The next wave began building and she shifted her gaze to his face, her expression desperate. He brushed back her hair, noting the stripes once again stood out against her skin and hair in bands of orange and black and white. She alternated between the stripes and her pale, almost gray complexion. «Hang on, love, breathe with me. A long slow breath and
ride above the pain.»
Her gaze clung to his, her grip on him so tight he thought she might crush his bones, but she followed his breathing, long slow breaths, moving air in and out of their lungs, staying above the worst of the pain. Her body shook and the pinpoints of blood seeping through pores alarmed them both, but she was able to get through the wave without convulsing.
«I don't want to lose my tigress.» She lifted her head when he put his arm around her neck to hold her up so she could rinse her mouth again. «It wants my tigress and she is fighting it, I don't want to give her up. She's a part of me, just like breathing.» There was anxiety in her voice, a plea in her eyes.
«The conversion is reshaping organs and tissues; essentially you are reborn as a Carpathian. I can still see the stripes. It is your nature to be a tigress, not part of your species. I do not believe you will lose who you are.» He brushed the damp strands of tawny hair from her face. «You will always be Natalya and the tigress is part of your soul. I feel her locked with me. You will not lose her.» He repeated the reassurance a second time as the next pain welled up sharp and fast, lifting her from the cavern floor and slamming her back down so hard her bones seemed in danger of breaking.
Natalya kept her gaze fixed on Vikirnoff. He was her lifeline. As long as she looked at him, saw desperate love and worry etched into his face, in the black eyes, she knew she could be strong. She'd never had a man look at her like that, as if his world was shattering because she was suffering. She could feel him trying to take the pain from her and it only made her love him more. He was such a powerful, steadfast man, yet all his personal stoicism dissolved in the face of her suffering.
She stroked his face, her fingertips smoothing the deep lines as the pain subsided. «I'm not afraid of this, Vikirnoff. I'm really not.»
He swore again. She hadn't heard him say so many swear words in all the time they'd been together. «I am. I knew it was bad, but not like this.» He pressed his forehead against hers, smearing blood across both of their brows. «It has to be over soon.»
«It will be.» She was calm now, resigned to the waves of pain, able to hang on because she could get through anything for a short period of time and he was there with her, looking ravaged and drained, so distraught she wanted to soothe him.
Vikirnoff thought he might lose his mind. Time dragged, each second agonizingly slow, an excruciating endless anguish that had him praying when he hadn't prayed in centuries. He had never felt so helpless-or useless in his life. His Natalya, so courageous, undergoing such torment for him. For his way of life. When finally he thought it would be safe to send to her sleep, she smiled at him. Smiled.
Vikirnoff wanted to weep. The way she looked at him, with such love in her eyes, humbled him. He couldn't believe she could see him that way, not after such an ordeal.
There was love in her eyes, a warmth that seeped into the coldness of his bones and brought him back to life.
You really are a baby, you know. There was utter weariness in her voice. She was so tired, yet she couldn't help wiping at the blood-red tears streaking his face.
Only where you are concerned. I am going to lock you in a tower and keep you safe for well over a hundred years. It will take at least that long to get over this night.
I really hate to have to admit this because I've almost worked out the counter spell to undo the binding ritual, but I have fallen madly in love with you. There was a small deliberate sigh in her voice, as if she were annoyed that she could possibly have fallen in love with him.
His burning lungs found air. That small sigh was enough to tell him she was still Natalya, his warrior woman and she wasn't going to cave in because she was flat on her back. I hate to disagree with you when you are obviously unable to defend your position, but the ritual binding words are not a spell. You cannot undo our marriage.
She closed her eyes but a faint smile curved her lips. Then I shall endure.
He burst out laughing, a mixture of relief and amusement, tears still leaking from his eyes, gathering her up in his arms as he opened the ground, exposing the rejuvenating soil rich in minerals. «I am putting you to bed where you will not be able to torment me. I need recovery time from this ordeal.»
Her eyebrow shot up. You need the recovery time?
I nearly had a heart attack.
The pain was welling up again, seizing her organs, squeezing like a vice so it felt as if she might really be having a heart attack. Stop talking and more action.
Vikirnoff sent her to sleep instantly, a strong command that was probably unnecessary, but he wasn't taking any chances. He sat for a long time cradling her in his lap, rocking gently back and forth, more to soothe himself than her. He stared down into her beautiful face. When had he become so consumed by her? He couldn't imagine his life without Natalya. Her lashes were thick and black, feathery crescents under her eyes. He noted the dark circles that hadn't been there before.
He had never considered himself a man of violence. He lived in a world of violence and did what he had to do. Hunting was a way of life. Battles and wounds and destroying evil were simply how he lived. It was never personal, never emotional. Yet now, with Natalya, all that had changed. He couldn't bear her to be in pain. Not physically and certainly not emotionally.
He buried his face against her throat. He had a demon in him and it wasn't the monster
who had lived and roared for blood. This unexpected demon had risen up, demanding retribution, wanting to smash and destroy simply because Natalya was in pain. He couldn't stand to see her that way, so pale, in agony, trying valiantly to protect him. Vikirnoff didn't like discovering he was a violent man, but it was there, deep inside and he wouldn't hide from it. Natalya had seen him, demons and all, and she hadn't turned away from him. For that alone, he loved her.
He carefully unraveled the safeguards surrounding Natalya's weapons and her backpack. The book would have to be with them at all times until he could convince Natalya to turn it over to the prince. He could understand why she wanted to safeguard the tome herself. She knew next to nothing about the Carpathians, a dying species, with too few women and even fewer children. And that meant she didn't know the prince or his capabilities. Mikhail was one of the most powerful Carpathians alive and if anyone could keep the book safe-or find a way to destroy it, it would be Mikhail.
The backpack floated into his hand and he settled down into the rich soil. He would need to rise first and feed enough for both of them before taking her to the great healing caverns where Mikhail and Falcon would give Gabrielle the third blood exchange to convert her. In spite of the tremendous odds against it, Gabrielle was still alive, and Vikirnoff was still guarding her spirit. He needed to be there when she underwent the conversion. The idea was unsettling, especially after he had just gone through it with Natalya.
Vikirnoff stretched out in the welcoming soil, feeling it cushion and embrace him. He settled Natalya's limp body beside him, while he curled up around her, the backpack under both of their palms where it would be safe and she would see upon awakening that he had kept his word. The safeguards were some of the strongest he'd ever woven, wanting to ensure Natalya's safety. He swept his hand across her bare skin. «Sleep well, sleep deep.» He brushed a kiss over her lips and lay still beside her, calling to the soil to cover them.