Текст книги " Dark Gold"

Автор книги: Christine Feehan

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth?” Alexandria asked tiredly. “Don’t all vampires lie and deceive?”

“I am Carpathian. I am not yet vampire. I must know how much blood Yohenstria has given you.” He spoke patiently, gently, his voice never changing inflection. “How many times did he exchange his blood with you?”

“You’re very dangerous, aren’t you?” She bit at her lower lip, then winced when she painfully scraped blisters and sores. “You have this way about you, making everyone want to do everything you say. You made the vampire believe you could defeat him, didn’t you?” It hurt her to talk, but it was comforting that she could.

“I use the power of my voice,” he acknowledged gravely. “Less wear and tear on the body when hunting vampires, although I have had my share of wounds.” He touched her then, the lightest of caresses across her forehead. “Do you not remember your own story to young Joshua? I am the hunter, come to rescue my fair lady and her brother. Joshua recognized me as such. He told me so. Do you not find it a strange coincidence that you described me so accurately?”

Her mind refused to think about that, so she changed the subject. “Joshua saw the vampire kill Henry. He must be so frightened.”

“He remembers Henry’s death as a heart attack. To him, I am an old friend of the family. He thinks he called me to come and help you because of your illness. He believes you fell ill at the restaurant.”

She studied his appearance. He was physically beautiful. His hair was rich and thick, waves of gold reaching past his wide shoulders. His eyes, a peculiar molten gold, intense and frightening, gazed back at her with the unblinking stare of a jungle cat. His lips were impossibly sensual. It was impossible to judge his age. She would have guessed he was somewhere in his thirties. “Why don’t you erase mymemories?”

A small, humorless smile curved his mouth, revealing strong, even, white teeth. “You are not so easy to handle, piccola. You are resistant to my direction. But we need to address what is happening to you.”

Her heart began to pound. “What is happening to me?”

“We need to further dilute the tainted blood in your system.”

Alexandria wanted to trust him. The smell of the herbs, the sound of his voice, his seeming honesty all made her want to believe he was trying to help her. And he didn’t force her decision, or even attempt to rush her, though she sensed he was concerned that whatever was going to happen would happen before he was adequately prepared to deal with it. She took a deep breath. “How do we do that?”

“I must give you a large amount of my blood.”

He said it quietly, matter-of-factly. Alexandria looked away. Those golden eyes of his never blinked. She was afraid if she stared into them too long, she would fall forever into their depths. “You will give me a transfusion?”

“I am sorry, piccola, that will not work.” There was real regret in his voice. He touched her again, turning her chin so she would face him again. The feather-light stroke sent her heart pounding.

“I can’t... I can’t drink blood.”

“I can put you under compulsion if you are willing for me to do so. It will aid you. It is our only chance, Alexandria.”

The way he said her name sent butterflies winging through her stomach. But was it possible that drinking more blood was the only way to make her well?

“If it is impossible for you to drink of your own free will, you must consent to my aiding you,” he said.

“I’m not sure I can do it.” The very thought repulsed her. Her stomach was churning, already rebelling at the idea. “There must be another way to make me well. I don’t think I can do it,” she repeated.

“His blood is tainted, Alexandria. Even though he is dead, he can cause you much pain and suffering. We have to dilute it before you go through the transformation.”

There was that word again– transformation.She shivered.

He reached behind him for an immaculately white silk shirt, clearly one of his own, and, his eyes holding hers, he gently put it on her, handling her as if she were a fragile porcelain doll. They both pretended the act was impersonal, but there was something in his touch, some quality in his gaze that could only be described as possessive.

Exhausted, Alexandria tried to think. The vampire had been grotesque, and the thought of any part of him living in her bloodstream was terrifying. “All right. Do it.” Her blue eyes met his golden gaze. “Put me under compulsion to get rid of the vampire in me. But nothing else. Don’t take away or put anything else into my head. Nothing else. You have to give me your word on that.” For whatever that would be worth.

He nodded. She was far too weak to sit up, so Aidan cradled her on his lap. She began to tremble, her heart pounding so hard, he was afraid it would shatter before he could heal her. Deliberately he reached behind her to braid her long hair, to soothe and distract her. Then he silently began a low chant in her mind, murmuring in the ancient tongue, bringing a measure of relief to her. She visibly relaxed.

