Tatijana felt as if she were burning from the inside out. She was surrounded by heat and fire. His skin-so hot to the touch. His body-so firm, like an oak tree with little give. His hands-strong where he gripped her hips and pinned her so effectively. His hips never ceased their rhythm, long, slow, tantalizing surges that only seemed to inflame her more.

She wanted more. Needed more. Was desperate for more. She heard herself moaning. Pleading. She couldn't stop writhing beneath him. Attempting to lift her hips to meet his. None of it helped. He didn't stop. Didn't speed up. Didn't slow down. Her entire world seemed to be centered on the joining of their bodies. Every nerve ending was inflamed, the tension building higher and higher until she thought she might go insane.

She became aware of his teeth, a subtle pinpoint to that leisurely rhythm that was driving her so crazy, tiny nips along the swell of her breast. With each slow thrust, his teeth scraped over her frantic pulse and her body reacted, clamping hard around him, holding on for life, providing a fresh flood of joyous liquid. Each scrape of his teeth took what little breath she had so that her panting moans became staccato.

He was driving her slowly crazy with need. She couldn't tell which was worse, the waiting for him to bring her over the edge or the anticipation of his bite. She was right there, so close, yet couldn't fall. He stretched her out on a rack of pure pleasure, building, always building until fear that the intensity would kill her skittered down her spine. The scraping of his teeth, the little nips as he worked his way from her breast to her neck limited her ability to breathe properly. Her entire body seemed to shudder and writhe in anticipation.

Fen, I can't breathe. I won't survive.

Then we'll both die right here, just like this.

She heard herself give a strangled scream as his teeth sank deep, right over her pounding pulse, the scorching burn between her legs matching the one at her neck. Pain gave way instantly to pleasure. She writhed under him, arched her back and rubbed her breasts along his chest. She couldn't stay still, moving continually, unable to release the burning, scalding heat and the tension coiling tighter and tighter.

She could feel his pleasure, the mind-numbing pleasure was all pure feeling as he took in the very essence of her. He was everywhere, deep in her body, inside her mind and her blood flowed into him. It was too much and not enough. His pleasure only added to hers. Only took her higher and higher until she was nearly thrashing under him. Pleading with him.

He lifted his head and looked at her, those eyes burning over and through her. Marking her. Branding her. As if he wasn't already stamped into her very bones. He lowered his head to follow that trickle of ruby red drops down her neck to her left breast with his tongue and then closed the pinpricks.

Her heart pounded even harder in anticipation. His eyes burned with such intensity, such hunger and such love for her she couldn't believe she had ever gotten so lucky. Her past, all the years in captivity, all the horrendous things she'd seen, were gone when she looked into his eyes. His fingers gripped her hips hard. She had time for one breath and then he thrust into her hard and her world went up in glorious flames.

His body moved hard and fast and deep, over and over and the flames made her feel like the phoenix, burning clean and pure so that her past and the memories of her father and his malicious experiments, the scars she thought would never be gone were reduced to a fine ash and she was remade-reborn. Stronger. Better.

He dragged both legs over his shoulders, driving into her again and again, so deep, those hard thrusts filling and stretching her with every thrust. His face above her, that beautiful face, was carved with such sensuality she found herself staring, loving, shocked at the intensity of emotion when her body was inflamed and writhing with such need.

It was the most beautiful moment of her life. The complete coming together. His love for her. Her knowledge that she loved him every bit as much. That she could wipe out his past as effectively as he wiped out hers. And this . . . this rapture. This insane place only Fen could take her was beyond anything she'd ever known or conceived of.

The pleasure was almost too much, the tension building so fast and hard that she couldn't catch her breath. He didn't stop and this time he didn't slow down, his body moving in hers with purpose, deeper and harder as if he would live there always. Flames rose, she could feel his heat engulfing her, burning her from the inside out. She heard her pleas, her calling his name, her fingers dug into his arms seeking an anchor when she felt as if she might not survive the absolute beauty and pleasure.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her eyes glazed over, but still he continued at a furious pace, the friction building and building, until she felt the first explosive tremor. A series of waves followed, so strong the sensations shook her entire body, running from breasts to thighs, the epicenter in her very core, so that her sheath clamped down on Fen's heavy shaft, taking him with her on a wild, erotic ride she'd never forget. One she would need to repeat often, and even then she doubted if she would be sated.

