Carpathian 20 - Dark Slayer

entrance.
    This system is made of gems , Ivory explained. I called the gems and asked for aid. Once I embedded them in rock, each about three feet apart, zigzagging down the crack, from one side to the other, the gems not only bring light to the lair, but they act as a warning system for me . She hesitated and then corrected herself. For us .
    He felt the rightness of her words, joining them together, but also the reluctance, as if she couldn’t quite get around the fact that they were meant to be lifemates.
    The safeguard is actually the way the gems work. They measure the weight of my molecules, with the wolves on me of course, as I am drifting down through the crack. If the weight is too heavy, or too light, the crack would close below and stop the intruder. If I am in the lair, I would hear the rocks closing and could prepare for an attack. Nothing can penetrate the rock from below us or either side—it is too thick. Not even the worms can drill through. In order to carry you in, I had to change it once already, and it was difficult with the sun so close on my heels .
    How was I able to get out?
    It only works in one direction; a warning system is not needed in both. I would not keep anyone a prisoner . Again there was that slight hesitation. In truth I have never thought to bring anyone down here .
    He thought it best to ignore her nervousness, and he did not have to feign his interest in her system. It was as unique and brilliant as the inventor. He waited while she disappeared into the crack and added a few more of her gems. The light worked much like an ancient mirror system, one prism working off another. He realized she used the gems for her weapons as well, that her experiments were sophisticated.
    It is safe for you to come and go as you please .
    Ivory floated down, avoiding the light spreading slowly across the sky, screened by the now-heavy snow. Once she hit the living chamber, the wolves leapt from her back and padded after her to the bed of soil.

    â€œI do not do well, even under the ground, when the sun has risen.― Again Ivory appeared uneasy. “I spent too many years in the soil trying to heal.―
    â€œI spent many lifetimes in the ice caves,― Razvan assured, watching her curl up, the wolves surrounding her. He waited for an invitation.
    Ivory gestured toward the side of the large basin. “There is plenty of room.―
    He envied the wolves pressed close to her, but said nothing, knowing she was being more than generous. He closed his eyes and allowed the breath to leave his body, his heart to slow and then stop while the soil poured over them like a living blanket.
    It was the first time he could clearly remember being totally relaxed and infinitely happy.
    7
    Ivory woke knowing three days had passed and the sun had already sank from the sky. She was used to the way time passed so deep beneath the earth and the rhythms spoke to her, as she had become accustomed to them. It had been disorienting at first, which was when she’d come up with her prism system for bringing a small bit of light into her sanctuary. It rather shocked her that Razvan woke with her.
    The wolves would, of course, after so many years, but she had thought to go hunting alone and to give herself time to prepare for another in her lair.
    She stared at his face, the lines etched there, the way his eyes seemed so compassionate and understanding. His life had been nothing but struggle and pain, yet he seemed, when she touched his mind, to be truly kind. Why then, did her hands tremble? Why did she feel as if butterflies had taken flight and were winging their way through her body whenever she looked at him? She had absolute confidence in her abilities as a warrior, but had no idea how to interact off the battlefield.
    Razvan’s expression softened when his eyes met hers and he smiled. Her heart jumped in response. His smile was sweet and made him look years younger. “Good evening. You certainly are beautiful to wake up to.―
    She wasn’t. She knew she wasn’t. She was in her true patchwork form—her body put together in pieces and a little mismatched here and there. She rubbed at one of the worst offending scars, the one dissecting her collarbone, and was shocked to find the ridge lessened. The healer had done more than heal her wounds. The scars would never disappear completely, but he had helped them to fade to thinner, flatter