Ivory didn’t know how it happened, but she found herself with her arms circling his neck and her mouth fused to his, her body pressing close. She felt a shudder run through his body, and hers trembled in answer. She wanted to stay there, just like that, in that perfect moment, with happiness and hunger singing through her veins. She tried to quench the desire rising like a tidal wave, swamping her, but there was no way to stop the rising need.
His lips left hers and trailed seductively from the corner of her mouth to her chin, to her throat; a burning fire at the swell of her breast. She felt the scrape of his teeth and she moaned, the sound breathy and a little desperate. His tongue swirled over the soft mound. Her breath caught in her throat. Another sound escaped. Her fingers fisted in his glorious hair as his teeth sank deep and the erotic pain burst into a swelling pleasure that spread through her body faster than lightning strikes to settle into a throbbing beat pulsing between her legs.
She wound one leg around his and cradled his head, trying not to cry at the pleasure crashing through her. He savored the taste of her like a fine wine, not gulping or tearing, but drawing the essence of her life and the exotic flavor of her into him slowly. His hands slid down her back and pressed her hips forward so that she could feel him hard and hot against her. Just as she thought she might drown completely, or sob and plead with him to complete their bonding, his tongue swept over the pinpricks.
His breathing was ragged, his eyes hot and a little wild. He simply tore his shirt open and pressed the back of her head with his hand. His fingers curled into a fist, bunching her silken braid, holding her against him, her mouth over the tempting sound of his heart. His blood ebbed and flowed, beckoning, a terrible temptation she couldn’t resist.
She nuzzled against the heavy muscle of his chest, loving the feel of his strength and the depth of his response to her touch. With deliberate intent she stroked her tongue over his pounding pulse, wanting that Zen-like calm to go up in flames. She needed to know—absolutely know—that he not only wanted but needed her with the same growing intensity that she did him. She couldn’t be alone in this desperate need.
His hand pressed her head closer, a silent command to take his offering. She did another slow swirl of her tongue just to hear that deep male groan, to feel the jump of his pulse and the hammering of his heart. She let the fire take her, sweeping up through her feminine channel to her belly and breasts, while her teeth lengthened and she drew the scent of him into her lungs.
He whispered something low and guttural, the sound more important to her than the words. His fingers were magical in her hair and against her scalp, the nape of her neck, and one hand swept over her buttocks, pressing tightly as he half lifted her. The strength in his body matched that of his will and she couldn’t help the feminine thrill at the feeling of his hardness against her softness.
She took a breath, savoring the moment of exquisite lust wrapped with terrible love so sharp it pierced her heart. Then she sank her teeth into his body, connecting them in the way of lifemates. Richness spilled into her. Every cell soaked him up, took him inside. The taste of him burst against her tongue like fizzing bubbles.
Razvan gave another throaty moan, even sexier than the first one, the sound vibrating through her body, adding to the swirling mix of emotions welling up with her physical reaction to him. He moved her like no other could, getting under her skin and into her bones and now, the addictive taste of him nearly made her lose all perspective. She needed him, right there in the middle of nowhere with snow on the ground.
Not our first time. Our first time together I want to have hours with you, not a few minutes with our pack surrounding us and with danger at every turn
.
Even his denying her was sexy. The velvet voice, the slow heat, the stark need he didn’t try to hide from her. She let herself take one last taste and then she swept her tongue across the pinpricks and simply stood, letting his strength hold her up when her entire body was trembling.
“You are right,” she said with regret.
“We need to go home soon.” He whispered the words in her ear.
She liked the sound of that. More, she loved the husky note in his voice that told her he was every bit as shaken as she was. For an answer, she circled his neck with her arms and just held him, just absorbed him into her.
The pack grew restless, circling them and nudging at their legs in inquiry. Ivory found herself smiling. “The children are growing impatient, as children do.”
To her consternation his hand slid down to her abdomen and rested there, fingers splayed wide. “You will look so beautiful with our child in you, should we ever manage to destroy our enemy.”
