It was no less than a decree. A command meant to be obeyed.
Darius suddenly crouched low and looked Dayan in the eye. “If you ever trusted me, trusted my judgment, if you ever believed in me, follow me now.”
Dayan felt the strength of his leader, the man he named brother, flowing into him, and he nodded, a slow, grim smile softening the edges of his mouth. It had been long since he had known emotion around his family, and now his pride and love for them were overwhelming. He turned inward, swiftly pursued and caught up with that weak, flickering light that was moving so far away from him. He surrounded Corinne’s spirit; his will a strong wall, an anchor to hold her in his world.
Corinne. Know me.
He felt her response. Weak. Fluttery. But she knew him. Of course she knew him. She would know him anywhere. What had he been thinking? Corinne loved life. She embraced life. She might be accepting of the hardships life had handed her, but she found joy in all things, beauty in the world around her. She wanted to raise her daughter, she wanted to see Lisa’s and Cullen’s happiness. Corinne wanted a life with Dayan.
Dayan held her locked to him. Her spirit was being pulled away from him, away from her damaged body. He saw Gregori and Darius working, two points of pure light, massaging and stimulating her heart. He knew Gregori commanded that more blood be given, and it was Jacques, brother to the Prince, who supplied it to Corinne. Dayan saw the two healers work furiously at spreading the blood to the organs of Corinne’s body in hopes of speeding the conversion. Both were exhausted from maintaining the out-of-body experience, but neither wavered in his task.
I’m tired. Let me sleep for a while.
It was those last six little words that convinced him. She wanted sleep, not death. Not eternal sleep.
Not yet, my love. It is not over yet. One more thing. Just one, and I will allow you to sleep as long as you like. Join with me, merge into my mind so that I can keep you safe while you cross over fully into my world.
The first ripple of pain was shocking. It felt like fire racing through her bloodstream. Corinne’s body contorted, jerked in Dayan’s arms. He couldn’t believe the force of the rush, a fireball consuming her. She cried out, the sound torn from her throat, loud in the hushed stillness of the chamber, so that it echoed up the vent into the night sky.
Oh, God, she cannot survive this. I do not want her last moments to be such pain.
The words broke from him as tiny beads of blood oozed across his forehead. He could not take the pain away. He had dulled it, but it was something none of them could fully prevent.
She must survive.
Darius was implacable in his resolve.
Dayan breathed deeply, allowed the pain to wash over and through him before he turned his complete attention inward to that fragile spirit huddling so weakly within the walls he’d constructed. Corinne astonished him. She was unafraid. She was as accepting of the conversion as she had been of her labor. She was weak, though, and unable to aid him in gathering strength for the coming battle.
The next wave of fire burned through her internal organs with a jolt so severe, she was nearly wrenched out of Dayan’s arms. There was no gradual buildup. The healers were forcing the conversion to accommodate her disintegrating heart. It would have failed long before if the two healers had ceased their work.
Dayan held Corinne’s head as she was violently sick, again and again. She was too weak to move or help herself. He took great care that she did not inhale, seeing that she expelled every damaging toxin from her body. He found himself clenching his teeth against the waves of terrible pain racing through her body. Deep within his mind he felt her spirit falter, the light flickering.
No!
He clung to her, turned every ounce of his will to prevent that light from being extinguished. They had come so far. Death must not take her now.
The chant was a continual murmur in his mind, and he knew it was aiding the process, but he needed something else, something to draw her to him. The baby was quiet, fighting her own battle for life with Shea’s help. It came to him then. The one thing he could give her that he knew she loved. His music. He began to sing. Softly at first, a melody of dark, dangerous love. A ballad of need. Of a man’s desperate fight for the one woman he loved above all else.
Desari joined in on the chorus, her beautiful, magical voice a gift from the heavens. She sang with him, helping him use his voice to draw Corinne from the jaws of death. The notes leapt into the air, silver and gold, dancing like glinting sunlight in the darkened chamber.
He felt Corinne’s response then. Weak, but there. She clung to the sound of their voices, allowed the melody to take her away from the terrible burning in her body, the humiliation of her system ridding itself of human toxins. The loss of control, the helpless feeling of lying unable to move, while her body contorted and writhed with pain. She chained herself to those notes, his gift to her, and floated above the fire, holding to life, clinging to Dayan, her solid anchor.
He was humbled by her complete trust and faith in him. He had no idea if he would have given his life so completely into another’s hands. He was awed and humble and grateful. Blood-red tears dripped onto the back of his hand, but his voice never wavered as he sang to her.
The ordeal seemed an eternity to him, and his newfound emotions were raw. But he sang with his heart and soul. His voice surrounded her, lifted her above the terrible pain and kept her anchored firmly to him.
Now, Dayan.
There was relief in Darius’s voice.
Send her to sleep and we can complete the healing.
It took a few moments for Dayan to realize what Darius meant. The healers had managed to utilize his blood and the precious blood of the Prince’s lineage to convert Corinne’s failing human heart into a strong Carpathian heart. The danger was over. He could barely comprehend that it could be so. He felt as if he had fought ten thousand battles, as if he had been fighting for all time.
He issued the command to sleep, strong, compelling, instant. Corinne had no choice but to obey, and in her weakened state, it was easy for him to send her into the Carpathian method of sleeping. Dayan breathed a sigh of relief. At last she was beyond pain. He looked up, his broad shoulders sagging. He was completely drained of energy. He had given Corinne a large amount of blood, he had not fed, nor had he slept in the rejuvenating soil. His every ounce of energy had been utilized to keep Corinne’s heart and lungs going, to bind her to him. The emotions he had withstood would have been enough to drain his great strength. He was dangerously weak and pale.
He looked around the chamber to the others who had offered so much for him, for Corinne. Shea was working on the baby. He found himself smiling, a slow grin that replaced his fatigue with warmth. His child. Corinne might think of their daughter as John’s, and he understood, but in truth, she carried Dayan’s blood in her body. While Darius and Gregori continued to work at healing Corinne, he studied the baby.
“Will she live?” he asked Shea quietly.
The red-haired woman glanced at him. “She’s very strong and she wants life. Corinne, Gregori, Darius and you did a good job of instilling a strong will in her. She will have loving, nurturing parents. I think it will be best if she stays here for a few weeks to give her body time to adjust to the outside world, but she is doing quite well.”