Dark Challenge. Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 5

“I will not take a chance on contaminating you. Go to the others. They will protect you until your brother and I are able.” His eyes were closed now completely, his skin ashen.

Desari brought his hand to her mouth, but before she could kiss the lacerations on his knuckles, heal them with the agent in her saliva, he had snatched his hand away.

“Do not!” It was a sharp reproof.

“Talk to me. Tell me why you refuse what I offer. It is my right to heal you, to feed you and care for you.” Desari was hurt and afraid, the emotions swirling around until she could not separate them.

There was a stirring in her mind, warmth, the impression of arms stealing around her shoulders, holding her close. His heart was beating abnormally slowly, she could feel it in her mind, hear the irregular pulsing. “This was an ancient, cara, one of the eldest vampires, much skilled in the old ways. His blood is extremely dangerous.”

“You took it out of my system, Julian.” She bent over him anxiously. “Take it from your own.”

“I do not have the strength, piccola. Do not fear for me. I will not leave you. Go now to the others so that I know you are safe.”

Desari sat up straight, suddenly comprehending. “You think more undead might come.”

“I believe you and the other female—Syndil—are drawing them here. They seek mates, thinking that will guide them back to their emotions and souls. Go, Desari, while the sun is still far away.” Julian feared he would come, his ancient enemy, feared he would be drawn right to Desari.

Julian’s voice was nearly gone. Even his breathing was labored. Whatever was spreading inside him was taking a stranglehold on his lungs and heart. Desari stroked back the golden hair falling across his forehead. He was cold and clammy. She knew his fears for her were very powerful, but how could she leave him?

He had only been in her life a short time, yet he was the air she breathed. Her body recognized his. Her heart and soul were finally complete. She had to be wherever he was. Darius, please hurry, she whispered, knowing he was already in flight, powerful wings covering the distance between them in the shortest possible time. But he had to hurry.

What would she do if the vampire had other partners? She was not a warrior; how would she defend Julian in his weakened state? Again she had the impression of warmth and reassurance from Julian.

Just then something hit the outside of the bus with enough force to rock the solid vehicle. Her heart leapt in apprehension. At once, Julian struggled to his feet, his face harsh and merciless, carved in granite. “Sing the ancient healing chant, Desari. It is in your mind, I have heard it there. Merge with me while you sing.”

His transformation from being nearly dead to this commanding presence was shocking. His head was up, and he was striding purposefully to the door of the bus. Desari sat still, her heart pounding. She could not send him off unaided. He would have her strength and courage, her belief in him, and any other aid he should need. Her voice began the ancient chant, as old as time, something they were born with, the memory already imprinted on them. It was soothing and peaceful, and her unique voice strengthened the power of it.

Julian listened to the notes as he made his way out into the night. Her voice was so pure, it pushed aside the effects of the vampire’s poison enough for him to focus. Outside, shadows were moving under the trees, ringing the bus.

Julian breathed a sigh of relief. Not another vampire but merely the dead one’s enslaved minions, the undead’s ghouls. These former humans had tremendous strength and cunning—the vampire’s blood ran in their veins—but they were not immortal. They slept in sewers and graveyards to escape the deadly sun, ate living flesh and blood. They lived to serve their master, hoping that one day immortality would be bestowed on them. Julian knew such a thing to be impossible. They were already dead, mere puppets, living only by the vampire’s whim and tainted blood.