Dark Wolf by Christine Feehan Page B

could feel saliva forming in his mouth. His teeth were sharp and terrible.
    “I am weak. Far too weak to trust myself. I am uncertain if I could stop.” He forced the truth out, respecting the man, not wanting to take any chances. He would have drained Gunnolf dry, but Zev had integrity and the sentence of the council had clearly come as a shock to him.
    “You are wrapped in chains,” Zev pointed out. “I can control your intake.”
    Dimitri lifted his head to look around him. The forest was thick with trees and brush, but he felt and heard the life force of other Lycans close by. He could feel eyes on them. “The more you aid me, the more suspect you become in the eyes of the others. The one you call Gunnolf is poisoning the minds of the others against you. By aiding me, you help his cause.”
    “What is his cause?” Zev asked. “Why is it so important for you to die before the summit reaches its conclusion? It makes no sense. Key members of our council are meeting right now with your prince and his people to settle the issue of the Sange rau —the Bad Blood , and the Hän ku pesäk kaikak , or Paznicii de toate— Guardian of all. Doesn’t it make sense to see that outcome before sentencing you to death?”
    Dimitri tried a smile, exposing his lengthened canines. “I’m the one sentenced to death, so obviously it makes perfect sense to me.”
    “I see you’ve retained your sense of humor.”
    “I try.” The soothing grass had reached his thighs now, moving up both legs to find those terrible, burning wounds in an effort to ease the pain.
    Hunger reached a new high. He could count each individual beat of Zev’s steady, strong pulse. A strange roaring in his head consumed his mind with the urgency to feed. He saw red, the color banding in his vision.
    “Maybe you should step back, put a safe distance between us,” Dimitri cautioned. His voice had become more of a growl than an actual vocalization.
    Unafraid, Zev stepped closer, his own teeth tearing a hole in his wrist. He was careful to avoid the silver chains encompassing Dimitri’s body as he lifted his wrist, dripping with life-giving blood, to Dimitri’s mouth.
    Blood surged to every starved cell, every withered organ, moved over the many burned paths the silver had taken, to revitalize and rejuvenate. Dimitri tried to be polite, tried to hold on to awareness. Zev risked his life by giving him blood. His pack could turn on him at any moment. Dimitri was certain Gunnolf had his own agenda. He wanted more power and Zev was standing in his way. This act of kindness could very well be Zev’s downfall.
    Yet Dimitri couldn’t make himself stop. All he had to do was sweep his tongue across that wound in Zev’s wrist to close the gash, but hunger was so raw, so terrible, such a monster gaining control of him, that he couldn’t quite manage on his own.
    You must stop me. He pushed the words out from his mind onto a path, any path, hoping Zev would pick it up. They’d used telepathic communication on a hunt of a rogue pack before, although the path had not been between them. Telepathic communication grew easier once it was established, but there was usually a blood path between a Carpathian and the one he reached out to. His heart sank. He’d never given Zev blood.
    Zev pulled his wrist from Dimitri, wincing as those strong teeth jerked out of his skin. Dimitri closed his eyes, trying to breathe deep, desperate for more, but grateful for what had been given.
    “I heard you. How is that possible?”
    Dimitri shook his head. Even that slight movement sent his head spinning. He had grown dizzy with pain and lack of sustenance. “I have no idea. Maybe desperation on my part.”
    Zev wrapped a strip of cloth around his wrist and knotted it tight. “Stay alive, at least until I hear personally from the council. Like I said before, none of this makes any sense, and the council is all about logic.” He glanced in the direction Gunnolf had gone. “I don’t