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the prince as another couple entered. Nicolae, Vikirnoff's brother, with his lifemate, Destiny, hurried in. Nicolas wanted to get a good look at the woman who had been captured by a vampire when she was just a young child. She had endured the torture of a vampires blood, riddled with cell-eating parasites, for years. Medium height, very curvy, with sculpted muscle, thick dark hair and enormous blue-green eyes, she flowed with grace and the fluid step of a trained fighter. He noted her eyes were restless, moving around the cavern, taking in every detail, noting exits and entrances, the chimney and labyrinth of tunnels.

Destiny was best friends with Manolito's lifemate, MaryAnn. She saw each person in the room, sizing them up, her gaze resting on him just a little longer. Nicolae, her lifemate, was very tuned to her, Nicolas noted with approval, placing himself between her and the men without lifemates in the room. Like most Carpathian males, Nicolae was tall and muscular with long black hair and cool dark eyes.

"You are Nicolas, brother to Manolito." Destiny greeted, moving toward him, forcing her lifemate to keep pace in order to protect her.

It was a classic mistake women made, forgetting that anyone could be a danger, even here, in this sacred place of power. Nicolas sighed and shook his head. His woman would learn her place and every security measure he could think of for her.

"How is MaryAnn?" Destiny asked.

"She is happy," Nicolas answered. "I have news to share, but want to wait until we have all gathered. I brought you a letter from MaryAnn." He slipped his hand inside his shirt.

Destiny's eyes narrowed, became cool and watchful. She shifted slightly onto the balls of her feet, turning just slightly, a subtle movement that put her in a good position to defend herself and attack if necessary. As if choreographed, her partner shifted at the same time, a few steps between them, giving plenty of room. This was a fighting team. Even Nicolas, for all his absolute opinions on the subject of women hunting vampires, could see they were in perfect sync. It still didn't make it right.

He took the letter from inside his shirt and handed it to Nicolae as a courtesy. One warrior to another. Nicolae turned the envelope over in his hand, obviously scanning it before handing it to his lifemate.

"Thank you," Destiny said to Nicolas. "I appreciate you bringing this to me personally."

At first he thought she meant to be sarcastic because he had handed the letter to her lifemate, but then he realized the couple really was in perfect harmony. She didn't seem annoyed by his protection, but rather accepted it as her due.

Another Carpathian male arrived. The first was Dominic, of the Dragonseeker clan, great-uncle of Razvan and great-great-uncle to Lara, although Carpathians rarely made a distinction. As Lara referred to the aunts she, would refer to Dominic as "uncle."

Nicolas studied his stern face. The Dragonseekers were one of the most powerful lineages in all of the Carpathian community. He was tall with broad shoulders and metallic green eyes, a legacy of his clan, eyes of seers, changing color with mood or in battle. In the last battle to save Mikhail and the Carpathian race, he had suffered severe burns across his shoulder, down one arm, up his neck to one side of his face. The scars were there if one looked closely, faint evidence of the horrific charring of his flesh. Strangely, the scars added to his aura of danger. His green gaze took in everything, then settled on Natalya for a brief moment.

Dominic strode over to Mikhail. Gregori moved to intercept, reminding Nicolas that Dominic was one of the ancients who had not sworn his allegiance to Mikhail. He had served Vlad in the old days, but had only returned recently. He had fought beside the prince, even offering his life to save him, but there had been no sworn blood oath. Jacques moved into position on the other side of his brother to insure protection. Nicolas found himself moving into fighting range just in case. No one could afford to take chances with the prince's life anymore than they could with their women.

Dominic bowed slightly. "En jutta felet es ekamet. I greet a friend and brother," he said as he clasped Mikhail's forearms.

"Veri olen piros. Blood be red, Dominic," Mikhail returned formally, the greeting literal, meaning he hoped Dominic would soon see in color.

Dominic's shoulder shrug was eloquent. He had not found

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