Dark Storm (52 page)
His cock was aching, painfully swollen with anticipation. He trailed burning kisses from her mouth to her throat, his teeth nipping, tiny little bites that excited him even more. Her taste burst onto his tongue, spreading through his body like a lightning bolt. His mouth wandered across her shoulder, along her collarbone, down lower to her breast.
She arched her back, cradling his head as he tugged and rolled her nipples. She gave a little cry when his sharp teeth nipped her. His tongue instantly took the sting away. She moaned and pressed closer to his mouth. He suckled strongly and then went back to her sensitive nipples, pulling them taut, teasing them into tight peaks. Her hips moved restlessly.
Dax slipped one hand down the soft curvy contours of her body, over her narrow waist to her flat belly and lower still to her flared hips. His palm cupped her mound, his thumb moving in slow circles. She was wet, hot, as hungry for his body as he was for hers. His mouth wandered up her breast to the creamy slope while his fingers slipped inside the heat of her body. He lapped at the soft temptation with his tongue, his teeth scraping back and forth. Each time his teeth nipped, her sheath tightened around his fingers and bathed him with a fresh flood of liquid.
His teeth lengthened. His mouth watered. He sank his fangs into that pounding pulse and the taste of her burst through him like the eruption of a volcano. Her body reacted to the flash of pain, clamping down hard, and as pleasure raced through her, he felt her muscles ripple in need. She tasted exquisite, perfect, addicting. He took more than his fill, enough for a blood exchange. The third blood exchange. It took discipline to run his tongue across those pinpricks and seal them.
Dax turned her in his arms as he ran one sharp fingernail across the pounding pulse in his chest. He needed her mouth on him drinking his essence, his ancient blood bringing her fully into his world. Her lips moved against his chest, her tongue sliding over the tiny beads bubbling through the thin cut. He held his breath, cradling her head, everything in him going still. Waiting. Needing. Her mouth moving against his chest was the most erotic thing he had ever felt. Her body was naturally sensual, moving against his in restless hunger even as she accepted the invitation into his world.
He could barely make himself stop her, but his body was making its own urgent demands. He murmured softly to her. “Enough,
päläfertiilam
, ancient blood is rich.”
Her tongue lapped at his offering once before she lifted her head, her eyes slumberous, sexy, dark with desire. “I want you right now. I have to have you right now.”
Dax wasn’t prepared to argue with that demand. He urged her toward the side sweeping lounge. He pressed one hand on her back to force her to bend, to place her hands on the rock for balance. Her hair hung down around her body, her breasts swinging free. Her buttocks were rounded, and he rubbed and massaged the firm flesh before sliding his hand between her legs once again.
He pressed his aching, swollen flesh against the heat of her slick entrance. She moved her hips back, trying to force him to enter faster. His fingers flexed on her hips and then he dragged her body hard over his, at the same time, surging forward. She wailed, a low keening cry of pleasure, filling the chamber with her music as he buried himself over and over in her. Her sheath was alive with silken fingers gripping and squeezing, surrounding him with scorching heat. She was tight, so tight she strangled him, the friction exquisite. He took them both up hard and fast, a piston driving into her over and over. She gasped for breath, her body moving in perfect rhythm with his. He heard the change in her breathing, felt the rush of hot liquid and then her tight sheath clamped down on him, demanding, milking, as around him all that silky heat rippled with one powerful orgasm after another, taking him with her.
She chanted his name, a soft lilting cry that wrapped coils of emotion around his heart. Dax pulled her into his arms, dropping his head over hers, holding them both up while he calmed their hearts and pushed air into burning lungs. He sank back into the water, pulling her with him until he was seated on the natural rock and water swirled around his shoulders. Riley swept her hair up, wrung it out and knotted it on top of her head. She settled back beside him, stretching out her legs and looking around the cavern.
“It’s beautiful here, Dax. Really exceptional. I won’t forget it, ever.” Her voice trembled. She slipped her hand into his. “I’m not afraid. It’s just … unknown. What happens next?”
