glanced uneasily around her. It was quiet. The Carpathians had spread out, going to other rooms in order to clear debris, and they worked in absolute silence. They communicated telepathically so there was no need for conversation. For some reason, that annoying spot on her finger throbbed painfully and without thinking she stuck the injured pad into her mouth.
Go outside and wait. Right now. Do not talk to anyone. You are not safe. Go outside and wait. Right now. Do not talk to anyone. You are not safe . . . The words were soft. Insidious. Compelling. Repeated over and over like a loop in her head she couldn’t get rid of. A warning? Her own radar telling her she was in trouble? She shook her head to try to clear the sound, but it persisted, like a broken record that was stuck on those phrases only.
Twisting her fingers together, she tried to place the voice. Was it one of the other Carpathians trying to get inside her head? It didn’t sound like them. The voice didn’t sound like anyone she knew. Tariq. She defied the voice, needing to get anchored—and Tariq could do that for her.
Right here, sielamet. Step into the room but don’t touch anything until I’m with you. I’m at the far wall working in the second room. I can see you.
She gave a little sigh of relief. Not only did Tariq’s voice calm her, she felt a fresh breeze coming from somewhere, pushing out the stale air and the odor of blood. That little bit of wind couldn’t block out the whispers growing louder. Children’s voices crying for their mothers or fathers. A woman weeping. Screams of many, both adults and children. She wasn’t touching anything and yet already the walls in her mind were tunneling. At least the voice was gone. The hideous, sweet, compelling voice, trying to force her to leave.
Charlotte took three steps into the chamber and shuddered. Vile things had taken place in this room. A room of torture. Experiments with human beings. The cries were louder here. The anguish stronger. She could barely breathe.
You are not safe. Leave now. Get out of there. You are not safe.
The voice was back, whispering, not as loud, but no less strong. Tariq. She was afraid to say anything out loud. There was a feeling of danger, of doom. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might explode, and everything in her wanted to obey that voice, to turn and run, to get out of that unholy place.
What is it, sielamet? He must have heard something in her voice because he came back to the opening, the door that had kept ten-year-old Liv locked in with a monster feeding on her. His blue eyes searched her face and he stepped closer.
At once his warmth hit her, driving out the cold that she hadn’t even known had crept into her bones. She found herself trembling and she held out a hand to him. She needed to believe in something right then because she suddenly realized the world Tariq lived in held real monsters. Horrible deeds were done, and he lived knowing that every single moment of his existence. He hunted these creatures—beings capable of committing the kinds of torture on children that surrounded her.
Tariq instantly closed his fingers around hers and tugged until she was against his body, against all that heat and steel. He seemed invincible. Strong. For the first time she was very glad he was a predator, and she knew he had to be in order to find and destroy monsters. She inhaled him, taking his scent into her lungs, tucking herself beneath his shoulder, her front to his side so she could wrap her arms tightly around him, holding him close to her.
What is it, Charlotte? His voice was nothing less than a caress.
She loved the way he could soothe her with just that intimate voice stroking through her mind like the touch of his fingers on her bare skin. I’m hearing someone else. I’m not touching anything, but I hear a voice telling me to get out, that it’s not safe here. I don’t recognize the voice, but a strong compulsion is anchored in it.
She was very close to him so she felt the jerk of his body. The sudden coiling in him. She was anchored in his mind and knew he didn’t like what she’d said at all. In fact, his first thought was total rejection. Then wariness.
Open