“I want to command you to sleep through your conversion. It is quite brutal, piccola. I will wake you when it is over.” His velvet voice made the suggestion, and she felt the notes wrapping around her like safe, warm arms, compelling her to do as he wished.

Instantly she pulled back, her mind slamming shut, turning away from him. She simply was not willing to be that vulnerable, to give up all control, even consciousness, to a stranger. Especially one capable of the things this man could do. What was he, after all? Possibly another vampire, despite the distinction he drew about being “Carpathian, not yet vampire,” whatever that meant.

“I will assist you in diluting the vampire’s tainted blood, Alexandria, nothing more, if that is your wish.” He chose his words carefully. He had been in her mind several times already, and the bond was strengthening with each mental sharing. She was unaware of it as of yet, and for now it was better to keep it that way. He knew she was confused and mistakenly hoping that the conversion about to take place would restore her to human life. For now he would have to mildly deceive her in that regard to spare her the agony of the inevitable transformation, already begun, to Carpathian life.

Alexandria sighed. The feel of his hands in her hair, the soft whisper of his husky voice, the total confidence he exuded was mesmerizing. “Let’s get it over with before I lose my nerve.”

As soon as the words slipped out of her mouth, he shifted her slight weight, cradling her on his lap, and bent his blond head slowly to her throat. The touch of his mouth was like hot silk on her skin. She felt that wildly erotic touch right down to her toes.

Alexandria stiffened, suddenly afraid of losing far more than her life. His lips were on her throat, right over her pulse. You have to trust me, piccola. Let yourself feel me in you. I am part of you. Reach for me now, as I reach for you. The words seemed to be in her mind rather than spoken aloud. He was strength and heat, fire and ice. He was power and protection from the insanity engulfing her.

A white-hot heat pierced her throat, and then she felt an erotic intimacy so beautiful, it brought tears to her eyes. She had never felt so cherished, so beautiful, so perfect as she did at that moment. She felt him in her mind, exploring her secret thoughts and desires. He was soothing and healing her, tasting her, sharing her mind. He examined every memory, the strength of her block against him.

When he was certain he had taken enough of her blood to ensure a proper exchange, his tongue reluctantly stroked over the wound and closed it.

With a fingernail he opened a line over his heart. Drink, Alexandria. Take what is freely offered. His mind was ready, reaching to take control of hers, to compel what she did not wish to do. His body clenched as her mouth moved over his skin, found what it was seeking, and his life’s blood flowed into her. His heart slammed hard against his chest. He knew she was the one. She was his. His entire being responded to her. The chemistry between them was electric, exact. He had waited so long, seemingly forever, for her. And now he was taking no chances on losing her. He began the chant that would bind them together for all time.

I claim you as my lifemate. I belong to you. I offer my life for you. I give you my protection, my allegiance, my heart, my soul, and my body. I take into my keeping the same that is yours. Your life, happiness, and welfare will be placed above my own. You are my lifemate, bound to me for all eternity and always in my care.

He spoke the ritual words in her mind, both in her language and in his native tongue. The ritual would not be complete until her body was bound to his, but, this done, no one would be able to take her from him, nor could she escape him.

Aidan gave her as much blood as he could. He wanted the vampire’s blood thoroughly diluted when the conversion began, during which she would expel whatever might remain. They had little time before the transformation would begin, and he was weak and pale. He desperately needed to hunt before she needed him again, which would be very soon.

Alexandria lay back, her long lashes thick crescents resting on her cheeks. Even in her hypnotic state, he could see the pain twisting her body. It was difficult to keep his promise and not command her to sleep the deep, healing sleep of immortals. But if Alexandria was ever to trust him, he had to keep every promise he made. She had exceptional cause to despise his kind. Her trauma and terror would never be fully erased, even as she came to understand their race.

His call to Marie brought the older woman to the chamber immediately. “You will stay with Alexandria while I hunt this night.”

Marie watched him, appalled as he staggered with weakness. She had seen him weary and wounded from battle, but she had never seen him so starved before. He was nearly gray. “You must take my blood before you go out, Aidan,” she said. “You are too weak to hunt. If a vampire caught you is such a state, he would destroy you.”

