Gregori shimmered into the room. One moment there was no one beside the bed, and in the next instant, he stood tall and straight, invincible. His smile looked reassuring, but Corinne was beginning to know him through their continual mind merges. There was worry in his mind. Darius loomed over her too, a larger-than-life figure so powerful he seemed unshakable. A woman emerged from what seemed thin air, transparent at first, then very real. She was small, with wine-red hair, and she gave the impression of total competency. She was the one who leaned close and put her hand on Corinne’s abdomen, a slight frown of concentration on her face.
“This is Shea, Corinne,” Gregori said softly. “Trust in her judgment as we do.” Gregori took her hand. “Our people are gathering wherever they are and they will lend their aid also. We will do this.”
Corinne glued her eyes to Dayan.
Save my baby.
It was a desperate plea.
Something’s wrong, I can feel it.
“Corinne — “ Shea’s voice was gentle but very firm. “I’m going to take the baby immediately. She’s in trouble, and we need to get her out now.” She looked up at Dayan.
You must complete the ritual as I do so, Dayan. Bring her across fully into our world and we will hope her body will go through the conversion fast enough to sustain her life. Gregori and Darius will aid you in this. Julian stands by to give his blood, as does Jacques.
As she spoke to Dayan, she was already prepping Corinne, deftly cutting through clothing, without any need of light. Her mind was directing Darius and Gregori without having to use words as they worked together like a well-oiled machine.
Dayan shifted position again, his arms encircling Corinne, her head resting on his chest. Shea was fast and efficient, a highly skilled surgeon as well as a Carpathian healer. It was obvious to Corinne that Shea knew what she was doing. She felt no pain; they were working in concert to prevent pain. She felt strange sensations as Shea did the emergency procedure, opening her womb to allow access to the baby.
Corinne felt disconnected from the entire procedure. She was drifting again in a dream world, uncertain what was reality and what was dream. She saw the red-haired woman cutting into her. She saw Dayan nuzzling her neck, his mouth drifting over her pulse, his teeth sinking into her skin. None of it alarmed her. Gregori had centered himself, moved from his own body to become pure light and energy, streaming into Corinne in order to slow down the death process and speed up the conversion.
Corinne heard voices chanting in an ancient tongue, saw the flurry of activity as others brought a small enclosure like an incubator into the chamber. Dayan lifted his head, his face a mask of torment. That moved her even when nothing else seemed to. She ached for him, for his sorrow. He looked older; there were lines etched deeply into his dark, sensual features. She saw him make a thin cut along the heavy muscles of his chest, over his heart. She saw him press her to him, holding her close, murmuring to her, commanding her to take what he offered so they both would live.
She saw herself attempting to obey his command, her movements weak and feeble so that Dayan had to hold her head to him, stroke her throat so she would convulsively swallow. At the same time, she saw Shea lift out the baby, a tiny form. Her helpers were moving even faster now, cutting the cord, working on the baby, Darius very much in the forefront. He bent over the baby, his manner protective, tender even.
Corinne felt the tears on her face. Happiness. It was done. Her daughter was alive and in a circle of people who would love and care for her. Drifting above it all, Corinne was so tired she just wanted to close her eyes and let go. Sleep a long, long time. An eternity maybe. It seemed she had been tired all her life.
No!
The command was sharp.
You are not finished here, Corinne. I forbid you to do this.
The voice was imperious, authoritative. It followed her into her dreams and shook her out of her dreamlike state. She found herself in Dayan’s arms, her mouth pressed to her chest, warm salty liquid pouring down her throat.
It is enough!
Gregori warned Dayan before Corinne could fully comprehend what was happening and panic, or be repulsed and fight.
There can be no resistance on her part. She simply isn’t strong enough to survive if she resists.
Dayan immediately allowed Julian to close the wound in his chest and he held Corinne to him, locking her mind to his. She was fading away — he could feel her spirit drifting further from him, yet her departure wasn’t a conscious choice. She seemed unable to rally enough strength to keep fighting, even with his ancient blood, even with the Carpathians pouring their strength of will into her frail body.
Dayan rested his head on hers. They had waited too long. Her poor mortal body had fought as long as it was able, remaining just long enough to give life to another. Now the life force was slipping away from her. She was no longer feeling the blood coursing through her body. Her fragile heart was still pumping because Gregori was forcing the damaged organ to do its job, but Corinne seemed too far away to call back.
Dayan felt them all around him - his people, his family. The chant swelled in volume. He heard the baby’s soft distressed cry as Shea worked with her. He inhaled the scent of healing herbs. For a moment he allowed himself the last luxury of taking it all in, the beauty of the chamber, the flood of memories of his life: shape-shifting, soaring, challenging the earth itself as he gained knowledge; his beloved music, so much a part of him. He loved it all, but the woman in his arms was everything. Nothing else would ever matter to him.
Without her, there would be no color, no light, no music in his heart or soul.
Dayan bent his head to brush her eyelids, the corner of her mouth, with his.
I love you, Corinne. You do not go alone into a strange world. I am with you.
At once there was a loud protest. Sharp. Demanding. All of them. His family. From a distance he heard Barack’s and Syndil’s cries of alarm. He heard the echo of Cullen, who must have caught the objection from Barack’s mind. He heard Julian’s sharp denial and Desari’s soft little murmur of dissent. Tempest called to him. Gregori and Savannah added their demands. But it was Darius whom Dayan had followed all his life, only Darius he answered to. And it was Darius who commanded him now.
You will not follow her. You will save her.
The voice was incredibly soft, but Darius had no need ever to raise his voice to be obeyed.
She does not wish to continue, Darius. I can do no other than allow her to rest.
Darius’s hand came down hard on Dayan’s shoulder, connecting them physically.
You can be her lifemate later, giving in to her every desire, but not now. You are Carpathian, Dayan. We embrace life. We hold on. We endure. You will not release her or yourself from this world. She has the right to make her decision.
He had the right to make his choice; Corinne deserved the same respect. It was the last thing he could give her.
This was not her choice, Dayan!
Darius persisted.
She was never given a choice. Death was inevitable, and she knew and accepted that. She is tired and worn, but this is not her choice. She embraced you, accepted you, knowing what you are. She did not resist each time you offered to bring her into our world. You were not keeping the knowledge from her; she always knew it on some level. Her choice would be life, you, her child. She cannot make that decision, so you must make it for her. You do not realize how tired and worn you yourself are, how much energy you have used in keeping her alive to give the child a chance. You are not thinking straight. You will not go with her. You will stay with us, and you will turn your will on her and prevent this tragedy.