“I have excellent skills with most weapons. The modern ones are a little more difficult, because Xavier rarely brought in humans. They didn’t last long or amuse him much when he tortured them. Their blood didn’t help his ultimate goal, which was to be immortal.”
Branislava wrapped her arm around one of the stone columns at the edge of the verandah and stared out into the dark of the trees. Zev noticed her hand trembled as the memories of her childhood and life settled over her. He pushed himself out of the chair, testing his strength. It was definitely coming back to him. He was far more tired than feeling as if he had been wounded or was ill.
He moved behind her and instantly felt the heat he equated with her. She seemed so cool when one talked to her. Low key. Quiet. But he was beginning to know her. Merged as he was so often with her, their spirits tied together, it was impossible not to see glimpses of who she really was—that person she kept safe from those around her.
Her reasons were all tactical. The realization swept over him, stunning him. She truly was a warrior. That fiery, passionate woman who she kept hidden was ready for warfare, for combat, just as he was always prepared for it. In a secret part of his mind, he hoped, when she was prepared to come to him, that she’d always be just as ready for their lovemaking.
He wrapped his arms around her from behind, locking his hands at her waist and drawing her back against his body. “Have you ever felt safe?”
She didn’t pull away, but rather relaxed into him, keeping her gaze on the night. “In the ground after we were rescued. I could feel Mother Earth surrounding me, holding me in her arms, all that wonderful heat after that icy cold. I felt safe there. I stayed much longer than I should have and it made me feel as if I were a coward.”
She looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes meeting his. “I’m not.”
“I can’t imagine that you would be.”
“I’ve never really interacted with people. We spoke to the prisoners in the ice caves telepathically. Sometimes we had to build a bridge for them, but we didn’t really have conversations like this one. Both Tatijana and I have gaps in our knowledge. We try to learn as fast as possible, but reading information or taking it from memories is not always interpreted the way the event actually happened.”
A wolf called, this time closer to the house. The night carried the mournful note. Zev frowned. “Did you hear that?”
Branislava nodded. “That wasn’t one of Skyler and Dimitri’s wolves. Or Ivory and Razvan’s pack.”
“It wasn’t one of the local packs either,” Zev said, putting her gently aside and slightly behind him. He stepped up to the very edge of the verandah. “But he’s hunting and he’s calling to his partner.”
He reached for Dimitri. Did you hear? That is no neighbor of ours.
We heard. Dimitri’s voice was grim.
“Fen, Dimitri and Skyler as well as I were put on a hit list by the Lycans. They have sent assassins to hunt us down and kill us.” He turned to look at her over his shoulder.
Branislava was no longer in her elegant dress. She wore trousers and boots, and a soft shirt under a leather vest. Her belt was slung low on her hips, holstering an array of weapons. She was ready for war.
He had never hunted with her on the ground before, and he was a little reluctant when he didn’t know her skills. In the air, with her dragon, she was precise and had mad skills, but hand-to-hand combat was altogether different.
She sent him a look from under her long lashes. “Try me.”
It was the voice rather than her look that convinced him. Her tone vibrated with determination and even a hint of eagerness. She was a predator beneath all that cool beauty and her fiery nature demanded action.
“I’ll follow your lead,” she added.
“Let’s do it then.” He stepped off the porch. For the first time he used his Carpathian abilities to acquire his weapons. His long coat swirled around his ankles, the entire inside decorated with weapons, most of his own making. His belt held more weapons, as did his boots. A silver sword hung at his waist. He pulled on thin gloves to keep the silver from touching his skin. He was mixed blood, both Lycan and Carpathian, and silver burned when he touched it.
We’re coming to you, Dimitri, from the south. That’s where I pinpointed the wolf’s position. We’ll make a sweep and see what turns up. Let your wolves know we’re hunting with them.
He isn’t alone, Dimitri warned. He was calling to a partner.
Yeah. I got that. Is Skyler in your line of sight? He was mostly worried about Dimitri’s young lifemate. She had amazing skills and the Lycans belonging to a mysterious group who wanted war between the species had particularly targeted her for death.
He tried to keep the note of worry from his voice. The Carpathians were fairly new in their dealings with the Lycans and they tended to underestimate them. Because of an order centuries earlier by their council, Lycans avoided Carpathians as much as possible and the two species hadn’t interacted.
They’ll be military trained with weapons, most likely guns, he warned, including Branislava in the circle of information. Don’t forget, they’re fast and strong and they hunt in packs. This one could have more than one partner. The one you see is not the one to worry about.
He gave the advice to Dimitri, but he was more concerned with imparting the information to the two women, although both had fought Lycans before. Still, he was worried. Dimitri had fought with packs and against them at various times throughout the centuries. Dimitri knew wolves and he would know how best to fight them. He was also a mixed blood, a Hän ku pesäk kaikak, guardian of all, which meant he could utilize both Lycan and Carpathian gifts. He was fast and intelligent and enormously strong.
Lycans can leap great distances, never assume you’re safe if you take to the air, he added, unable to stop himself from reminding Branislava, although she’d done battle with the rogue packs before.
Branislava moved in silence, staying directly behind him. He realized she was following exactly in his footsteps, choosing the same path. There wasn’t so much as a whisper of her clothing brushing against the leaves. Not a single twig or leaf snapped or crackled beneath the soles of her boots. She might as well have been a ghost floating through the night toward her destination.
Zev was Lycan raised and Lycan in his mind. He knew forests and how to travel through them in silence, but she astounded him.