"Look at me," he commanded, keeping his voice low. He deliberately didn't move from his resting place, allowing her to keep a false sense of security.
Her gaze jumped to his. He didn't allow her to look away. The moment her dark eyes met his, he ensnared her, whispering his command to her, so that she would accept his dark embrace. He sat up, pulling her into his arms, his mind reaching for hers, pushing past barriers, seeking information.
He found himself snarling. Lethal. Furious. His lifemate had been in jeopardy, nearly raped. She'd been beaten. Some man she trusted, the man he could see in her memories who she believed had been her friend, had assaulted her and then threatened her. Armend Jashari would be receiving a visit from him, and then Armend Jashari would know what real terror was.
He laid his hands on her face gently, the pad of one finger over the jagged tear on her lip. Before all else, before he allowed himself to taste her, to stop the terrible clawing need in his body for sustenance, he was compelled to heal her. He couldn't look one more second on her bruised face, or feel her discomfort and pain beating at him.
Andre sent himself out of his body. Letting go of one's self to become pure healing light had always been a little difficult for him, but this time, for the first time, he did so easily. For her. For his lifemate. He tasted the word even as he entered her body and began to heal her from the inside.
He didn't forget to examine her leg--the one she'd been limping on when she hurried away to get her backpack. He found dark bruising almost to the bone. She'd been kicked hard, hard enough to do major damage. Jashari was going to pay for that as well.
Andre made certain every damaged place on her body was healed before he returned to his own body. The pain of his wounds jolted through him. He'd stopped the bleeding, but he had suffered a severe loss. He needed. The need was becoming desperate. More. Much more. His lifemate's scent called to him. He could already taste her. A perfect addiction he would crave for all time, would never be able to get enough of.
He pulled her into his arms, wrapped her close to him to warm her. Her body shivered against his, and she blinked, looking up at his face. She looked a little frightened and he knew she was coming out from under his thrall. Part of him wanted that, but he knew she wasn't nearly ready to understand she would be coming into his world and what that would mean for her.
"You are safe with me, Teagan," he said. "Safer than you have ever been in your life. When you are frightened, look to me."
He pushed at her mind again to send her deeper under even as his lips found the pulse beating so strongly in her throat. His tongue stroked the rhythmic throb that told him she was alive and healthy. He kissed her heartbeat. Listened to it. Absorbed it. Savored it. His lifemate. A gift beyond any price. A treasure. His.
His teeth sank deep and the taste of her burst through his mouth. He had thought the colors she'd returned to him were blinding and vibrant, but he had no idea what the real gift was, not until that moment. Hunger took his body, sharp and terrible. Not the addiction to her blood, but physical. His cock swelled. His nerve endings came alive. Life came to his body. The beauty of it was painful and yet a miracle he had never considered or expected. His body craved hers. Just as his need for the taste of her, spicy and addicting, settled deep into his veins, his need of her body settled deep into his bones.
He didn't hesitate. He had waited centuries for his woman. Beyond centuries. She was his reward. She was his miracle. She was . . . his. Te avio palafertiilam--You are my lifemate. The ritual binding words resonated deep. His ancient language rose like the tides from his very soul.
Teagan Joanes held the other half of his soul. He didn't question why or how. It simply was. And he was driven, bound, to seal their souls together. Entolam kuulua, avio palafertiilam. I claim you as my lifemate. Ted kuuluak, kacad, kojed. I belong to you. That in itself was a miracle. To belong to anyone. To belong anywhere. He hadn't had a home in centuries. Even childhood memories had faded. Now there was this one small woman--this tiny vessel who carried his life in her.
He forced himself to close the small pinpricks on her throat. Elidamet andam. I offer my life for you. Pesamet andam. I give you my protection. Uskolfertiilamet andam. I give you my allegiance.
Her body was very warm and fit perfectly into his. She moved restlessly in his arms. He waved his hand to remove all bloodstains and the tatters of his shirt from his chest so that she was tight against him. Instinctively she turned her face against his heart, her lips rubbing gently over his pulse beating so strongly there.
