Dark Carousel (Dark #30) - Christine Feehan Page 0,18

distance between Charlotte and himself than to begin the battle. Charlie moved with him, mirroring his steps, staying close to him.

He hissed a warning at her, his gaze sliding over her briefly before returning to Fridrick. The woman was going to get herself hurt if she kept it up.

“Get away from him, Charlotte,” Fridrick commanded. The compulsion in his voice was so strong, Genevieve clapped both hands over her ears, yet still took a step back from Tariq. “Now.”

Charlotte laughed softly. “Fridrick. All these months you’ve had time to study me. You certainly stalked me long enough to know I am not the kind of woman to respond well to orders, especially not from a man I suspect of killing my brother. Why in the world would you think I would do a single thing you ordered me to do? Your voice? I don’t hear it the way Genevieve hears it. To me it sounds grating, not in the least compelling. If you wanted me to come with you, perhaps you shouldn’t have been bragging about Paris and what you did there, or about how you killed my brother and left my niece alive so I would return to the States.”

Vampires were pale creatures, yet Fridrick flushed. As if he had feelings. As if Charlotte’s soft declaration not only angered him but embarrassed him. Tariq tried to understand how that could happen. Why it could happen. Something much more than any Carpathian had ever considered was going on, and he knew he and the other hunters had to figure it out quickly if their species was going to survive. Clearly they were under a well-thought-out and brilliantly planned attack. He had to get into the tunnels and discover exactly what Vadim, his brother, Sergey, and Fridrick had been up to.

“Fridrick.” Tariq said his name softly, drawing the vampire’s attention away from Charlotte. She didn’t realize she was poking a stick at a hornet’s nest.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Fridrick’s small army had become restless, eager to get on with it. That gave Tariq insight into Fridrick’s mind. Fridrick didn’t have nearly as much control over his men as he thought he did. And that told Tariq that Fridrick’s attention was centered on Charlotte, and not on the battle.

“Did you actually admit to committing murder?”

Fridrick scowled and once more searched the large parking garage as if that would give him a clue to whatever trap Tariq might be leading him into. His gaze shifted back to Charlotte, his appearance still as handsome, but his complexion was flushed and he looked agitated instead of coolly in control. He waved a hand, dismissing the subject.

“Charlie, I am offering you one last chance to cooperate with me. If you don’t, you will regret your decision.” Fridrick’s voice was no longer beguiling. It was hard and angry, betraying the tension boiling beneath the vampire’s cool demeanor.

Before Charlotte could reply, Maksim arrived. On his heels were all three of the triplets, Mataias and his brothers Lojos and Tomas. Tariq raised his eyebrow when he saw Tomas, and quickly scanned him for wounds. He had been injured in the last battle and had been put in the earth to heal. Just two weeks had passed, and that wasn’t enough time given the severity of the injuries to the Carpathian hunter.

Tomas sent him a cocky grin, the four hunters spreading out behind him, facing Fridrick’s men. Another hunter emerged from the shadows. Tariq hadn’t seen Dragomir Kozul since they had battled together in Russia. The centuries hadn’t been so kind to him. Few Carpathians scarred, but Dragomir looked like a road map of scars. His face and neck bore tattoos that had been carved into his skin, rather than inked. His eyes were pure gold. Unusual, almost antiqued gold. A giant of a man, taller and more muscular than most Carpathian males, he looked fit, yet each natural line was carved deep, as if he was so world-weary, he had forgotten how to express any emotion, even when among humans.

Two more hunters moved into position on either side of them. One Tariq recognized as Afanasiv Balan, a hunter who, like Maksim, had been a good friend to Tariq over the years. Siv was extremely dangerous, a powerful man with unusual eyes that looked as if they swirled blue and green, both colors vibrant. His hair, rather than black, as most Carpathians’ was, was long and thick and very blond. It was a