“At least awake I know what’s going on.”
“You don’t know, piccola. I share your mind. You cannot comprehend anything other than pain. Let me help you. I cannot take much more of your agony either. I am afraid I will lose control and be forced to break my promise not to further compel you. Do not force me to break trust with you. Give your consent that I may put you to sleep.”
She could hear the pleading and honesty in his voice. She also felt that warm, sensuous velvet that wrapped her up and made her want to do whatever he wished. It frightened her that his voice alone held so much power. This man, whatever he might be, was dangerous, lethal. She sensed it, but at that moment, with the heat starting and the mixture of pleading and warning in the golden eyes, she gave up the fight. “Don’t hurt me anymore,” she whispered against the warmth of his throat.
He read the submission in her voice, in her eyes, and Aidan took no chances that she would change her decision. He instantly sent a sharp command, seizing her mind, pushing past its barricade to take control. He put her to sleep, beyond the pain, in a place where neither the agony of the conversion nor the vampire’s blood could reach her.
He held her in his arms for a long time before gently cleaning her and laying her to rest more comfortably on the bed. Putting the chamber in order took longer, but he did it himself, not wanting Marie or her tacit criticism to intrude on this intimate time with Alexandria. He used candles and herbs to fill the room with healing aromas.
He was becoming familiar with Alexandria’s mind, with her strengths and weaknesses. It was inevitable that soon he would unlock the barrier she was able to erect against him. His thumb caressed her forehead as she lay asleep and vulnerable in the huge four-poster bed. It was amazing to be in her mind. She was an incredible human. She had struggled against nearly impossible odds, losing her parents so young, single-handedly raising her little brother, loving him with the same fierce, protective instincts of a mother. She worked hard to provide Joshua with a decent life. She was also funny and mischievous and irreverent, filled with a love of jokes and pranks. She was warm-hearted and generous.
She was a bright light to cast out the growing darkness within him. Alexandria was compassion and goodness, everything he was not.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, thankful the herbs were working their magic. The odor of vomit and blood, the taint of evil, was gone from the chamber, leaving only the pungent aroma of the healing plants. He checked each of Alexandria’s wounds and sores, in time-honored fashion mixing some of the precious soil of his homeland with his saliva to speed the mending of each laceration. The ragged tears at her neck were the worst. The vampire had made the wounds, and they festered with his poison. Aidan packed them carefully, chanting in the ancient tongue, once more sending himself into Alexandria’s body to heal it from the inside out. The conversion was almost complete, he noted with relief.
He stretched out beside her on the bed, aware that he still had a long, uphill battle ahead of him with his new lifemate. She was going to be very resistant to his advances. She would fight the truth of her conversion, hate it when she realized what it meant. And she would blame him. Rightfully so. With the vampire’s gruesome torture and his own clumsy handling of her at their first meeting, she had nothing to thank his species for. Still, she had no choice; she was bound to him, her mind to his, her soul his other half. Joining them together completely was now a matter of patience. Aidan sent up a silent prayer that he would have whatever it took to give Alexandria the time she needed. She deserved it, and as her true lifemate, he could do no other, than to provide her with whatever she needed. Only he knew how dangerous every moment of that time would be to both of them, how vulnerable she was without him, and how he would no longer endure if anything happened to her. In addition, she was in danger from her own predatory nature, which would clamor to claim her even without her consent.
Aidan sighed, then scanned his home and the surrounding area. He checked windows and entrances. Placed strong spells at the door of the underground chamber and even more deadly, potent spells to guard the chamber itself. He was taking no chances with his mate now that he had found her. Aidan pulled her into his arms, waited until he was certain the change had completely taken place, then sent her into the deep, healing sleep of his race. His body wrapped protectively around hers, he closed down his heart and lungs and lay as one dead.
As the sun began to set, a disturbance found its way into the chamber. Then a single heartbeat interrupted the silence, and lungs drew in air. Aidan lay still, scanning the house for the cause of his early awakening. Above him, on the first floor, someone was rudely pounding on the door to his home. He could hear Marie’s soft footfalls as she moved to answer. Her heartbeat was audible to him. She was nervous about the caller. The pounding at the front entrance was loud and authoritative. A smile curved his mouth. Behind his housekeeper, he heard Stefan, ever ready to defend his wife, to defend Aidan’s home.
Aidan rose, his body supple and strong. His gaze slid to Alexandria. Shock went through him. She was beautiful! There were a few bruises marring her soft skin, but it was otherwise healthy, flawless skin. Her lips were soft and lush, her lashes long and heavy. Younger even than he had imagined, she was unlike any woman he had ever seen. And she belonged to him, and nothing on Earth would change that. His body stirred unexpectedly with a sudden, urgent ache that shocked him. She lay there helpless, a virtual stranger, yet he had been in her mind and knew her more intimately than one could ever know another after years of living together. He bent to brush her forehead with his lips, a salute to her courage, her capacity for loving, and the goodness in her. But proximity to her only deepened the throbbing ache in his body.
Quickly he put distance between himself and temptation. It had been six hundred years since he had felt a biological urge, yet this surpassed anything he had once known. This was no mild desire to appease the needs of his body. This was a raging hunger for one woman, the only woman. He needed her now in every sense of the word, and it didn’t help his self-control that she was young and beautiful, rather than the hag he had initially thought her.
The caller on the floor above them was yelling at Marie. Aidan could hear the man clearly. It was someone obviously used to having his way. Wealthy, clearly difficult. He was demanding to see Alexandria Houton. He went so far as to threaten Marie with deportation if she did not produce Alexandria immediately, obviously thinking her accent made her vulnerable to such a threat.
Fangs exploded in Aidan’s mouth, and his golden eyes glowed hot and vicious, the beast in him stronger than ever. Was it because he was jealous of any male coming near his lifemate? Because he was feeling anger—another powerful new emotion—that someone was yelling at his housekeeper? Or perhaps a combination of both? He did not know; but he recognized he was dangerous and would have to exercise great self-control. A long, slow hiss escaped his lips as he floated up the stairs and entered the kitchen through the secret passage. He moved with supernatural speed, invisible to the human eye. All Carpathians were capable of such things, and it was second nature to him.
In the entryway of his home, a tall, handsome man raged at his housekeeper. “You produce Alexandria immediately or I’ll call the police. I think foul play has been committed, and you’re in some way a party to it!” He was looking at Marie with contempt, as if she were an insect he could easily crush beneath his foot.
Abruptly the stranger fell silent, a cold shiver unexpectedly running down his spine. He had the distinct impression something was stalking him. Wildly, he looked around the immaculate yard. Empty. Still, the impression of danger was so strong, his heart began to pound, and his mouth went dry. Thomas Ivan’s heart slammed against his chest when a man appeared virtually out of nowhere. He simply seemed to materialize behind the stubborn housekeeper. The man was tall, elegant, well-dressed. Long blond hair flowed to his broad shoulders, and unusual golden eyes regarded him with the unblinking stare of a cat. He exuded power. Power and strength. Danger clung to him like a second skin.