Razvan came to like and respect the man. He was stubborn, tenacious, determined to heal them as quickly as possible. Ivory had been leery of taking his blood at first, a natural reaction when self-preservation had been her way for hundreds of years, but necessity forced her to take what was offered. Gregori and Nicolas De La Cruz were the two Carpathians who came daily to take care of them. Often the prince came along and gave his blood, the richness and healing qualities like no other.
Nicolas had wept when he learned Ivory was alive and Razvan felt the mixture of joy and sorrow bursting through her. She had never thought that she would ever see the De La Cruz brothers again, family to her, adored brothers every bit as close to her real brothers as she had been, yet even they could not prevent the Malinov brothers from turning.
It was Razvan who held Ivory close, surrounding her with his heat, merging his mind and heart with hers to keep her from weeping uncontrollably, to steady her while she renewed her relationship with Nicolas, lifemate to his daughter Lara. It was Nicolas who fed her wolves for her and made certain they were well cared for. Most of the time the wolves snuggled beside them, there in the soil, sleeping the weeks away, waking only to feed when Nicolas arrived, and then sleeping again.
Razvan recognized Nicolas's face from Ivory's meticulously carved wall. Each stroke had been carved with loving care, and he felt that same deep love in Ivory each time Nicolas spoke to her. That man's voice was soft, gentle, almost as if she was still the young girl from centuries earlier. He didn't seem to recognize the fierce warrior in her, only her gentle side, as if he might be blinded to who she was by his love for the child from long ago.
On some level, he realized that it was Nicolas's lack of knowledge of who Ivory was that kept Razvan from the terrible possessiveness a lifemate would feel when other males were close to their female. Ivory loved Nicolas with the love of a sister, but it was Razvan who knew her intimately, her intriguing mind and the wonderful, intelligent brain that worked fast and accurately on any problem. Razvan spent a great deal of time in her mind, going over what she knew of vampires and learning how best to fight them. She was a wealth of information, and as much as Nicolas loved her, he would never see her true value.
He sees me the way you see Natalya. She is a warrior and yet you wish only to protect her and keep her safe. There was amusement in Ivory's voice.
Her tone felt like velvet stroking over his skin. Perhaps little sisters should never grow up, but simply stay young for their brothers. He matched her teasing tone.
I am grown up. A woman. Her amusement faded to be replaced by something altogether different. When we leave this place of comfort and healing-and we will soon to join the real world with its hardships and cruelty-I will miss our closeness. There was real regret in her voice. The thought of going back to her lonely existence after intertwining her mind so deeply with his was disturbing to her.
Han ku vigyaz sielamet-keeper of my soul, you are also, han ku kuulua sivamet-keeper of my heart. We are bound together, lifemates for all eternity. When we rise, ready to fight our enemy, we rise as lifemates. I asked you if that was what you wished and your reply was clear to me. We do not separate. We face the future together, whatever it should bring.
Ivory sighed softly. I am prepared to do that. I just meant… She trailed off and he felt her searching for the right words to express whatever troubled her.
When she was silent for so long, he reached for her mind, his touch as gentle as a lover's caress. Once again he took her into another realm, his mind in hers, leading her away from pain and what they both knew they would have to face when they rose.
His hand slipped into hers and he walked with her, side by side, his body brushing against hers, walking into the night, taking her to his garden, the one place he was familiar with, the one place he loved and could share.
Flowers cascaded down the terraced rock and covered arbors of white. The fragrances mingled, rising above the mazes of shaped hedges and bushes. Trees formed small groves of oranges and lemons with taller evergreen towers on the corners of the stone-fence-wrapped garden. Weeping willows stood at the edges of the blue-green pond, while a few ducks swam lazily, dunking their heads beneath the rippling surface and coming up to shake the water from their feathers.
Ivory looked around her. «You grew up here?»
He brought her fingers to his chest, over his heart. «It was our mother's family home. We lived here for some time after she passed away. And then my father disappeared and Xavier took us away. But this was where we were together and happy.»
«It's beautiful.»
«I used to believe it was the most beautiful spot in the world, but I think you managed to create that in your home.» Razvan looked around him and inhaled to drag the scent of lavender into his lungs.
«Our home,» Ivory corrected. «It is our home now.»
He felt the instant reaction in his heart to her words. Home. What would that be like, to feel as if he had a home, a woman to share his life with? They had a purpose for living, for suffering the fires of helclass="underline" to rid the world of its greatest evil-Xavier. For a short time he could simply be with Ivory, enjoy walking with her through a beautiful garden.
Ivory glanced sideways at him and then quickly averted her eyes, her long lashes hiding her expression.
Razvan stopped to push the long fall of silken hair from her face and back over her shoulder. «You are hiding from me.»
Color rose, turning her pale skin to a soft rose. «Maybe. A little.»
«I had no idea you were a little shy. You are such a fierce warrior and wholly confident, I thought you would be that way in all things.»
She shrugged. «I have little experience with men-most of it long ago and not good.»
He grinned at her, a slow, heart-stopping smile that revealed his straight white teeth, and suddenly seemed a little shy as well. «My body has a tremendous amount of experience, but not my heart-and not me. Truthfully, I feel like a young boy on his first date.»
She lifted her chin. «It is my first date.»
He regarded her steadily, his dark eyes drifting over the exquisite bone structure of her face. His gaze settled on her full lips. «Then we must make it memorable.» He couldn't conceive of forgetting this moment, this one time with her, surrounded by the memory of his garden and so close to her that he could breathe the same breath.
She lifted a hand to his face, worn and lined, as if he still couldn't change that look, even in his dreams-even in his memories. He had forgotten what his face had looked like in his younger days, forgotten being a carefree youth. He could only give her what he was now, and hope that it was enough for her.
«You will always be enough for me,» she whispered, meaning it. «I had stopped dreaming of my prince long ago.»
«What was he like?»
She smiled, her eyes warming. «Tall, of course, with long, black, flowing hair and broad shoulders. He was a great warrior and he rescued me from my tower where my brothers had imprisoned me. He wanted me to ride beside him on his snorting, rearing steed, a sturdy animal that blew smoke through his nostrils and pawed the ground with impatience to rush headlong into battle.» She laughed softly at a young girl's dreams.
Razvan made a face. «I am tall, but my hair is streaked with white, and I cannot say I am an accomplished warrior. But I would surely rescue you and take you off to ride beside me anywhere we went, including battle.»
Her fingertips went to one particular thick white streak in his hair. She rubbed the silky strands back and forth between her thumb and index finger. «A warrior is not someone who merely fights, Razvan. You have the heart of a warrior and the soul of a poet. I find you fascinating.» She dropped her gaze. «And tempting.»