Ivory had never considered the possibility of a child. Her entire life had been devoted to one thing—ridding the world of an evil monster. The idea that she might have a lifemate and a child, that she could someday live with a semblance of normalcy, shocked her. She wasn’t entirely certain she could handle it.
Razvan laughed softly and leaned down to feather his lips lightly over hers. “Do not worry, my little warrior. There will never be normal for either of us, but we will make our own rules and our life will suit us just fine.”
“Let’s get this done then,” Ivory said.
13
M
ikhail Dubrinsky greeted Razvan and Ivory from his long, wraparound verandah. The house was large, nestled in the trees, blending into the forest so well that Ivory knew with a certainty that most people would never spot it unless the prince eased the safeguards around it. She was dressed in her warrior garb, with the wolves riding her body as tattoos. She preferred that to having him look too closely at her pack. Razvan stayed close to her, just a step behind, as if he was her guard, rather than her partner. She had tried twice to lag in her step to force him to walk beside her, but once Razvan made up his mind about something, nothing stopped him.
“Good evening,” Mikhail said. “
Sívad olen wäkeva, hän ku piwtä
—may your heart stay strong, hunters,” he added in a more traditional greeting.
Ivory murmured a greeting, and glanced over her shoulder to look at Razvan. She couldn’t feel nerves in him, or sense that he was in any way distressed over visiting the prince of the Carpathian people, yet he maintained his distance—that precise two steps to the side and behind her pace. His gaze moved restlessly over the house, the grounds, searched the trees and quartered every inch of their surroundings as if he was looking for a trap. His face was sober, mouth in a firm line. He was making her uneasy with the way he was acting, when they should have been safe so deep in Carpathian territory.
What is it?
She sent a smile to the prince to cover the fact that Razvan had yet to speak.
I do not know, but he is not alone. We are surrounded
.
Well, of course, she’d known there would be others. Gregori for certain would never allow a meeting with the prince and his lifemate without his presence. Now she was more than uneasy.
“You welcome us, yet your people seem to be circling into position,” Razvan said.
His voice was hard, harder than Ivory had ever heard him speak. Now she knew why he had dropped back. He expected an attack, not from the front but from behind or either side. He wore a look that told her he meant business, and suddenly their friendly visit wasn’t so friendly after all. In that moment she knew he was entirely capable of killing the prince should the Carpathian make a move toward her.
She took a small step back and away from Razvan, moving quickly from woman to warrior. Her bow came up slightly, the arrow angled just enough to cover the prince’s heart. “We thought only to thank you for your aid,” she said. “Nothing more. We will leave if we are not welcome.”
The prince stepped into the open area, away from the long, smooth railing out to where she would have a clear shot at him. He kept his hands out away from his sides. “You are most welcome. My lifemate is inside and wishes to meet you. She cannot get up to greet you properly and had hoped you would have the time to visit with her.”
He looked around the surrounding forest and sent out a call to the hunters surrounding his home.
These are my guests and they are welcome
. There was no mistaking the edge of anger in his voice. “Please, accept my apologies and come inside.”
Ivory glanced at Razvan. “It is up to you. If you do not feel welcome here, I have no wish to stay.” She did want news though. She needed news. If they were going to effectively hunt Xavier, they needed every detail the Carpathian people could provide.
Gregori came out onto the porch, his arms folded across his chest. “Every time I take my eyes off you, you make yourself a target,” he said to Mikhail with a small grin. He lifted his gaze to the Dragonseeker. “When the prince wishes you to visit and guarantees your safety, it is a great honor.”
Ivory’s eyes flashed a single searing heat. “Only if one trusts the prince.”
“Do you?” Mikhail asked, his gaze holding hers steady. “Do you trust me?”
Ivory was silent a moment, studying his face. He was nothing like his brother. And little like his father. She took a breath and felt Razvan move inside her mind. Supporting her. Holding her steady when the past was too close. She felt the brush of Razvan’s mind in hers, strong and enduring and totally for her. No one else. Razvan’s loyalty was utterly hers and belonged to no one else.
“Yes.”