They lay together beneath the moon, gasping for breath, clinging to one another, savoring every aftershock. She had no idea how much time passed. She was content to lie in his arms, her ear pressed over his heart, happier than she'd ever been in her life.

Fen stirred first, kissing her several times, and then he whispered into her ear. "We have to finish the ritual."

He knelt up, making a vee between his legs for her to fit into. He indicated for her kneel as well, facing away from him. Tatijana did as he asked, kneeling in the soft bed of fragrant white petals. Her body felt flushed and achy, completely alive and vibrant.

"Sit back on your heels and open your thighs," he whispered.

Tatijana felt flushed all over. She'd just made love to her lifemate, but this was way sexy, even after he'd possessed her so thoroughly. She knelt up in front of him, opening her thighs to the night air. Instantly her body reacted with more liquid heat. She felt it trickle down her thighs and felt more sensual than ever.

His arms came around her, palms cupping the weight of her breasts, his fingers and thumb rolling, and tugging her nipples. She gasped as the nerve endings went crazy, sending shocks of electricity straight to her channel. A deep shudder set off another strong ripple.

He urged her to lean back so her head lolled against his shoulder and her breasts jutted even more into his hands. One hand left her breast and made its way slowly down her narrow rib cage to her belly. He pressed his fingers to her shuddering muscles.

"You are so beautiful, Tatijana," he whispered, "so sensitive to my touch."

His touch inflamed her. She couldn't imagine being any more sensitive. She wanted his hands on her always. He was in her mind and knew exactly how every tug and roll of her nipples sent more heat coursing through her veins. She was all too aware of his fingers slipping lower, tracing the dragon over her ovary with a reverent fingertip before continuing the journey lower still.

She closed her eyes, gasping, arching her back when his fingers penetrated deep. Her muscles clamped around him and again delicious strong aftershocks shook her.

"Tied vagyok." He whispered the words against her neck, his teeth grazing over her pulse. "Yours I am."

She loved that he was hers. There could never be another. No other man would ever measure up to him. He reluctantly pulled his fingers from her body and carefully took the blossom he'd set aside earlier, and placed it tight into the junction of her leg so that the soft petals teased her ultrasensitive body. She knew her body was weeping and the flower collected every drop.

"Sivamet andam." His hands were at her breasts again. "My heart I give you, Tatijana."

He had all of her, heart, soul, mind and body. She felt almost as if she was melting with heat. She wanted him all over again. Whatever ceremony with the flower he was completing was a potent one. As she leaned her head back against his shoulder, her hair covered both of them, a long cascading waterfall of silk that felt sensuous against their bodies. Her skin was cool against the heat of his, only adding fuel to the fire of need.

"Te avio palafertiilam-you are my lifemate."

The way he said the words in his own language, a language so ancient and long gone from the world but for a very few, added to the mystique and beauty of the ritual.

"Now you place the flower, as a symbol of optimum fertility for me and say the words to me. We are bound and asking-pleading-with Mother Nature to bless us with our own children during our time in this world or the next."

Her hands shook as she carefully picked up the blossom and turned to face him. Kneeling up as he was, his body rock hard, his face carved so masculine, he was beautiful to her. The moonlight spilled over him, streaking his hair with dancing light. Moistening her suddenly dry lips with the tip of her tongue, she placed their night star flower directly under his very heavy erection. Her hands brushed his sac, fingers lingering a little too long on his thick shaft while the back of her hands slid over the insides of his thighs.

"Tied vagyok." She placed her palms on his bare thighs and looked into his eyes. "Yours I am. Sivamet andam. My heart I give you." She meant every word. She couldn't imagine anything more right than giving her heart into his keeping. "Te avio palafertiilam. You are my lifemate."

9.

The first few streaks of dawn's light poured over the large field, turning haystacks into small hills of gold. The wind touched the sheaves still in the ground, setting them swaying gently, like a softly rolling wave. The air was crisp and cold, but the sky clear.

Costin Eliade yawned as he stepped outside onto his porch to look over his farm. Satisfaction appeared in every line of his body. His farm had been in his family for two generations, and his father as well as his grandfather had done their best to improve the conditions. He'd been the first to seek a higher education and put the procedures he'd learned into practice. He had been the first to bring cattle to the farm and successfully sell his beef to the outside world.

