Dark Curse (28 page)

Nicolas
! The moment she called to him she was afraid she had distracted him at the worst possible moment.

Several yards away, just over a rise, she saw snow blast up into the air. She sprinted, or at least tried to, sinking ankle-deep into the powder. She needed snowshoes on her feet, or at the very least, the ability to run across the surface. Weaving a pattern with her graceful hands, Lara leapt as if she were a snow hare.

Strings of sinew, finest bone, bend and shape, form and hone. Weave and place upon these feet, lightest paws of a snow hare be.

Lara felt a tingling, stretching sensation in her feet as she landed back in the snow and hurried across the meadow toward the rising slope. The pain in her back and stomach grew with every step, but she forced her body forward, afraid for Nicolas. He had taken the brunt of the attack. Now she could hear the vampire snarling and growling. The sounds were hideous. Nicolas was totally silent, making her pulse pound and fear clutch at her.

Instinctively, her mind reached out to connect with Nicolas and found—a killer. There was no hint of her charming lifemate, so intent on courting her. There was no mercy, no gentleness, nothing but a killing machine made of sinew and bone, honed by centuries of battles and a mind made for combat.

She skidded to a halt, pressing her palm to her mouth. Did she want to see him like that? Know him like that? The killer was as much a part of him as that smooth, charming man, the one who had kissed her senseless and taken her on the wildest ride of her life, and he was in a fight for his life—both of their lives.

She knew evil when she saw it, and the vampire had the same peculiar odor as Xavier's pet mutations—the parasites. She pushed down the gathering bile caused by just the stench alone, and forced her body forward. She couldn't leave him wounded to fight a battle with such evil when she might find a way to help him.

Lara dropped down on her belly and scooted the rest of the way up the rise to peer over the snowbank. Below she could see sprays of crimson streaked across the sparkling snow, as if someone had thrown red paint in slashing lines in every direction. A lone tree, bent under the weight of the snow, stood as a sentinel watching the age-old battle between vampire and hunter.

Nicolas stood a distance from her, tall and straight, his hair flowing behind him, his eyes glowing with power. In spite of the injuries—now open where the vampire obviously had raked down his chest and belly with talons, tearing away the soil patch—Nicolas moved with fluid grace, a blurring speed she could barely comprehend, as he streaked across the snow to slam his fist deep into the chest of the vampire.

The vampire screamed and clawed at Nicolas's face, but the hunter had already leapt out of reach, using his tremendous speed. It hadn't been his first attack. Lara could see three deep wounds on the undead. The two combatants circled each other.

"Your woman will be fodder for animals. They'll eat her flesh and drink what I leave of her blood."

Nicolas didn't reply, didn't engage in conversation. His gaze never left the vampire. His breath came slow and easy, although Lara couldn't imagine the agony he must have been in with his severe wounds. There was something about him. She couldn't help but admire the lone warrior, facing an enemy with such confidence, nothing in his mind but absolute victory.

She
wanted to be like Nicolas. She wanted that confidence in herself, to know she could handle any situation alone if necessary. She didn't want to be afraid anymore. She could see how Nicolas had gotten the way he was—he
had
to be confident to the point of arrogance, he had to believe in his own abilities or he would have never survived.

The vampire spat a mouthful of blood, hate twisting his features. Twice his gaze shifted toward the sky and both times Nicolas feinted a movement, bringing attention back to him. The third time, Nicolas moved again with that same blurring speed. The vampire turned his head at the last moment, meeting the attack with a shriek, shapeshifting to avoid the enormous strength that smashed through bone and sinew to reach for the vulnerable, blackened heart.

Nicolas hit the undead as he tried to shift, half-vampire form, half-wolf. The muzzle elongated, razor-sharp teeth driving straight at Nicolas's face. Lara bit back a scream of fear and buried her face in her hands. Her body began to shake so hard her teeth rattled. How could he face that? He hadn't even flinched. She peeked out between her fingers and saw his face, a mask of blood, his arm buried deep into the cartoonish werewolf's chest.

