Dark Blood (Dark #26)(7)
Author: Christine Feehan

There was a small silence—a distancing—as if she’d been in his mind, but now had pulled away from him. His heart stuttered and he stretched, reached, unable to let go of her. He had been aware of the other men in the chamber talking around him, of the steady drip of water and the small hiss of flames, but now his complete concentration was on Branislava.

Zev willed her to return to him in spite of his overbearing, officious manner. He actually counted his heartbeats, waiting for her answer. Had he been strong enough, he would have gone after her. He knew he could follow her trail. Few eluded him once he was in pursuit.

He smelled her first, that blend of cinnamon, spice and honey. The moment she was close, he drew her scent into his lungs and was able to breathe fully again. He tasted the mixture that was unique to her, on his tongue, and instantly wanted—no needed—more.

He turned his head to gaze at her. The impact was the same as it always was when he looked at her. He hadn’t been cured of whatever spell he was under. Looking at her almost hurt she was so beautiful.

Thank you. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.

Zev held out his hand to her, needing to touch her physically. It was strange to need anything at all, let alone physical contact. He ignored Fen and Dimitri’s raised eyebrows when she didn’t move. He continued to hold out his hand. Waiting. He said nothing at all, just let her make up her mind. Willing her to reach for him.

Branislava put her hand in his. His fingers closed around hers. Her hand felt small and fragile in his. At once everything in him settled and he felt whole. Complete. That was confusing as well. He’d always managed to be just fine on his own.

“I’d like you to meet Gary Jansen,” Mikhail said.

“I remember him,” Zev said. “Our last meeting was during the fight with the rogue pack attacking all the women and children. He fought like a banshee. Without him, I’m not certain I’d have made it through that battle.”

As Gregori and Gary approached them, Mikhail added, “Gregori’s like an old mother hen fussing over her chick. Now that he has Gary to drive insane, maybe I’ll be lucky and he won’t fuss over me so much.”

“You’re not ever going to get that lucky,” Gregori shot back, in no way perturbed by Mikhail’s needling. It was clear the two men were old friends.

Mikhail shrugged, a small grin lighting his piercing, dark eyes. “I thought that might be the case. One can only hope.”

It was the first time Zev could ever recall seeing the prince, or Gregori, for that matter, relaxed.

He was aware of everything now as if his mixed blood had heightened every sense, as if both wolf and Carpathian were on the alert. The heat in the chamber. The water. The fact that Gary Jansen and Luiz Silva were both unattached males in very close proximity to Branislava. The breath hissed out of him in a long, slow growl under his breath.

He tugged on Branislava’s hand, drawing her closer to him. I don’t want to fall on my face in front of the prince. It was a lame explanation, but the only one he could think of for explaining why he needed her close to him.

“It’s very good finally meeting you, Gary,” Zev said aloud, offering his right hand to shake. Gary was very pale, but he looked incredibly fit for having suffered a mortal wound, essentially death and conversion.

“I’m glad you made it through,” Gary said. “Gregori kept me up-to-date on everything that was happening.” He bowed low toward Branislava, offering her a smile. “It’s good to see you out and about. You look beautiful.”

Right there in that sacred cave, surrounded by very perceptive warriors, Zev felt a kind of snarling rage burst through him like a live volcano. He actually saw red. Waves of crimson banded through the room, and in his mouth, he felt teeth lengthen. He fought back the change, refusing to allow the wolf side of him freedom.

He’d never experienced such an emotion or even one with such intensity. The Carpathian side of his nature seemed to be a little hard to control. He was going to have to get used to it—and so was his wolf. He doubted if the ancient warriors and the prince would be so welcoming to a snarling, raging wolf.

He glanced at Branislava to see how she took Gary’s compliment. The man was being honest—there was nothing at all in his demeanor to suggest anything else—but still, Zev didn’t think it was proper, when he was holding her hand, to have another man complimenting her. And bowing? Come on. He’d been human, not Carpathian. Showing off was ridiculous.

It is always acceptable and proper for a man to tell a woman she is beautiful. There was the merest hint of amusement in Branislava’s voice. “Thank you, sir,” she said more formally to Gary. And bowing is very courtly and always welcomed.

Fen raised an eyebrow at him. Your wolf is showing. Fen didn’t even try to hide his taunting laughter. It was nothing at all like the gentle, kind, soothing hint of amusement Branislava had in her voice.

Zev sent him a quelling glare. He forced his attention back to Gary, determined to get his attention off of Branislava. “How did you manage to get in with this bunch?”

“I was their enemy,” Gary admitted. “I saw an actual vampire attack and I joined a society that hunted vampires—except they weren’t really targeting vampires. More often it was people they didn’t like. I helped some people to escape, and Gregori was there to help them, too, although I didn’t know that at the time. We met. That was quite a few years ago. My life was very different. I was skinny and tripped over my own feet when I walked. In my wildest dreams I never thought I could ever really fight a vampire and win, but over the years, I’ve had to learn.”

“But you still were going to try back in those days,” Gregori pointed out. “You never lacked for courage.”

“I thought you were supposed to be a genius,” Mikhail said. “Yet you chose to hang around Gregori.” His grin widened. “And all the rest of us.”

“Well, I can never say my life is dull,” Gary said, with an answering smile that faded quickly. “You gave my life a sense of purpose.”

Gary wasn’t skinny now. He was fit and strong, with the look of a warrior who had seen many battles—and he probably had. He had been their go-to man during the day when the Carpathians were underground.

“I’m Darius.” The man who looked much like Gregori introduced himself. “Gregori has told me so much about you. All good, which is rare for him.”