Dark Celebration (Dark #17)

Dark Celebration (Dark #17) Page 7

Barack, in the form of an owl, circled the house he was occupying with Syndil. There didn't appear to be a disturbance, but his heart was still in his throat. Something didn't feel right. He reached out to her on their private, very intimate telepathic band, but she didn't respond. He felt her presence, felt her focus-her entire concentration elsewhere-a good sign as Syndil would have been broadcasting waves of fear had she been frightened.

He dropped down fast, shapeshifting as he plummeted, and he hit the porch nearly sprinting, needing to see her. She was still so emotionally fragile and their relationship was very tentative at times. She had a tendency to retreat even from him. Ever since the brutal attack by Savon, a trusted family member who had turned vampire, she'd had problems with trust and especially intimacy.

"Syndil!" he called out to her, striding quickly through the small cabin.

There was no answer, only the sound of his own heart thundering in his ears. He inhaled sharply, scented the two leopards and... He stilled, fighting for calm. He inhaled again. Blood. Not just any blood-Syndil's blood.

He shoved open the door to the bedroom to find the two large cats, Sasha and Forest, curled on the bed. They both raised their heads and gave him a long, slow appraisal. Sasha bared her teeth while Forest openly snarled.

Barack's heart jumped. The leopards always traveled with the band and never acted aggressive toward any member of the band, not even when they were in a bad temper.

He snarled back at them, closed the door and whirled around, racing back out into the night. He inhaled again and found her scent-the direction she'd taken. At once he shifted on the run, taking to the air to move more swiftly, his heart pounding in fear for her. He followed her scent through the forest until he came upon a clearing of scorched ground. A terrible battle had been fought here. Trees were bent and twisted, leaves shriveled, and in places the ground was scarred from the acid burn of the unholiest of creatures-the undead. He caught sight of her and his breath stilled in his lungs.

Barack watched the woman kneeling on the blackened ground, her arms spread wide, palms hovering just above the earth. Snow fell softly over her, coating her hair and clothes so that she appeared to sparkle. From his angle he could see the concentration on her face, her eyes closed, long lashes forming two thick crescents. She appeared serene, her entire energy focused on her task. She looked beautiful-a little fey, her black hair gleaming beneath the coating of snow, flakes on her long lashes and her sinfully perfect mouth whispering a crooning song of hope and encouragement to the barren land.

He stood, his heart pounding in his chest, the terror of not finding her safe in their home receding while love stormed in to fill every part of his heart and soul until there was no longer room for any other emotion. Syndil. His lifemate. Of course she would be healing the earth. She would have heard it moaning in pain, the evil spreading slowly through the soil, poisoning and burning every living thing. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever

seen-could ever imagine. Beneath her hands, green grass sprang up through the snow. Small shrubs and trees pushed their way to the surface as she sang softly, coaxing growth.

Desari, with her pure, incredible voice, could bring peace to people. With just her voice she could wrap an audience in satin sheets and candlelight, and make them remember old loves and tarnished hopes. Syndil's voice also held great power, but hers was bound to the earth. Scarred and damaged lands called to her. She could never ignore their summons. Few could hear the screams and cries as she did, and even fewer could heal where blisters and lesions lay raw upon the land.

Syndil astonished him with her power. He watched as she shifted left, then right, moving up the slope, touching a badly damaged tree, enticing new growth, expunging the hideous results the undead had left behind in the soil. She stood and turned toward the small creek¨C the water no longer running, but standing still even though the creek bed was filled to capacity. Dark brownish-red stains covered the surface of the water, and tentacles spread out from a discolored gelatin-like ball altered the composition of the water. Thousands of tiny white parasites made up the round globe, and many used the tentacles as tiny arteries and veins moving out away from where the rest congealed in a large mass.

Lifting her hands, Syndil began to sing, oblivious to Barack's presence, her entire focus on the damage to the land. He always knew the moment she was near, yet she hadn't the slightest idea her lifemate was close by. It should have upset him, but he couldn't help the surge of pride in her. Whenever she committed to healing the earth, she was totally, unswervingly focused, often expending far more energy than she could afford. Just as a healer of people was left drained and swaying with weariness, so was Syndil when she healed the earth.

