Carpathian 21 - Dark Peril by authors_sort Read Free Book Online Page B

try to conjure that detail up in her dreams as well.

    She sat by the fire, barefoot, looking as nice as she could, her heart pounding, waiting for him. It was silly really, that she had so much invested in a man who wasn’t real, but she had no one else. She ran a hand through her thick mane of hair. It was more the color of the dark rosettes in the jaguar’s fur than the golden tawny color of her pelt. Almost a sable, it was nearly unmanageable the way it grew.

    There wasn’t much time left. It was impossible to keep fighting and not end up dead. A few more inches and her latest wound would have killed her. And life in the jaguar camp was far worse than dying. If they succeeded in their attempts to capture her—and they knew her now and were actively seeking her—she would find a way to take her own life.

    Do not say that. Do not even think it. I would come to you. Sustain you. And I would find a way to free you.

    The jaguar closed her eyes tighter, as if that could keep him with her. She saw him coming toward her, emerging out of the shadows thrown by the edges of the fire. She loved the way he moved, that sure confidence, those long strides. He was always like that, so confident in himself that he never raised his voice or appeared to be upset, even when he was reprimanding her for cowardice.

    Not cowardice, he objected, flowing across the room with his usual grace until he loomed in front of her, towering over her, making her feel small and feminine instead of an Amazon woman. She wasn’t tall by any means; she was compact, certainly not fashionably slender. It was a strange thing to have such complete and utter confidence in herself as a warrior, and yet none at all as a woman.

    You are tired, csitri , that is all. Come lie down in my arms and let me hold you while you rest. But first, I must see to your injury.

    He had often called her csitri , his tongue caressing the word. She had no idea what it meant, but that single word made a swarm of butterflies take flight in her stomach. She stared up at him, afraid to move or blink, terrified he would disappear, that her perfect dream would shatter. She didn’t want him to see her injury. In her dream she wasn’t supposed to have an injury. She’d always been able to control her dream, but lately, reality had crept in a little too much.

    He gripped her chin in his hand and turned her face toward the light of the flickering fire, a small frown settling over his rugged features. Your face is bruised .

    Those bruises shouldn’t have been there. What was wrong that she couldn’t keep her wounds out of her dreams anymore? Was she that tired? Reading her thoughts, as he always did, her warrior swept her hair from her face with gentle fingers.

    You never say my name. Even as he pushed the words into her mind, his fingers moved to the bruises.

    At once Solange felt the ache in her bruised face recede. She hesitated. How to explain without hurting his feelings. This is a dream. I made you up. I don’t have a name for you that feels right.

    He smiled at her, his eyes now very, very blue. Have you ever considered that maybe I made you up? That you are my dream?

    She would love to be someone’s dream, but doubted seriously if that would ever be so. In real life she was abrasive, her only protection when she felt too much. Sometimes it seemed as if she went around with her heart shredded all the time. Somehow I think someone like you could have come up with a better dream.

    Someone like me? I am a warrior who has spent a thousand years looking for my lifemate. I know exactly who she is and what qualities she has.

    Solange sighed. This conversation skated too close to having to admit her shortcomings. She didn’t want to remind him of all the times she whined about being alone and afraid and tired. I made you Carpathian. I didn’t mean to, you know. I respect Juliette and MaryAnn’s husbands.

    Lifemate, he corrected gently. When we are bound, soul to soul, we