do. Do not think to threaten her. He couldn’t keep the menace from his voice. He would fight to the death for his lifemate.
As would I. She is yours; that makes her one of us. She is my sister, deserving of my protection for that alone, but with what she has done here this night and what she intends to do for those children, respect is part of that as well. She should not be here to see these women ripped apart and babies suffering every moment of their existence within the womb. This is . . . beyond anything I have ever seen. It is not for the eyes of an empath.
I agree. Because it was true. Charlotte had no business anywhere near those bodies they had found piled up like so much garbage in one of the rooms. Women and stillborn babies, stacks of bones dating back to when the city was first built. Vadim had planned his takeover carefully and patiently—two traits that no vampire had ever had before.
If Vadim is in your woman’s mind, he can use her eyes to spy. That is a fact, Tariq, and that has to be dealt with. Once she is safe inside the compound, he will find it much more difficult to reach her with the safeguards in place.
That was also the truth. Tariq glanced down at the top of Charlotte’s head. Her hair was thick and glossy, begging him to bury his fingers deep. He did so, gripping the mass and tugging until she turned her face up to his. She smiled up at him, giving him reassurance, willing to put herself out there all over again. Absently, she brought her finger to her mouth and sucked on it. It was sexy and instantly his body stirred with hunger in spite of the inappropriate setting. She did that a lot.
Tariq went still, everything freezing with the memory of her bringing her finger to her mouth when she had accessed the memories from the carousel horse—memories of Vadim and his brothers on the night they had chosen to give up their souls. He’d been carving the carousel horse earlier and they’d been with him. They had left, found out the news of their sister and returned to recruit him to their cause. When he refused to go, they had attacked the village, going after each and every one of the humans Tariq had befriended.
Charlotte’s eyebrow went up. “What?”
She returned the tip of her finger to her mouth, and this time he caught the small wince, as if it was hurting her. His breath left his lungs and he shackled her wrist and brought the hand out of her mouth, turning it up for his inspection. The finger was wet from her sucking on it. A nervous habit? Or some other reason? He turned the finger to every angle. A little red at the fleshy part of the pad, but no discernible injuries, no breaks in the skin.
“Does this finger hurt?”
She kept her eyes fixed on his. His Charlotte. Too intelligent. Already thinking. Very slowly she nodded. “I got a splinter when I jerked my hand back from the carousel horse.”
He closed his eyes, the memory of her pulling her hand away from the wood fast, the moment she had connected with the past and had seen Tariq carving the horse. She’d known it was him and she’d been frightened. Of course she would be. People she loved had been murdered in a way depicted in horror films. Knowing he had lived centuries she had to have thought he was a vampire—like Fridrick.
“Did you pull the splinter out? Did you get all of it?”
She frowned and tried to pull her hand away, shaking her head. “When I looked again, the splinter was gone.”
“What part of don’t touch it did you not understand?”
He knew he had an edge to his tone, but o köd belső—darkness take it—he’d told her not to touch the peje thing.
She yanked her hand away from him, eyes narrowing. “What part of I’m a grown woman and don’t need anyone telling me what to do do you not understand?”
His woman had a bite to her, but he’d known that all along. She couldn’t be wild and passionate in bed and not have a temper. Still, his woman wasn’t going to defy him when it came to her safety. That was totally unacceptable and always would be. He tightened his hold on her, pulling her up onto her toes,