Her voice swelled with power, and the parasites writhed as if in pain. The jellied mass shook ominously. Barack moved into a better position to defend his lifemate. The air reeked, the smell so noxious, in spite of the falling snow, the foul odor nearly gagged him. Barack inched closer to peer at the congealed mass. The creatures looked almost like maggots, but much smaller. The stench of evil permeated the entire area.

He looked around him, quartering the area with every one of his senses, scanning for signs of an enemy. Was this the aftermath of the vampires who had died here during the attempted assassination of the prince? Or was it another, much newer threat? He stepped closer to Syndil, stretching out his hand to her, but as her voice filled the night with her strength, the small parasites began to explode, much like popcorn, leaping out of the jelly ball in an effort to get away from her voice. Once in the exposed air, they burst.

Barack's hand fell to his side. He looked at the trees, twisted, bent and blackened, the sap oozing out of numerous lesions, congealed with the same brown-red gel. Parasites bubbled up from half-a-dozen trees to drop lifeless to the ground. Barack waved his hand toward the sky. At once the wind picked up and the air charged, crackling and snapping. A whip of lightning flicked across the layer of carcasses in the snow, turning them instantly to black ash. With a howl of fury, the wind scattered the remains in all directions while the snow

rained down and once more covered the earth with a pristine white blanket.

For the first time, Syndil turned her head, her large, dark eyes soft-almost liquid. A ghost of a smile curved her mouth, drawing his attention to the beautiful shape of her lips, and his heart clenched, a vise squeezing hard enough to hurt. All those years he had spent with her, never once realizing she had been driving his need for sex. Never once had he looked at her any way other than as a foster sister, yet all along she had kept his emotions safeguarded. It was no wonder that not once had he been satisfied with another woman. It had become laughable over the centuries, the terrible need clawing at him until he thought he might go insane if he didn't touch a woman's skin, bury his body deep within hers. There had been so many willing, yet he was trapped in some kind of mindless torment, needing them-yet none could fulfill his desires.

At times, Syndil still felt he had betrayed her, but at last he understood the endless cycle that had been happening to him. Looking at her, inhaling her scent, the brush of her hair or fingers turned his body into a hard painful ache that only she could assuage. He'd had a hard-on for so many years he could no longer count, and looking at her only made it happen all over again. Only now she was his-a gentle, sexy woman he didn't deserve, but who somehow managed to love him all the same.

"What are you thinking about, Barack? You look sad."

One did not lie to one's lifemate. In any case, she had only to touch his mind to know. "I remember the precise moment I realized that it was you arousing my body to such a painful ache. You stood by a stream brushing out your long hair. I found myself fascinated with every stroke of the brush and wishing I could feel your hair against my bare skin. I wanted to lose myself in all that silk, and I knew you had been the one I wanted all along-it was you I'd been searching for among so many women."

"How long ago was that?"

"We were in France."

"That was fifty years ago."

He nodded. "I thought what I felt was wrong. We were children together, a family. It seemed-distasteful. I was afraid I was tainted in some way. I would watch you after that; every move you made seemed sensual, seductive. And I hated the men watching you¨C coming close to you."

"But you still went off with other women."

He shook his head. "I kept up the illusion, but I already had had too many unfulfilled nights. What was the use? Other women no longer drew me once I figured out what was happening."

"I saw you." There was pain in her voice, and it made him wince.

"You saw me flirt and walk off. I took blood and left them with false memories. The nights were torment, Syndil. Sometimes I thought I was in hell." He reached out his hand to her. "I had a terrible secret and I could never share with anyone. I lusted after you to the point that I could not let you get too close to me. I was always afraid someone would discover the way I felt about you. At the time I would have given anything that it was just lust, easily satisfied. It was so much more-is so much more."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"A Carpathian male should always-always be in control of himself. We wield too much power to be ruled by anything but our brains. I could not control my body or my thoughts when I was close to you." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I know everything about you, Syndil. The way you tilt your head just slightly when you're considering whether or not you are going to participate in a conversation. You tug on your left earlobe when you are worried. You have the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. I know you're so fragile and yet at the same time, you are incredibly strong."