He shook his head, touching her arm gently. “You know I would never do such a thing. I do not use those I care for, those I protect.”

“Go then, and hurry.” Marie watched with anxious eyes as he bent to brush his mouth across the girl’s forehead. He was suddenly so tender, this man she had come to know so well. He had always been aloof, remote, even to those he called family. This rare gesture of tenderness made her want to cry.

Aidan whispered the command to awaken Alexandria from her trance. “I must go now,” he told her. “Marie will stay with you until my return. Call to me if you have need of me.”

For some strange reason, Alexandria didn’t want him to leave her side. She curled her fingers in the sheet to keep from calling out to him. But he moved quickly with his peculiar grace, like a great jungle cat, and soon was gone.

Marie held a glass of water to her lips. “I know you’re sore, Alexandria—may I call you that?—but some water might help. I feel I know you, what with young Joshua telling me such tales of his wonderful sister. He loves you very much.”

The rim of the glass hurt her mouth, and Alexandria pushed it away. “Just Alex, that’s what Josh likes to call me. Is he okay?”

“Stefan—that’s my husband—looked him over very carefully. He was hungry and tired, a bit hypothermic and dehydrated, but we attended to that. He’s eaten and is in good spirits. He fell asleep by the downstairs fire. Under the circumstances, with him so worried about you, we felt he should sleep close to us and not alone in his room.”

“Thank you for looking after him.” She tried to sit up. With the infusion of the hunter’s blood, she felt stronger. “Where is he now? I’d like to go see him.”

Marie shook her head. “You must not even attempt to leave this bed. Aidan would have our heads. You’re very weak, Alex. I guess you haven’t seen yourself yet either. In your condition, you’d scare Joshua to death.”

Alexandria sighed. “But I need to see him, to touch him, just so I know he’s all right. Everyone tells me he is, but how do I know for sure?”

Marie stroked back stray strands of gold hair from Alexandria’s forehead. “Because Aidan does not lie. He would never harm a child. He is one who, at great risk to himself, hunts the vampires preying on the human race.”

“Are there really such things? Maybe I’m just having a terrible nightmare I can’t wake up from. Maybe I’m just sick with a high fever.” She said it hopefully. “How could there really be such things as vampires in our society without everyone knowing it?”

“Because of those like Aidan who stop them.”

“What is Aidan? Isn’t he a vampire, too? I saw him turn from a bird to a man to a wolf. He grew fangs and claws. He drank my blood. I know he intended to kill me. I still don’t know why he changed his mind.” Suddenly she felt her body beginning to burn. Her muscles began to tighten into hard knots. Even the thin sheet covering her felt too heavy and warm against her skin. Her muscles seemed to be contorting, the heat migrating throughout her body.

“Aidan will explain everything to you. But rest assured that he is no vampire. I have known him since I was a young girl. He watched me grow up, have children of my own, and now I have become an old woman. He is a powerful, dangerous man, but not to those of us he calls his own. He will never harm you. He will protect you with his life.”

Alexandria was panicking. She did not want to belong to Aidan Savage. Yet she realized he would never let her go. How could he? She knew far too much. “I don’t want to be here. Call 911. Get me a doctor.”

Marie sighed. “No doctor can help you now, Alex. Only Aidan can. He is a great healer. They say there is only one other greater than he.” She smiled. “Aidan will return, and he’ll take away your pain.”

Her insides twisted so hard and abruptly, Alexandria was nearly thrown from the bed. She cried out, screamed. “You have to call me a doctor, Marie. Please! You’re human, like me, aren’t you? You have to help me. I want to go home! I just want to go home!”

Marie tried to hold her down on the bed, but the pain was so intense, Alexandria’s body convulsed, and she hit the floor hard.

Chapter Four

Aidan inhaled the night as he walked along the San Francisco sidewalk. Creatures winged their way across the sky. The breeze carried the scent of prey. Half a block away, an alley, narrow and dark, opened onto the street. He could feel the presence of three men. He smelled their sweat, heard their crude laughter. They were would-be assailants waiting for a lost soul to brighten up their otherwise dull lives.

