Mikhail clasped Zev’s forearms in the welcoming of warriors. “You gave us all a scare, Zev. We weren’t sure you would make it.”
“Neither was I,” Zev admitted. He looked around the chamber. He needed to see her. To touch her. Where was she?
“You need rest, Zev,” Mikhail said.
As if he hadn’t figured that out for himself. Why did you wake me? he asked Fen.
“Dimitri and Fen feel more comfortable in the forest and both have homes there. We can accommodate your preference, forest, mountain or even the village itself, but you’ll still need care, at least until you’re stronger,” Mikhail continued.
He only wanted one person caring for him, and she was no longer in the chamber.
Where are you?
Was that him? He sounded possessive, even irritable that she dared leave without his knowledge. He didn’t want her out of his sight.
“Thank you, I appreciate the offer of a house. I’m still a little shaky.” He pinned Fen with his steel-colored eyes. He may have just come back from the dead, but he’d always gone his own way, fought his own battles and was a force to be reckoned with. There was another reason to awaken him before he was healed other than to present him for judgment before the ancient warriors.
Where are you, Branislava?
His snapped the question a second time, demanding an answer. He used his most commanding voice, one that brooked no refusal.
I need to reassure Tatijana that I live.
She had the same, perfect melodic voice, unaffected in the least by his domineering, idiotic short-tempered pack leader voice.
Wait for me.
He winced, hearing himself. He sounded like a dictator. He couldn’t help how he sounded. It should have been a plea, not a command. She wasn’t part of his pack, but he was used to obedience. Even the Lycan council took his word as law. More, he was annoyed that he didn’t understand why it was so necessary to have her with him. It made no sense to him and until it did, until he could figure out why it was so important to keep her close, she wasn’t going anywhere.
There was a small silence—a distancing—as if she’d been in his mind, but now had pulled away from him. His heart stuttered and he stretched, reached, unable to let go of her. He had been aware of the other men in the chamber talking around him, of the steady drip of water and the small hiss of flames, but now his complete concentration was on Branislava.
Zev willed her to return to him in spite of his overbearing, officious manner. He actually counted his heartbeats, waiting for her answer. Had he been strong enough, he would have gone after her. He knew he could follow her trail. Few eluded him once he was in pursuit.
He smelled her first, that blend of cinnamon, spice and honey. The moment she was close, he drew her scent into his lungs and was able to breathe fully again. He tasted the mixture that was unique to her, on his tongue, and instantly wanted—no needed—more.
He turned his head to gaze at her. The impact was the same as it always was when he looked at her. He hadn’t been cured of whatever spell he was under. Looking at her almost hurt she was so beautiful.
Thank you. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.
Zev held out his hand to her, needing to touch her physically. It was strange to need anything at all, let alone physical contact. He ignored Fen and Dimitri’s raised eyebrows when she didn’t move. He continued to hold out his hand. Waiting. He said nothing at all, just let her make up her mind. Willing her to reach for him.
Branislava put her hand in his. His fingers closed around hers. Her hand felt small and fragile in his. At once everything in him settled and he felt whole. Complete. That was confusing as well. He’d always managed to be just fine on his own.
“I’d like you to meet Gary Jansen,” Mikhail said.
“I remember him,” Zev said. “Our last meeting was during the fight with the rogue pack attacking all the women and children. He fought like a banshee. Without him, I’m not certain I’d have made it through that battle.”
As Gregori and Gary approached them, Mikhail added, “Gregori’s like an old mother hen fussing over her chick. Now that he has Gary to drive insane, maybe I’ll be lucky and he won’t fuss over me so much.”
“You’re not ever going to get that lucky,” Gregori shot back, in no way perturbed by Mikhail’s needling. It was clear the two men were old friends.
Mikhail shrugged, a small grin lighting his piercing, dark eyes. “I thought that might be the case. One can only hope.”
It was the first time Zev could ever recall seeing the prince, or Gregori, for that matter, relaxed.
He was aware of everything now as if his mixed blood had heightened every sense, as if both wolf and Carpathian were on the alert. The heat in the chamber. The water. The fact that Gary Jansen and Luiz Silva were both unattached males in very close proximity to Branislava. The breath hissed out of him in a long, slow growl under his breath.