Carpathian 05 - Dark Challenge

his lifemate.
    It was impossible. Totally impossible to believe. The men of his race could spend an eternity hunting for the one woman that was their other half. Male Carpathians were predatory, with the instincts of dark, hungry killers, cunning, quick, and lethal. After their short time of growing, of laughter and adventure, it was all over as they lost the ability to feel, to see in colors. There was nothing left but a solitary, barren existence.
    Julian's existence had been especially unbearable, alienated as he was from Aidan, his twin, whose inevitable closeness might have made the long, gray centuries a bit easier to endure. But he had known he was locked to Aidan through their blood tie, and every moment they spent together increased the vampire's threat to Aidan. Their very closeness endangered his brother. So Julian had fled his people, never telling any of them, not even his beloved brother, the terrible truth. He had done the honorable thing, as he had only his honor left to him.
    Now Julian stood numbly in the narrow hall, unable to believe that his lifemate was close. Unable, in that dazzling moment of emotion and color, to believe that he could possibly deserve such a thing.
    Many Carpathian males turned vampire after centuries of a life filled with no hope. Without emotions, power—the power to hunt and kill—seemed the only thing left to them. Others, rather than becoming a danger to mortals and immortals alike, chose to end their barren existence by greeting the dawn; waiting for the sunlight to destroy bodies meant to live in darkness. Only a handful actually found their other half, the light to their darkness, the one who could make them complete. After nearly a thousand years of bleak existence, after making the decision to meet the dawn before the predatory demon within him, now struggling for control of him, conquered him, Julian could scarcely believe he had found his true lifemate.
    But the colors and emotions and hope said that it was true.
    The woman's voice—throaty, husky, erotic—held the promise of satin sheets and candlelight. It played over his skin like fingers, tantalizing, enticing, sinfully sexy. It mesmerized anyone within hearing distance; Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    it haunted and captivated. The notes danced, pure and beautiful, weaving a spell of enchantment around Julian, around every listener.
    Julian knew nothing of this woman. Only that Gregori had sent him to warn her that she was in danger from the human society of vampire hunters. Evidently the Prince wished her and those traveling with her to be protected if necessary. The society of mortals who believed in the vampires of old legends and sought to destroy them had for some reason targeted this singer, Desari, with her haunting voice and eccentric ways. Most of the society's victims were killed, a stake driven through the heart. Worse, some victims were kept alive to be tortured and dissected. Julian listened to the beautiful voice. Desari sounded like an angel singing, her voice not of the earth.
    Then a scream, high and piercing, interrupted the beauty of the song. It was followed by a second scream, then a third. Julian heard a shot ring out, then a volley of bullets thudding into flesh and musical instruments. The building shook with the force of feet pounding across the floor as the patrons raced to get out of the line of fire.
    Julian moved so quickly that he blurred as he shimmered into a solid mass. The bar was in complete disarray. Mortals were fleeing the place as fast as they could, running over each other in the process.
    People were yelling in terror. Tables and chairs were smashed and broken. The three members of the band lay, blood-splattered, on the stage, instruments shattered. The security guards were exchanging gunfire with six men who were also shooting into the crowd as they tried to escape.
    Julian went straight for the stage. He pushed aside one male body and found the still form of the woman, Desari, sprawled on the platform, her masses of blue-black hair spreading out like a veil. Blood pooled under her, staining her royal blue dress. He had no time to examine her features further; the worst wound was mortal and would kill her unless he did something. Instinctively he fashioned a quick visual barrier, blurring the stage from watching eyes. In the pandemonium, he doubted if any would notice.
    He lifted Desari easily into his arms, found a