Carpathian 21 - Dark Peril

gathering information before I make a strike. I don’t have any help, and to plan a rescue with only one person is extremely difficult. “

    “I thought your cousins . . .”

    “They have lifemates. Their men don’t want them in jeopardy. In truth, neither do I. Jasmine is pregnant, and Juliette is too soft for this kind of life.” She sighed and looked up at him. “That’s not right, Dominic.
    She’s too good for this. There’s a brightness in her and I don’t want that to ever go away. At first I was terrified for her when she met Riordan, but I can see that he makes her happy. I’m grateful for him. He’ll take care of both of them.”

    His eyes darkened. “You intend to kill Brodrick.” He made it a statement, neither good nor bad, no judgment in his tone, just a fact.

    “Yes.” There was nothing else to say. She had no choice. He would never stop. Without him, the other men would scatter. They weren’t good men, and they would cause problems, but without direction, they would be manageable. If they went out of the rain forest, the law would eventually find them.

    Dominic handed her a glass of water. “Drink.”

    Where he got it, she had no idea, but she took it without protest and as she drank, he opened up the ground.

    “I will need the soil to heal my wounds completely,” he said. “I have placed safeguards all around your cave and nothing will disturb us while we sleep.”

    Solange looked down into the deep pit. A good ten feet down. Her cat could perhaps jump out if needed, but sleeping in the dirt? She wanted to be close to him, but . . .

    He smiled at her, that slow, sexy smile that somehow turned her entire insides to a melted pool of acquiescing heat. How did he do that?

    “You need to trust me.”

    Trust. He was a respected warrior. He had lived a thousand years with absolute honor. His word was his honor. If he said she was his, that she was beautiful to him, that she was the one he wanted, she should be able to accept that without all the self-doubts. And most of all, she should trust in him.

    “I think trust is a gift,” she said in a low voice. “A beautiful gift so many women have naturally. I want it, Dominic. More than anything, I want that gift, but . . .” She trailed off. Was she even capable of trust anymore?

    His fingers settled around the nape of her neck. “Your trust in me runs deep, Solange. You do not trust in yourself, the woman. You see yourself as two beings. One, the warrior: confident, incredible in her resolve, uncaring how the world views her as long as she can save the women of her species from the brutality of the men. You live in a world of deceit and violence and you understand and accept those rules. The other being is this one, the one who shares herself with me—her true lifemate. You are the other half of my soul.
    You are the light to my darkness. You cannot see yourself that way, because you have to live in darkness.
    You buried her deep, my woman, but what you do not understand, sívamet , is that I appreciate that in you. I do not wish others to see you as I do. I do not want to share this woman with anyone else, male or female.
    This side of Solange is mine alone.”

    She shook her head, but took every word into her heart and held each close to her.

    “Make no mistake, the warrior and the woman are not two separate entities. You are both, and I see you clearly. I know I have to share the warrior. That trait is strong, and there is no denying you. Events shaped what was already a fighter’s spirit, honed and perfected in the fires of agony. In order to survive and ensure the safety of women you love, the women only you stand for who survived, you had to suppress the light in you. But that light is there, and I can see it. If I am the only one who does, that is all that matters.”

    God help her, every word touched her soul. He saw her. He knew her. He knew her better than she knew herself. She wanted to be everything for him, that woman who lived in the light, at least during the moments she actually could spend with him. She wanted to give him whatever he wanted.

    They both had so little time left. She accepted that and so did he. They were committed on their individual paths. But this was their time—maybe their only time. She lifted her hand to his face, tracing those lines etched so deep, lines that made him look like such a tough, ruthless man. There was no boyish trait anywhere. He was all man. He didn’t move