His hunger rose sharply with every step he took, the demon rising so that his mind became merely a red haze demanding to feed. He smelled the night. It had taken him some time to get used to the sounds and sights and smells of this foreign city. The sea salt carried on the wind, the thick fog, the patterns of the night life were all so different from the ways of his homeland. But someone had to hunt the vampires. Once the undead had learned they could leave their lands and travel far from the Dark One’s justice, they had begun to branch out. Aidan had volunteered to leave his beloved Carpathian Mountains and go to a new land to protect the humans residing there. And San Francisco had become his home base. Over time he had come to enjoy the city and its diverse people, to even think of it as home.

The art centers were wonderful. Theater and opera were plentiful. And there was a ready supply of prey. He moved silently, muscles rippling as he neared the alley. The three thugs were shuffling back and forth, whispering, unaware of his stalking. Their mutterings were loud in his ears, despite the fact that he had deliberately lowered his hearing, wanting to escape the assault on his senses. Sensations, intense emotions, even the vivid colors he hadn’t experienced in so many centuries were overwhelming to him. The night seemed so brilliant, it took his breath away. He found it beautiful, the clouds, the stars, the moon, all of it.

Aidan shrugged his powerful shoulders to relax the tension in his body. He was more obviously muscular than most of his kind. The majority of his people were slimmer, more elegantly built. Also unlike the others, he and his twin were blond with golden eyes. His race customarily had dark hair and eyes.

As he approached the alley, he sent forth a call. He didn’t need to do so. The moment the men spotted him, they would have attempted to attack him. But this way would be calmer. Although the predator in him would welcome a battle, brief as it would be, he didn’t have the time to indulge his nature just now. In any case, having come so close to the edge of madness and transformation to vampire by waiting so many centuries for his mate, and so soon after the killing battle with Paul Yohenstria, he would not allow himself to explode into violence. He had a purpose now, a reason for existing, and he would not allow his predatory nature to overcome his intelligence and will.

One of the trio had just lit a cigarette, its pungent aroma wafting along the street, but abruptly he turned and began to shuffle out of the alley. The other two followed him, one cleaning his greasy fingernails with the point of a pocketknife. Their eyes were slightly glazed, as if they were drugged. Aidan frowned, unhappy that the prey was using narcotics, but blood was blood, and the drugs wouldn’t affect him.

“It is cold out on the street,” Aidan said softly, slipping an arm around the smoker’s shoulders. He led the men back into the darkened alley, away from prying eyes, and bent his head to drink. The other two waited like cattle, pushing close to him for their turn. Their unwashed bodies and rather useless minds sickened him, but he had to feed. Sometimes he wondered why humans like these were allowed to exist. They seemed little different from those of his race who had chosen to forfeit their souls and turn vampire, preying on those less powerful than themselves. Why didn’t someone stop these humans? Why had God created them? Why had he given the gift of breath to them, knowing they would fail to live a life of honor and integrity? Carpathian males endured for hundreds—some of them thousands—of years before they sought the dawn and self-destruction or made the decision to turn renegade and lose their souls for all time. Yet some human males could not endure even beyond their teen years.

Aidan dropped the first victim carelessly on the ground, his hand curling around the nape of the next donor. The man came to him easily, under hypnotic trance, eager to please. Aidan fed voraciously, heedless that the three men would be weak and helpless for some time. He needed the nourishment, and he was disgusted with their existence. Men like these searched to exploit those weaker than themselves. They were cruel to their women and avoided their obligations to their most precious treasure in life, their children. Who cared how they got this way? Aidan was a firm believer in choosing one’s own destiny, not taking the easy way out. Carpathian males had all the instincts of a predator, sometimes more dangerous than wild animals, yet they would never abuse a woman or a child. They held to a strict code of honor even in their oftentimes kill-or-be-killed world. All of them knew the consequences of their actions, and they accepted the responsibility of their gifts. In Aidan’s race men such as these three would soon be exterminated. As powerful as Carpathians were, they could not be allowed to abuse those weaker than themselves.

The second victim swayed and fell nearly on top of the first. Aidan dragged the knife-wielding man close. The man looked up at him. “Are we going to party?” the reprobate asked with a crude laugh.

“One of us is,” Aidan agreed softly, and he bent his head to find the pulsing jugular.