The creature was nearly seven feet tall, and he caught at Nicolas with clawed hands, jerking him back, shrieking as Nicolas refused to let go of the heart. The vampire shook him, slamming a fist into his chest repeatedly in an effort to dislodge those burrowing fingers. The eyes went cunning and she saw the gaze lock on Nicolas's throat. Her heart nearly stopped, but she flung her hands up, weaving a hasty pattern of protection.

Orr of earth, forged by fire, circle cast by need-desire, form this metal into a ring of hard titanium.

The pattern glowed white-hot and then cooled as it formed a protective circle around Nicolas neck just as the werewolf thrust its head straight toward Nicolas's exposed throat. Saliva and blood dripping, the muzzle gaped wide, and then clamped down hard with a frightening crunch just as Nicolas yanked his arm back. A terrible sucking sound made Lara's stomach churn, but she fought back the need to get sick. The werewolf's teeth sank hard and deep, hitting the titanium collar. The vampire roared as its teeth shattered into pieces and the heart was drawn completely from its rotted cavern. He lumbered after Nicolas, who was backpedaling, throwing the blacked organ onto the snow and calling down the lightning at the same time.

Thunder cracked and a white-hot bolt of energy slammed into the heart, incinerating it, and then jumped to the vampire. He glowed, burst into orange-red flames, sending noxious fumes into the air. The vampire burst into ashes, and Nicolas directed the energy bolt to burn everything until it disappeared. Only then did he sag a little, reaching into the energy to bathe away the acid blood from his arms and chest.

He turned toward her, his expression a dark mask, his eyes brooding, hooded, concealing his thoughts as he took a step. Nicolas staggered and recovered. Lara stood up slowly, her entire body shaking. There was blood everywhere, and he had wounds on his face, chest, abdomen and back. How he could be standing, she didn't know.

He glanced skyward, and leapt the distance between them, crowding her body behind his as he faced the trails of mist forming out of the lightly falling snow. The mist began to shimmer and a tall man with nearly waist-length black hair came striding out of the snow.

"Nicolas?"

The black eyes took in the wounds as well as Lara pushed behind him. The gaze jumped from her red-gold banded hair to her eyes swirling between green and blue.

"I did not recognize the vampire, Vikirnoff," Nicolas said. "He was fairly young. No more than three or four hundred years old. Why are they turning so young?"

Natalya was quickly making her way to stand by Vikirnoff. She always was near her lifemate, especially if a vampire was in the area. Nicolas didn't want the couple there. It was petty of him and made him feel ashamed and even stupid that he wanted more time alone with Lara. He had always been so self-assured, but now he feared losing her, feared she would leave him—or stay with him because of the lifemate bond, but never find it in her heart to love him.

It was pitiful to think that he wanted love from her. He had been self-sufficient all of his life and it made him angry to think he needed her. Yet here he was afraid—
afraid
—she would ask sanctuary from her kin.

Nicolas turned to Lara and held out his hand. "Let me take a look at your injuries." He pulled her to him and lifted the hem of her sweater.

Lara caught at his wrist and glanced toward the strangers, obviously uncomfortable. "The fire spear cauterized the wounds for the most part. I lost a little blood, but not enough to worry about, especially once I packed it with soil. But you're a mess." She touched his face with gentle fingers.

Fél ku kuuluaak sivam belso. Beloved, allow me to see. I must heal you before I can see to my own injuries.

Give me a minute
. Her fingers sought his, tangled and held on.

Nicolas tried not to be so happy about her clinging to him. He brushed his lips against her forehead before performing the introductions aloud. "Lara, this is Vikirnoff and his lifemate, Natalya. She is your blood-kin."