The simple movement inflamed his body and he reveled in his ability to feel. To come alive. To know that the woman in his arms was truly his. He whispered the command to feed, to take his blood. He needed the first exchange with her to be complete while he completed the ritual binding.
She would be forever bound to him, unable to be away from him for long, just as he would be the same with her. They would be able to speak mind to mind. He would always know what she needed or wanted and he could see to that every need or desire.
More than anything else, at this moment, he had to feel her mouth on him, drawing his blood into her to connect them in the deepest possible way so that the binding of their souls would last for all time, in this world and any that came after.
He drew a thin line over his pulse with a sharpened fingernail. His blood seeped out and he pressed her mouth over the spot, his heart beating hard as her lips moved. It was erotic, so much so that he couldn't move or breathe for a moment. It was also beautiful to him. He could feel the connection growing quickly between them.
"Sivamet andam. I give you my heart." He spoke aloud in both languages because later--much later--when he allowed her to remember--he wanted her to know just what she meant to him. Just what he gave to her and demanded from her. It was complete surrender by both parties. Since he'd been a boy, he had never had a heart to give to anyone until she came into his world.
"Sielamet andam. I give you my soul." His soul had always been hers. He had walked for centuries, half alive, always the darkness in him growing because his other half had the light he needed to exist. To live.
She made a sound and her palm slid up his chest, over his shoulder to curl in the length of his hair. He was an ancient and he wore his hair in the way of his people in ancient times. It was thick and long and pulled back with a leather cord. His hair had always had far too much wave in it and sometimes, like now, there were long, unmanly spirals, but he'd never bothered to change it even in his mind. Now he liked it when her fingers sought one spiral and slipped through it.
"Ainamet andam. I give you my body. Sivamet kuuluak kaik etta a ted. I take into my keeping the same that is yours."
He had never given much consideration to sex. He'd learned everything he could about it, because down the long centuries, a Carpathian acquired as much knowledge as possible on every subject they could. It was a trick they used, a way to keep their minds occupied, and it served them well. Now he was grateful for those long centuries of study.
He had been so removed from those studies, absorbing all the erotic positions, every way a man could take a woman to please and pleasure her. Every way a woman could please and pleasure a man. With Teagan's mouth moving against him and his cock full and hard and throbbing, all those images were uppermost in his mind.
"Ainaak olenszal sivambin. Your life will be cherished by me for all my time." More than cherished. She would be worshiped. Adored. She would be his everything.
She moved restlessly, her buttocks rubbing along the length of his cock, sending an electrical current radiating outward from his groin. The blood in his veins thickened with desire. He had to stop her feeding. She'd taken enough for an exchange, and he didn't dare lose too much more blood. He'd only taken enough from her to get by until he went hunting the man who had tried to rape her.
"Te elidet ainaak pide minan. Your life will be placed above my own for all time." And that meant any enemy of hers was his enemy. Any enemy o
f his could never touch her. His enemies did not last very long.
He gently inserted his fingers between her mouth and the wound in his chest. Her tongue instinctively followed the little trickle of ruby beads away from the slash. The movement was naturally sensual, and his breath hissed out of his lungs as he closed the wound and tipped her face up to his, using two fingers, forcing her eyes to meet his.
"Te avio palafertiilam. You are my lifemate. Ainaak sivamet jutta oleny. You are bound to me for all eternity. Ainaak terad vigyazak. You are always in my care."
He took her mouth. Gentle. Reverent even. Tasting the mixture of their blood now flowing together to form a mutual path. He closed his eyes, savoring her. Savoring the moment. She wouldn't remember other than in a dream. He wanted that for her. He wanted her to get used to his world slowly, taking it in a little at a time so she wouldn't be too frightened and she would be able to accept her fate over time.
