Blaze joined them, bringing a little teapot and several cups along with a tray of scones. She goaded Emeline into drinking the tea, but only Genevieve had a scone.
We need a solution to this fast or we’re going to lose her, Charlotte said.
Tariq was silent for a moment while Charlotte and Genevieve were introduced to Blaze. I agree, sielamet. I’m working on it.
The four women sat together until dawn was creeping into the night, slowly peeling back the dark to streak the early morning hours in gray. Blaze helped Emeline back to bed, and Genevieve, yawning, left. Only then did Tariq come for her, wrapping her in his arms and taking her to their bed in the huge Victorian house that was to be her home.
15
Carpathian men were beautiful; there was no doubt about it. They were also dangerous and very, very scary. Charlotte should have been thrilled at being surrounded by the tall, broad-shouldered men with their long, dark hair and faces that seemed carved from stone, and who could be models for some of the most famous sculptures. She wasn’t thrilled. At. All.
She found herself looking at Tariq in an entirely different way. From the moment she’d met him, she thought of him as Tariq Asenguard, the sophisticated, civilized owner of a string of extremely successful nightclubs. He wore suits like he was born for them. He spoke numerous languages and was well educated. She didn’t in any way associate him with the other hunters. Not until she saw him with them. Not until they were crowding around her with their predatory eyes and merciless expressions.
She tried to control her heart so that it didn’t sound like a runaway train, but it was difficult. She found herself studying each face. They had come to the workroom, surrounding her and the ancient carousel that Tariq had set up in the middle of the room. It was a work of art. A piece of history. She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off of it, and there was something about it that made her want to go stroke her hand over one of the horses.
There were four horses and four chariots. Each was hand carved and painted in colors made from flowers, colors very difficult to duplicate unless one knew exactly what he was doing. The horses and chariots were suspended from chains and as the carousel was turned, they would swing out so the rider could thrust his spear or shoot his arrow through a small ring to practice his battle skills.
She had a mad desire to fling herself on the ancient steeds and try her luck at spearing the ring. The carousel was beautiful. It deserved to stay in existence so everyone could see it and enjoy it. There was no platform, just the horses and chariots on chains that would swing out when the carousel was pulled by men or horses in a circle. The idea that the carousel was created centuries earlier and that men and women from that time had sat on these very horses and stood on the chariots as they were turned in order to practice shooting an arrow through a ring or thrusting a spear through it was overwhelming to her. The carousel connected the present to the past.
Hard fingers shackled her wrist and she glanced up, startled. Tariq’s eyes glared down at her, nearly glowing red. Her heart jumped hard in her chest. Definitely the predator. He was focused on her. Solely, completely on her. She glanced around her at the other men.
Lojos, Tomas and Mataias were extraordinarily handsome, with their tall, broad-shouldered bodies that screamed of strength. Their eyes blazed with power and they looked . . . dangerous.
She sucked in her breath when her gaze turned toward Dragomir. He was the scariest one of all, bigger than the others, and they were all big, with his roped muscles and flaming golden eyes, his long hair that seemed as wild as he was, the scarred tattoos that ran from his neck under his shirt—she knew those words carved into his body and inked meant something to him, something that boded ill for others, perhaps. He was clearly far different from the others. She didn’t think any of them were easy in his company, and that said quite a lot. Tariq had said as much to her just the night before.
There was Maksim, Blaze’s lifemate. Blaze had told Emeline, Genevieve and her very funny stories about him, talking as if he were the sweetest man alive, but looking at him now, Charlotte thought maybe she’d been exaggerating about that sweetness. There were a couple of others, men she hadn’t yet been introduced to, but they looked as grim and forbidding as the others, and just as Tariq was focused on her, so were all the hunters gathered in the large room.
The room had been large. Now it appeared quite small and most of the air was gone. She glanced behind her, trying to see the door. It looked far away and there were two hunters between the exit and her. One was Siv, with his unusual eyes that swirled from blue to green. He looked so scary she started shaking. He also looked as if he knew she wanted to run.
Sielamet. Stop. Tariq’s voice brushed intimately in her mind. It was a command, but it was also a reassurance.