Farming was hard work, but he was a man who took great pride in doing for his family. His animals always had the best of care. His fields were planted with rotating crops, and his irrigation system was up to date and served him well. He was also proud of the house. Many farmers took great care of the land and the livestock, but neglected their dwellings. His wife had no complaints with her indoor bathroom and year-round running water. He made repairs instantly to anything that she pointed out.

In his area, he had become the first to introduce cattle and procure a large contract. His cattle made up most of their income and had elevated them to a decent living. Losing the steers would be devastating not only to his family, but to several other families who had thrown in with him as well. His dogs guarded the cattle, three of them, and they were fiercely protective.

Costin reached for the walking stick he kept on the porch just behind the column. It fit neatly into the palm of his hand, worn from use. The ground was uneven and being the sole provider for his family, he didn't take chances on accidents. A turned ankle could mean no one feeding the livestock.

Two small goats bleated at him and raced each other around the yard. One leapt up on a small boulder and lifted his nose to the air. The other rushed toward the larger of the two goats, head down in an attempt to butt it off the boulder. The slightly larger goat sidestepped so that the smaller one was forced to jump playfully past. The smaller goat sent his brethren one laughing look and then lowered his mouth to snack on grass just to the left of the corral. Occasionally both looked toward the horses, and then back out to the field.

In the distance, several yards away, most of the cattle still lay in the cushioned grass, sleepy and not quite ready to face the day. A few birds circled above in the sky, a lazy early morning flight before settling in the field to catch any worms not burrowing into the earth.

Costin took a deep breath of the dawn air. This was the time he liked the best. Just between night and day. Everything was always peaceful. There was such beauty surrounding his farm and he was a man who most of the time was far too busy to notice such things, but not at dawn. Dawn was his time to relax and enjoy what he had.

He watched as the wind playfully tugged at the grass in the field, creating a rippling effect and pushing small tornadoes of dirt playfully into the air. The field rolled gently, the smallest of lifts, as if far below, the ground shifted. The soil lifted slightly almost in the middle of the field, no more than a couple of inches. He wouldn't have noticed but for the horses.

He'd left his best four in the corral, close to the small covered shelter he'd built three winters ago. He had six horses, but two were older and he used them mainly for pulling the cart going into the village to the store. A neighbor had taken them for him, just in case his farm came under attack.

The chickens began to fuss. The horses stomped nervously, sensing something he didn't. He stepped off the porch and walked a few feet away from the house, his eyes on the field. There it was again. A subtle movement beneath the soil, picking up speed and racing straight at the corral.

The horses tossed their heads, eyes rolling nervously. His horses weren't the nervous type, but they were eyeing that strange lift in the soil coming straight at them. A hen flew down to the ground, pecking lazily. She cocked her head to one side and then, wings flapping, gained a few feet of air. The shift was so fast it was nearly impossible to see, although the small hen became a full-sized blue dragon, slamming deep into the earth, burrowing fast.

Tatijana came up out of the ground, a raging, clawing werewolf in her dragon's mouth. She shook him hard and dropped him at the farmer's feet. Fen shifted from the farmer's form back to his own, pulling the silver sword from the walking stick and slicing cleanly through the werewolf's neck, severing the head. He slammed a silver stake through the heart.

As if Fen revealing that Costin was merely an illusion and the warrior was waiting for them, the werewolves poured into the farm out of every conceivable cover. Clearly they'd circled the farm and now closed in fast. They came over the roof of the house and barn, converging on the animals, determined to slaughter everything.

Two raced over the house to drop on Fen as he straightened up, the wolves clawing and biting, tearing at his flesh. He reached behind him with one hand and caught one wolf around the neck, jerking him down and off, throwing him toward the porch where the invisible silver net hung between the columns. The wolf slammed into the netting and screamed, hanging there on the slender silver wires.

The second wolf reached his muzzle around and sank teeth into Fen's side, ripping and gnawing in an effort to incapacitate him. Fen snarled, cutting off the pain, stabbing down with a silver stake, driving it deep into the rogue's eye. The werewolf howled and dug his claws deeper. Fen was more worried about the ones he didn't see than the one he did. He spun in a circle, using his sword to cut a wide swath around him, fending off the second wave leaping at him from the horses' shelter.

Wolves flung themselves at the corral with astonishing speed, determined to gut the horses. One wolf threw himself on top of the nearest horse, sinking his teeth into the neck, tearing out great chunks of flesh while a second ripped at the horse's belly. They worked with blinding speed, almost too fast to comprehend.

