Carpathian 03 - Dark Gold

to help you through this. You will go through it, with or without my help, but it will better for you if you allow me to aid you."
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    She closed her eyes against his words. "My arm hurts."
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    "I expect it does. I expect most of your body hurts," he answered, his voice somehow penetrating her skin and reaching into her aching arm to touch the bone. A warm tingle started and begin to spread, easing the throbbing. "Your arm is broken, but I have begun repairs. The bone is in line, and the mending has started without trouble."
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    "I want Joshua."
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    "Joshua is just a little boy. He thinks you are ill with a virus. He does not need to be frightened and traumatized further. Do you not agree?"
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    "How do I know you're telling me the truth?" Alexandria asked tiredly. "Don't all vampires lie and deceive?"
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    "I am Carpathian. I am not yet vampire. I must know how much blood Yohenstria has given you." He spoke patiently, gently, his voice never changing inflection. "How many times did he exchange his blood with you?"
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    "You're very dangerous, aren't you?" She bit at her lower lip, then winced when she painfully scraped blisters and sores. "You have this way about you, making everyone want to do everything you say. You made the vampire believe you could defeat him, didn't you?" It hurt her to talk, but it was comforting that she could.
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    "I use the power of my voice," he acknowledged gravely. "Less wear and tear on the body when hunting vampires, although I have had my share of wounds." He touched her then, the lightest of caresses across her forehead. "Do you not remember your own story to young Joshua? I am the hunter, come to rescue my fair lady and her brother. Joshua recognized me as such. He told me so. Do you not find it a strange coincidence that you described me so accurately?"
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    Her mind refused to think about that, so she changed the subject. "Joshua saw the vampire kill Henry. He must be so frightened."
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    "He remembers Henry's death as a heart attack. To him, I am an old friend of the family. He thinks he called me to come and help you because of your illness. He believes you fell ill at the restaurant."
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    She studied his appearance. He was physically beautiful. His hair was rich and thick, waves of gold reaching past his wide shoulders. His eyes, a peculiar molten gold, intense and frightening, gazed back at her with the unblinking stare of a jungle cat. His lips were impossibly sensual. It was impossible to judge his age. She would have guessed he was somewhere in his thirties. "Why don't you erase my memories?"
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    A small, humorless smile curved his mouth, revealing strong, even, white teeth. "You are not so Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    easy to handle, piccola . You are resistant to my direction. But we need to address what is happening to you."
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    Her heart began to pound. "What is happening to me?"
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    "We need to further dilute the tainted blood in your system."
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    Alexandria wanted to trust him. The smell of the herbs, the sound of his voice, his seeming honesty all made her want to believe he was trying to help her. And he didn't force her decision, or even attempt to rush her, though she sensed he was concerned that whatever was going to happen would happen before he was adequately prepared to deal with it. She took a deep breath. "How do we do that?"
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    "I must give you a large amount of my blood."
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    He said it quietly, matter-of-factly. Alexandria looked away. Those golden eyes of his never blinked. She was afraid if she stared into them too long, she would fall forever into their depths.
    "You will give me a transfusion?"
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    "I am sorry, piccola , that will not work." There was real regret in his voice. He touched her again, turning her chin so she would face him again. The feather-light stroke sent her heart pounding.
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    "I can't… I can't drink blood."
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    "I can put you under compulsion if you are willing for me to do so. It will aid you. It is our only chance, Alexandria."
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    The way he said her name sent butterflies winging through her stomach. But was it possible that drinking more blood was the only way to make her well?
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    "If it is impossible for you to drink of your own free will, you must consent to my aiding you," he said.
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    "I'm not sure I can do it." The very thought repulsed her. Her stomach was churning, already rebelling at the idea. "There must be another way to