Carpathian 22 - Dark Predator

last moments. You should have joined me. In truth, you have always had the darkness in you—far more than I ever had. This was your legacy, the greatest gift of your father yet you refused to embrace it.” There was real contempt in Ruslan’s voice. “You had greatness handed to you, but you chose to be a martyr, suffering alone while I have whatever I want.”
    Zacarias slowly opened his eyes, smiling, knowing his white teeth were a stark contrast to Ruslan’s blackened, gaping maw and that small detail would prick Ruslan’s vanity as nothing else could.
    “I cannot fear you, Ruslan. I cannot feel what you do to me. I do not care about anything other than destroying you. You think you have the advantage, but in fact, I do. You want to continue your pitiful existence. You seek power. You wish to rule the world. To destroy the prince. To kill me.”
    Zacarias’s smile turned as cold as ice. “So many wishes, when I have only one. Your death. You are kuly —nothing more, an intestinal worm, a demon who devours souls. You are truly hän ku vie elidet —a thief of life and for that, I pronounce sentence on you.”
    The dead and rotting vegetation, collected over hundreds, perhaps thousands of years went into a frenzy, flapping arms and growing teeth as they shuffled toward him. Zacarias sent the wind, but the leaf creatures weren’t in the least affected, holding their own against the blast.
    Ruslan’s laughter grated on the ears of any within hearing range. Joyfully he danced around. “I do not think it will be me who dies this night, hunter.”
    The creatures closed in, making the air stagnant, oppressive, smelling of dead, rotting things. He needed something completely the opposite to oppose Ruslan’s force, giving him the necessary time to kill the vampire. Deliberately Ruslan had preyed on his worst secrets, those shadows cutting through his body, taking his soul.
    Now was not the time for pride. Or for fear. He was a hunter and he had no choice but to use every resource possible. Ruslan Malinov was the biggest threat to the Carpathian people. Without him, the army of vampires would diminish, giving Mikhail, the prince, time to bring together his people and shore up all defenses.
    He did the unthinkable. Marguarita. You must wake.
    He could not allow himself to think of her and what she might go through upon waking beneath the ground. She was human and he had already asked so much of her. This vampire was responsible for bringing the Carpathian people to near extinction. He could not escape no matter the cost to the hunter—or his beloved lifemate.

    Deep beneath the hacienda, Marguarita became aware of two things: she was buried alive, and Zacarias was in trouble. She came awake instantly, the knowledge flooding her body along with a terrible hunger that clawed and raked her belly. She kept her eyes closed tight, determined not to panic. She knew she would have if she’d simply awakened buried alive, but she felt Zacarias.
    Strangely, she could hear her heartbeat, but there didn’t seem to be air moving through her lungs. The sound echoed eerily through her head. She concentrated on Zacarias, ignoring her need to mindlessly scream, to feel the weight of the earth pushing down on her. Gently, with great stealth, she found the path to his mind. Pain engulfed her—savage—vicious pain, an agony that pushed through her entire body easily rivaling what she had gone through in the conversion. She slipped out of him before she could give herself away, or faint from the horror and pain of what he suffered.
    What had he said to her? He had told her how to move the soil from her resting place. Visualize, Marguarita, she reminded herself. Will it to happen.
    Her first attempt got her nowhere, just panic seeping in. Determinedly, she pushed it away. Use your will. Your father always said you were stubborn enough to move mountains if you really wanted to do it, so move this little bit of earth, she commanded herself.
    Her mind screamed the moment her fingers moved and she was more aware than ever that she was beneath the ground, but she kept her eyes closed tight and forced her mind to picture the dirt above her parting like the Red Sea, pushing up and to either side. When she could draw breath and look up at the ceiling of the chamber, she wiped beads of sweat from her face and sat up.
    I am here.
    Come to me. Inside me—your way. If this goes wrong, pull out immediately.
    She didn’t hesitate. No matter