Sielamet. My soul. He called her that all the time. It always made her feel special. Loved, even. It was there in his voice when he used that word, used his language. Still, what did she really know about him other than he made her body come alive when no one else ever had?
Breathe. You’re holding your breath and scaring yourself. Look at me.
If she did, she would be lost. She was always lost when she looked at him, but if she didn’t, they would stand here until she did. Surrounded by the other hunters. They were all so much taller than she was and stronger. They formed walls around her with no way out.
Charlotte forced her gaze up Tariq’s chest to his throat. She could see the faint strawberry—the mark her mouth had put on him earlier, when he’d first awakened her in the bed upstairs. It made her blush to think these men knew she’d done that—that she had been so out of control and wild she had left her brand on him. His jaw was strong, a man’s jaw, and that was strangely always a trigger for her. The moment she looked at his jawline, her body came to life. Quickly, her gaze continued up to his mouth, and she nearly groaned aloud. That mouth always took her breath. So beautiful. So perfect. He knew how to use his mouth. She didn’t dare stop there. Deliberately she stared at his aristocratic nose.You are not looking at me. Give me your eyes, Charlotte. You need to take a deep breath and look at your lifemate.
If she took a breath, she would draw his scent into her lungs. She knew that. If she looked into his eyes she would drown in him. Give herself to him all over again right there surrounded by these predators, knowing he was one of them. She’d asked for this, wanted him to allow her to try to track Vadim. Even this morning, in their bed, sprawled across his body, his cock still deep inside her, both sated for a brief time, she’d assured him she could do it. She needed to free the children and Emeline. Free herself from his taint. It had seemed such a good idea then. But now . . .
I was wrong, Tariq. She refused to raise her gaze that scant bit to look into his eyes. I don’t want to be in here.
Charlotte. Look at me now.
He wasn’t asking. He’d never used that voice on her. Not ever. There was no possibility of disobeying him. A shudder went through her body, but she lifted her gaze to his. His eyes were gorgeous. Unusual. Midnight blue, glittering like gems. Giving her more, so much more. They were warm with feeling he rarely showed in front of others, feelings for her. It was impossible not to see she belonged to him. Was loved by him. Protected by him. He gave her that, and like always, just like she knew she would, she believed.
Now breathe for me, sielamet, and let’s get this done if you’re still willing to do it.
So intimate, his touch. The way he poured into her mind and filled every lonely spot inside of her. She’d felt so alone and different for so long, never quite fitting in anywhere until Tariq. Whatever the pull between them, that connection, she knew, even standing in this room surrounded by predators, she was willing to risk everything for him.
Charlotte took a breath. The moment she did, Tariq stepped closer to her; his arm moved around her waist and drew her front to his side beneath his wide shoulder, locking her to him. All the while, his scent went deep, comforting her like it always did.
“I’m going to put my hand on the horse and scan it before you touch it,” Tariq said. “I don’t want to take a chance that another sliver could enter your body. The healer has been sent for but it may be some time before he can come.”
“Let me,” Dragomir said.
When the Carpathian spoke, Charlotte couldn’t help the little shiver that went down her spine. He spoke quietly, his voice pitched low, but that tone went straight into one’s body and mind. It was as if he could get inside a person, into their skin and bones and just take over. It was frightening, his voice, frightening yet very, very compelling. She wasn’t the only one to feel it. These men were not led. She knew that. Not a single one of them, yet they all looked at Dragomir with respect. Warily, but with respect.
“It is my duty,” Tariq said, his voice equally low. Not asking. Simply stating.
Dragomir shook his head. “Your first duty is to ensure your lifemate’s health and survival. Her safety. If this thing is cursed in some way by Vadim and his brothers, then you cannot chance being infected.”
The others nodded in agreement. Dragomir waited, and that told Charlotte he was equally respectful of Tariq. Tariq stepped away from the carousel, taking Charlotte with him. Dragomir, without hesitation, closed in on the horses and chariots. His larger body stood between her and the carousel deliberately. The other hunters pressed closer as well, forming a protective ring around her.