Dark Slayer - Christine Feehan [71]
A small humorless smile curved his mouth. “For years I was able to disguise my blood and my abilities, until he took me over so completely. I paid for the indiscretion of besting him, as well as for trying to warn my daughter and sister. But it was worth it to know he was not entirely invincible.”
“I cannot imagine your life, or how you stayed sane.”
Razvan’s smile softened into the real thing. “No more than you, hacked to pieces and left for the wolves. Only you would have found a way to persuade the wolves to aid you. Your voice is an amazing asset, but it is your will that intrigues me.”
“Some would say I am too pushy and obstinate.”
“Some do not know you.”
Again her stomach did that fluttery thing she was coming to associate as a very feminine response to him. It didn’t upset her quite so much now that he admitted he was more affected by her than she had known.
She turned her attention to the ground, this time paying attention to the smallest insect. There was life beneath the snow, hiding in the richness of the soil and beneath the boulders and roots. She didn’t detect even a small hint of evil, but she remained silent, allowing Razvan to examine the ground. He had lived his life with Xavier, and knew every secret experiment, knew his habits. Her excitement at the prospect of working with him, of tapping into such a source of knowledge was growing.
She believed in her own abilities. She had studied Xavier’s ways and she believed she could unravel his spells and build counterspells to reverse his evil experiments if she knew the exact spell. If Razvan had really been present and could remember the exact wording, they would have a real advantage.
“I think we are safe,” Razvan said, “although that fox is hungry and may decide you look a fine, tasty treat.”
“Are you saying I look like a chicken?”
“Well, your feathers seem to be a little ruffled.”
She found herself laughing when she never laughed. Razvan was just plain fun. Maybe having someone to share life with made things fun. Whatever it was, she hoped she could hold on to it, even though the prospect was a little frightening, just because she’d never really had much to lose before.
She moved ahead of him, striding across the snow. Razvan followed a step or so behind, gliding to her left. She realized he was allowing the wolves to guard her back and he was taking up a position on her weakest side. Very few would discern that she had a weak side. She practiced all the time, using either hand to throw, shooting the crossbow with either hand and generally working to make both sides even, but she just wasn’t quite as quick with the left. He had a good eye for assessing an enemy.
Or a partner.
They were getting used to sliding in and out of each other’s minds. From a warrior’s point of view, that was a huge asset; from a woman’s maybe not as much.
“Why?” Razvan sounded genuinely curious.
She flicked him an under the lashes glance, assessing his expression, but as always he had that same mantle of calm surrounding him. “This is not easy for me. I have unexpected feelings that I have no idea how to cope with.” The admission was truthful because she could do no less than be entirely candid with him. He was honest and she needed to meet his integrity with honor of her own.
His smile not only encompassed her, flooding her with warmth, but it made her feel like part of something else—something bigger than herself. “That makes two of us.”
The farmer stepped out from his house and into the snow. There was blood on his arms, defense wounds, Ivory saw. His wife came out and stood slightly behind him. The farmer looked very nervous.
Ivory smiled at them to reassure them. “He is gone from this