Dark Memory – Dark Carpathians Read Online Christine Feehan

Categories Genre: Dark, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal, Vampires Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 141492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
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How many times had he whispered to her, Come to me. See me. Come all the way to me?

She had wanted to be his partner as a demon slayer. Had she wanted to be his partner as a wife? She felt she had something to contribute to their union because she was confident as the defender of her people. Despite the error she’d made with Lilith, she was still confident in her abilities. She’d overstepped due to arrogance, but she would remember that lesson and get back on track once the humiliation died down and she was needed.

The real question was simple: What could she give Petru that he really needed? Her people needed the demon slayer, but if she was being honest with herself, Petru didn’t need the slayer. He needed a wife. Beneath her ear, his heart leapt. Or maybe that was her heart. Could it have been theirs together?

Below was the farm she’d known and loved all her life. It had always been the most beautiful place on earth and represented love and family to her. She had never wanted to be anywhere else. The sight of the family farm didn’t move her in the way it had always done. That rush of affection that normally accompanied her first glimpse wasn’t there.

For the first time, she wished they hadn’t gotten to their destination so fast. She needed just a little more time to follow the path of reasoning that she was on. She had made her commitment to be with Petru, but she hadn’t taken that last step in the way her sister Lunja had to Zdan. Or Amara had to Izem. She had the key to relationships right in front of her. Her mother and grandmother had been examples when it came to leading the way. Her sisters-in-law and sister had generously given her advice. Why hadn’t she heard it?

Fear of losing who she was. Petru was that legendary hero, a larger-than-life man. She had no idea how to be a woman. Every time he kissed her, she melted into someone else, a being she didn’t even recognize. Logic went out the window. She couldn’t think straight. She was afraid if she gave herself totally to Petru, she would lose Safia.

Lunja had gained more when she devoted herself to her husband because he had, in turn, given her more. Not all husbands did that, but hers had. Safia didn’t doubt that Petru would do his best to put her first. She didn’t see him as a selfish man. He was a man living his life the way he’d done for two thousand years—without emotion. Without feeling injuries that could so easily kill him. Without taking care of himself.

That was what Petru needed most—someone to care about him. Someone to see him when others didn’t or couldn’t. Was that what he’d been asking for her to do all along? She did see inside of him, even uninvited. She had when she’d been that child long ago. He had no idea how to take care of himself. He wouldn’t even think he needed care, but she had the best examples of how to look after him. She would know what he needed before he did.

She glanced around her again. The farm was once more coming into view. Petru had circled around while she’d been contemplating what she should be doing. She deliberately touched his mind. He’d been closely inspecting the fields and fences, looking for any breaks in the safeguards. She loved that he would think to do that. It was ingrained in him, even when his body desperately needed care.

He set them down at the front entrance, his arm sliding around her waist. For the first time since he’d been injured, she felt the slightest reaction, as if a shiver went through him. He might look steady, but his strength was waning. She looked up at him.

“Petru, will you please do me a favor? I know you want to follow this ritual as closely as possible, but for me, allow me to talk to Jeddi and Baba, explain that you need to go to a healing ground or however you want it said, sign the marriage contract and leave as soon as possible.” She raised her green gaze to his deliberately as she gently moved her palm over his chest.

“Are you certain that’s what you prefer to do? You’ll miss out on the wedding ritual. I know you looked forward to it for most of your life.”

“I looked forward to you most of my life,” she corrected. “Once the marriage contract is signed, we’re married in the eyes of my people as well as yours. Realistically, how long do you think it will take to heal your wounds?”

He shrugged. “A couple of risings.”

It took a moment to realize he meant days. She was going to have to get used to the small differences in the way they spoke. It wasn’t just language; it was the terms they used to describe various things.


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