Dark Wolf(85)

The breath she had exchanged with him continued to move through his  body. He could almost track its progress as if that precious air was a  stream of white finding its way through a maze until it filled his  lungs. He actually felt her breath enter his lungs, inflating them.

I'm not dreaming, am I?

She smiled at him. A man might kill for one of her smiles.

No, Zev, you're not dreaming. You are in the sacred cave of warriors. Mother Earth called the ancients to witness your rebirth.

He had no idea what she was talking about, but things were beginning to  come back to him. Sange rau was a combination of rogue wolf and vampire  blood mixed together. Hän ku pesäk kaikak was Lycan and Carpathian blood  mixed. He wasn't certain what or where the sacred caves of warriors was  and he didn't like the word rebirth.

Why can't I move?

You are coming to life. You have been locked away from us for some time.

Not from you.

She had been with him while he was locked in that dark place of pain and  madness. If there was one thing he knew for absolute certain, it was  that she had been there. He couldn't move on, because he hadn't been  able to leave her.

He remembered that voice, soft and pleading. Stay. Stay with me. Her  voice had locked them both in a sea of agony that seemed endless.

Not endless. You are awakening.

He might be waking, but the pain was still there. He took a moment to  let himself absorb it. She was correct, the pain was subsiding to a  tolerable level, but the heat surrounding him was burning his body.  Without the air she'd given him, he would be choking, strangling,  desperate.

Think what body temperature you wish. You are Carpathian. Embrace who you are.

Her voice never changed. She didn't seem impatient with his lack of  knowledge. Before, when she was a distance from him, she hadn't been  aloof, she simply waited. Now she felt different, as if she expected  something from him.

What the hell? If she said to think about a different body temperature  other than the one burning his flesh from his bones, he could give her  that. He chose a normal temperature and held that in his mind. She spoke  to him without words, telepathically, so she must be able to see he was  doing as she asked.

At once, the burning sensation ceased to be. He took a gasping breath.  Heat filled his lungs, but there was air as well. He knew her. Only one  woman could speak to him as she did. Mind to mind. He knew her now. How  could he have ever forgotten who she was?

Branislava.

How had she gotten trapped with him in such a terrible place? He sent up  a small prayer of thanks that he hadn't left her there. She had been  the one to whisper to him. Stay. Stay with me. He should have recognized  her voice, a soft sweet melody that was forever stamped into his bones.

You recognize me. She smiled at him again and he felt her fingers brush  along his jaw and then go up to his forehead, brushing back strands of  hair falling into his face.

Her touch brought pleasure, not pain. A small electrical current ran  from his forehead down to his belly, tightening his muscles. The current  went lower, coiling heat in his groin. He could feel something besides  pain and, wouldn't you know it would be desire?

It seemed absurd to him that he hadn't known all along who she was. She  was the one woman. The only woman. The woman. He'd known women, of  course. He'd lived too long not to. He was a hunter, an elite hunter,  and he was never in one place long. He didn't form attachments. Women  didn't rob him of breath or put him under spells. He didn't think about  them night and day. Or fantasize. Or want one for his own.

Until her. Branislava. She wasn't Lycan. She didn't talk much. She  looked like an angel and moved like a temptress. Her voice beckoned like  a siren's call. She had looked at him with those unusual eyes and  smiled with that perfect mouth, inciting all sorts of erotic fantasies.  When they danced, just that one unforgettable time, her body had fit  into his, melted into his, until she was imprinted there for all time,  into his skin, into his bones.

Every single rule he'd ever made about women in the long years he had  lived had been broken with her. She'd robbed him of breath. Put him  under her spell. He thought of her day and night and fantasized far too  much. He wanted her in every way possible. Her body. Her heart. Her  mind. Her soul. He wanted her all for himself.

How did you get here? In this place?