A slow smile chased the worried frown from his face. "I always walk behind you to the stage so later, when I'm alone, I can feel the sway of your hips and the brush of your hair."

"You never told me this."

He rubbed his lower jaw. "It is a little humiliating to admit I have been obsessed with you. And when I knew I couldn't take it anymore, that I had to admit the truth, even if it meant leaving our family, you were attacked by Savon, our trusted brother."

Syndil glanced away from him, back toward the stream. The water ran cold and clean, all traces of the poison gone. Barack followed her gaze and as always, when he saw the result of her work, it left him feeling humble and proud of her.

"Syndil, there is no one in this world who can do as you've done. Do you have any idea how amazing you are?"

She looked out over the blackened ruins of the battle-scarred land. "There is much to be done here. Our enemies left their poison in the ground to work its way beneath the soil where we rest. If they can turn the earth against us, they have won."

Barack's head went up alertly. She sounded so weary. The energy needed to heal large sections of land destroyed by fire or foul vampire magic was enormous, and he had very little idea of the toll it would take on her to heal what the undead had wrought here with the size of such devastation. She looked pale, her eyes almost too large for her face. She pressed her hands to her chest as if her heart ached. "Syndil." He reached out his hand to her. "Come here to me."

He waited. His heart beating, a small part of him praying she would step forward, eager for his touch, for his aid, but as always, there was that tiny, brief moment of hesitation, the

wariness in her eyes, the shadow in her mind she could no longer hide from him. She crossed the distance to him, reaching out. His fingers closed around hers, and he drew her with exquisite gentleness to him. In spite of the fact that Carpathians could regulate body temperature, she was cold, shivering a little. He enfolded her in his arms, shielding her from the snow with his larger frame and using his own body heat and energy to warm her. He drew her scent into his lungs and smelled blood.

"What happened?" His drew her arm down so he could look at it.

She frowned, her body losing some of its stiffness to sink more fully into his. "Sasha and Forest were lying with me on the bed, sweet as usual, and then Sasha began to get agitated. Within minutes, Forest followed suit. They began pacing back and forth, sending out distress calls. I scanned, but the most I could do was feel a hint of power in the air. Not good or evil, simply power."

"That does not explain these scratches, Syndil. They are deep." He bent his head to her bare arm, his lips feathering kisses up and down the lacerations, tongue swirling over the wounds, taking away the pain with his healing saliva. He kissed her arm again and raised his head, one hand cupping her chin so she couldn't look away from the censure in his eyes. "You should have called me immediately. Your well-being comes before all else."

"There was nothing to tell you. With so many Carpathians gathered in one place, there is bound to be power in the air at all times. I just assumed the leopards were reacting to the different feel. They're used to us, but not to the others. They were fine with me until I tried to leave the room. I'm sorry. It's just that I couldn't think of anything else but taking care of this." She swept her hand in a graceful arc to take in the blackened land. "I had been hearing the screaming of the earth since I awoke, and I could no longer ignore the call. I knew it would be difficult and draining, but I didn't expect..." She broke off and looked over his shoulder at the huge area destroyed by the battle with the undead. "It's so large, Barack, so much damage."

There were tears in her voice-in her mind. "You're just tired, sweetheart. You need to feed." There was both sensual invitation and dominant command in his voice.

He tried hard to suppress the rougher side of his nature as much as possible, particularly when it came to anything sexual with Syndil. She was with him-and that was the most important thing in the world to him. Whatever time she needed to develop trust in him¨C years, centuries, perhaps longer-it mattered little. She could have all the time she needed; he just had to control the dominant nature so prevalent in the males of his species. He wouldn't risk ruining the fragile trust developing between them.

He opened his shirt with a single thought, and Syndil turned her face to press against his chest. The rub of her soft skin against his, the feel of her lips moving just above his heart, her hair brushing over him like silk, all sent urgent need slamming hard to pool in his groin in a painful ache. His fingers tangled in her hair and he cradled her head in his arm, his body clenching in anticipation. There was a heartbeat-two. She kissed his chest, teased

with her tongue, scraped once, twice with her teeth. His heart went into overtime. His body hardened more, jerked with eagerness.

