Immanuel's Veins by Ted Dekker Read Free Book Online

Valerik was on the lips of them all. And even more, the name of the one who’d casually drawn a pistol and shot the offender dead in the head, and from a distance of twenty paces no less. Toma Nicolescu. The quiet, tall war hero who had killed a thousand men in battle, a rumor Lucine no longer doubted.
    â€œI can hardly keep my mind off him,” Natasha said, balancing on the fountain wall in her wet white slippers. She dipped her left foot into the water, then reached her right foot behind and splashed it too. She stepped along the stone wall with sopping feet, leaving perfect dark stains.
    Lucine hopped up behind her, following with both arms stretched out to keep her balance. She wouldn’t dip her feet, however.
    â€œYou can’t keep your mind off which one?”
    â€œThe Russian, naturally.”
    Lucine pulled up short, swaying dangerously before regaining control. “The Russian? The duke?”
    â€œNo, silly. Although I can only imagine what he might be like.”
    â€œThen who? Surely not that dead one.”
    Natasha gave her a darting whimsical look as she rounded the far side.
    â€œYou can’t be serious! He’s dead!”
    â€œSo he is.”
    â€œHe attacked you.”
    â€œNo, Lucine.” Natasha spun to face her, nearly falling off. “He bit my lip. That’s hardly an attack.”
    â€œHe was a monster who paraded about as if you had it coming.”
    â€œAnd maybe I did have it coming.” Natasha’s eyes flashed. She hopped off the wall, jumped up onto a stone bench, and ran along it, watching her feet. “I did ask for it, didn’t I?”
    â€œNot to be bitten .”
    She landed back on the ground and sized Lucine up, mouth twisted around the hint of improper secrets. “And what if I did, Lucine? What if he whispered an invitation to me and I said yes?”
    â€œPlease, Natasha, this isn’t funny. You’re not that stupid.”
    The look of her sister’s flushed face surprised Lucine. She stepped down, confused by this behavior, though she probably had no right to be. Natasha had always been impetuous. But still . . .
    â€œPerhaps a kiss, but an invitation for a man—no matter how appealing—to bite through your lip? It’s absurd!”
    Natasha hurried forward and grabbed her arm, glancing around as if to be sure no one would overhear. “But you weren’t there! Not in his arms, you weren’t. I was, Lucine. He asked me if he could bite me and I said yes. I know it was wrong, but I could hardly—”
    â€œHe just said that? ‘Can I bite your lip?’”
    â€œNot like that, of course.”
    â€œThen how?”
    Natasha hesitated. “I don’t remember exactly. I do believe he just said, ‘May I?’ and I said yes. But I knew he wanted to bite me because he’d already nibbled my lip.”
    â€œYou’re playing with the devil.”
    â€œThen the devil occupies heaven! He bit my lip and I fainted, Sister. I swooned. I have never felt so enraptured.”
    The puncture had healed already, and it was true, her sister looked anything but wounded.
    â€œI feel positively vibrant!” She drew a deep breath through her nostrils and looped around, head tilted back, arms wide. “The air is filled with flowers, can you smell them? The sun is warm, the sky is as blue as an ocean, my night—”
    â€œIs clearly tortured, judging by the shambles I found this morning. Your pillows were all over the room and the blanket was on the floor. Clearly you’re bothered.”
    â€œThen bother me again, Sister. If my bedclothes are tossed around, it’s because I’m dancing in my sleep. You see what happens when you throw your cares to the wind and embrace love? Even the night calls to you.”
    â€œYou may not be any worse off, but he’s dead,” Lucine said, letting the grin go.
    Natasha’s bright eyes clouded momentarily.