrodisiac to her. He slid one finger inside her slowly, feeling her slick heat, the grasp of her delicate muscles, surprised at how tight she was. Her protest was another moan, and the sound vibrated straight through his cock.

She protested, but in spite of her detesting him, her body wanted his. He had made certain of that. He controlled her senses. He wanted her to know he could do that. That he would become her world. The only things she would want were his blood and his body. He would be the only man she craved. She would do anything to have him by the time he finished with her. And he would never finish with her. This was a sentence for eternity—for both of them.

He took his time, circling her sensitive bud, watching her body shiver in reaction. Watching her face go soft and sensual. Her eyes fought him, but her body responded to the heat and hunger he created.

“Enough,” he murmured. He wouldn't put it past her to try to drain him dry. He kept a hold on her senses, still refusing to enter her mind in the way of lifemates. He didn't want to see that man there—not ever. Daratrazanoff. Just the thought of him had him snarling. Growling. A nearly animal response. He was long ago gone from civilization. He was from ancient times and knew nothing of modern women. But she would learn her place.

Gabrielle licked at the small wound on his chest and just that lapping of her tongue sent heat curling through his cock. He wanted more. He pushed her off of him. Away from him. Arrogantly, he walked away from her, to the center of the thick carpet he'd installed.

“Get down on your knees.”

Her eyes blazed defiantly. He smiled. Slow. Mean. Wanting her to defy him. Wanting her to hate this, because that would make her surrender all the more sweet. She couldn't talk. He'd given her the chance to talk and she hadn't taken it, so there was nothing more to say. Her eyes remained on his, and the defiance turned to despair when she could do nothing else but go to her knees and crawl toward him.

Aleksei watched her body move. She was truly beautiful. Had he seen her somewhere, he would have noticed her immediately. Picked her right out of a crowd. He would have known she was his even before he heard her voice. What he would never have guessed was that she could be so beautiful on the outside and so rotten on the inside.

She was at his feet, moving up his legs, her hands sliding up his thighs. He caught her wrists and held her still, an ugliness rippling through his stomach. Churning. He didn't want to see her like this. He was angry, and he was unfamiliar with such an emotion. He was close to turning, and he had no idea what to do with the dark whispers and need for violence welling up in him. But he couldn't see her like this. He couldn't do this.

It didn't matter that she was rotten inside. That she had betrayed him. She was still his lifemate and doing this—taking her will, forcing her to complete the binding by sharing her body with his when she clearly didn't want to—was every bit as dishonorable as becoming the undead.

He closed his eyes and drew her to her feet, his hands gentle. He had to let her go, and there was only one way to do so. One. He wasn't going without memorizing every inch of her. Without holding her body against his. He deserved at least that much. He didn't want to see her eyes. He didn't want to know she hated him with every breath she took. Or that she wanted another man.

He was going to do what every ancient in the monastery had refused to do because they felt it was wrong. It was cowardly. Somehow, some way, they had to be strong enough to overcome that terrible darkness shredding their souls. He had vowed to live until they figured out how. He didn't have that choice now. He would meet the dawn and free his lifemate to find her way in the world. Perhaps the ritual binding words hadn't worked on her as they were supposed to. In any case, he wasn't going to look into her eyes again.

He took his time, savoring the feel of her very feminine body. Her skin was softer than anything he'd ever touched. His hands were big. Calloused. Rough. She felt wonderful beneath his exploring palm and fingertips. He committed her to memory, and he did it slowly. From her face to her toes. Front and back. She had lush curves and he spent time shaping and committing them to his memory. He would know her blind.

He didn't release her from his control while he explored her body because he didn't want her hatred and venom to take this one moment from him. He would walk into the sun with her scent surrounding him. With the feel of her soft skin on his hands and her body imprinted in his mind. He could do that.

Because she couldn't control her body's reactions to his exploration, he learned every sensitive point of her. Sometimes her hips bucked against him. Sometimes her breath caught in her throat and a small moan escaped. That was all her. Not him. He didn't feed her body's reaction to him. He didn't try to make this about sex or about her. It was his good-bye. His reward.