Syndil's teeth sank deep, the pain giving way to instant pleasure, his body flooding with ecstasy. He shifted to rock his hips against her. It only inflamed his senses more. Syndil unexpectedly-and for the first time without his prompting-merged her mind with his, feeding him her own sexual desires, the flare of heat, her blood running hot, the erotic pictures of her leaning over him, hair cascading down to pool on his skin while she...

Barack groaned aloud. You cannot do that to me and not expect reprisals.

Her laughter was low and sensual-a definite invitation. He closed his eyes, savoring her response to him-the acknowledgment of her need for him. He simply lifted her, cradling her to his chest while she fed, and took to the air.

Syndil licked his chest, closing the tiny pinpricks, and lifted her mouth to his neck. Her hands slid inside his open shirt. "Where are you going in such a hurry?" she murmured against his skin. "I have always wanted to make love in the snow. What's the use of being able to control our temperatures if we can't utilize it for our enjoyment?"

Barack didn't care where they were. If she wanted snow, there was a perfectly good spot he could see that looked somewhat protected from the elements. He dropped down fast, his mouth already on hers, fire flaring between them. His need of her was always hot¨C shattering-yet he kept his hands gentle and his aggression controlled, not wanting to frighten her. She panicked when she was beneath him, and never once had he assumed a dominant sexual position.

She pushed his shirt aside, shoving it down his arms as if she was in such a frenzy to get to his skin that she'd forgotten she could brush the offensive material away with her mind. He watched the rising desire on her face, the burning intensity in her eyes, as she spread kisses across his chest, up to his throat, caught his mouth with hers and returned to his chest with teasing bites.

Never had she acted this way toward him, and he couldn't stop his body's response, his own desire building faster and hotter than ever before. Syndil wanting him, initiating their lovemaking, was more of an aphrodisiac than anything else could ever be. She'd never shown a hint of the same urgent need he always felt when he touched her.

Of course I feel it. Her teeth tugged at his ear. Her tongue swirled and played and danced over his skin. I just don't know how to show you properly.

Was there a touch of shame in her voice? He hoped not; she had nothing to be ashamed of. He would spend eternity trying to take away the betrayal and memory of Savon raping her-and there was a part of him that would never forgive himself for not being there to protect her.

You show me just fine. He put all the fierce love he had for her into his voice, his hands coming up to tangle in her impossibly long hair. She always wore part of it up, and he loosened the pins to let it all fall free. Her hair was so sensual, and right now, with her mouth doing sinful things to his body, he craved the warm silk of her hair spilling over him. He didn't want her to ever stop, but he needed her clothes gone.

Then take them off.

He smiled at the impatience in her voice. He always asked permission so as not to alarm her, but maybe-hopefully-they were past that now. He waved his hand and she stood before him, stark naked except for her long hair, a silken cloak to frame her soft skin and luscious body. As always, when he looked at her, his heart pounded, his lungs seized, and he felt tears burning in his throat. No one would ever be more beautiful to him.

She lifted her head as she followed suit and whisked off his trousers and shoes, leaving him naked in the snow and starkly aroused. "I want to be past that now," she whispered. "I love you so much, Barack, and I need to be able to show you. More than that, I need for you to show me. I know you have to hold back and I don't want that for you-for us¨C anymore." Her fingers whispered over his thickened shaft and his breath left his lungs in a heated rush. "I just have never wanted to start something I couldn't finish." She kissed her way down his belly, her hands caressing and stroking until he was afraid he might go out of his mind. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?

I always understand you, my love. There is no need to warn me. He was proud of her for her boldness, but he feared he might not make it through this night. She was reading his mind, feeling the fire building in his groin as she wrapped her fist around his heavy erection and bent her head to breathe warm air over him.

She was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen, her body perfect, breasts full and ripe, her long black hair a stark contrast to the white snow. When he saw her intention, the erotic image in her mind, his body hardened even more. He waved his hand and the sky rained rose petals alongside the drifting snow. "Sweetheart, you don't have to do this."

