Dark Slayer

Razvan brought her hand to his chest and stepped close, brushing the snow from the strands of hair tumbling around her face, pulled from her thick braid in their wild battle. «I remember every word, Ivory, and I meant them. I wanted the binding between us. It was not desperation. And it was not the need to save me.»

He bent his dark head in that slow way of his. He still had snowflakes on his lashes. As he moved, a thick heat slipped like molasses through her veins. His mouth closed over hers and the snow melted around her, she was certain of it. She swore she could see steam rising from the ground and feel molten liquid gathering like thick magma in her most feminine core.

She leaned into him, melting like the snow. She felt on the edge of a great precipice, teetering, knowing she was going to fall and it was far too late to save herself. In truth, she didn't want to; she already craved the taste of him, the heat and white lightning arcing through her body, sizzling in her mind, shorting out her brain for way too long when they were out in the open.

When he lifted his head she took a moment to drown in the intensity of his desire. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Ivory stepped away from temptation. «You are the most lethal man I know.»

«I will take that as a compliment.» He kissed her again. «You like lethal.»

He knew how to kiss. Long and slow and delicious. A slow, burning heat that scorched from the inside out. She found herself smiling up at him all over again as he lifted his head. «Yes, I suppose I do.» Although, she was scared to care that much about anyone ever again.

They walked through the drifting snow for several miles until the flakes began to look like a white blanket falling from the sky. It might have been the muffled world they found themselves in, alien and white and so quiet that even their breathing seemed too loud in the vast silence, but Ivory began to feel uneasy. Another mile and her wolves stirred. She felt the itch spread over her skin as Raja lifted his head out of her back and bared his teeth in a snarl.

I know, she soothed. We have company. Ivory glanced at Razvan. «We are being followed.» Her voice was a thread of sound, as muffled and as quiet as the snow.

A small, unexpected smile of amusement lit up Razvan's face. «Well, I guess we get to have a little fun.»

She frowned at him. «Fun? Razvan, it is not the undead who are following us. We cannot have anyone finding our lair, nor do we want to engage them in battle if they are Carpathian as I suspect they are.»

His grin widened. «I was fairly certain someone would try to follow us. I have been giving it quite a bit of thought as we walked, working out a plan.»

Ivory's amber gaze narrowed as it drifted over his face. He looked younger. Happier. She had done that but . . .

«Trust me, Ivory. I am not the experienced fighter you are, but I am very good at planning battles and strategies. This is a situation made for me.»

She sent her senses racing out into the night, seeking information, looking for any blank spots that would indicate vampire. The hunters were well hidden, so much so that she wasn't entirely certain she was right, but Raja was never wrong and he had issued his warning.

«What do you want to do?»

«We should make our way to the valley of mists. That is where we will disappear altogether and leave those following behind. But in the meantime, I think a little lesson is called for, don't you?»

«Lesson?» she echoed faintly. There was way too much amusement in his voice.

«They need to learn a little respect for my woman. You are a warrior, equal to them, and yet they treat you as if you are an amateur. They did not even give us the respect due by confronting us face-to-face. It might be a good thing for all of them to know they are not as good as they think they are.»

«I do not think these are children following us, Razvan. They are experienced Carpathian hunters, possibly ancients who have thousands of battles under them.»

His cocky grin made him look boyish when there was nothing boyish about him. «Perhaps, but then again, we may make them remember their childhood.»

«What do you all think you are doing?» Gregori demanded as he came upon the small group of Carpathian hunters.

Vikirnoff had the grace to look uneasy. «We are not children to be reprimanded, Gregori,» he answered.

Gregori's eyebrow shot up. «No, you are not. You are an ancient hunter, Vikirnoff, one far more experienced than me. Nor did I come to reprimand you. I asked what you were doing merely to see if you needed aid of any kind.»