Carpathian 17 - Dark Celebration

should be. She is invaluable to us." Mikhail leaned toward him. "I know you have been talking with Gregori, Francesca and Shea about how you kept the other children alive after the massacre. They were only babies. You were merely six years old."
    "Unfortunately, I do not remember very much. It was centuries ago. We were on another continent, in an unfamiliar world. I did not remember much of my homeland other than the war and the massacre. I inadvertently instilled a fear in the others of these mountains and we avoided the area completely."
    Mikhail nodded. "It is understandable, but perhaps you do not realize the miracle you achieved. The greatest minds, our most talented healers, are not able to do what you have done. In order for our species to survive, we must find the answers to why our women miscarry. Why so many of our infants die in their first year. And why we have such a high percentage of male over female births."
    Tempest gasped and went completely pale. "Darius?" She framed his face with her hands, forcing him to meet her terrified gaze. "Is this true? Did you know this?"
    "Yes." Lifemates did not lie to one another.
    "Miscarriages? The child dies in the first year?" She refused to look away from him—
    refused to allow him to look away from her. "You knew this all along?"
    "Our race is dying," Darius said. "We have too few women and even fewer children."
    "But you said…" She trailed off, dropping her hands as if touching his skin scorched her.
    "You should have told me this immediately."
    "What good would it have done? The decision is made for us. Our child grows within your body. We have already created a life. There is no alternative for me but to ensure the child survives. I refuse to consider any other possibility." His voice was mild, his face carved of stone. His black-black eyes never left hers.
    "You should have told me," she repeated.

    "Several of our women have been successful in carrying babies," Mikhail said, standing.
    "There is always hope. Especially now. I will need to discuss this further with you, Darius,"
    he added.
    Darius continued to hold Tempest's gaze. "Yes, of course. I am at your disposal." He waited until the prince left before he tunneled his hand in the mass of bright red hair. "We will not lose our child."
    "Because you decree it?"
    "If that is what it takes. My will is unyielding. I did not lose Desari, or Syndil or Barack or Dayan. They live because I decreed it—because I fought for their lives and used every ounce of will and skill I possessed to ensure their survival. Do not think I would do less for my own child—for our child."
    "That's why they all have such confidence in you—why they expect so much of you.
    Without you they would have all died."
    It was the simple truth. He had been six, but already, the Daratrazanoff blood was strong in him and his will grew and grew until he refused to allow defeat into his mind no matter the odds.
    "I didn't think I wanted to have a baby, Darius. Now, when I think I may lose it, I know I want it desperately. Shea must be so frightened. She's close to labor. If I were her, I would not want to allow the baby to leave the safety of my body."
    "She has Jacques to keep them both safe, Tempest. You have me."
    Tempest slid onto his lap, laying her head against his chest. "Then I'm not going to worry."
    He kissed her gently, lovingly. "I will believe that when I see it."
    "For that, you can bake the pies."
    "Pies?"
    "The gooey purple stuff. You said you would do anything for me and I need those pies baked."
    "You think I cannot do it."
    "I think it will be very funny to watch you try." She leaned in for another kiss, laughter beginning to bubble up.

Chapter 7
    Barack, in the form of an owl, circled the house he was occupying with Syndil. There didn't appear to be a disturbance, but his heart was still in his throat. Something didn't feel right. He reached out to her on their private, very intimate telepathic band, but she didn't respond. He felt her presence, felt her focus—her entire concentration elsewhere—a good sign as Syndil would have been broadcasting waves of fear had she been frightened.
    He dropped down fast, shapeshifting as he plummeted, and he hit the porch nearly sprinting, needing to see her. She was still so emotionally fragile and their relationship was very tentative at times. She had a tendency to retreat even from him. Ever since the brutal attack by Savon, a trusted family member who had turned vampire,