Carpathian 17 - Dark Celebration

the smell so noxious, in spite of the falling snow, the foul odor nearly gagged him.
    Barack inched closer to peer at the congealed mass. The creatures looked almost like maggots, but much smaller. The stench of evil permeated the entire area.
    He looked around him, quartering the area with every one of his senses, scanning for signs of an enemy. Was this the aftermath of the vampires who had died here during the attempted assassination of the prince? Or was it another, much newer threat? He stepped closer to Syndil, stretching out his hand to her, but as her voice filled the night with her strength, the small parasites began to explode, much like popcorn, leaping out of the jelly ball in an effort to get away from her voice. Once in the exposed air, they burst.
    Barack's hand fell to his side. He looked at the trees, twisted, bent and blackened, the sap oozing out of numerous lesions, congealed with the same brown-red gel. Parasites bubbled up from half-a-dozen trees to drop lifeless to the ground. Barack waved his hand toward the sky. At once the wind picked up and the air charged, crackling and snapping. A whip of lightning flicked across the layer of carcasses in the snow, turning them instantly to black ash. With a howl of fury, the wind scattered the remains in all directions while the snow rained down and once more covered the earth with a pristine white blanket.
    For the first time, Syndil turned her head, her large, dark eyes soft—almost liquid. A ghost of a smile curved her mouth, drawing his attention to the beautiful shape of her lips, and his heart clenched, a vise squeezing hard enough to hurt. All those years he had spent with her, never once realizing she had been driving his need for sex. Never once had he looked at her any way other than as a foster sister, yet all along she had kept his emotions safeguarded. It was no wonder that not once had he been satisfied with another woman. It had become laughable over the centuries, the terrible need clawing at him until he thought he might go insane if he didn't touch a woman's skin, bury his body deep within hers. There had been so many willing, yet he was trapped in some kind of mindless torment, needing them—yet none could fulfill his desires.
    At times, Syndil still felt he had betrayed her, but at last he understood the endless cycle that had been happening to him. Looking at her, inhaling her scent, the brush of her hair or fingers turned his body into a hard painful ache that only she could assuage. He'd had a hard-on for so many years he could no longer count, and looking at her only made it happen all over again. Only now she was his—a gentle, sexy woman he didn't deserve, but who somehow managed to love him all the same.
    "What are you thinking about, Barack? You look sad."
    One did not lie to one's lifemate. In any case, she had only to touch his mind to know. "I remember the precise moment I realized that it was you arousing my body to such a painful ache. You stood by a stream brushing out your long hair. I found myself fascinated with every stroke of the brush and wishing I could feel your hair against my bare skin. I wanted to lose myself in all that silk, and I knew you had been the one I wanted all along—it was you I'd been searching for among so many women."
    "How long ago was that?"
    "We were in France."
    "That was fifty years ago."
    He nodded. "I thought what I felt was wrong. We were children together, a family. It seemed—distasteful. I was afraid I was tainted in some way. I would watch you after that; every move you made seemed sensual, seductive. And I hated the men watching you—
    coming close to you."
    "But you still went off with other women."
    He shook his head. "I kept up the illusion, but I already had had too many unfulfilled nights. What was the use? Other women no longer drew me once I figured out what was happening."
    "I saw you." There was pain in her voice, and it made him wince.

    "You saw me flirt and walk off. I took blood and left them with false memories. The nights were torment, Syndil. Sometimes I thought I was in hell." He reached out his hand to her. "I had a terrible secret and I could never share with anyone. I lusted after you to the point that I could not let you get too close to me. I was always afraid someone would discover the way I felt about you. At the time I would have given anything that it was just lust, easily satisfied. It was so much more—is so much more."
    "Why didn't you tell