Corinne felt the tears on her face. Happiness. It was done. Her daughter was alive and in a circle of people who would love and care for her. Drifting above it all, Corinne was so tired she just wanted to close her eyes and let go. Sleep a long, long time. An eternity maybe. It seemed she had been tired all her life.
‘No!’ The command was sharp. ‘You are not finished here, Corinne. I forbid you to do this.’ The voice was imperious, authoritative. It followed her into her dreams and shook her out of her dreamlike state. She found herself in Dayan’s arms, her mouth pressed to her chest, warm salty liquid pouring down her throat.
‘It is enough!’ Gregori warned Dayan before Corinne could fully comprehend what was happening and panic, or be repulsed and fight. ‘There can be no resistance on her part. She simply isn’t strong enough to survive if she resists.’
Dayan immediately allowed Julian to close the wound in his chest and he held Corinne to him, locking her mind to his. She was fading away – he could feel her spirit drifting further from him, yet her departure wasn’t a conscious choice. She seemed unable to rally enough strength to keep fighting, even with his ancient blood, even with the Carpathians pouring their strength of will into her frail body.
Dayan rested his head on hers. They had waited too long. Her poor mortal body had fought as long as it was able, remaining just long enough to give life to another. Now the life force was slipping away from her. She was no longer feeling the blood coursing through her body. Her fragile heart was still pumping because Gregori was forcing the damaged organ to do its job, but Corinne seemed too far away to call back.
Dayan felt them all around him – his people, his family. The chant swelled in volume. He heard the baby’s soft distressed cry as Shea worked with her. He inhaled the scent of healing herbs. For a moment he allowed himself the last luxury of taking it all in, the beauty of the chamber, the flood of memories of his life: shape-shifting, soaring, challenging the earth itself as he gained knowledge; his beloved music, so much a part of him. He loved it all, but the woman in his arms was everything. Nothing else would ever matter to him.
Without her, there would be no color, no light, no music in his heart or soul.
Dayan bent his head to brush her eyelids, the corner of her mouth, with his. ‘I love you, Corinne. You do not go alone into a strange world. I am with you.’
At once there was a loud protest. Sharp. Demanding. All of them. His family. From a distance he heard Barack’s and Syndil’s cries of alarm. He heard the echo of Cullen, who must have caught the objection from Barack’s mind. He heard Julian’s sharp denial and Desari’s soft little murmur of dissent. Tempest called to him. Gregori and Savannah added their demands. But it was Darius whom Dayan had followed all his life, only Darius he answered to. And it was Darius who commanded him now.
‘You will not follow her. You will save her.’ The voice was incredibly soft, but Darius had no need ever to raise his voice to be obeyed.
‘She does not wish to continue, Darius. I can do no other than allow her to rest.’
Darius’s hand came down hard on Dayan’s shoulder, connecting them physically. ‘You can be her lifemate later, giving in to her every desire, but not now. You are Carpathian, Dayan. We embrace life. We hold on. We endure. You will not release her or yourself from this world.’
‘She has the right to make her decision.’ He had the right to make his choice; Corinne deserved the same respect. It was the last thing he could give her.
‘This was not her choice, Dayan!’ Darius persisted. ‘She was never given a choice. Death was inevitable, and she knew and accepted that. She is tired and worn, but this is not her choice. She embraced you, accepted you, knowing what you are. She did not resist each time you offered to bring her into our world. You were not keeping the knowledge from her; she always knew it on some level. Her choice would be life, you, her child. She cannot make that decision, so you must make it for her. You do not realize how tired and worn you yourself are, how much energy you have used in keeping her alive to give the child a chance. You are not thinking straight. You will not go with her. You will stay with us, and you will turn your will on her and prevent this tragedy.’ It was no less than a decree. A command meant to be obeyed.