Juliette was gone. His first reaction was to roar out his pain and frustration. Now Riordan let out his breath in a long, slow hiss of exasperation. He wanted to shake her. The physical attraction between them was a wildfire. That alone should have been enough to bind her to him. She was in for a long, difficult time, out there alone without him. The ritual bonding words would force her mind to attempt to connect with his. He had explained it to her, had tried to spare her the misery he knew she would be going through.
He was already feeling the effects of their separation. Worse, he was feeling her grief, a torrent of emotion every bit as deep as the well of passion he touched in her. She felt things intensely. Riordan raked his fingers through his long hair. He needed to find prey fast. He needed more time in the ground to heal, but more than anything, he needed Juliette. He lifted his head toward the heavens and roared a second time. She had opened the dam of his emotions. He remembered nothing of anger and jealousy and fear, but now the feelings were crowding into his mind mixed with grief. It was a potent combination and a dangerous one.
He found the tracks of a large cat, but not the footprints of a woman. His heart beat hard in his chest, pounded with fear for her, with need for her. She had managed to disguise herself, leave no trace behind, but the call of blood and the ties that bound them together were far too strong to ever break. He moved quickly through the cave, shifting on the run, bursting into the air as a thick stream of white mist. The sky was orange and red, dazzling and vivid and near blinding to a man who had seen only shades of gray for so long. Even with the heavy mist for protection, his head burst with the sheer brilliance of color. He streaked through the trees, staying below the canopy, using the protection of the foliage while he acclimated himself to his new sight.
A bird shrieked, his only warning. He hit something and bounced backward. Droplets shimmered briefly through a dropping silver net, falling through on the outside. Instincts took over. He shot upward, through and above the silver. In his present form he was able to slip through, but he felt the thin blades, razor-sharp, cutting deep.
Riordan! Juliette sounded panic-stricken.
The trap had been set specifically for him. Juliette knew he would come after her. He had not fully penetrated the barriers in her mind. Could she betray him? Was it even possible for one lifemate to betray another? Riordan doubted it, but he didn't have time to think so he simply didn't answer, pulling his mind from hers. The echo of her anguished cry tore at his heart, but he refused to be swayed, streaking through the canopy and shifting into the form of a bird. He went still, hiding among the birds in the tree, examining the trap that had been set for him.
It had been sprung without an operator. He had merely flown into it, which meant there might be other traps out there waiting for him. Blood trickled down his beak and seeped through his feathers. Far below, on the forest floor, the silver net lay tangled in a heap. He could see traces of his blood on the thin wires.
Humans, puppets of a vampire, had constructed the trap, and only a master vampire could have kept his presence from Riordan. He was dealing with something extremely powerful and evil. Something willing to mingle with humans and use them for its own ruthless purposes.
Fear for his lifemate clawed at him. She was somewhere alone and unprotected. It couldn't have been Juliette. What would be the point of rescuing him only to lead him into a trap? He touched her mind, heard her weeping. His heart shattered. For a moment he couldn't breathe, couldn't drag air into his lungs. How could her soft weeping affect him so deeply?
Juliette, it is nothing, a trap that failed.
There was a small silence. He pictured her wiping at her tears, felt the anger stirring in her mind. I hate that you did this to us. Tied us together until we can't breathe without each other.
Destiny tied us together, Juliette.
You had a choice.
I did not have a choice. I was shocked to find you. I had never expected to find you. Tell me why you are so resistant. I can help you with whatever it is you feel the need to do. You are not so opposed to our joining as you want me to believe.
He felt her shock that he had penetrated her barriers to such an extent. He felt her hurt that he might think she was part of a larger conspiracy to harm him when she had risked her life to get him out of the laboratory. He felt her withdrawal, but he could not let it matter. He would find her. He had no other choice.
Carpathians often traveled in the form of an owl. The vampire had prepared to capture him in the form of mist, knowing hunters often used the fog to travel in. The vampire could very well have planned a trap for a bird winging through the sky. Riordan chose the shape of a smaller cat, a civet, able to move fast on the highway of branches above the forest floor. Any trap designed for an animal would be for a wolf or the much heavier leopard, forms routinely used for fast travel.
He was much more cautious as he leapt from branch to branch. His mind continually tuned itself toward Juliette. Riordan was used to being in complete control, without the danger of intense emotions, and his newly acquired feelings threw his normal balance. He sighed. I am as ensnared as you.
The silence was so long, he feared she would refuse to answer. I would not say ensnared. I am merely obsessed, and obsession is very disturbing.
I do not mind if I am the object of your obsession.
I mind. I refuse to be obsessed over anything, or anyone, let alone a man.
He felt the heat in her voice, the raw desire. Somewhere, Juliette was thinking of him, fantasizing over him. There was a silence, and he caught the shimmer of images in her mind. Their mouths welded together, her hands stroking his body, her lips traveling over the terrible burns on his chest. Riordan's temperature rose sharply. Thunder pounded in his head. His body went tight and uncomfortable. The small cat stumbled as the sexual drive hit it hard.
You cannot do this to me. He knew his voice was husky and slightly harsh but he couldn't help it. His body burned, was on fire. Each step was painful and mixed with the cat's animalistic emotions, his own beast roared for his mate.
Why not? You did it to me. I don't think my fantasy about touching your body or kissing you is nearly as bad as you touching me without physically laying a finger on me.
The little cat leapt over a twig holding a spray of leaves and nearly didn't make it, almost somersaulting into a thick snake coiled around a branch. The cat hissed and spit as it gave the snake a wide berth.
Riordan nearly groaned. Juliette wasn't stopping her fantasy at touching his body or kissing him. She was doing delicious things with her lips, working her way deliberately down his body to engulf him in the heated silk of her mouth. He groaned aloud, the small cat shuddering. It was becoming an effort to hold the form while hunger beat at him and desire swamped him. He had not taken the time to fully heal himself and if he were to regain his strength he would need sustenance.
More than anything he wanted to find Juliette, to bury his body deep in the haven of hers, relieve the terrible pressure building with unrelenting madness in his body. He could almost feel her mouth gliding over him. He could taste her heat and spice, feel her soft skin beneath his fingers.