«Because you decree it?»
«If that is what it takes. My will is unyielding. I did not lose Desari, or Syndil or Barack or Dayan. They live because I decreed it-because I fought for their lives and used every ounce of will and skill I possessed to ensure their survival. Do not think I would do less for my own child-for our child.»
«That's why they all have such confidence in you-why they expect so much of you. Without you they would have all died.»
It was the simple truth. He had been six, but already, the Daratrazanoff blood was strong in him and his will grew and grew until he refused to allow defeat into his mind no matter the odds.
«I didn't think I wanted to have a baby, Darius. Now, when I think I may lose it, I know I want it desperately. Shea must be so frightened. She's close to labor. If I were her, I would not want to allow the baby to leave the safety of my body.»
«She has Jacques to keep them both safe, Tempest. You have me.»
Tempest slid onto his lap, laying her head against his chest. «Then I'm not going to worry.»
He kissed her gently, lovingly. «I will believe that when I see it.»
«For that, you can bake the pies.»
«Pies?»
«The gooey purple stuff. You said you would do anything for me and I need those pies baked.»
«You think I cannot do it.»
«I think it will be very funny to watch you try.» She leaned in for another kiss, laughter beginning to bubble up.
Chapter 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– 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