He used his tongue rather than his mind to remove all evidence of his blood from her lips and mouth. He loved touching her. Loved having her next to his skin. He especially loved the silk of her hair against him. Sensations were sensual. He craved them now that he could feel. Every sensation she could give him. How could he possibly let her go, even for a moment, after waiting so long for her?
Still, he set her to one side, his hands reluctantly leaving the warmth of her body. He took a breath and gave the command for her to awaken fully. Her lashes fluttered. Lifted. He found himself looking straight into her dark melted chocolate eyes. So dark a man might get lost there.
She brought up a trembling hand and touched her lips, her gaze moving over his chest--a chest that had no shirt but revealed heavy muscles, four circular older scars and wounds that were healed. Completely. Absolutely healed. Gone.
She swallowed and glanced down at her watch. "I feel like I missed something important." The moment she spoke, she touched her lip where it had stung, especially when she talked. Her hand moved from her lip to her face where it had been swollen.
He smiled to reassure her. "I, too, am a healer. The sight of you bruised and battered was abhorrent to me. No man should put his hands on a woman like that. Especially you. I felt compelled to heal you," he added honestly. "Are you in any pain at all?" Because he would start all over if she was.
She shook her head. "I was supposed to heal you."
She sounded a little disappointed and he hid a smile. He had forgotten smiles. He doubted if he'd ever smiled much. The sensation was wonderful and a little shocking. "Next time. I seriously couldn't allow you to be in pain."
"Are you an empath?" Her eyes were on his chest.
She had a difficult time pulling her gaze away, and he was suddenly grateful he hadn't donned a clean shirt. That meant he would have to manufacture a stash of clothes for the time being, enough that she would be eased into his world as gently as possible. She liked his chest and the muscles there. He had plenty from so many centuries of battling the undead.
He also had a few scars, including the four circular ones that would never leave his body. Carpathians rarely scarred. The wound had to be mortal--one that was deadly. He'd taken a few very nasty jabs to his heart when a master vampire had nearly managed to rip the organ from his body. He'd been lucky that time. Skill had little to do with saving his life, although his vast experience had definitely aided him. The worst scar was there, and he saw her gaze fall to it several times, no doubt wondering why the scar was the size of a fist and looked as if an animal had tried to rip him open.
"I'm Andre. Andre Boroi." His heart leapt when he gave himself that precious last name--the surname that actually meant something to him. The one he had vowed he would never use unless he used it with his lifemate out of honor. Out of respect. "It is my pleasure to meet you, Teagan Joanes." Which didn't tell her anything. Her eyes told him she was afraid and he didn't blame her.
He was a Carpathian and that meant he was a predator. There was no doubt that showed in his features, in his eyes, probably even in his carriage. He didn't want his lifemate frightened, but there was no softening of what or who he was.
"What happened to you?"
Her voice was very soft, trembling even. Her hands dropped to her lap, fingers twisting together. She'd been attacked by a friend. He was a total stranger and they were alone in a cave. Her fear beat at him, making his belly knot up. He found having a violent and unexpected physical reaction to her fear interesting and yet disturbing.
"Be still, Teagan." He dropped his voice low, using a hypnotic tone. A soothing one. "You are safe with me. I would never harm you."
Her lashes fluttered. He couldn't help staring at them. She had long, thick lashes that curled just a little on the ends. They were midnight black, just like her hair. Black--not gray. He liked that.
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and instantly his attention was on her lips, that soft perfect little bow of a mouth. He found himself fascinated with her mouth. Her skin was beautiful, flawless, and as soft as it looked. He knew because the feel of her was already imprinted in his mind.
"You're staring at me," she said in a small voice.
"You are quite beautiful. I have never seen a woman as remarkable as you are."
She frowned at him. "I'm not, you know. Beautiful. I'm just me. I like being me, and I don't need compliments and lies to make myself feel good."
He touched her mind at the suddenly fierce flash of pride in her eyes. He saw her sisters, the women she viewed as beautiful. They were all tall with lots of curves. Her half sisters. She loved them and thought they were the most beautiful women on the face of the earth. He pulled her recent encounter with Armend Jashari out of her brain, hearing the ugly things he'd said to her.
