Dark Slayer - Christine Feehan [116]
It was difficult to maintain composure when too many hearts beat, the sound of blood roared through veins, emotions seemed too raw around her. When she’d been alone for so long, being crowded into a room—albeit a spacious one—still was uncomfortable. She forced a smile at the prince, inclining her head like a princess. “We thank you for your generous offer.”
It was Razvan, more than her, who was uncomfortable with the feeding process. He didn’t like taking blood from a wrist, and she felt his instant aversion to the idea when the prince so casually offered his wrist. She took the blood without hesitation, willing to draw attention away from Razvan.
“I offer you my blood, Razvan,” Natalya said into the silence. “I wouldn’t mind experiencing the bonding process with you all over again.”
Razvan went absolutely, utterly still. Ivory felt his instant rejection, his complete withdrawal. His skin went to a pale white, almost transparent, and the lines in his face deepened.
“I am not the prince, but as your sister, I offer to you freely.”
Every muscle in his body tensed, although he looked as calm and serene as ever. He simply stood and glided away from Natalya, putting distance between them though a slight smile softened his mouth and his eyes were sad. He inclined his head toward her in a gesture of respect.
“You honor me, little sister, but I cannot accept such a gift.”
His stomach churned and bile rose. Ivory slid her tongue over Mikhail’s wrist to close the wound and straightened slowly. Razvan looked calm, but she could feel the tension mounting in him.
Gregori frowned. He had given a tremendous amount of blood to Razvan over the past few weeks and had been inside his mind and memories. He sensed the usually serene man was distressed. He rose and walked over to Razvan, blocking the others’ sight of him. “It is best for him, Natalya, to take a healer’s blood. He is better, but not completely well. His bones must knit stronger than ever.”
Razvan said nothing. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He simply accepted the healer’s offer, grateful the others couldn’t witness his shaking hands.
I am with you. You are not a monster, tearing into someone’s flesh to get blood. Ivory kept her voice low and steady, reaching to surround him with her presence.
Razvan made no reply, but he did allow her to slip seamlessly into his mind to see the images swirling in chaos. For a moment horror gripped her, as it did him—as it did Gregori—as they shared the sight of a child’s wrist being torn into by sharp teeth.
“Xavier has much to answer for,” Gregori said quietly.
Razvan again said nothing, but the understanding went a long way toward settling the knots that had pulled tighter and tighter in his stomach. He closed the pinpricks on the healer’s wrist and gave him a slight bow of appreciation. Gregori ignored his formality and clapped him on the back.
“It isn’t as if we do not know each other,” Gregori said.
“Mikhail.” Raven’s voice was thoughtful. “Have you noticed the resemblance in Syndil and Ivory? They could be sisters.”
“I do not have a sister,” Ivory assured her. “I had five brothers.”
“But you do look alike,” Mikhail agreed. “And you have a special affinity with the earth, as Syndil does. She’s an extraordinary woman. You will want to meet her.”
She was not going to get sucked into the Carpathian community. She could barely function here, unsure of herself, not at all confident, as if everything was off-kilter.
I feel the same. Razvan’s voice was gentle in her mind.
What is wrong with us when they are being so kind and welcoming?
We have been too long away from others, he reassured her. Too long in our own company. We need the open spaces and the quiet of our own lair.
She was desperate now to end