Mikhail stepped aside and gestured toward his front door with a slight bow. “Please enter my home as my honored guests.” His gaze slid over Razvan. “Both of you.”
Razvan moved up then, past Ivory, his senses flaring out to inspect the occupants of the house. There were two women and several men inside. He halted at the door and glanced toward Gregori.
“Do you think we would prepare a trap in the very home of the prince with his lifemate present?” Gregori hissed, his silver eyes slashing at Razvan.
Razvan didn’t flinch under the reprimand. “Tell me you would not be wary of so many distrustful people. Tell me you would not protect your lifemate.” His tone was mild, but there was heat in his eyes. “I can feel their suspicion like a weight pressing down on both of us. We need only to give our thanks and leave. We ask for nothing from any of you.”
A woman with striped red and gold hair burst from the inside of the house, skidding to a halt just outside the door, ignoring the restraining hand of her lifemate, a tall, imposing warrior with steel eyes and a grim mouth. “Razvan. Please.”
Razvan blinked. Inside he crumbled. Went to pieces. His heart. His soul. For a moment his world narrowed to this one woman. The person he had given up everything for. His life. His soul. His sanity. Everything.
“Natalya.” He breathed her name, unsteady.
His vision blurred as he stood feeling naked and vulnerable in front of her. It was one thing to talk to her from a distance, in a dream world where he lay beneath the ground safe from the recrimination that must be in her heart. But to have her stand in front of him, his twin sister, the one Xavier had systematically fed false information to and had tricked into giving him spells using Razvan . . .
Ivory surged into his mind. Into his heart.
I am with you
.
Four words, but that show of unity meant everything to him. She meant it. Ivory stood with him, tall and straight, a warrior without comparison, utterly proud of him. Her fallen angel—her lifemate.
Natalya’s eyes swam with tears. “Razvan, please don’t leave.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat threatening to choke him. One hand came up of its own volition and touched that bright hair. Natalya flung herself into his arms, weeping. He closed his arms around her and held her to him, shocked that after so many years, after so much suffering, the bond between them had not been completely broken.
Ivory stayed in his mind, holding him just as close, easing the terrible weight of responsibility that poured into his mind. He had long ago dealt with and accepted his choices, but to see his sister standing alive and well, healthy and happy, was overwhelming.
He held her at arm’s length and looked her over carefully. “You look good, Natalya. Young.” So young. He was her twin, yet he was so much older.
You have earned every wonderful line
. Ivory slipped her hand into his when he dropped his arms away from his sister. His fingers tangled and clung.
“This is Vikirnoff, my lifemate.” Natalya rubbed the tall warrior’s arm, the movement mesmerizing, as if she stroked a talisman that held her together.
And maybe, Razvan decided, that’s what the man was doing. Ivory was certainly holding him together. “It is good she has you.” He meant it. Whatever Vikirnoff might think of him, he was obviously fiercely protective of Natalya. And if the man felt one tenth of what he felt for Ivory, Natalya was in good hands.
Razvan brought Ivory’s hand to his chest. She didn’t feel comfortable with displays of affection, yet she didn’t pull away. She stood beside him, her warmth enveloping him, steadying him, while he pressed her palm over his rapidly beating heart. “This is Ivory—
sívam és sielam
—my heart and soul.” He brought her fingertips to his lips. “Ivory, my sister, Natalya, and her lifemate, Vikirnoff.”
It was amazing to him to be able to stand there, free, in Natalya’s presence, unafraid that he was providing bait for a trap that Xavier had set. But more than anything he felt pride in the woman at his side. He felt that with her he had everything. She had somehow turned a bleak, hopeless life into moments of pure joy—such as this one.
“It is wonderful to finally meet you,” Ivory said. “Your brother speaks of you often. And thank you for aiding our wolf pack, as well as giving us blood when we were in such need.”
Ivory followed Natalya and Vikirnoff into the house. Power surged through her the moment she entered. She glanced at Razvan to see if he’d felt that strong ripple of energy. He nodded silently at her, obviously uncomfortable that Gregori was behind them.