Dark Song

She recognized the soft command in Ferro’s voice and her stomach did a slow roll. It was strange to her how her body reacted just to the various tones of his voice. She knew he expected her to meet his eyes. That was one of the most difficult things for her to do. She had been taught never to look at her master. Never to raise her eyes. Centuries of keeping her gaze downcast made it nearly impossible to force herself to look into Ferro’s eyes, but he was isäntä— master of the house—and he was never to be disobeyed.

Silence stretched between them while she gathered her courage and then dared to lift her lashes and look into his amazing iron-colored eyes. She had dared before and it seemed the color was different every time. Right now, the color was almost gold. For the first time she noticed the long, dark lashes ringing his eyes.

“I will not jeopardize your friendship with Julija,” he promised solemnly. He bent his head and brushed a kiss over her forehead. “She is on the way. Tariq approaches with several of the brethren as well as the healer, Gary Daratrazanoff.”

Elisabeta stiffened. She couldn’t help it. Several meant more than one. Tariq was the leader of the people there in the compound. Daratrazanoff was a name even Sergey cursed often. The lineage was always second-in-command to the prince of the Carpathian people. They were very powerful, not just as healers but as warriors. More, these were Carpathians who had given her blood, and she’d sensed both Tariq and, especially, the healer trying to penetrate the shields in her mind.

She wanted to retreat into the ground, find a corner of the room and slide into the shadow, disappear into the wall itself, become part of it as she had for so many centuries. Ferro’s arms prevented her from disappearing, but she ducked deeper into them.

He nuzzled the top of her head. “You do not need to speak unless I ask you to. If you need to answer, you can speak to me on our path alone. No one else needs to hear the sound of your voice. You do not need to look at them. I will shield you at all times.”

Elisabeta was shivering again and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She wanted to be brave for him, especially since he continually persisted in calling her courageous, but already she felt the power building around the dwelling. They were coming. It wasn’t one or two. There were several ancients and they carried power easily, so easily that the house and ground fairly crackled with it.

Ferro waved his hand casually toward the door and the heavy oak swung open. A tall warrior strode in. Elisabeta kept her head buried in Ferro’s chest, her hand over her eyes, but she opened her fingers just enough to see him. His hair was a true black with strands of gray, much like Ferro’s only not quite as long. His shoulders were wide and he looked very muscular. His eyes were brilliant sapphire, almost startlingly so. She recognized him from Julija’s description. This had to be Isai, her lifemate and one of Ferro’s brethren from the monastery.

He came straight to Ferro’s side and reached out. Ferro’s arms abandoned her for one moment, reaching toward Isai, clasping forearms in the way of the Carpathian warrior greeting.

“Sívad olen wäkeva, hän ku piwtä,” Isai greeted.

May your heart stay strong, hunter, Elisabeta interpreted. Ferro was her lifemate. His heart was very strong. She called him kont o sívanak—strong heart— for a reason.

A faint stirring of what could have been amusement brushed a velvet caress in her mind. My fierce little protector.

A little shiver crept down her spine that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the strange way he made her body and mind feel. The fingers of one strong hand had gone to the nape of her neck and he massaged there, a slow, deep movement that eased the tension from her in spite of the fact that Isai was towering over the two of them. Ferro didn’t seem concerned. He was more relaxed than ever.

“Julija,” Isai called and turned toward the open door and held out his hand.

Elisabeta’s heart beat very fast. At last. Her friend. The woman who had risked everything to save her. She started to sit up straighter, but Ferro’s arms tightened a fraction in warning.

Wait until she is in the house and the door is closed behind her. You can sit up straight but stay on my lap in the shelter of my arms.