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Ferro. Lorraine had no problems objecting. You can’t keep her to yourself. This isn’t the Neanderthal days.

Ferro didn’t bother to answer. He gathered his lifemate into his arms and took to the sky. She muffled a startled cry and clutched his shirt, her face once more buried tight against his chest.

Did the vampire transport you through the air? He must have had you fly.

No. I would wake up in new places.

Ferro was not used to the emotion gathering in the pit of his belly, a dark ugly rage that simmered like an explosive volcano slowly gathering force. He breathed through it and let it go. Rage had no place in his life. Malinov was going to pay for the crimes he’d committed against the Carpathian people, and against Ferro’s lifemate, but his death would come from a place of justice as Ferro had been delivering for centuries. There was no other way.

He took his lifemate to the house his brethren had purchased for him, a property that had been added to the growing acreage of the protected compound. The site was nestled in between Isai and Julija’s property and Andor and Lorraine’s land. The hills were gently rolling and the land had groves of trees on it and, more importantly, water that added to the colors of all the various plants scattered around the property.

The house had been built by a famous architect, at least that was what Andor had told him, a man whose vision was to keep the landscape so pristine that the house would be difficult to see until one actually walked up to it. Andor and Lorraine had also bought property with a home designed by the same man. Ferro had viewed the property and home with an eye toward defense, escape and the ability to get to the ground undetected from anywhere above the house.

Now, as he brought his lifemate to the Spanish-looking home, he thought he should have consulted with the women to see if the house met with their standards. Elisabeta would entertain her friends there, make a life there. She might sleep beneath the master bedroom, but she would live within those walls. He set her feet very gently on the wide verandah, his hands on her waist to steady her.

3

There’s light in the darkness, waiting to be seen; Just as I wait for you, a king for his queen.

Open your eyes, piŋe sarnanak,” Ferro said in his soft, commanding voice.

Elisabeta took a deep breath and forced herself to obey. She liked his voice, and no matter how afraid she was of her new life and the huge terrifying changes, so far, although things had been overwhelming and emotional, they had all been good. She loved that he called her “little songbird” or, even better, “his little songbird.” Those variations created a strange new feeling in her, an affection that seemed to be growing the more she was with him.

She found herself looking at a tall massive door to a house. Ferro stood directly behind her, his hands at her waist, holding her close to him. She was grateful for his presence. She had no idea why they were standing on that cool, wide verandah, but suddenly her heart was beginning to accelerate again. Something new. Something she was going to have to learn.

“Ferro.” She whispered his name in a kind of protest.

“No one is here. Just the two of us.”

“It is too big.” It was. The door was gigantic. For Ferro it wasn’t, because he was a big man. His shoulders were wide, and he would go through that door so easily, but she was thin and felt insignificant. The door was tall and wide and seemed enormous to her. What could it possibly lead to?

“This will be our home. You will be mistress here. Not a prisoner, Elisabeta, but mistress.”

Already she was shaking her head. She knew nothing of taking charge of a house. She couldn’t possibly entertain his friends. Or clean a place that size. How did one know what to do? When she was little, did she live in a house? She tried to remember, and immediately her head exploded with such pain it nearly drove her to her knees. She knew better than to cry out, but both hands flew to her head and she hunched in on herself.

Ferro instantly shielded her, taking the pain away and soothing her mind. “The vampire placed a block on your memories so the moment you try to access anything to do with your family or childhood, you experience pain,” he explained.

She had come to realize that some centuries earlier, but that hadn’t stopped the occasional times when, unbidden, she reached out to try to remember something important to her.

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Dark Song
Dark Song

Two Carpathians find hope in the bond that ties their souls in this passionate novel in Christine Feehan's #1 New York Times bestselling series.Stolen from her home at a young age and tormented for centuries, Elisabeta Trigovise is scared to show herself to anyone. Even though she has been rescued and is now safe within the Carpathian compound, she has lived in fear for so long she has no idea how to survive without it. She wants to answer the siren call of her lifemate--but the very thought terrifies her.Before he found Elisabeta, Ferro Arany was an ancient warrior without emotion. Now that his senses have come alive, he knows it will take more than kind words and soft touches to convince the fractured woman that they are partners, not master and prisoner. For now, he will give her his strength until she finds hers, allowing the steady rhythm of his heart to soothe Elisabeta's fragile soul.But even as she learns to stand on her own, the vampire who kept her captive is desperate to claim her again, threatening the song Elisabeta and Ferro are writing together.Praise for Christine Feehan: 'After Bram Stoker, Anne Rice and Joss Whedon, Christine Feehan is the person most credited with popularizing the neck gripper' Time'Feehan has a knack for bringing vampiric Carpathians to vivid, virile life in her Dark Carpathian novels' Publishers Weekly'The erotic, gripping series that's defined an entire genre! Must reading that always satisfies!' J.R. Ward'The queen of paranormal romance' USA Today

Кристин Фихан

Любовное фэнтези, любовно-фантастические романы

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