Dark Ghost by Christine Feehan Page A

beat too fast and her breathing was nearly nonexistent. When he was certain he had healed her fingers, he released her hand, and pushed the heavy fall of her braided hair from her neck.
    “Breathe,
sivamet
,” he counseled softly. “Just take a breath.”
    He moved in her mind with the lightest of touches. She was physically attracted to him and wondering why. She was shocked by it and that made him want to smile all over again. She’d never been with another man, she hadn’t kissed one, or even felt attracted to one. She was all his.
All his.
    Andre hadn’t ever had anything in his life. Anyone. His childhood had been unhappy¸ with very few good memories, and those memories had faded beyond his ability to recapture them. He remembered a tall bear of a man who had eyes for his mother and little else – certainly not for him. His mother always looked right through the “ghost” in the house and never saw or acknowledged him. Truthfully, he couldn’t remember what she looked like. Teagan had eyes for him. Only for him. He liked that. More, he needed it.
    She took a breath and smiled at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen or heard of anyone who could heal such injuries with saliva. My skin was completely gone. It doesn’t seem possible that you could actually regenerate skin that quickly.”
    “When you heal wounds, you are sealing off the injury,” he pointed out. He reached around her for the kettle.
    She caught both his wrists firmly and jerked his hands away from the fire. “Andre, can’t you feel that heat? You’ll get burned.”
    The concern in her voice caught at him. She was so incredible. How had it been possible to live for centuries without her? He’d never seen hair like hers before. So much of it. Long and thick and shining like a raven’s wing. Glossy hair. Braids everywhere. He loved her hair.
    “I want to make you a cup of tea,” he said, his face close to her neck, inhaling her scent. He had never felt such soft skin or seen that particular shade of mocha, so beautiful it made his eyes ache just looking at her. He wanted to rub against her like a cat, but he was afraid the shadow on his jaw would scrape her soft skin.
    “That’s so sweet of you, Andre, but let me get my hot pads from my backpack.” She looked around the cave. “I should get a couple of lanterns as well if we’re going to set up camp for the night.”
    The last thing he wanted her to do was go to sleep. He needed her exhausted so she’d sleep most of the day away. She could get through safeguards. The vampires wouldn’t be a threat to her because they would need to go to ground when the sun rose, but Armend’s four friends would certainly be a threat, although it was possible they’d leave the mountain once they found Armend’s body.
    “I sometimes come here,” he said, again, strictly true. He didn’t need to reveal yet that he’d been using the cave for centuries when he was in the area and it was the closest thing he’d had to a home at one time.
    She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. Their faces were close. He could see the dark chocolate melting in her eyes. Liquid chocolate. Beautiful. For a moment he just stared at her, wondering how he’d gotten so lucky. How he’d managed to find her just when he’d made the decision to let go of life and go out with honor battling a vampire.
    There she was. Saving him. This little slip of a woman. He needed to make certain he brought her into his world as gently as possible. She looked fragile, but he knew from touching her mind so often that she had a will of steel. If she got her back up and tried to fight him, it wouldn’t be good for either of them.
    “I have another chamber set up more comfortably. It is difficult to get to, but a little safer than this cave.”
    Deliberately, Andre had not gone fully to ground, luring the vampire with his trail of blood. Carpathians buried themselves deep in the earth when they went to ground, not