He frowned. "Ainaak enyem, to me, there is no one more beautiful for a variety of reasons. I love the look of you. Your eyes and skin, the shape of you, but more, the way you make me feel. We are sitting in a cave, both injured, both healers, and I can feel your fear, yet you have not abandoned me. You did not abandon me when you found me and that took courage. I find that--and you--quite beautiful."
The hint of defiant pride faded to be replaced by a small smile. "I'm not all that brave, Andre. I'm afraid of everything, I just refuse to give into it."
"Do not be afraid of me, csitri. I can tell you this. There are few men walking this earth more dangerous than the one in this cave with you. I will not allow any harm to come to you. Not now. Not ever. That simply is."
His voice rang with sincerity. He looked her in the eye, hoping she would believe him. He wasn't a man who talked much. In fact, probably, this was the most he'd spoken at any one time to any human being. But he didn't want her to fear him. He didn't like the way her fingers twisted in her lap and the slight tremor he could see in her hands, although she tried to hide it from him.
She sent him a faint smile. It didn't light her eyes, but it was real. Her lips curved into more of a bow and a shallow dimple appeared on either side of her mouth. "Is that supposed to reassure me? That you're more dangerous than most men walking the earth? Do you have any idea how that sounds? Not to mention, it might just be a little arrogant."
He wasn't about to argue. He didn't really know what to say. He wasn't being arrogant. He wasn't bragging. He was stating a fact.
"I am not used to talking so much with others," he admitted. "Perhaps my wording is not correct. Nor do I normally converse in this language."
She looked a little relieved. "Of course. That makes sense. Thank you for healing my face. My lip was really hurting, which seemed a little silly since the injury was so much smaller than the others. How did you know my leg hurt?"
"When you walked away from me you were limping. I heard you."
Her eyes moved over his face. Watched him. She was very still, other than her fingers twisting in her lap. He couldn't help himself. He laid his hand very gently over both of hers, his touch calming. At the same time, his mind sought hers. He was very careful about that as well
.
Her eyes widened. She took a deep breath.
"Do you feel me? In your mind?" he asked gently. "I established a connection when I healed you. That sometimes happens." He was being honest, although he knew he was misleading her just a little.
"You're psychic? You can read minds?" Teagan asked.
He nodded slowly. He couldn't deny that and he wanted her to become comfortable sharing their thoughts and speaking telepathically to each another.
"Wow. That's not good. You're sort of gorgeous, and I'm not certain I want you able to read anything I'm thinking about you," she blurted out.
That was the last thing he expected, and somewhere deep inside, he felt the beginnings of a smile again. It didn't quite reach his face, but his mouth twitched. He had never liked the company of others. He always felt too caged in. Too exposed. And he disliked the inane small talk that always seemed necessary in the company of others. He wasn't good at it and he never would be.
Frankly, he chose his own path and he followed it. The feelings and opinions of others didn't enter into the equation. He had relied on his own judgment for centuries and had learned from hard experience. The less civilized entrapments he had to deal with the better, as far as he was concerned. The only company he ever kept was with his semi-adopted brothers, triplets he'd shared his youth with, but they would never call him civilized.
"I do not mind if you think I am gorgeous. That is a good thing, is it not?"
Her answering smile was slow in coming, but some of the tension drained out of her. He was fully connected to her now and gently pushing soothing calm into her mind.
"It's a good thing."
She was exhausted. She'd hiked uphill all day and covered miles. She needed rest, water and food. His blood had helped to revive her, but even that shot of energy wasn't going to last her long.
"You can set up your camp in one of the chambers," he said. "There is a chimney in the one just through there." He indicated a narrow opening she hadn't noticed. "You can cook in there and you'll be safe. Although I would like to know how you got through the safeguards I placed at the entrance to the cave." He could have taken the information from her, but he was practicing being polite. If she didn't answer him satisfactorily, he would take it then.