Julian inhaled deeply, and caught the scent of blood. Instantly hunger beat at him, reminding him he had not fed this night. He stood outside, unseen by the humans clamoring to get in or by the security guards silently standing at the entrance. He would go in, deliver his warning to the singer of the danger she was in, and get out. Hopefully the woman would listen, and his duty would be done. If not, he would have no choice but to continue to endure his terrible solitary existence until he could make certain she was safe. And he was tired. He no longer wanted to endure.
He began moving then, weaving silently through the crowd. At the door stood the two men, both tall and dark. The one with long hair looked like someone to contend with; he even looked vaguely familiar. Julian became but a rush of cool air as he glided past, hidden from sight yet walking confidently among the crush of humans. Still, the guard with the long hair turned his head alertly, black eyes searching restlessly, resting on Julian briefly even though Julian was invisible. The guard was clearly uneasy. Out of the corner of his eye, Julian saw him turn his head this way and that before his icy gaze swung back to follow Julian’s progress through the crowded bar.
Julian’s white teeth flashed with a predator’s gleam. He knew he was unseen, so the guard had well tuned, radarlike senses, unusual for a mortal. Interesting that the band had him. He might be worth his weight in gold should there be an actual attack on the woman.
The cold air Julian pushed before him parted the pressing crowds; he didn’t even have to slow down. He glanced at the stage set up for the performers, then walked toward the back rooms. As he did so the humorless smile faded from his face, leaving the familiar hard edge to his mouth. He knew there was a hint of cruelty there, the cold mask of the hunter. Then he smelled them. The enemy. Had they reached the singer before he had?
Swearing silently, eloquently, Julian moved with preternatural speed to the woman’s dressing room. He was too late. She was gone, already making her way to the stage with the other members of the band. Only two beautiful leopards with spotted fur were curled up in a corner of the small room. Simultaneously their heads swung toward him, all senses alert. The animals were larger and heavier than most in the wild, and their yellow-green eyes, fixed on him, betrayed their superior intelligence. It was also unusual to see the two together, as leopards were generally solitary creatures. Like Julian.
“Where is she, my friends?” he asked softly. “I have come to save her life. Tell me where she is before her enemies kill her.”
The male cat crouched and snarled, exposing long, sharp canines that could grab, hold, and puncture its prey. The female crouched even lower, ready to spring. Julian felt the familiar sense of brotherhood he always did when he encountered a member of the
Panthera pardus
family, and yet, when he reached for the leopards’ minds, he found he couldn’t control either easily. He succeeded only in confusing them a bit, slowing their reaction time. Then the male cat began its move, a slow stalking, head down, eyes fixed on him, its slow-motion manner preliminary to the explosion of speed preceding a kill. Julian didn’t want to have to kill such a beautiful, rare creature, so he quickly slipped out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him, and headed toward the sound of thunderous applause.
The band began to play the opening to the first song. Then he heard the woman’s voice. Haunting, mystical notes that hung in the air like silver and gold shimmering with fire. He actually saw the notes, saw the silver and gold dancing in front of his eyes. Julian stopped dead in his tracks, shock ripping through him. He stared at the hallway. The tattered, faded wallpaper was edged with red. It had been well over eight hundred years since Julian had seen anything in color. It was the fate of Carpathian males beyond their youth to lose all sense of color, to lose their emotions, to struggle in gray bleakness against their predatory natures, unless a lifemate appeared to balance their darkness with her goodness and light. Only then would color and emotion—powerful emotion—be restored to them. But females were rare, and surely one such as Julian would never be blessed with a mate. Yet his heart jumped in his chest.
He felt excitement. Hope. Emotion. Real emotion. Colors were so vivid that they nearly blinded him. The sound of her voice played through his body, touched him in places he had long forgotten. His body tightened; need slammed into him. Julian stood frozen to the spot. The colors, the emotions, the physical lust rising so sharply could only mean one thing. The singer possessing that voice had to be his lifemate.
It was impossible. Totally impossible to believe. The men of his race could spend an eternity hunting for the one woman that was their other half. Male Carpathians were predatory, with the instincts of dark, hungry killers, cunning, quick, and lethal. After their short time of growing, of laughter and adventure, it was all over as they lost the ability to feel, to see in colors. There was nothing left but a solitary, barren existence.
Julian’s existence had been especially unbearable, alienated as he was from Aidan, his twin, whose inevitable closeness might have made the long, gray centuries a bit easier to endure. But he had known he was locked to Aidan through their blood tie, and every moment they spent together increased the vampire’s threat to Aidan. Their very closeness endangered his brother. So Julian had fled his people, never telling any of them, not even his beloved brother, the terrible truth. He had done the honorable thing, as he had only his honor left to him.
Now Julian stood numbly in the narrow hall, unable to believe that his lifemate was close. Unable, in that dazzling moment of emotion and color, to believe that he could possibly deserve such a thing.
Many Carpathian males turned vampire after centuries of a life filled with no hope. Without emotions, power—the power to hunt and kill—seemed the only thing left to them. Others, rather than becoming a danger to mortals and immortals alike, chose to end their barren existence by greeting the dawn; waiting for the sunlight to destroy bodies meant to live in darkness. Only a handful actually found their other half, the light to their darkness, the one who could make them complete. After nearly a thousand years of bleak existence, after making the decision to meet the dawn before the predatory demon within him, now struggling for control of him, conquered him, Julian could scarcely believe he had found his true lifemate. But the colors and emotions and hope said that it was true.
The woman’s voice—throaty, husky, erotic—held the promise of satin sheets and candlelight. It played over his skin like fingers, tantalizing, enticing, sinfully sexy. It mesmerized anyone within hearing distance; it haunted and captivated. The notes danced, pure and beautiful, weaving a spell of enchantment around Julian, around every listener.
Julian knew nothing of this woman. Only that Gregori had sent him to warn her that she was in danger from the human society of vampire hunters. Evidently the Prince wished her and those traveling with her to be protected if necessary. The society of mortals who believed in the vampires of old legends and sought to destroy them had for some reason targeted this singer, Desari, with her haunting voice and eccentric ways. Most of the society’s victims were killed, a stake driven through the heart. Worse, some victims were kept alive to be tortured and dissected. Julian listened to the beautiful voice. Desari sounded like an angel singing, her voice not of the earth.
Then a scream, high and piercing, interrupted the beauty of the song. It was followed by a second scream, then a third. Julian heard a shot ring out, then a volley of bullets thudding into flesh and musical instruments. The building shook with the force of feet pounding across the floor as the patrons raced to get out of the line of fire.