Her breathing was suddenly erratic. Too fast. Her heart accelerated. He reached for her, needing their more intimate connection and knowing she did as well.
You are safe, Lorraine. You will always be safe from me. You are the one person in this world I could never harm for any reason. The things I told you about myself are the truth. I am Carpathian, not vampire. I hunt the undead.
She didn’t fight him, but he could feel her withdrawal, the way she curled into herself.
Sívamet. I do not want you to fear me.
Is that what you think I’m feeling?
He had been careful, even talking to her telepathically, not to push into her thoughts. He knew she didn’t want that. She’d told him to stay out of her mind. He stared into her eyes; all the while her exquisite taste burst through his mouth and into his cells. He had craved this—had been denying himself for what seemed an eternity—and now that her blood was sustaining him, he savored every drop. He didn’t want to stop. Not ever. The way she tasted was unlike anything he’d ever experienced.
What are you feeling?
Her breathing had changed again. Heightened. Her face was pale, but a soft flush had stolen up her neck to tinge her cheeks. Her green eyes had darkened. She shifted positions again, stretching out on the sleeping bag, her arm relaxed as it lay across his chest, her wrist to his mouth.
This is the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced and I can’t even tell you why.
His woman. So courageous to admit what she was feeling. He heard the curiosity in her voice as well as the guilt. She didn’t want to have any kind of sexual feelings toward a man she knew was so badly injured.
You are supposed to feel that way when your lifemate takes your blood. It would be terrible if it hurt you.
This isn’t nearly the sacrifice I thought it would be. The good part is, I didn’t see any blood.
You thought it would be a sacrifice to give me blood? Amusement welled up. They were in dire circumstances, and she still could make him find moments of pure happiness.
Yes. But I just think I will sleep for a while. Take what you need, Andor. It’s all right.
4
Lorraine woke, turned her head and looked at the mound of dirt beside her. Her heart slammed hard in her chest and she sat up fast, her breath coming in an agitated frenzy. She gulped air and then realized that made the dizzy sensation even worse. She put her hand over the soft dirt right where she knew Andor’s heart should be. He had convinced her to cover even his head. His mouth. His nose. There was no rise and fall beneath that blanket of dirt, but he’d told her not to expect one. He said he was shutting down his heart and lungs to give himself more of a chance, hoping his friends would arrive in time to save him.
She wasn’t going to look for two reasons. If he was already dead, she wouldn’t be able to take it. She knew that. Losing him would have been too much for her. She told herself he was a stranger, but somehow, in the night, speaking so intimately, talking together, afraid he might be dying and struggling to find a way to make every minute of what was left of his life count, she’d bonded with him. She’d connected with him in a way she never had with another human being.
More importantly, if he was alive, she wanted him to stay that way. She wanted him to have every chance to live. With his heart and lungs shut down, he couldn’t lose more blood. She’d given him quite a bit the night before. Enough that she woke up thirsty, so parched she was already gulping water. She’d been dizzy and weak after he’d taken her blood and had barely been able to cover him after he’d woven what he called “safeguards” around their camp. He’d claimed it was an invisible barrier that would keep out vampires and even human campers if there were any close by—which she doubted. Unless the bumbling vampire hunters returned.
She had to get up and check things out. She also needed to go to the bathroom. She’d been so parched the night before she’d drunk nearly half the water in her canteen. Very carefully, she eased her body away from the mound of dirt. She’d slept close to him. She’d told herself she was guarding him, but she knew it was more because she’d needed to feel close to him.
She tucked the gun inside her jacket and added the large can of wasp spray she carried, just in case she had to set a vampire on fire. Wasp spray was a very good weapon, and she nearly always had a can handy. Night was falling when she stepped out of the tent, the last rays of the sun slipping dramatically from the sky. She took a careful look around and then made her way to the bushes. Andor had been very precise about how far from the camp she could get and she followed his instructions to the letter.
She wasn’t certain how she knew he was telling her the truth about his life and his people, but something in his voice, the strong connection between them, allowed her to listen to his explanations. Every word he uttered resonated with her, as if she already knew the truth and had just needed him to confirm it.
Lorraine stood beside the tent, running her hand over the side of it, needing to hear the sound of Andor’s voice. She had always been independent. According to her parents, unusually so. She liked her own company. If she was somewhere quiet with a good book, she was happy. She could spend hours in the dojo training without a partner. Her brother had always wanted to have a partner to spar against or compete with during training. She was content and even preferred to work by herself.
