He changed the memory again, drawing on something less frightening, the simple mechanics of a cat’s everyday life. The leopard stretched out on the limb of a tree and stood for a long moment, testing the wind for the wealth of information it would impart. It stretched lazily and leapt to the ground. Padding on silent paws, it moved through the jungle back toward the small stream where it could drink. All around were traces of smaller creatures, scurrying out of harm’s way as the cat traveled quickly through the dense cover. It began to run, a sprint of speed and power, moving quickly for the sheer pleasure of it. It was Dayan’s memory, his boyhood enjoyment of occupying the body of the leopard, and Corinne was grateful for the sharing.
He took her from that long-ago jungle to a modern-day concert, a large room crowded with people talking and laughing. The lights went low and there was a sudden hush of anticipation. The moment stretched out. Corinne waited with every bit as much excitement as the crowd for the appearance of the band. The Dark Troubadours, renowned for their music, for the beauty of their lyrics and phenomenal talent with instruments. Suddenly the band came running onto the stage and the crowd roared, rising, stomping and clapping wildly.
You’re incredibly handsome.
There was pride in her thoughts, a pleased, rather possessive pleasure that made him incredibly happy.
Dayan’s fingertip traced the curve of her mouth. “My little groupie,” he teased and bent his head to claim her lips. He couldn’t help himself. He craved the taste and feel of her silken mouth. He was exquisitely tender, yet fiercely possessive, raw with aching need. Corinne responded with the same heated tenderness, her only way to express her growing love for this wild, lonely man. She slipped her arms around his neck to cradle his head to her, a tremendous effort when her body was so tired and worn.
At once Dayan felt her weariness and slowly, reluctantly broke the contact to kiss the corner of her mouth, her chin, the line of her soft, vulnerable throat. He ached with love for her, felt that same ache in her. It humbled him like nothing else ever could have. He could read her every thought, easily see into her memories. He had been alone for centuries, surrounded by people he only had memories of loving. She had changed his world, brought so much to him.
Corinne accepted him for what he was. She was gaining access to his memories and his thoughts through their continual mind merge, and now the binding ritual and his blood tie, but her acceptance ran deeper than all of that. He felt it, saw acceptance not because they were lifemates, but based on a deep love and commitment to him. Corinne had faith in herself and her judgment. She sensed good in him and embraced it. She loved the poet in him, the way he expressed himself in his music and lyrics. She accepted the darker side of him, knew it was his nature, part of who he was. She believed in him and who he was. What he was.
“I want you to sleep, my love,” he whispered softly, his mouth traveling along her delicate collarbone. “I can feel that you are tired. Just let go and sleep. It will give your body a chance to rest. I will remain here beside you.”
Her slender arms slipped reluctantly from around his neck to fall limply onto the quilt. His wandering mouth was robbing her of the ability to think properly. If she closed her eyes, burning tears sprang to life, tangled in her lashes. She ached for him, for his terrible sorrow. He didn’t want to go to sleep. He was terrified that when he rose she would be lost to him. His normal calm was totally destroyed. Corinne recognized, with her new awareness, that she was becoming more and more like Dayan, gifted with enhanced abilities.
Are you safe here with me?
She was soothing him, trying to reassure him.
Dayan captured her hand, brought it to his mouth. His strong teeth nibbled with extraordinary gentleness at her fingertips. She was turning him inside out. “We are deep beneath the earth. I do not always have to sleep beneath a blanket of nurturing soil. I would rather remain beside you. If you should wake before sunset, do not be frightened. My body will give the appearance of mortal death. But it is merely rejuvenating. It is a natural state for Carpathians, Corinne. I would not want you to become alarmed in any way.”
She smiled at his assurances. Everything about Dayan was extraordinary. Magical. She could believe anything of him, even rising from what might seem a dead state. She had discovered images in his mind. Carpathians rested in a state much like suspended animation. She felt the welcoming of the healing soil as he felt it, as a natural state, in which he could be truly one with the earth and the sky.
“I won’t be afraid, Dayan, if I wake. I’ll be expecting you to appear like Sleeping Beauty.” Her voice was so faint it was barely discernible to the human ear, but Dayan could hear her without trouble. There was a smile in her voice. “If I kiss you, will that wake you?”
“If you have need of me, Corinne” — he knew she was teasing him, but he answered solemnly — “I will hear you.” Deliberately he laced his fingers through hers, holding her body close to his. “I will always hear your call to me.”
I know you will. I’m not afraid anymore, Dayan. I’m not. Whatever will happen, will happen. We’ve done the best that we can to prepare for this. Either I live through it and we get the happily-ever-after ending, or I don’t. I want to enjoy my time with you, every minute, every second. Please don’t feel so afraid for me.
He could feel his heart pounding out a rhythm of fear in his chest. He took a breath, deep, dragging her scent into his lungs. Dragging in serenity, a tranquil state of mind. He allowed it to flow over him, through him, knowing that what she said was true. “I do not fear traveling to another world. If you are there, that is where both of us will be. I hope to stay in this time and place to share the beauty of this world with you. I want to be able to once again feel love for my family and raise our children here with them before traveling onward. But if it is not meant to be, then so be it.”
Corinne lay beside him, drifting in a semi-dreamlike state. The baby moved inside her beneath Dayan’s warm hand. It connected the three of them. Dayan felt that connection very strongly, and Corinne found herself smiling, relaxed and totally happy. He had given her a treasure beyond any price. He had loved her the way she was. With her heart disintegrating and another man’s child in her body. He loved her with her strange talent and matter-of-fact ways. She had been accepted for who and what she was. No more and no less. No one could ask for more.
She wanted to hear his music, to drift off into her dreams of him with the sound of his songs in her ears. Dayan felt her wish in his mind, looked around the cave, suddenly aware that he was without his precious instrument, and that he hadn’t once thought of it. He always had it in his hands, yet now when it was needed, it was nowhere in sight.
Your security blanket.
There was a trace of laughter, as if she felt his panic welling up.
Baby.
Dayan found himself laughing, relaxing in the warmth of her company.
I cannot play for you without my guitar. I’m not letting you off the hook that easily. Sing for us
—
the baby and me. You don’t need your instrument to sing to us.
She sounded incredibly smug, teasing and happy.
Dayan pulled her firmly against him so that her head fit snugly into his shoulder. He could do no other than oblige. His beautiful voice was filled with his love, the lyrics pouring out of him like molten gold. She fell asleep in his arms with a small smile curving her mouth. Beneath his hand, the infant snuggled closer and drifted off with her mother.