The first ripple of unease hit him. He lifted his head for a moment, and his prey’s blood spurted out. He bent once more to his task, this time all efficiency and quickness. It was Alexandria. He could feel the first wave of pain hitting her.

He meticulously closed the wound, ensuring that there was no evidence on the man’s neck to betray the presence of his kind in the area, and allowed his prey to sink to the ground. To anyone passing by all three men would appear drunk. Doubtless the trail of blood down one man’s shirt would be attributed to a bloody nose.

It was starting within Alexandria, as he knew it would. The conversion. And, ultimately, if inadvertently, he was responsible. The guilt didn’t sit well with him. He had observed two wounds on Alexandria’s neck, which could only mean one thing: the vampire had bitten her twice, made his exchanges. When Aidan had assumed she was a vampiress, already turned, he had nearly killed her. Then, when he had realized his error, he had replaced her lost blood with his own. Four blood exchanges would put the human through the transformation process—to vampire or Carpathian. Either way, there was no turning back. In most humans, attempts at conversion either killed the woman outright or drove her insane. Only a few women, those possessing psychic abilities, had managed to come through the ordeal alive and well. And they would be the ones to help perpetuate the Carpathian race, since their own females were proving barren.

The fourth blood exchange, converting Alexandria, would also keep her chained to him forever. Selfish though it might be to make that decision without her consent, she was, after all, his only salvation. He had held on for so many centuries, awaiting his lifemate, avoiding turning vampire himself. And, consenting or not, she wasmeant to be his lifemate, not Yohenstria’s; all the signs, and their perfect chemistry, confirmed that. And at least he had done what he could to give Alexandria as much of his own powerful, ancient blood as he could to dilute the vampire’s taint and make her transformation to Carpathian easier.

He felt her scream in his mind, a helpless cry filled with desperate pain. She was confused and afraid, linked with him yet unknowingly sharing her thoughts. She was terrified of him yet afraid he had deserted her, afraid he might even be enjoying her pain as the vampire had. Mostly she was afraid for her brother, Joshua, believing he was alone, unprotected in the house of a vampire so powerful, he had killed another of the undead in a matter of moments.

Aidan launched himself into the night sky, needing to cover the distance between them as quickly as possible. At that moment he didn’t care if someone saw a strange night owl, huge beyond belief, winging its way over the city. She needed him. She was begging Marie for a doctor. Marie was in distress, wanting to accommodate her yet knowing Aidan was the only one who could help her. He heard it all clearly, the soft voice begging for help, the housekeeper nearly in tears. He was sharing Alexandria’s mind, experiencing everything she was experiencing. Confusion. Pain. Fear amounting to terror.

He flew to her, to be close when she called out for him. And he hoped, for both their sakes, that that would be soon. She needed him, but he had promised to compel her no further than the blood exchange. She had to call for him.

Outside the underground chamber he paced, Alexandria’s pitiful cries sending shards of pain through his own heart. A dozen times he reached for the door, wanting, even needing to kick it in. But she had to call to him. She had to express faith in him or she would never believe he was helping, not harming, her. He rested his forehead against the door, then was shocked to see a crimson stain from the contact. He was sweating blood, in agony hearing her pleas and feeling the pain twisting and burning within her body. The physical agony he could manage, but his heart and his mind were in torment.

It seemed an endless nightmare. He knew the moment when she tried to crawl across the floor in a blind attempt to escape her own body. He knew when she vomited blood, the tainted blood of the vampire. He felt her insides burning and rebelling against their mutations. Her internal organs were reshaping, renewing themselves, becoming different. Her cells—every muscle, tissue, every inch of her skin—were on fire with the transformation.

Where are you? You promised to help me. Where are you?

He had waited so long for the invitation, he thought he was hallucinating when it actually came. He hit the door with the flat of his hand and burst inside. Marie was kneeling, tears streaming down her face, trying in vain to hold the convulsing body.

Aidan nearly dragged Alexandria from Marie’s arms, cradling her protectively against his chest. “Go, Marie. I will help her.”

Marie’s eyes were eloquent with sympathy for Alexandria and anger and accusation for him. She twitched the hem of her skirt smartly and slammed the door hard as she left.

