Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 141492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Safia’s breath caught in her lungs. She fought to stay on her feet. This was her lifemate. She would not fall facedown in the dirt and humiliate herself. He was just so . . . intimidating. She wasn’t prepared for the reality of him. He looked like a being sent from another realm—half dangerous predator, half avenging angel.
He didn’t smile, nor did he slow down even when she froze, clearly nervous at his approach. When he continued to stride toward her, she brought her hand up to indicate for him to stop. Unfortunately, the sword was still in her fist, and she supposed she looked as if she might be threatening him.
“Stop.”
“You are injured, päläfertiilam.” He continued to stride toward her as if the sword meant nothing.
The consecrated ground didn’t slow him down in the least. He stepped right into the circle, pushed the sword aside and caught her around the waist with both hands to lower her onto the flat surface of the rock. His touch sent a series of electrical shocks tripping through her body. The way he lifted her shouldn’t have felt in the least personal, and yet it was more intimate than he could have meant it to be. Her body slid against his as he lifted her onto the rock; he was that close to her. It was just the briefest of contacts, but his body felt as hard as the African blackwood, a tree renowned for its density.
The moment he touched her, the pain was gone from her shoulder and arm. He hadn’t done anything to rid her of it, yet immediately, when his hands touched her waist, it was as if he’d blocked her ability to feel all pain. She had no idea how he managed to block it when the pain had been excruciating, but she wanted to learn.
“I am Petru Cioban, your lifemate. Tell me your name.” He leaned over her to inspect her torn shoulder.
She closed her eyes against the warmth of his breath as he bathed the terrible wound in heat. Just the contact of his breath seemed too intimate, as if it connected them, establishing an unbreakable tie between them.
“Your name,” he repeated.
His voice was soft, like the brush of velvet against her skin, yet there was a command there, one she couldn’t ignore. She lifted her lashes, knowing it was a mistake, but she couldn’t stop. She found herself looking directly into his odd-colored eyes. Instantly, it felt as if she were being drawn into a turbulent storm.
The fog enfolded Safia and Petru like a gray cloud, cutting them off from the rest of the world and setting them adrift. She began to think she was hallucinating just a little. Maybe the wounds were making her delusional. She couldn’t seem to think clearly with Petru so close to her.
She made every effort to pull herself together, but she felt dizzy and disoriented with the fog swirling around her and memories that weren’t all her own crowding too close. The past and present seemed to be colliding when she was weak and vulnerable. She hung on to reality by concentrating on the images of those she loved most. Her family was still in danger.
“I’m Safia Meziane. There are other vampires attacking my family home. I’d prefer you go to their aid. I can take care of these wounds.”
Petru’s eyes had settled to a strange mercury color, but at her suggestion, they once again blazed into twin streaks of silvery turbulence. “The health of my lifemate comes first. The vampire leaves behind parasites that multiply quickly in the bloodstream. They must be removed. I have traveling companions with me. Three will go to your residence and aid those there. The other two will stay here to guard us while I heal your wounds. You can never allow any wound a vampire inflicts on you to go unattended.”
His voice was very mild, but she felt reprimanded. It wasn’t as if Aura hadn’t given her those instructions. Training to fight a vampire and talking about them or replaying battles in one’s mind wasn’t nearly the same thing as fighting one. They hadn’t been real to her, and this had been her first time. She’d been alone. Terrified. And she’d managed to destroy him.
“I must go outside my body to heal you from the inside. I will drive the parasites from your bloodstream and any organ they have lodged in.”
As Petru spoke, the pad of his thumb moved over the top of her shoulder and her neck where the tears were the worst. It was the lightest of touches, barely there, but was a caress all the same, felt through her body like a ripple of pleasure. The idea of physically reacting or, worse, her soul reacting to this stranger over such a small gesture when no man had touched her and she was alone and unguarded and so vulnerable, was very disturbing. She had lost too much blood, and she was very susceptible to him. She didn’t want to be alone with him and his friends. All along, when she’d thought of meeting him, it had been in a position of equality, not weakness, not like this.