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Dark Destiny(93)

By:Christine Feehan


Father Mulligan glanced at Martin, who was slumped on the bench with a slack expression. He drew away from Nicolae. “It isn’t necessary. I’ll keep my distance from them.”

“Make certain that you do.” Nicolae “pushed” with his voice, making sure the priest would stay away from the vampires. He waved his hand to wake Martin even as he dissolved, streaming away from the city in a trail of vapor.





Chapter Fourteen




Destiny lay as still as a corpse in a grave so shallow, it was a testament to her weakness. He had known she was exhausted, but she had hidden the full extent of it from him. No hunter, knowing vampires were in the area and the resting place compromised, would have gone to ground in such a way.

Nicolae waved aside the thin layer of soil and closed his eyes at what he saw lying there. Anger swirled through him. Mixed with heartache. She looked terribly young and vulnerable lying there with her skin translucent, almost gray. Droplets of blood had seeped from her pores, and in her exhaustion she had been unable to summon the strength to heal her body any further. The poison had been dealt with, but it had come from the infected vampire and her tainted blood had embraced the dark gift. She looked as if she were slipping away from him.

Nicolae didn’t awaken her there. He wanted her out of the damp, tiny space, a crawl space of near death where the odor of blood held the stench of the vampire. The blackened carcass of the lizard remained along with the black strings of tentacles, a reminder of the double attack. Destiny didn’t belong in this place of death. He gathered her into his arms. She seemed light and insubstantial. The confrontation with evil had weakened her beyond her limits. He held her to him, against the breadth of his chest, wanting to shelter her from every struggle. He looked down at her face and felt the sting of unexpected tears.

Destiny had been through so much in her life. As her lifemate, he wanted to protect her from all harm, shield her from all adversity. He was an ancient warrior. His protection was considerable, yet he could never bring himself to force Destiny to give up hunting the undead. She needed to know she was strong enough. She needed to know she had control. She needed to be able to rid the world of as many of the vile creatures as she could. He knew Vikirnoff didn’t understand. Most likely no Carpathian, male or female, would understand. But he knew Destiny. He knew her heart and soul. He knew every scar in her mind. The wounds were deep, and he couldn’t get rid of them for her. In truth, he didn’t want to get rid of them anymore. He realized that those memories, that horrendous life she had endured and survived, had made her the courageous woman she was. She had been shaped and honed in the fires of hell and she had come through it, a compassionate woman who sought to protect, with every breath in her body, those she allowed into her life.

He took her from the underground burrow out into the open air so that the gentle wind slipped over her body, ruffled her hair and clothes, breathed a clean scent over her. Nicolae, aching with love, took her out over the mountains, made his way through the series of chambers until they were home in their cave of shimmering pools and glittering gems. He waved his hand so that the carved urn leapt to life, flickering and dancing, casting shadows on the walls and across the surface of the water. Healing aromas filled the space, mingling together to provide a soothing peace.

Nicolae removed his clothing, removed hers and carried her down into the deepest and hottest of the pools. With his lips against her skin, he whispered to her softly to awaken. “I love you, my lady,” he murmured. Needing to say the words to her. She could reach inside him and find the emotion, deep and real inside his heart and soul, but he wanted to declare it.

She stirred. Her heart beat into his hand. Air rushed through her lungs. Her lashes fluttered. Lifted. Unbelievably, she smiled at him. “I was dreaming of you.”

He kissed her. He couldn’t help himself. His mouth lingered over hers, robbing her of breath, of air. “That would be impossible, little one. The sleep of our people is a mortal death. There is no brain activity.”

“Nevertheless.” She said it complacently. Her gaze drifted over his face with a touch of possession. “I was worried about you.” Her fingers found the blackened slash in his shoulder. “I felt this hit you. Does it hurt?”

He shook his head. “I am going to sit down in the water. It is hot, but it will do you good. I need to replace your blood.”

“You did not feed.” It was a chastisement.

“Vikirnoff wanted me to use Martin, but I thought you might give me a lecture. Having never experienced such a thing, I thought it better not to start off our life together that way. Do not worry, my brother will provide. He is feeding now.”