Her dark eyes smoldered. “There is truth in what I say.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. “I suppose I can concede there could be some truth in what you say.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at him. “You are deliberately provoking me because you cannot stand that I am right. It deflates your male ego.”
“Not only mine, cara mia” he admitted with his mischievous grin, “but that of all the other hunters who find their lifemates. I will enjoy watching them learn this interesting fact of life when it is their turn. But in the meantime, Desari, should we be around other males, you could pretend that you obey my every word, lest we warn the others of their impending lesson.”
Desari found herself suddenly relaxing, her dark eyes dancing. Julian wanted to see her point. And he had finally opened his memories to her of his own free will, allowed her to see the scars of his childhood. “Darius is much like you, Julian.”
“That brother of yours,” Julian said with his slow, taunting drawl.
“You like him.”
Julian raised an eyebrow. “Darius is not a man you ‘like,’ cara. He is someone who inspires more emotion, to anyone who can feel emotion, than the word like implies. You might admire him. Respect him. Even fear him. But Darius is not someone you like. He is a hunter. Few, if any, would challenge him.”
“You would,” Desari said with complete conviction.
“No one has ever said I was brilliant,” Julian answered.
“Do you think my brother is going to stay with us?”
Julian rubbed the bridge of his nose again, his eyes suddenly blank. “It is possible at some point, Desari, that you will want to establish our own family rather than stay with this unit.”
She paced away from him, then returned. “You think he is close to turning vampire.”
“I think your brother is a powerful hunter. He would make a lethal adversary, and I would not want the job of tracking him. Darius will hold on as long as he is able. He will not choose to lose his soul without a fight.”
“Do you know any hunters greater than yourself?” Desari asked, curious. “Besides my brother, of course,” she added impishly.
His eyebrows shot up, his grin slightly sardonic. “Do you wish to become a hunter groupie? I assure you, I am more than adequate for the job.”
She burst out laughing. “You idiot. I was curious, that is all. Darius learned only through his own experience. Are his skills as good as those of your people?”
“Your brother is extremely strong and skilled. Perhaps it is inherited, in your bloodline,” he mused aloud. “Remember, cara, Gregori, the Dark One, a most powerful hunter, second only to Mikhail, our Prince, is brother to you and Darius. We are of the same people.”
Desari nodded, intrigued. “Do you think all hunters’ skills are inherited?”
“The greatest hunter, as well as the greatest and most unique vampire, came from your bloodline. Those who choose the life of a hunter sometimes serve an apprenticeship under an experienced guide and are taught the rudiments of how a vampire must be destroyed almost from birth. But your brother did not have this information.”
“But not all who hunt are guided?” Desari asked.
Julian shook his golden head wryly. “Some have not the patience for either the teaching or the learning.”
Desari laughed at him. “I think I know what kind you were.”
Julian looked into her dancing eyes, the beauty of them.
“Is hunting always a choice, or does your Prince order it?”
“It is by choice unless, of course, one stumbles upon the undead. It is kill or be killed in that situation. We have lost many males unprepared for such an event. The more ancient the vampire, the more dangerous he is. An unskilled hunter has little chance against a vampire who has survived many centuries. As our skill grows with experience and time, so does the vampire’s cunning and knowledge.”
“And my bloodline has both a vampire and a hunter famous for their skills?” She was uncertain she wanted to hear of the vampire. She wanted to hear that her bloodline was too strong to allow one of its own to turn. Her brother was becoming more deadly every day. She tried not to notice how distant he could be, how completely emotionless. He used to pretend, at least, that he could feel affection for her; now he seldom made the effort.
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