Dark Magic. Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 4

But for the first time in his life, Gregori was indecisive. Until he officially claimed her, all Carpathian males, including the vampires, would be unsettled, thinking they might usurp his position and claim her for their own. For her own protection, he needed to complete the ritual binding them for all eternity. For the protection of mortals and immortals alike, he had to claim what was rightfully his. He had waited a dangerously long time. Still, he hated to force Savannah to his will when she was so reluctant. Gregori swept a hand through his thick hair, prowling through his home like a caged panther. Hunger was gnawing at him, rising sharply with every passing moment.

He padded across the floor to the balcony and lifted his head to inhale the night. The wind carried the scent of game. Rabbit, deer, a fox, and, faintly, farther away, humans. He sent his call into the night, drawing his prey to him with the casual ease of a master. It was sometimes difficult to remember that humans were beings with intellect and emotions when it was so simple to control them.

Gregori leapt from the second-story balcony, landing softly on the balls of his feet. He moved easily, unhurriedly, his muscles rippling with a subtle hint of the immense power and strength that was so much a part of him. No stone rolled beneath his feet; not a single twig snapped or leaf crackled. He could feel the sounds of the earth, the insects and night creatures, the water running like blood beneath the soil. The sap in the trees called to him; the bats dipped and squeaked in recognition.

Gregori stopped at the high chain-link fence. Bending his knees slightly, he jumped straight up, neatly clearing the eight-foot coils with ease. He landed on the other side, crouching low. No longer an elegant, well bred man, a dangerous beast lifted his head. Pale eyes began to glow savagely. Hunger gripped and clawed at his insides. Instinct took over, the age-old instinct of a predator needing to survive.

He scented the wind, then turned in the direction of his prey. His call had brought forth a young couple. He could hear their hearts beating, the rush of blood in their veins. His body burned for release. The dangerous, insidious whispers from the emptiness of his soul reached out to him. A woman. So easy. The man in him, nearly pushed aside by the beast, fought the darkness. In his present state, he could so easily kill her.

The girl was young, in her twenties, the male not much older. They waited for him, their faces eager, as if waiting for a lover. As Gregori approached, the girl held her arms out to him, smiling joyously. Hunger burned red and raw, his body screaming with need. With a low growl, Gregori reached for her, unable to fight the power of the beast.

As Gregori dragged the female roughly to him, he heard a whisper of sound. Light. Rhythmic. Fast. With a throaty growl, he thrust the woman safely away. She was with child. Gregori stretched out a hand and splayed his fingers across the slight bulge of her stomach. It was a male child. So small, so in need of protection. Abruptly he spun around and seized the man. He fought to control himself, to keep the young fellow tranquil and willing. He listened for a moment to the ebb and flow of blood, of life, then lowered his head and drank.

In his state of arousal, the rush hit him hard. The taste of power burst into life, filling him. He needed, burned, craved. He fed hungrily, ravenously, desperate to fill the terrible emptiness. The male’s knees buckled, forcing Gregori back to awareness. For a moment he had to fight the beast, happy to feast on rich life, nearly corrupt with the power of life and death. He had to struggle to regain some semblance of control before he drained the man. It was so tempting, so promising. Calling, insistent.

In the midst of the red haze building and growing in him, his body burning and raging, a single thought crept in. Savannah. All at once he could smell the night air again, smell her clean, fresh scent. He could feel the breeze on his hot skin like the touch of her fingers. He could see the branches of the trees swaying gently, see her beautiful, knowing eyes staring into his blackened soul.

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