Desari.
He whispered her name across the sky, somewhere between tenderness and rage. She had somehow managed to awaken on her own despite his forceful command. He should have known the moment she had risen. He was her lifemate. They were connected, two halves of the same whole. Darius had known Desari was gone. Had she contacted him? For a moment Julian’s feathered body shook with anger. Desari didn’t understand what it meant to be claimed by a mate. She was bound to him, heart and soul. She needed to learn much more of the man who was now her lifemate. Petty retaliation because he had forced her obedience would not be tolerated.
Tolerated?
Desari’s soft voice said scornfully in his mind.
I do not owe you obedience, Julian. I am no fledgling to follow your lead without question. You are the one who needs to learn more of the woman you claim you have bound to you. I will not be treated in such a manner.
Julian slammed his mind shut while he wrestled with an unfamiliar, smoldering rage. He had never really experienced jealous anger. He had never had reason to.
And, as a powerful Carpathian male, he had naturally believed that his lifemate was the one who would willingly change her life for him. She would want to fit into his world, not force him to live in hers. Yet Desari appeared to have ideas of her own.
Julian deliberately turned away from Darius, working at repressing his unexpected temper. He needed time alone to get himself under control, to think things through. To try to understand that Desari was no fledgling to be guided by her mate. That she had lived many centuries, had many powers, and was used to making decisions and commanding a certain amount of respect. He winged his way toward the mountain peaks, where he always felt a semblance of peace. He would spend time there pondering the situation and the best way to handle it.
“
You are of our blood,”
the undead had said. And it was the terrible truth. How had he thought he could claim a lifemate, live as an honorable Carpathian was meant to? Doubtless Mikhail, the Prince of their people, knew the truth. Gregori, too. And Darius certainly sensed it in him. Worse, Julian now realized, what Darius knew, so would Desari. “
You are of our blood.”
Desari wandered through the campsite Dayan had chosen. They were near other campers, human campers, yet protected from prying eyes. Still, for some reason, she was uneasy, restless. She found herself pacing back and forth until Dayan told her to stop or she was going to wear a new trail in the dirt. At first she thought it was because she was angry with Julian for sending her to sleep like a fledgling. Then she decided it was anger at herself for being vulnerable to such compulsion. Now she didn’t know what it was. Her mind was in chaos, striving constantly to find Julian. That in itself was disconcerting. Maybe what she needed to do was feed. No, what she needed to do was find Julian. Touch him. See him.
She swore softly and flounced over to the picnic table. Forest, the male leopard that always traveled with them, was stretched out the entire length of the table. Irritably, Desari shoved at him. “Get down.”
The cat answered her with a contemptuous raise of his lip, but he didn’t budge. Dayan turned around to stare at her in surprise. “What is wrong with you?”
“Everything. Nothing. I do not know. The bus is broken down for the fourth time this month. Barack has no idea how to fix vehicles; he just tinkers with them all the time. No one wants to buy a new one, and I keep saying we have to either learn to fix the motor ourselves or hire a mechanic to travel with us. It is not like we cannot afford it.” Desari began pacing again, unable to remain still.
“The cats would never tolerate a human around us,” Darius said as he materialized beside the table. He reached out to shove the male leopard from his perch.
“They will have to tolerate it,” Desari snapped, her black eyes flashing at her brother, then searching the sky and woods all around them. Where was Julian?
Where are you?
It slipped out before she could censor it, the cry for his mind touch. It was met with silence, and her agitation increased. Why did it matter so much? After all, what was he to her? A lover. People took lovers all the time. Barack was a hound dog. At least he had been for a couple of centuries there. Desari brought her mind up sharply. She couldn’t think about this. Couldn’t think about Julian and where he might be.
“Dara, be calm,” Darius ordered softly. “Your state of mind has nothing to do with our vehicle.”
“Do not presume to know my state of mind,” she snapped back. “I have told all of you over and over that we need a new motor home. Even the truck is breaking down now. Does anyone want to do anything about it? Syndil’s too busy hiding from the world. Barack is molting somewhere. Dayan and you pay no attention to the details of our life.”
“I get up on the stage every night,” Dayan said, defending himself. “And I write the songs and the music for you. I do not know anything about motors, nor do I wish to know. We are not mortals to deal with such things.”
Darius simply watched his sister without speaking. She was rubbing her hands up and down her arms as if she were cold. The night air was cool but not uncommonly so. She was abnormally pale.
“Getting up on the stage is not attending to the necessary details, Dayan,” Desari informed him. “We have to book the tours, keep track of the accounts, plan the routes, see that we can always provide for the cats, ensure that we have adequate gas and stores for whatever could break down while we are on the road. We must look human, act human. Do you do any of that, Dayan? I say we need new vehicles or a mechanic. You others had just better choose which you prefer or shut up and live with any decision I make.”
Darius raised an elegant eyebrow. “And what do you think is the best solution, Dara? A mechanic? The cats would probably eat the man before we finished interviewing him. But perhaps if you found someone the cats found unappetizing, we could allow him to travel with us.”
“A human? A male?” Dayan was outraged. “That would not be tolerable around our women.”
Desari’s head snapped up, her dark eyes flashing fire. “We women are not your possessions, Dayan. We have the right to do as we please, to be around whomever—male or female, mortal, or immortal—we choose. You do not rule us, and you never will.”
Dayan let out his breath in a long, slow hiss of disapproval. “This stranger you chose to consort with last night must have given you a virus. Your disposition has gone downhill, Desari.”
“Dayan.” Darius stepped between his sister and his second in command. “That will be enough. The ‘stranger,’ Julian Savage, is a powerful Carpathian, a hunter of the undead. We would do well to learn what we can from him. If he comes to this camp, you will treat him with respect as one of us.”
Dayan shook his head, annoyed at the madness of allowing a stranger into their midst. “I will do as you instruct, Darius, but I think this man has somehow beguiled Desari.”
“Why?” she demanded. “Because I am insisting you help with some of the details of our existence? You are not jungle animals, the male defending the pride and that his only requirement. You ought to help out more.”
Dayan raised an eyebrow but refrained from continuing the argument with Desari. “Deal with this,” he said to Darius. “You are the only one who can.” And then he was gone before Desari could retaliate.
Desari was left to face her brother alone. “Do not say anything, Darius. I know something is terribly wrong with me. I do not know what it is, but I feel like I am losing my mind. It is more than just physical discomfort, it is mental as well.”
“Call him to you.” Darius gave the order softly, as was his way. It had no less impact. His voice carried centuries of authority.
She closed her eyes tightly, pressing her hands to her rolling stomach. “I cannot, Darius. Do not ask this of me.”