The moment the housekeeper was out of sight, Aidan put her out of his mind. His total attention centered on Alexandria. “Did you think I had deserted you, piccola? I did not. But I could not interfere if you did not wish me to do so. Remember? You made me promise.”

Alexandria turned her face away, humiliated that Aidan Savage would again see her so vulnerable, so disheveled. She didn’t have time to dwell on it though, because the next wave of heat was starting, clawing at her stomach and liver and kidneys, taking a blowtorch to her heart and lungs. Her cry echoed through the room, a wrenching scream of agony. She wished she would stop so she could breathe, but it went on and on. Tears streamed down her face.

Aidan thumbed away her tears, and his hand came away stained with blood. He breathed for her, for both of them.

Aidan’s hands were cool and soothing on her skin, his ancient chants centering her mind so that she had an anchor to cling to in an insane world. After a time Alexandria realized he was somehow taking part of the pain from her. He was there in her mind, shielding her from the terrible burning, from complete awareness of what was happening to her. Her mind seemed hazy, as if she was in a dream state. She forced her eyes open. She could see her own agony reflected in his eyes. There was a scarlet smear across his forehead.

When the terrible spasms let her loose from their grip to give her a few moments’ reprieve, she reached up and touched his face with wondering fingers. “I can’t believe you came back.” Her voice was husky, her throat swollen. “It hurts.”

“I know, Alexandria. I have taken the brunt of it, but I cannot do more at this time, and the poisoned blood you took in makes it so much worse.” He said it with honest regret, guilt, and humbleness, all powerful new emotions.

“How can you do what you’re doing?” Her tongue touched her dried lips, felt the terrible sores.

“We are connected now through the sharing of our blood. That is how I heard your call to me. It is how you feel me in your mind.” Once more he touched some soothing salve to her lips, one small relief he could provide.

“I’m so tired, I don’t think I can do this anymore.” If he could really read her mind, he would see she was telling the truth. He was rocking her back and forth, oblivious of her hideous condition, holding her as if she was the most precious, beautiful woman in the world. He was there in her mind, his arms keeping her sheltered next to his heart. It was soothing, comforting; it made her feel less alone. But even with his help, she could not stand another bout of this agony. She knew she couldn’t. And it was coming; already she could feel the heat beginning. Her fingers circled his arm; her blue eyes rose to meet his liquid gold gaze. “I really can’t.”

“Allow me to put you to sleep. Do not be afraid. It will merely be the unconscious state of humans, not the sleep of our kind. Your body must convert before I can put you into our truly healing sleep.” His velvet-soft voice was compelling and beautiful.

“I don’t want to hear any more.” Her body was stiffening. Even with Aidan’s enormous strength, a spasm of pain nearly wrenched her from his grasp. A low moan escaped her clenched teeth, her nails bit into his arms, but she clung to him while her body rid itself of the tainted blood and her cells and organs continued to reshape into those of another race. Her mind was chaos and pain, a place of fear and agony.

The spasm lasted a full three minutes, the intensity peaking and then ebbing like the waves of the sea. She was beaded in blood, sweating it. Her breath came in ragged gasps; her heart was nearly exploding. “I can’t do this,” she gasped.

“Then trust me. I came back for you, did I not? I will not harm or desert you while you sleep. Why do you resist?”

“At least awake I know what’s going on.”

“You don’t know, piccola. I share your mind. You cannot comprehend anything other than pain. Let me help you. I cannot take much more of your agony either. I am afraid I will lose control and be forced to break my promise not to further compel you. Do not force me to break trust with you. Give your consent that I may put you to sleep.”

She could hear the pleading and honesty in his voice. She also felt that warm, sensuous velvet that wrapped her up and made her want to do whatever he wished. It frightened her that his voice alone held so much power. This man, whatever he might be, was dangerous, lethal. She sensed it, but at that moment, with the heat starting and the mixture of pleading and warning in the golden eyes, she gave up the fight. “Don’t hurt me anymore,” she whispered against the warmth of his throat.

He read the submission in her voice, in her eyes, and Aidan took no chances that she would change her decision. He instantly sent a sharp command, seizing her mind, pushing past its barricade to take control. He put her to sleep, beyond the pain, in a place where neither the agony of the conversion nor the vampire’s blood could reach her.