The horses shifted, revealing the Carpathian warriors Tomas, Lojos and Mataias. The three brothers immediately went back to back, swords at the ready, silver stakes in their other hands. They'd fought wars together and they moved in complete synchronization. The werewolves howled their rage, circling, feinting attacks to keep the attention centered on them while three others leapt up on the corral itself.

The three rogues screamed as the fence flashed silver and sparks accompanied the scent of burned fur and flesh. Tomas nodded his head. "Electricity is a marvelous invention."

"Come on, furball," Lojos added, beckoning with his sword hand to the nearest werewolf.

"Time for a little justice," Mataias added.

The remaining rogues rushed them, using blurring speed, sliding beneath the blades to fling themselves onto the three brothers, ripping with razor-sharp claws at their arms to try to dislodge the weapons.

Gregori shifted back to his own shape, shedding the form of the fourth horse. He came out fighting, trying to unseat the werewolf tearing at him with powerful jaws and teeth. The second wolf, clawing at his belly, dug faster and deeper, trying to eviscerate the Carpathian.

"These furballs are fast." Lojos spat on the ground as he threw a rogue off of him. He was bleeding in half a dozen places even as he stepped up to slice off the head of the werewolf. He had barely started his downswing when his arm was ripped backward.

Mataias tried to wade through the line of werewolves to go to Gregori's aid, but one managed to leap over Tomas and land on his head, strong hands attempting to twist his head off.

The billy goat on the boulder launched himself into the air, ripping at his own horns as he shifted, driving feet first into the wolf on Gregori's back, knocking him back and off the Carpathian warrior. The billy goat's horns morphed into a long silver sword and stake as Jacques took his true form. He sliced through the werewolf's neck cleanly before the body ever hit the ground. Landing on his feet, he straddled the torso, driving a silver stake deep through the heart with his enormous strength.

The werewolf ripping at Gregori's belly spun around and caught Jacques's head in powerful claws, his gaping mouth closing over the Carpathian's shoulder. He tore out a great chunk and went for the throat and a quick kill.

The other goat shifted in midjump, landing behind Jacques and the rogue wolf. Falcon slammed the silver stake through the werewolf's back straight into his heart. The wolf went down hard, taking Jacques to the ground with him.

Falcon reached down and yanked Jacques up. "Not safe down there, bro. These boys came for a fight."

"Bloodthirsty, aren't they?" Jacques acknowledged with a little grin. He wiped blood from his face. The wolf had bitten him numerous times in a few short moments, tearing out great chunks of flesh.

Gregori cut down another leaping for Jacques's back. "Fen wasn't kidding when he said it's the ones you don't see."

As ten of the werewolves had rushed the horses, a good dozen had gone for the all-important cattle. The cattle lying in the grass didn't move. One raised his head, but simply looked bored as the large wolves descended on them. The fastest rogue bore down on the lazy steer fast, saliva dripping from its gaping jaws. Still the cattle didn't move, even when the wolf landed on the steer's back and lowered powerful jaws to take a bite out of the placid animal's neck.

The other wolves followed, leaping upon the sleepy cattle, sinking claws and teeth into the unsuspecting animals. Teeth clamped down hard on rock. The entire field was filled with boulders, the cattle mere illusions. The three cattle dogs shifted into their natural forms-that of three Carpathian hunters.

Nicolae Von Shrieder, a renowned vampire hunter, wielded his silver sword, the blade flashing scarlet as he removed the head of the nearest rogue. Even as he did so, before he could plunge his stake in the chest of the still clawing creature, two leapt upon his back and tackled his legs, taking him to the ground. They were so fast, these werewolves, leaping higher and moving quicker with no warning than even the vampires he'd hunted for centuries had given.

Traian Trigovise hit the ground running as he shifted. The werewolf coming at him was huge, seemed to be all muscle, teeth and claws and lightning fast. He dove under the wolf's reaching claws, sliding along the ground, hooking his arm around the wolf's knees to bring him down. He slammed the silver stake into the heart before the rogue could recover. Two more were on him before he could make it to his feet. He tried to dissolve, but the claws digging into his flesh prevented escape.

The third cattle dog shifted fast. The Carpathian known simply as Andre was as elusive as a legend could get, moving fast, a shadow only, streaking through the air and literally ripping the wolf from Traian's back. He didn't slow down at all, moving continuously, his sword flashing in the early dawn's light, wreaking havoc with the number of werewolves attacking.