But she did. She wanted it nearly as much as he did-he could see it on her face. Just once, he wanted her like this-enjoying him. Wanting his body as much as he wanted hers. No, more than that. Needing him in the way he needed her. Desperate to touch him, to taste him, to feel his body moving in hers, his heart beating the same rhythm as hers. Just once. Mostly he needed to see the dark hunger in her eyes, feel it in every touch of her hands. He needed to see eagerness and enjoyment when she looked at him. Just this once-that was all he would ask for.

He closed his eyes briefly as her fingertips trailed lightly over his shaft, sending small electrical charges whipping through his bloodstream. She looked up at him and smiled as her tongue slid over the broad head in a curling dance that took his senses to an entirely new level. A soft growl escaped when she raked her fingernails along the inside of his thigh. Before he could stop himself, he reached out and tangled his fingers in her silky hair,

gently pushing it over her shoulders. Looking down at her kneeling before him, with that small, mysterious half smile on her face and that too-hot look in her eyes, nearly was his undoing.

He kneaded her shoulders for a moment, eased the tension from the nape of her neck and then slid his palms over her soft skin to her breasts-all the while breathing deep to stay in control. His thumbs found her nipples, brushing them into hard peaks, his caresses drawing a gasp of pleasure from her. His hands cupped her breasts, fingers stroking and caressing with an expertise of knowing her body so well.

Syndil cried out with pleasure as the sensations swamped her. As always, with one touch of his hands, she was on fire. She knew he could shatter her, bring her to a fever pitch with just the strong pull of his mouth or the scrape of his teeth. He knew everything about her body, every way to bring her pleasure, and he always did-unselfishly and wholeheartedly. He always put her pleasure before his own. It wasn't fair. She desperately wanted to bring him to that same fever pitch, sweep him away on a tidal wave of passion, bring him the kind of ecstasy he always brought her.

Her fingers tangled in his hair. His mouth and stroking hands sent vibrations humming through her bloodstream and quickening her pulse. Her womb clenched, and she felt the familiar urgent need gathering deep in her core. She forced herself back in control, her fist closing over the silky-hard length of his erection, deliberately sending warm air over him to distract him.

His breath caught in his throat and he straightened, throwing his head back when her mouth closed over him, tongue sliding and curling as all the while she kept the suction tight. He rewarded her with a groan, thickening even more.

Pleasure flashed through her. She kept her mind firmly merged in his, reading his every thought, every image, making adjustments to push his pleasure higher, until his hands gripped her hair, his hips thrust helplessly and guttural sounds escaped his throat.

She felt his body tighten, the rush of fire spreading from his toes through his body straight to his groin. She took him deeper, finding the perfect rhythm so that he shuddered and muttered an expletive she'd never heard him use.

"You're killing me," he whispered hoarsely.

In a good way, Syndil knew. Her entire body reacted to the knowledge that she was pushing Barack to the very edge of his control. She wanted to shatter it, to do to him what he did to her. The power felt incredible, and the satisfaction even more so. She was almost euphoric with happiness, kissing her way up his belly to his chest, his throat, urging him over the top of her, so frantic to have him buried deep inside her she couldn't think of anything but pleasing him-pleasing herself.

She fell back into the rose petal-covered snow, dragging him with her. Skin pressed to

skin, hearts beat the same rhythm. She felt his weight settle over hers, his hands hard on her hips, his knee nudging her thighs apart. He thrust hard, entering her body, joining them together in one fiercely primitive stroke. Her nails dug into his shoulders. Lightning streaked through her body, and she cried out with drowning pleasure.

He moved in her, hard, sure strokes, filling her emptiness until she felt as if she were soaring free. His hair slid over her skin, a sensuous silk brushing her already hypersensitive breasts. Her body tightened, muscles clenching and gripping as her hips rose to meet the fast rhythm of his. She moved slightly, adjusting her position, and his hands gripped her hard, holding her down.

At once she was aware of her surroundings, of the man on top of her. Syndil looked up at the face, almost savage in his desire, red flames flickering in the depths of his black eyes. She could see his teeth, already lengthened, the muscles clearly defined in his arms.

