Dark Song

His hands slid back up to her waist. She felt him grip her there. Steady her. He was there in her mind, adding to her courage. She could do this for him. He had that ink on his back, the one that said he had kept his honor for her. She could become brave for him. Maybe, eventually, it would be for herself, but for now, if she could do it for him it would be enough.

Elisabeta took a deep breath and forced her eyes open. She expected to feel sick and disoriented but she should have trusted in her lifemate. He had her facing a corner wall. A sconce was lit, the light flickering dimly, casting shadows over an area larger than she’d really taken in the night before. It seemed, at first, a sweeping space, but she made it a grid in her mind, viewing it as if she were seeing the wider corner through bars.

“Very clever.”

His breath was warm on her ear. He transferred his hands to her shoulders and began that slow, soothing massage she was coming to really enjoy. He had big hands with strong fingers and he got every tense knot. With just the two of them in the house, it seemed so much easier to let herself have a panic attack if that was what had to happen in order to see the room.

“Think of this as your home, piŋe sarnanak. It is only this one room. This space. This is what we have together. A fireplace to keep us warm if the weather turns cold on us and we do not want to go to the trouble of regulating our body temperatures.”

She liked the way his lips brushed her ear when he spoke to her. The way his breath warmed her and yet teased her senses at the same time, making her so aware of him. He had come even closer to her, so that she rested against his chest. She could feel his groin pressed tight against her. The long, thick columns of his thighs.

“We will have warm rugs in front of the fireplace. We will have furniture. Chairs to sit in for us and for our visitors. What do you envision in your home? Just in this space for us?”

Her heart pounded against the thick bar of his forearm. She moistened her lips several times before she dared to speak. “I have never been in a home. I do not know what one looks like. If you could show me what you mean . . .” She trailed off, uncertain if even then she could envision what she wanted.

To her utter astonishment, she felt amusement fill her mind. Not at her—at him. He laughed at himself and then shared it with her. “It has just occurred to me, Elisabeta, I know nothing about this subject, either. I avoided humans as best I could for centuries, using them only for sustenance. I certainly did not go into their homes. I did not enter into any homes of Carpathians other than Tariq’s and Dragomir’s, and then only briefly for meetings. I did not walk through their home but went straight to the meeting room in another form.”

Elisabeta found herself relaxing completely, his shared laughter at himself turning what had been stressful into something altogether different. She had never known a sense of fun. Merged as she was with him, even though she wasn’t moving very far into his memories, she knew he didn’t really remember having fun, either. Together, they were discovering that even the things neither of them really had knowledge of could be amusing if shared.

She let her body rest against his. Immediately a feeling of tranquility and peace flowed into her. She had never known anyone could have his strength, either physical or spiritual.

“Lorraine has catalogues with clothes. Perhaps . . .”

She tried not to feel the annoyance at the other woman’s name. He relied far too much on the unknown Lorraine. “I do not know what a catalogue is.”

“A magazine. A book with pictures in it.”

There was that same amusement in his mind, but this time, she was certain, the humor he felt was directed toward her irritation at the absent oh-so-perfect Lorraine.

“Lorraine is anything but perfect, piŋe sarnanak, and I thank the stars that she is Andor’s problem and not mine. She is minan sisar. To save Andor we bound our souls together. She was not Carpathian at the time and yet, knowing she could die, she still allowed us to bind her to us in order for her to go into the netherworld to find Andor. It took Sandu, Gary, Lorraine and me to be strong enough to bring him out, so yes, I respect her. She is a warrior. She is Andor’s lifemate, his problem, and he is ekäm.”

By claiming Andor as his brother and Lorraine as his sister, he was telling her that the couple were his family and, therefore, family to her.

She turned over every word he had said. She could find no lie. No inflection that would tell her he felt any differently than his words implied. “Why do you say you thank the stars she is Andor’s problem when you clearly respect and admire her?”

“She would not suit a man like me at all, nor would I suit her.”