Dark Demon by Christine Feehan Page B

brain slammed down, effectively stopping the replay of the distressing memory.
    Natalya? Shall I come to you? What has upset you?
    She leaned against the shower stall wall. There was such caring in his voice. She hadn't had caring or affection in a long, long time. Don't be silly. I'm just tired . Could he see all the way into her mind? Into the places that were so dark and shadowed and beyond her own ability to see?
    Her father, Soren, had been half Carpathian and half mage. He had married a human, her beloved mother, Samantha. Natalya closed her eyes tight and tried not to think about her mother and the mess the vampires had made of her. Her father had gone a little crazy and left his children, Razvan and Natalya, alone while he went seeking to find his wife's killers. He had never returned and Razvan had become her only family.
    Her eyes burned at the thought of her brother. So gentle with her, so careful to make certain she used every safeguard, dead at the hand of a hunter. She put her palm on the shower door as if she could feel Vikirnoff through the partition. The hunter was alive because she had chosen to save him.
    Sighing, she stepped out of the shower and dried her body, wincing a little when she touched bruises. Natalya sagged against the wall, covering her face. What would Razvan say to her if he were alive? Would he be disgusted and ashamed of her? Or would he understand? She pressed her hands over her ears as if shutting out whispered recriminations.
    She didn't understand why she was so drawn to the hunter, why she even considered the possibility of being his lifemate. In the past, she'd been a witness to a woman being drawn to a hunter in spite of her intentions not to be, but Natalya was not fully Carpathian or fully human. She was also wizard, with the blood of the dark mage flowing in her veins; few had her power. She did not believe she could be successfully bound. How could she expect Razvan to believe it if she did not? And how could she expect his understanding? She had the fear that he might reach out from his grave to condemn her.
    Opening the bathroom door, she stood across the room from the badly injured hunter and wondered why she had been so determined to see him live. Natalya pulled on a pair of soft drawstring pants and a long sleeve shirt and stood watching Vikirnoff. He appeared to be dead. She couldn't detect the faintest breath of air moving through his lungs, but she didn't want to get that close to him yet. She still had the task of giving him blood.
    You do not have to do anything so abhorrent to you , kišlány. It is not necessary. I will survive .
    Natalya stiffened. Had he been awake the entire time, a shadow in her mind? Why couldn't she tell when he was merged with her?
    "What are you calling me? What is Kish-lah-knee' ?"
    The emphasis is on the first syllable. Kish-lah-knee. It means "little girl."
    Natalya sucked in her breath, anger rising instantly. "What else have you called me?" She was no little girl, no baby, and she damned well wasn't afraid of him. Well, maybe that wasn't altogether true, but she refused to be intimidated when the hunter was so gravely wounded. She pushed up her sleeve in a business-like manner and forced herself across the room.
    I called you my "little slip of a girl" and, "forever mine."
    The weariness in his voice tugged at her heart in spite of her anger. He was using too much energy when he needed desperately to conserve. "I am not a 'slip of a girl' or a 'little girl,'" she declared. "I'm a grown woman and I expect you to treat me with respect."
    As you do me?
    She slashed her wrist and pressed it to his mouth. Pain knifed through her, but she stuck her chin in the air and accepted it. She wasn't going to feel guilty. He was a hunter, for heaven's sake. One of her greatest enemies, she'd saved his life, that should have been enough.
    " You are not a "little slip of a girl"." But you are ainaak enyém, " forever mine." I thank you for taking care of