Syndil tried desperately to hold onto the passion that seemed to always be locked away inside her. It poured out on occasion, but somewhere, somehow, just when she thought she had conquered her fears, a door slammed shut and dammed up her needs, her physical desires, behind a wall of terror. She fought it, fought the rising panic and the memory of teeth biting at her, of brutal hands hurting her, of something obscene and unnatural ripping through her, taking her virginity without love or thought for her innocence. He had been family, a loved one, yet he had attacked her, nearly tearing out her throat, beating her, raping her in every way possible. She had fought until the bones in her hands were broken and her flesh was saturated with blood and she thought he would kill her.

This wasn't Savon, her attacker, this was Barack, the man she loved above all others, yet she couldn't separate the two when Barack covered her body with his and held her down. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't hear him trying to soothe her. She could only feel the weight of him crushing her, feel the grip of his hands, see the glow of red flames in his eyes.

"Stop." She whispered the word, tears beginning to form in her eyes. Her throat swelled, threatening to choke her. "Stop. Oh, God, Barack, you have to stop." Her voice swung toward hysteria as her control shattered, her mind seemed to fragment and she couldn't distinguish past from present. She began to fight him, hitting hard, clawing at his face, pushing at his chest.

She drew blood before he caught her wrists, shaking her head back and forth to avoid his mouth when he bent close. He whispered something to her, but she couldn't hear him, caught up in the deadly illusion she couldn't seem to escape.

Barack groaned and rolled off her, to lie faceup in the snow, staring at the flakes as they fell from the sky. He slung one arm across his eyes to hide his expression, shielding his mind so she couldn't see the anguish and frustration filling him. He wanted to roar with rage to the heavens, but he stayed silent, struggling to bring his body under control. He heard her choke back a sob, and turned his head toward her.

Tear sparkled like diamonds in her eyes, trailed down her face to drop into the snow-covered ground. "I'm sorry, Barack. I'm sorry. What's wrong with me?" She covered her face with her hands and wept as if her heart were breaking.

"Syndil, there's nothing wrong with you." Barack came up on his knees and reached for her, keeping his movements slow and gentle. "Come here to me, baby, let me hold you."

She could see the scratches on his face and chest, down one forearm, even a long thin scratch on his hip. Tiny drops of blood beaded up, crisscrossing his skin so that he looked as if he'd been attacked by a cat.

"What have I done?" Ashamed, she tried to struggle, to break his grip on her arm. "I have to go away. We can't keep doing this. Let me go, Barack. I'll go back to leopard form and stay in the earth until this passes."

"I don't want to hear that. You aren't leaving me. You have a duty to your lifemate, and it isn't sex. You stay aboveground, with me, in your natural form, do you hear me, Syndil? I expect nothing less of you." This time he didn't hide the Carpathian male. He made it a command, and bared his white teeth to emphasize he meant business.

"Why? Why would you even want me? I can't keep doing this to you and live with myself. How long is your patience going to last? How long before you turn to another woman for the things I can't give you?"

"Another woman?" he echoed, so shocked at the suggestion it showed on his face. "Syndil, you aren't making sense. There is no other woman for me. What aren't you giving me? I make love to you all the time."

"You make love to me. I should be loving you back."

"You do love me back." He raked a hand through his dark hair, clearly agitated. "So you have a small problem with one position. One. Do you think it matters to me?"

She didn't respond, simply shook her head, covering her face tightly with both hands. Tears leaked out and her shoulders heaved as she fought for breath through the sobs.

"Syndil, I love you. You're my life. We have years, centuries to get this right. You matter to me, not sex." He gave her a little shake. "Look at me, Syndil. If you never can let me lie over the top of you, so be it. Why is it so important to you? You don't see that image in my mind. It doesn't matter to me what position we make love in, not now, nor will it ever. Damn it, look at me."

He caught her hands and pulled them from her face, staring into her eyes. "I love you more than life itself. So we can't make love with me on top. Is that some sort of red badge of courage to force yourself into a position you feel threatened in? Do you honestly, for one moment, think what position we have sex in is important to me?"

"It is to me," she whispered, ducking her head. "I'm so ashamed I can't love my lifemate the way he deserves. I can heal the earth after the worst of battles, but I can't heal myself. I can't be a decent mate to you. I try so hard, Barack, I really want you. I love the way you make me feel as if I'm the only woman in the world, as if no one else could ever please you, but I can't do it. I can't."