It set his teeth on edge that he was so petty that he rejoiced she was distressed in the company of her father's sister, but he couldn't help the rush of satisfaction. Nor could he help the need to heal her wounds without a moment's delay. It hurt to see her injured. He swung around to face her, his palm sliding beneath her sweater to press his hand over the wound. At once heat leapt from him to her. Startled, she looked up at him with her enormous green eyes and he felt dizzy—drowning.

It was a strange feeling to be so off balance and he didn't like it much.

Nicolas slid his hand away as fast as he'd touched her, stepping to her side so that he could draw her beneath his shoulder, one hand sliding around to her back where his fingers snaked beneath the sweater to lay over the wound.

Natalya stared at her twin's daughter, her eyes filling with tears. "You look like him—like me—us." She leaned back against Vikirnoff for comfort. "I'm Natalya, Razvan's twin sister."

Lara swallowed the ball of fear blocking her throat, locking her body so she didn't stumble back and away as she wanted to do. She reached behind her until she found Nicolas's wrist to steady herself. "I don't look anything at all like him," she denied. Aware she sounded like a child—even her voice was higher pitched—she took a steadying breath and tried again. "He had dark hair streaked with gray. Mostly he's gray. And his face is etched deep with lines, not at all smooth. He's thin, and white."

Carpathian men do not go gray unless they are tortured beyond endurance. It takes.
. .
much… to produce gray hair, thinness and deep lines
.

You have deep lines.

I have been in countless battles and made many kills. More and more I believe your father has been fighting Xavier to save not only his family, but perhaps all Carpathians.

We are not Carpathian.

Dragonseeker blood is strong. You are Carpathian.

A single sound of distress escaped before Natalya could stop it. She touched her tongue to her lips and made a visible effort to recover from the news of her brother. "We need to help your lifemate. He needs his wounds healed and blood fast. Perhaps you would care to accompany us back to our home?"

Lara's fingernails dug into his palm. Nicolas brought her knuckles to his mouth and nibbled on her skin to distract her. "We were on our way to visit with you when we were attacked. Thank you for the invitation."
Yes or no
?

Her eyes met his, her nod nearly imperceptible.

"Thank you, we will come."

Vikirnoff casually brought his hand to his mouth and tore open his wrist, extending his arm toward Nicolas. Several bright drops of blood splattered onto the ground. Lara gasped as the sight hit her like a blow. She closed her eyes, unable to watch as Nicolas took the proffered wrist.

Nicolas hesitated. "Natalya can take you up to the house," he offered.

Lara kept her eyes closed, trying not to draw the scent of blood into her lungs. Her stomach lurched, but she shook her head. "I'll wait for you."
Just get it over with
.

Nicolas politely closed the ragged tear on Vikirnoff's wrist. "Thank you, but I can wait until we are out of the open."

Vikirnoff opened his mouth to protest. His gaze brushed Lara's ashen face and he shrugged. "We had better hurry then."

Natalya glanced at Lara sharply, then at Nicolas's ravaged body. Her lips tightened but she didn't voice a protest. Nevertheless, Lara knew she wanted to and that one, small glance shamed her. Nicolas had fought to save their lives, and had done so without flinching from the task. His body bore many deep wounds, but he only had considered taking care of her injuries, slight in comparison to his, yet she couldn't stand the sight of him taking the blood necessary to restore his strength and take the pain from his wounds.

It is no one's business but ours why we both choose our path
. Nicolas flicked a warning glance at Natalya that had Vikirnoff bristling.

Natalya put a restraining hand on his wrist and shimmered, shifting into mist, before taking to the air. Vikirnoff followed her.

"I'm sorry." Lara blinked back tears burning in her eyes. "I feel so ashamed."

"There is no need for that. You may have saved my life with your quick thinking." Nicolas touched his neck where the collar had stopped the vampire's teeth from ripping him open. The bite wouldn't really have killed him, and he had been prepared for the shock and pain of it, bracing himself to give himself the time to rip the heart from the chest, but she certainly had cut short the battle, giving him those precious few seconds longer. "That was quick thinking and ingenious on your part."