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Dark Challenge. Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 5

“He will come after you.” Syndil spoke the words softly, her voice so beautiful it seemed to reach out and touch Julian’s soul. “He hates you all, every male, and intends to use me to destroy you.” She raised her eyes to Julian. “But he hates you most of all. He thought to control you, and he cannot. I felt his rage.”

Julian’s glittering eyes examined the woman standing with her head bowed a little distance from the others. She was very pale, her eyes enormous. She looked fragile and vulnerable, as if she might break should the wind blow too strongly. He felt Desari twine her fingers through his as if to prevent him from speaking. Barack stirred, a restless, fierce movement the women misinterpreted as aggression. Julian read it as fiercely protective. Barack saw himself as a shield between Syndil’s vulnerability and all others who might hurt her inadvertently or, worse, on purpose.

“He cannot use you against us, Syndil. You are our beloved sister and under our protection, just as the earth is under yours. Your power is too strong for this evil creature to corrupt.” When he spoke, Julian chose each word carefully, adding a subtle “push” with his velvet voice. “He wishes you to believe you draw evil to you, but it is only one of his illusions. The undead have many traps they use in the hopes of ensnaring one of us. I have spent centuries hunting these creatures, and I have seen such traps targeted for specific individuals. You cannot be touched by his taint. It is impossible, as you are too pure. I know this through my mind merge with Desari. Every one of us knows this.”

Syndil’s long lashes swept her cheeks. “I do not know this.”

Barack stirred again, a low growl rumbling within his throat. At once, Syndil’s slender frame began to shape-shift, wavering somewhere between that of a human female and a female leopard.

Desari, you must tell Barack to give her more space. Julian knew better than to challenge the adult male. Darius might do so, but Julian doubted it. Sometimes Carpathian males allowed their protective natures to overcome their good sense. Barack was not likely to back off just because an older, stronger, more dominant male told him to. Desari had a much better chance of getting Barack to back off with her soft, winning way and her magical voice. Julian didn’t blame the man; Barack felt fiercely protective of Syndil and was still in a dangerously combative state. Once the demon within was aroused, it was difficult to overcome the savage, predatory instincts of their kind.

Desari’s answer was so perfect, it was all Julian could do not to clasp her to him. She didn’t so much as glance at Julian or in any way act as though they had communicated. “Syndil.” She whispered the woman’s name softly, lovingly, so that the leopard shimmered between human form and animal. “Do not leave me as yet. I am in sore need of your comfort.” Desari projected just the right note of weariness into her voice, and even Julian was a believer.

How could she not be tired after her tremendous ordeal? Of course she was. He could feel it in her now as her body swayed slightly against his. Her large eyes touched Barack’s stone-hard features. I know she wishes to flee, Barack, but if you would, please step aside and allow her to come to me. I have a great need to be with my sister.

You have the golden one to aid you, Desari. Barack’s words were harsh, but even as he sent the message winging through the air between them, he moved away from Syndil, allowing her a clear path to Desari.

It was Desari who moved, rather than Syndil, covering the distance between them in a few unhurried steps. As they came together, their arms surrounding one another, they simply disappeared from the men’s sight.

Barack swore aloud and turned burning eyes on Julian. “There is the matter of the undead before us, and we have not fed, nor have our women.”

Julian shrugged with his casual strength coming easily, fluidly to his feet as if he was as fresh as at first rising. “Then we must see to their needs,” he responded quietly, sidestepping the bristling Carpathian.

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Categories: Christine Feehan
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