His fingers closed around hers. “We wait. Your body will fight the conversion, believing you’re dying. Try not to resist, just let yourself go. I’ll be with you every step of the way. Gary indicated there were things I couldn’t help you with.” He detested that. He would take on every bit of her pain if he could, but Gary had made it clear that it was impossible.
“Where do you want to live, Dax? We never talked about it.”
He drank her in, his gaze moving over her, studying her body for any signs of discomfort. “I would like to make our way back to the Carpathian Mountains and see the new prince.” He laughed softly at himself. “I guess he’s not really new. He’s been the prince for some time, but he’s new to me.”
“That sounds like fun. I’ve always wanted to travel to other places.”
“I’d like to see where you grew up,” he added. He brought her hand to his mouth and nibbled on her knuckles. He hoped the hot water would take some of the pain from her body when the time came. “After we’ve traveled the world, you can choose a place you want to make our home base.”
A look of alarm crossed Riley’s face. She tried to let go of his hand, but Dax tightened his grip. The Old One stirred. Dax pushed gently into her mind, and she pushed back hard to keep him out, vigorously shaking her head.
“I don’t want you to feel this with me, Dax.” Again, Riley tugged on her hand, her body hunching. “I can’t worry about how distressed you are.” She took a breath, pressed her hand to her stomach and turned her face away. “I should do this alone, in privacy.”
And she would. That was one of the things about her that turned him inside out. Dax waved his hand toward the rich, dark earth. The soil peeled back to provide a deep bed.
“I’m going to be sick.” Riley turned, leaning over the side of the pool, and wretched over and over.
When Dax put his hand on her back, her outside shell was cold while inside she was on fire, her organs twisting and reshaping. Her body convulsed and would have slipped beneath the water had he not caught her and laid her down on the natural lounge, so that the water covered her skin. Her muscles were hard knots, great lumps all over her body, rigid with tension. The springwater, fed by the volcano, was hot and helped to ease the knots from her body.
The pain came in great waves that sometimes lifted her up and slammed her down. Dax cushioned the fall while her body twisted and writhed. Her eyes were wide open, but she didn’t look at him. With glazed eyes she looked up at the gem-studded ceiling, the glittering rubies that flowed over their heads. She breathed through the pain, and Dax found himself breathing with her, trying to stay on top of the waves rather than succumb to them.
In one of the brief moments of reprieve, she touched his face, frowning as her hand came away with beads of blood. “I’m alright, Dax. I can do this,” she assured.
“I know you can,” Dax replied, his stomach in hard knots as well. The conversion was brutal and there was little he could do to help her. He’d ignored her command to stay out of her head. He tried to take her pain on himself, but it was impossible. Trying not to show his growing alarm, he brushed kisses over her eyes until the next big wave.
The Old One began to struggle for supremacy, needing to stop the terrible pain taking Riley. Dax had never experienced panic, but it was setting in fast. The hot water was no longer doing any good. Nothing could stop the violent convulsions, and it was dangerous with so much rock around. She was sick constantly, her body fighting to rid itself of toxins.
He lifted her into his arms.
I’ve got her, Old One. She isn’t dying
.
She is, you fool. We’re going to lose her.
Riley’s hand moved. Smoothed his hair. Soft amusement spilled into his mind despite the pain and fever raging in her body.
Men are definitely the weaker sex. I’m getting through it. Stop fighting you two.
That fast the amusement was gone as the next brutal wave took her, robbing her of breath, nearly tearing her out of his arms as her body locked rigid, nearly breaking her bones.
She was a child of the earth and he was counting heavily on that. He carried her to the open soil and floated them both down, placing her body in the cool dirt. Instantly the whispers started, female voices, soothing, reaching.
The Old One subsided, but Dax felt him reaching, touching the only thing he could—Riley’s soul. The threads binding Riley to Dax stretched to include the soul of the Old One.