It was strange to crave the sound of a voice. To want to feel another person’s heartbeat. She told herself it was because she’d been through such trauma and everyone had ostracized her, so she’d learned to be lonely, but she knew that wasn’t the truth. It was Andor. Something about his quiet acceptance drew her. He knew he was close to death. He wasn’t angry at the vampires he’d fought or the three men who’d managed to stake him. He just quietly fought to survive.
Through no fault of her own, fate had taken her family and made her a pariah with her friends. She wanted to find Andor’s inner peace, that place of acceptance and peace that was so ingrained in him. Harmony with the world around him ran like the deepest part of a river in Andor.
She moved around the campsite, setting up her defenses. Andor had set the safeguards, but she wasn’t positive they would hold. She had forced herself, after he’d taken her blood, to look into his mind specifically for encounters with vampires. She’d asked him to bring those memories to the forefront so they would be easy for her to tap into.
She looked up at the moon, trying not to hyperventilate. She hadn’t been able to sleep very well, the nightmare battles far too close. She’d never imagined such an evil creature, or one so powerful. Andor’s last battle, the one where he’d defeated seven vampires, had been her last vision. She couldn’t take any more after that. Heart pounding, stomach churning, she spent a few bad moments with her hands over her face, fighting the urge to run away.
How had Andor managed to get up every evening and go out looking for such evil? It was madness. Sooner or later—maybe even this time—he would be defeated. He would die a horrible death. No one even knew he existed. Or if they did, such as his brethren, they weren’t capable of emotion and wouldn’t even mourn his passing.
She hated what had happened to her family, and she hated Andor’s life for him. She had no idea why terrible things happened to good people. Her brother had been a good person, her parents wonderful. Her aunt and uncle and Theodore’s best friend’s parents had been giving and kind. They didn’t deserve what had happened to them. And Andor …
Lorraine sighed. Looking into his mind, even just to see battles, connected them even more. She didn’t need or want that. He touched something deep in her and just stayed there. Inside. Where she couldn’t get him out. He was in her head, and now, she thought, he was branded deep in her bones. She understood their connection. Talking telepathically and being in each other’s minds was a strong link between them.
She only had so much in the way of ammunition to fight off vampires and she had to place it in the most strategic positions—the ones that made sense. She studied the various battles between Andor and the vampires, each separately, to try to find patterns. Similarities in the way vampires fought. When she was pitted against an opponent in the ring, or in her martial arts class, that was what she did. She watched for weaknesses. She found out their favorite methods of attack. What the knockout punch was.
At first, as she sat outside the tent and watched the sky darken, she could only see how powerful and clever vampires were. They took on various forms, used soft, gentle voices and then commanding, compelling ones. They whispered to Andor, tempted him, all the while cunningly plotting his death.
She watched Andor in action, replaying the scenes over and over in her mind, learning the way he moved. She was used to watching fighters. They had bodies honed from years of training, working the bags, sparring with opponents. None could compare or even come close to the blurring speed and fluid movements of Andor. He was breathtaking. Beautiful. Every muscle was honed to perfection. He was a pure fighting machine.
She pulled her legs up tailor-fashion and began to breathe deeply and evenly. She had ideas now on how to defeat a vampire if she had to fight one alone. It could be done if she didn’t get one that was really, really good. Some of them were so powerful she hadn’t believed even Andor could defeat them—and he had. She found herself feeling inexplicably proud of him. It would be pure luck to get the right one—a newly turned vampire still getting used to being undead. She sent out a silent prayer to the universe that if she had to protect Andor, that was what she was going to go up against.
Finding out about Carpathians and vampires might have freaked her out at any other time, but after what had happened to her family, nothing compared. Nothing would ever compare. She had walked into a room full of blood and death. Every family member gone. The destruction caused by the vampires in villages and small towns was horrendous, but no more than what she’d walked into.
“Andor.” She murmured his name aloud. She didn’t want to lose him. The world needed him and his skills. She admitted to herself it was more than that. He had filled those lonely places in her and soothed the raw edges of her memories. He couldn’t take away the pain, but he did bring her the first comfort she’d felt since her family had died. She wouldn’t let Andor down. She would guard him, and if he had lived through the day, he would live through the night and be alive when his brethren came for him.