You are not entirely a stranger.
There was that small note of humor in her voice. He realized she rarely spoke aloud, preferring to talk only to him. He’d noticed, the single time they’d danced together, that other Carpathians had flocked around her, but they had done most of the talking. She was very quiet, almost subdued, but her nature wasn’t at all passive.
Beneath that cool, quiet surface was a fiery, passionate woman, as fierce as any warrior he’d fought with. He knew, because he’d seen her dragon. Bright, crimson-red scales tipped in gold, she’d been a sight in the sky. He was in her mind and saw that will of iron, honed in the ice caves where her father had kept her prisoner.
His heart thudded hard when he made that connection. Of course she would think being forced to become his lifemate would be a form of imprisonment. How could she not? She craved freedom, and yet, the moment she surfaced, almost the very day, she had met him and she had known they were lifemates.
“Tell Mikhail and Gregori, I’ll do it,” he said, making his decision.
Beside him she stiffened, but she said nothing.
You know there is no other choice for me. If there’s a chance I can prevent bloodshed, I have to try.
Fen straightened, shaking his head. Clearly he wasn’t any happier than Branislava, but he’d done his duty, just like she would do, just as he chose to do.
Zev shrugged his shoulders. “We’re warriors, Fen. It’s what we do. Who we are.”
Fen nodded. “They’re taking a hell of a chance with your life, Zev.”
“For Mikhail to consider doing such a thing, knowing Branislava tied herself to me, he has to have good reasons. He’s our prince, I accepted that when I chose brotherhood. I’m sworn to protect the council and have a need to help those who are my people as well.”
He wanted to lie in the cool earth and not think anymore. He’d made his decision. “I’ll ask Mikhail to get the ancients to release our spirit weave,” he added to Branislava. “Just in case something goes wrong.”
3
Branislava abruptly pulled her hand from Zev’s and got up, moving away from him and across the room to stare out the window. She radiated hurt. Her long, thick hair was banded with fiery red over the red-gold strands. He caught a glimpse of those green eyes, now changing color, deepening to an intense blue green like the deepest sea. Stormy. Turbulent.
He swore he could see sparks flickering in the air around her body as she stood with her back to him. Fen and Dimitri stepped back, and Fen lifted his hand.
That’s our cue to exit. We’ll tell Mikhail of your decision. If you make it out of this one alive, Fen added, we’ll come for you next rising and bring you to the cave of healing.
Dimitri snickered. You have a lot to learn about women, Zev. She’s not the little submissive thing you thought, is she?
He had never thought of Branislava as submissive—exactly. He’d seen that fiery dragon of hers and known she was a fierce warrior. But, okay, maybe he’d been a little arrogant thinking he could make decisions—all the decisions. He was particularly good at making decisions, giving orders and having everyone follow them.
“Fen, before you go, what’s a ‘Dark Blood’? What does that mean?” The moment Zev uttered the question aloud, the room went silent. Still. Even the insects ceased their constant droning. Fen and Dimitri slowly turned back from the doorway to stare at him. Branislava turned and leaned against the wall, her eyes wide.
“Where did you hear that term?” Fen asked, walking back into the middle of the room.
“In the chamber, when the ancients spoke to me. What does it mean?” He frowned at their reaction. “Is something wrong? Mikhail must have heard them.”
Fen shook his head. “Mikhail summons them and he can understand them, but when they speak to the one who mingles blood with them, it is private, only between you and them. How did they come to use the term Dark Blood?”
Zev hesitated answering. He didn’t need any more bad news. War was brewing and he was expected to stop it. His woman was upset with him, and he was facing possible death on the next evening. Worse than all of that was the pain that shook him each time he took a breath.
Branislava moved, drawing his attention. She was wearing modern but very feminine clothes. Everything about her was feminine. Just looking at her helped drain the tension from his body. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. When she spoke, he heard music in her voice. When she moved, he heard the flow of water, that connection to the earth itself.
I didn’t mean to hurt you, Branka. I’m tired. He was so damned tired he thought about just lying right there on the bed and letting himself escape the persistent pain. But that’s no excuse for not thinking before I spoke.