He swept his arm around her head and dragged her against him. "You're an idiot, Syndil. You love me and that is all that matters. The rest of this is just silliness. I'd make love to you standing on my head if that was how you wanted me." He caught her chin and forced her head up. "Do you really think I can't look into your mind and see how much you love me?"

"But you have to suppress your own nature all the time, Barack."

He burst out laughing. "Being a dominant, overbearing male isn't always best, Syndil. Don't you think Darius has to occasionally suppress that side of him for Tempest, and that she might wish he'd do it a little more? And Julian definitely has to work at it for Desari. The same with Dayan and Corinne. It's our nature to be in command, but you are the light to our darkness. Unrelenting dominance has to be balanced by you."

"But you were never like Darius, Barack. You get bossy, but..." She trailed off, but there was hope in her eyes when she framed his face with her hands.

"Because all of us allow Darius to lead us does not mean we do not have these natural traits. You didn't see them in me before because we did not share minds. Darius is a strong leader. We are content in his leadership." A small grin flashed briefly on his face. "He does most of the work, and that suits me just fine. But in the end, we all have the traits nature dictated to us. The point, my beautiful love, is that you, as my lifemate, bring me balance."

"I do?"

He bent his head to press a small kiss over each eyelid. "You do," he assured her. He trailed kisses down her face to the corner of her mouth. "And I am grateful. Darkness spreads and we have to fight it every day."

"But it wasn't in you-not like the others," Syndil said.

"Because of you. Even before I made my claim on you, you were already providing a balance for me. Syndil, you aren't just my lifemate. You're my life, my only love, my world. I have known you since you were a babe, I watched you grow into a remarkable, talented, unbelievable woman. Look at what you do with the earth. Who else can work such a miracle?" He kissed the tip of her nose, feathered his lips over hers and slid his tongue along the seam of her mouth. "I was in love with you long before I ever knew what a lifemate was."

"Are you sure, Barack?" There were still tears gleaming in her eyes, but her lips moved

against his. "You have to be sure."

"That is the only thing I'm sure of." His mouth found hers and he lifted her gently, settling her over his lap, waiting for her to settle over him like a sheath over a sword.

Syndil's breath caught in her throat. He filled her, fit so snug, so exquisitely tight that the silky friction sent fire dancing once again through her veins. One moment she was in tears, the next he was lifting her toward the heavens. She linked her fingers behind his neck and eased back, her body moving in a familiar rhythm as she began to ride him. She couldn't imagine how she had gotten through her life without him. He made her feel beautiful and extraordinary when she was certain she really wasn't.

"I love you, Barack." She pulled back to look into his eyes. "I really love you."

The sight of her took his breath. Her full breasts swayed sensually, her nipples peaked and hard in sexy invitation. Her small waist and hips undulated, eyes slumberous, mouth swollen from his kisses.

"I know you do," he murmured, and brushed a kiss across each eyelid. He could barely speak with the sizzling heat rising so fast, so ferociously, with every bit of pleasure that more dominant position had given him. Deliberately he shared his mind, shared what she did to his body as well as his heart. "You're my life, Syndil, and I don't want you forgetting it again."

She moved with him, a counterpoint to each thrust, driving their pleasure ever higher. Barack was her world and his acceptance of her meant everything. Maybe she couldn't lie beneath his body, but she could enjoy other sensually arousing positions and she could make the most of each and every one of them.

Barack's arms tightened possessively and a small thrill went through him that she didn't protest, or pull away. Her muscles clamped around him, squeezing like a fist, so slick and hot and tight that he couldn't hold on a second longer. He threw back his head and yelled to the night in joy, feeling her body ripple with pleasure around his. For a while neither could breathe properly, or even speak-just feel.

Barack recovered first, kissing the top of her head, her ears and finally her soft mouth. "I love you, Syndil."

"I'm beginning to believe you really do," she said softly as she rose with her usual grace. She held out her hand and he stood beside her, a tall, strong man who loved her enough to give her space and time.

Dressing in the easy manner of their people, they strolled, hand in hand, back through the snow to the little cabin. It looked inviting, cozy even, and Syndil picked up the pace, drawing him with her. "You will help me cook something, won't you? Corinne assured me the recipe she gave me was easy and fast."

