Dark Peril Page 0,170

gentle power. In your hands, I'm a flower. Near you, my heart beams.

SOLANGE TO DOMINIC

The smallest of sounds woke Dominic. Soft weeping. His heart stuttered awake, his eyes snapped open and he turned his head to find Solange. She huddled a foot from him, knees drawn up, head down, the fall of her sable, sun-kissed hair hiding her face from him. But she wept. His Solange. His heart and soul.

For a moment he could barely breathe, anxiety rushing through him. They had exchanged blood for the first time before going to sleep. He had waited several risings to ensure all the parasites were gone from his body before they had tried their first exchange. She didn't appear to have experienced any ill effects, but . . . The process itself had been difficult when it should have been erotic. Solange could not be put under compulsion. She had to voluntarily take his blood on her own, and she had struggled, but she'd trusted him enough to see it through.

"Solange." His voice was infinitely tender. "What is wrong, my own?" He couldn't help merging with her, afraid the exchange had injured her in some way.

Instead of physical pain he felt the remnants of her nightmare, the child desperate to hold her mother, and he wanted to weep for her. There would always be moments of sorrow in her life he couldn't prevent, couldn't heal no matter how much he wanted to. He crossed the short distance between them and sank down beside her, drawing her into his arms, cradling her on his lap, his face buried in her shoulder. He rocked her gently until she calmed and grew silent.

She pressed her hands over her ears. "I dreamt of my mother, and when I woke up, I couldn't stop crying. The sounds are so loud, Dominic, everything, even my own tears. The sound of water, of small animals and insects. I can hear what is happening outside the cave and I can't turn it down. My head hurts from all the noise. And the sounds were so amplified, and you were so utterly silent . . ." She trailed off. She pressed a hand to her heart. "And now I can hear the sound of my heart pounding. I was so afraid even though I knew intellectually you were safe."

His hand went to the nape of her neck, massaging the tense muscles. "I am so sorry about your mother, beloved. We will meet her again in the next life and she will welcome you with open arms. And I am sorry I frightened you." He tightened his hold in an effort to comfort her. He wasn't her mother, but he loved her fiercely. "Let me see about your hearing," he added gently.

Carpathians could hear the beat of wings in the distance, the smallest of stones rolling down a hillside. Dominic and Solange had exchanged blood and the conversion was beginning, but she should have been able to turn her hearing to an acceptable volume. Dominic left his body, sending his spirit into hers, examining her carefully, trying to determine what his Carpathian blood had done to her.

His blood should have begun the process of conversion, yet the cells were distinct, her cells bonding with his, separate yet together. It didn't make sense. Her jaguar seemed perfectly intact, other than the Carpathian blood cells piggybacking on hers. There was no chaos, no antibodies rushing to thwart the process at all. It was as if their bloodlines had merged, one on top of the other, coexisting rather than competing for dominance.

Her hearing was a different matter. Already acute due to her jaguar, the Carpathian blood had amplified her abilities until sounds were overwhelming. He moved through her, checking for other differences. There were subtle changes, nothing like he expected would happen. Puzzled, he returned to his own body.

"Is that better? It is a matter of turning down the volume. When something is not quite right, think of how it works and you can fix it just as I have done for you. If it is not enough, you can try it yourself to see if it works."

She turned her tear-wet face against his throat and sighed. "Yes, that's much better, thank you. I'm sorry I woke you. You shouldn't be up yet."

Everything in him went utterly still. She was right. His body knew the exact time of each rising. He had lived centuries and there was no doubt that he could tell the time