Be certain
, Dax cautioned, shocked at the generosity of the old dragon. His time had passed, yet he had given his soul to Dax to aid in destroying evil. Now he was including Riley in that decision, offering his soul to her as well to get her through her journey into the Carpathian world.
I am certain. She is worthy of you. She can call me forth when she needs me.
The fire dragon was fierce about it. Dax and Riley were his. He would defend them with everything he was.
Binding Riley’s soul to his, the Old One wrapped himself in her, trying to do what Dax couldn’t—help to heal her faster. The soft whispers in the earth grew in volume. Dax noted Riley became calmer, the lines etched into her face easing as the voices soothed and the Old One pushed her organs to greater speed.
With one horrible wheezing gasp, one death rattle in her throat, one last wave of excruciating pain, the convulsions subsided. Riley was very still for a moment, and then she turned to him, her eyes wide, haunted. Exhaustion was on her face, a fine sheen of sweat dampening her body. Tiny droplets of blood beaded on her forehead and trickled down her body.
“Childbirth better not be this hard,” she whispered. “Or you’re doing it.”
He forced a smile. His mouth felt stiff. Even his jaw hurt. He kissed her hand, afraid of touching anything else. “That’s a deal. I’m sending you to sleep now. It’s safe. I’ll be with you every moment.”
As will I
, the Old One assured.
I’m holding you in my arms
, Annabel whispered.
You are safe
, the female voices added.
“I love you, Dax,” she whispered. “Thank you, Old One. You’ve given me a great gift.” She managed a small smile. Incredibly, her eyes were lit up with love when she looked at him. “I’m tired.”
For a moment, his throat was so clogged he could barely speak. He swallowed the lump. “When you wake, you’ll be fully in my world.”
Dax curled his body around Riley’s as he sent her into a deep sleep, his arms wrapped tight around her as the rich, healing soil poured over them. The safeguards were in place, and the Old One was on the watch. Mitro was dead and Arabejila could be at peace. He buried his face in the wealth of blue-black silk and inhaled her scent one last time before he succumbed to the sleep of his people. Life was good.
To rightly understand Carpathian healing chants, background is required in several areas:
1. The Carpathian view on healing
2. The Lesser Healing Chant of the Carpathians
3. The Great Healing Chant of the Carpathians
4. Carpathian musical aesthetics
5. Lullaby
6. Song to Heal the Earth
7. Carpathian chanting technique
1. THE CARPATHIAN VIEW ON HEALING
The Carpathians are a nomadic people whose geographic origins can be traced back to at least as far as the Southern Ural Mountains (near the steppes of modern-day Kazakhstan), on the border between Europe and Asia. (For this reason, modern-day linguists call their language “proto-Uralic,” without knowing that this is the language of the Carpathians.) Unlike most nomadic peoples, the wandering of the Carpathians was not due to the need to find new grazing lands as the seasons and climate shifted, or the search for better trade. Instead, the Carpathians’ movements were driven by a great purpose: to find a land that would have the right earth, a soil with the kind of richness that would greatly enhance their rejuvenative powers.
Over the centuries, they migrated westward (some six thousand years ago), until they at last found their perfect homeland—their
susu
—in the Carpathian Mountains, whose long arc cradled the lush plains of the kingdom of Hungary. (The kingdom of Hungary flourished for over a millennium—making Hungarian the dominant language of the Carpathian Basin—until the kingdom’s lands were split among several countries after World War I: Austria, Czechoslovakia, Romania, Yugoslavia and modern Hungary.)
Other peoples from the Southern Urals (who shared the Carpathian language, but were not Carpathians) migrated in different directions. Some ended up in Finland, which accounts for why the modern Hungarian and Finnish languages are among the contemporary descendents of the ancient Carpathian language. Even though they are tied forever to their chosen Carpathian homeland, the wandering of the Carpathians continues as they search the world for the answers that will enable them to bear and raise their offspring without difficulty.