Andre's swordsmanship was superb. He'd fought in centuries past and the sword felt right at home in his hand. He seemed to flow, his feet smooth and sure. The blade gleamed bright red, blood dripping onto the ground and spraying through the air as he calmly cut through the raging wolves.

Traian and Nicolae followed in his wake, slamming silver stakes into hearts as Andre cut the rogues down. The three made short work of the werewolves who had attempted to attack the cattle. Costin Eliade and his cattle were safe on a neighboring farm, leaving the Carpathians to build their trap for the rogues.

It took a few moments to realize they had successfully destroyed the twelve werewolves bent on killing the livestock. Both Traian and Nicolae were surprised at the lacerations and chunks of flesh missing from their bodies. Blood streamed down their chest, necks and backs. Nicolae had slash marks across his belly. Andre had bite marks on his legs, but other than that, he'd remained unscathed.

Traian grinned at Nicolae. "What did we learn from this?"

"That Andre needs to give us both sword lessons," Nicolae acknowledged. "We had to do all the grunt work and look at us. Next time, I want to be the one dancing with the sword while you two do mop up."

Stop congratulating yourselves and get over here. We could use a little help. Gregori used the common Carpathian telepathic communication, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Traian, undaunted, flashed another quick grin and winked at Nicolae. "We also learned werewolves fall for illusion and we had the advantage here."

Nicolae, Andre and Traian moved quickly across the field to go to the aid of the other Carpathians just as a second wave of werewolves leapt over rooftops to drop down on the warriors fighting off the rogues.

I don't like this, Fen said uneasily to Tatijana. Get into the air and see if you can find who is coordinating their attack. They have to have a leader directing them. This is too organized.

He fought his way toward Gregori. He'd dealt with rogue packs throughout the centuries and none were this large. He'd never seen a single pack this large.

How many dead? he asked Andre.

Twelve. Andre's answer was short and clipped. I have come across smaller packs of rogues, but none this size and none this well organized.

Just the fact that Andre added anything at all to his statement further alarmed Fenris. Andre conveyed tension in his terse sentence. Like Fen, he realized something was definitely not right about the attack. It was too well orchestrated, especially that second wave of werewolves sent to join their brethren.

Tatijana immediately took a running start and leapt into the air. As she did so, a werewolf launched himself from the horse shelter rooftop and swatted her out of the sky. Her body tumbled toward the ground, the rogue catching her around her rib cage between his teeth. Fen leapt to meet him, driving his silver sword through the werewolf's gut. As the rogue opened his mouth in a gasp, Fen yanked Tatijana to him, streaking upward to avoid hitting the ground. The werewolf hit hard, rolled and came to his feet howling, holding his ripped belly with one hand while his red eyes tracked Fen and Tatijana.

Drops of bright blood fell to the ground, almost on top of the wolf. Tatijana clamped her hand over the bite marks. She could feel Fen's building rage that she had been bitten. He was anxiously trying to examine her as he went airborne.

I'm all right, Fen, she assured. They're so fast and they jump so high, it's hard to judge a safe distance from them.

I can feel your pain. Don't tell me an untruth, Tatijana, I need to know how you are.

It hurts like hell, but nothing's broken. I thought for a moment he was going to snap my ribs like twigs, but you were on him so fast.

I am Sange rau. Faster than they are. His voice was grim.

Even as he replied, telling her the strict truth, she felt the warmth of healing energy slipping into the wounds on her rib cage. There was instant relief. Thank you.

Always.

The Carpathians were seeing for the first time the damage a rogue pack could have on them. When they realized just how difficult it would be to destroy the Sange rau, they might change their minds about allowing such a mixture of blood to live. It was tantamount to having a nuclear weapon aimed at one's head.

Fen reversed his direction and this time aimed for the ground, moving like a speeding bullet straight toward the werewolf he'd knocked from the sky. The wolf leapt to meet him. At the last moment, Fen pushed Tatijana back skyward, giving her the opportunity to shift into her dragon as he met the wolf head-on. He was moving so fast, a mere streak in the sky, that when he hit the rogue, he nearly went through the body. His fist shot through the chest wall, the silver stake he held in it slamming through the heart so that the wolf was dead before both ever hit the ground.

You play rough. Gregori had observed the encounter in spite of fighting off the latest wave of attackers. His voice was thoughtful. Wary.

Now they begin to understand, Fen said to Tatijana. He will be more concerned that I keep my distance from his prince.