"I have my doubts about that," he teased, "but I'm willing to try."

As they walked up the narrow path to the cabin, the smile faded from his face. Barack frowned and took a careful look around, the back of his neck suddenly itching with unease. He paused before pushing opening the door to the small cabin, sweeping Syndil behind him with one arm. "I don't like the feel of this. The silence."

"It's snowing. It's always quiet when it snows."

"Maybe." But something was wrong. A whisper of movement from inside had him closing the door firmly and pushing her away from the cabin. "Get to safety, Syndil. Hide yourself in the trees while I figure out what's wrong."

"Are the cats all right?" she asked anxiously.

"I'm about to find out."

She caught the waistband of his jeans, curling her fingers around the edge. "I'll be afraid out here alone. Let me go in with you. Even if something waits there, I'd rather be with you and know what's going on."

He cursed under his breath for being weak. He could deny her nothing when she was afraid. "Stay behind me, Syndil, and do exactly what I say."

She nodded and moved closer. "Does it feel like a vampire?"

He shook his head. It felt like danger-trouble-something out of sync.

"Not in harmony," Syndil said suddenly, going very still. Her grip tightened on his jeans. "In the house. The cats. I reached for them and they are-crazy."

He turned back to her, pulling her close to reassure her. "It's all right, honey." He felt the leopards prowling within the walls of the cabin, enraged for some reason he couldn't fathom. He tried to reach out to them as he'd been doing since they were young, to calm them, but neither responded. He had to get them into their cage, both for their safety and the safety of any person coming in contact with them, until he could figure out what was wrong.

He slipped inside beneath the door, streaming in as vapor, swirling through the rooms until he found the cats, very conscious that Syndil was right behind him in the same form.

Forest, the male, lay stretched out on a bed, while Sasha, the female, paced back and forth restlessly. The moment he entered the bedroom, Sasha reacted, snarling, showing her teeth, tail twitching as she paced, her eyes darting around the room as she detected his presence. Forest launched his body from the couch, going from a prone position to a full-out attack, claws raking through the insubstantial vapor in an effort to get at Barack.

He streamed away, out of reach, trying to push the cat's mind back toward sanity. Leopards were notorious for their tempers, but this savage behavior was way out of character for either cat. The leopards had been with the Troubadours since they were born and had never behaved in such a manner. Sasha kept looking at the window, acting as though she might break through the glass to escape.

Something is terribly wrong with them, he told Syndil. I can't control them.

Syndil remained silent, listening to the earth. There is a subtle flow of power-of energy. It's upsetting the leopards. There are so many Carpathians here. Most are probably using energy for shifting and other tasks. Maybe the cats are too sensitive to be here.

Maybe. Barack doubted it, but he was going to cage the animals. I'm going to get them to follow me to the cages. I cant direct them inside, so I'll have to trick them.

How can you do that? There was trepidation in her voice.

I'll just use myself as bait.

Syndil drew in her breath sharply, fighting back the protest welling up. I was afraid of that. Be careful, Barack.

He touched her mentally, his vapor circling hers for just a moment as if he could brush up against her in reassurance. Barack shimmered into his human form right under the female's nose, shifting back almost immediately and streaming through the house, leading the cats to the smallest bedroom, where the heavily barred traveling cage was kept.

He reached out to open the door of the cage, shifting for just seconds so he could use his hand. Forest leapt, raking Barack's arm, tearing deep gouges in his skin before Barack could shift back to mist. He streamed toward the back of the cage, leading the two leopards inside. They followed, raging at him.

Behind them, he waved the door closed. Both threw themselves at the bars, snarling a protest. Barack didn't wait for them to settle down, sending word to Darius and the other band members before taking his natural form.

Syndil was already reaching for him, stroking her fingers down his arm, leaning into him to use her saliva to heal the wounds. "You need to be faster," she told him, her large eyes chastising him.

A slow smile lit his dark gaze. "I don't know, sweetheart. Then I wouldn't have your sexy little mouth all over me, now would I?"

Her eyebrow shot up. "Actually, yes, you probably would."