Carpathian 20 - Dark Slayer

women who had saved Razvan’s life by turning him fully Carpathian. They had Rhiannon’s blood flowing in their veins—Razvan’s grandmother. Rhiannon had come from such a powerful Carpathian line.

    â€œDragonseeker,― she murmured aloud. “How often that name was whispered in awe and respect. You carry that line and you stayed true to it.―
    The first flakes began to fall. Small crystals of enormous beauty.
    Razvan watched them as they walked, their tracks light and then, when Ivory wished it, nonexistent. They still left their scent behind, making certain that anyone who might wish to track them would see the wide curve of a new direction.
    Razvan walked along beside her, feeling content, occasionally scooping snow into his hand and packing it to form a ball just to throw it at a tree trunk as they passed. It made him feel a bit like a kid again, carefree and happy, just as much as when he’d run with the wolves.
    â€œYou take every moment,― Ivory said, “and you live it right then.―
    He shrugged. “I found that in order to survive I had to live in the moment. I do whatever I am doing with everything in me. I enjoy it, or endure it or survive it.― He looked around at the drifting snow and the heavily laden trees with their crystal formations. “This is paradise to me.―
    â€œWalking through the forest in the snow, hoping to throw off anyone tracking us?― She laughed, shaking her head.
    â€œYou really are a little bit peculiar. I like it, but you are still weird.―

    Razvan’s laugh was joyous, the sound deep and pure, sliding into her body and making her heart sing. It made her feel like a bit of an idiot, but she didn’t care; she kept the silly smile on her face anyway.
    â€œWe have everything we could possibly want right here in this moment. You. Me. The pack. Look around you. The snow is beautiful, the trees unbelievable. We are happy. Whatever comes later, we have these moments right now. Right here. We may as well make the best of them because we will never get these moments back.―
    He lobbed a snowball at her. It landed in her hair and broke, covering the blue-black strands with flakes. He sprinted away from her.
    Ivory gasped and went after him scooping up snow on the run, packing and throwing with the tremendous speed and accuracy born of throwing her arrowheads.
    Razvan dodged, looking over his shoulder at her, laughing. She was so beautiful to him, running in the snow with her long strides, her muscles rippling beneath the smooth expanse of skin. Just the way she moved was pure sin. Her eyes were enormous with excitement. Crystal flakes landed on her lashes and she batted the two thick crescents to get the snow off. The gesture was feminine, sexy beyond measure yet totally unintentional.

    He took advantage and reversed direction, running at her fast, hurling three snowballs to distract her, uncaring where they hit, watching her mouth, that beautiful bow of a mouth, curved and soft and so tempting. He dropped his shoulder and caught her low, lifting her and taking her down in one smooth move.
    They landed in the snow, sinking into the icy powder. Razvan caught her wrist before she could stuff another snowball down his shirt. She laughed up at him, looking good enough to eat.
    Before he could take advantage and kiss her, she pushed up with her heels, loosening him enough to roll them over so she was on top, trying to pin him down. They wrestled there in the snow, the flakes rising like a whirlwind to meet the ones falling from the sky, their laughter stirring the needles on the trees.
    The wind carried the sound on the stillness of the night.
    They lay side by side, throwing arms and legs out, like two small children, making snow figures on the ground and then leaping to their feet for another wild battle with snowballs flying furiously.
    Ivory finally leapt on him, arms circling his neck, her legs wrapped around his hips in an effort to stop the crazy game before she laughed so much she cried. “You are so crazy, Razvan,― she said, holding him tightly. She buried her face against his throat, afraid she really would burst into tears at the emotions welling up, threatening to overwhelm her.

    She knew he thought her some kind of miracle, but in truth, to her he was the miracle. She had no idea how to have fun, and she had no idea how he did. There had been no