It alarmed him that he might have somehow dragged her down into that sea  of agony because he'd been so enamored with her. Could a man do that?  Want a woman so much that when he died, he took her with him? The idea  was appalling. He'd lived honorably, at least he'd tried to, and he'd  never hurt a woman who hadn't been a murdering rogue. The idea that he  might have taken this woman into hell with him was disturbing on every  level.

I chose to come with you, she replied, as if it was the most normal  thing in the world. Our spirits are woven together. Our fate is  entwined.

I don't understand.

You were dying and there was no other way to save your life. You are precious to us all, a man of honor, of great skill.

Zev frowned. That made no sense. He had no family. He had his pack, but  two of his pack members, friends for so many long years, had betrayed  and tried to murder him. He was mixed blood now and few of his kind  would accept him.

Us all? he echoed. Who would that be?

Do you hear them calling to you?

Zev stayed very still, tuning his acute hearing to get past the  heartbeat of the earth, the flow of water beneath him, reaching for the  distant voices. Men's voices. They seemed to be all around him. Some  chanted to him in an ancient language while others throat-chanted as the  monks from long ago had done. Each separate word or note vibrated  through him, just as the heartbeat of the earth had.

They summoned him just as the earth had. It was time. He couldn't find  any more excuses and it seemed no one was going to let him vegetate  right where he was. He forced himself to open his eyes.

He was underground in a cave. That much was evident immediately. There  was heat and humidity surrounding him, although he didn't feel hot. It  was more that he saw it, those bands of heat undulating throughout the  immense chamber.

Great stalactites hung from the high ceiling. They were enormous  formations, great long rows of teeth of various sizes. Stalagmites rose  from the floor with wide bases. Colors wound around the columns from the  flaring bases to the pointed tips. The floor was worn smooth with  centuries of feet walking on it.

Zev recognized that he was deep beneath the earth. The chamber, although  enormous, felt hallowed to him. He lay in the earth itself, his body  covered by rich black loam. Minerals sparkled in the blanket of dirt  over him. Hundreds of candles were lit, high up on the walls of the  chamber, illuminating the cavern, casting flicking lights across the  stalagmites, bringing the muted color to life.                       
       
           



       

His heart began to pound in alarm. He had no idea where he was or how he  got there. He turned his head and instantly his body settled. She was  there, sitting beside him. Branislava. She was truly as beautiful as he  remembered her. Her skin was pale and flawless. Her lashes were just as  long, her lips as perfect as in his dream. Only her clothes were  different.

He was afraid if he spoke aloud she would disappear. She looked as  ethereal as ever, a creature from long ago, not meant for the world he  resided in. The chanting swelled in volume and he reached for her hand,  threading his fingers tightly through hers before he turned his head to  try to find the source-or sources-of that summons.

There were several men in the room, all warriors with faces that had  seen too many battles. He felt comfortable with them, a part of them, as  if, in that sacred chamber, they were a brotherhood. He knew their  faces, although most he'd never met, but he knew the caliber of men they  were.

He recognized four men he knew well although it felt as if a hundred  years had passed since he'd seen them. Fenris Dalka was there. He should  have known he would be. Fen was his friend, if someone like him could  have friends. Beside him was Dimitri Tirunul, Fen's brother, and that  too wasn't surprising. The brothers were close. Their last name was  different only because Fen had taken the last name of a Lycan in order  to better fit in during his years with them.

Two figures stood over another hole in the ground where a man lay  looking around him just as Zev was. The man, in what could have been an  open grave, looked pale and worn, as if he'd been through hell and had  come out the other side. Zev wondered idly if he looked the same way. It  took a few moments before he recognized Gary Jansen. Gary was human and  he'd waded through rogue wolves to get to Zev during a particularly  fierce battle. Zev was very happy to see him alive.

He was familiar with Gregori Daratrazanoff. Usually Gregori wasn't far  from his prince, but he hovered close to the man who struggled to sit  up. Gregori immediately reached down and gently helped Gary into a  sitting position. The man on the other side of the "grave" had the same  look as Gregori. This had to be another Daratrazanoff.