Carpathian 22 - Dark Predator

He licked at his fingers in the air, trying to extract every bit of Carpathian blood from his arm and hand before streaking away.
    The moment Ruslan had been attacked, he’d pulled his energy from the army of the dead, so that the leaves and branches tumbled back to the forest floor. Monkeys scrambled back into the trees. Zacarias let himself fall, looking up at the rain. Once more it was a gentle drizzle, hitting him in the face. It took great effort to call down the white-hot energy to rid himself of the vampire venom. As soon as it was off of him, he dropped his arms wearily to his sides.
    I’m coming to you. Marguarita made it a statement, not a question.
    He found himself smiling. His beautiful lunatic. She had every right to despise him, every reason to fear him, yet if he had ordered her to stay away, she would have defied him and come to him anyway. There was no stopping such a quiet force and he was too far gone to try. She never seemed to bother to argue. She just did what she believed was right. His blood was leaking out all over the ground and healing himself was going to be a difficult task.
    Do not forget your clothes. Cesaro will be riding this way any moment. I would have to kill him and I am not certain I am up to the task.
    She tried to laugh, he’d have to give her that. Her amusement came through her tears. She was crying for him and he knew she would be doing that a lot in the years to come. I should have converted you with love, Marguarita. With care. I should have held you when you were so afraid. I am so far in the dark, perhaps there is no way to bring me back.
    I don’t want to bring you back. I just want to save you. There’s a difference. You’ll have to do the clothes yourself. I can’t manage. There was impatience in her voice. And she was much closer than she had been.
    Zacarias lifted his head. Her beloved mare raced toward him with Marguarita astride her back, and thanks to the good Dios the horse had a smooth gait. She was entirely naked. He shook his head. She was slowly filling him back up with her light, pushing the darkness away. He could see his blood was red, pooling on the ground around him.
    She was off the horse and running toward him as he waved his hand to clothe her. She nearly tripped over her skirt as she raced to him. Using both hands, she shoved a soft cloth she carried against his belly. Lie back. Just relax for a moment. And don’t let me too far into your mind. I don’t want you to feel this.
    He allowed himself to sink back down and just watched her face—that beloved face with so much concern stamped into it. So much love—love he didn’t deserve. “What did you mean when you said you didn’t want to bring me back from the darkness, that you just wanted to save me? It is the same thing.”
    She shook her head, digging into the soil to find the richest, untainted earth she could find. She used her own saliva to make a paste. Actually, it isn’t the same thing. The darkness in you that you despise so much is a precious gift and one you have come to rely on. It allows you to hunt the way you do. It keeps you alive when others would die.
    She winced visibly as she packed his wounds tight with the muddy paste she’d made. He touched her lips with gentle fingers. “You think it is a gift not to feel? To be so close to darkness that every moment I exist is a fight?”
    Yes. It is that darkness that allows you to instinctively know where your prey is going next, to be one step ahead of them. To endure these kinds of mortal wounds that would kill anyone else. You are already healing yourself, Zacarias. And you are already thinking of where this vampire will be hiding until tomorrow night. It is near dawn and you know he is seeking a resting place. That’s what those shadows do for you. They allow you to live and do what you do like no one else can do it. So, no, I don’t want to take that from you.
    “But you fear I will not come back to you.”
    She extended her wrist to him. Hunger beat at her, but it was far more important to give him whatever she could to sustain him and help him heal as fast as possible. You are so good at pushing aside your memories that a small part of me thinks you will one day forget to remember me after the battle.
    He took her wrist and very gently made the cut, allowing her life-giving blood to flow into him. It was the blood of an ancient Carpathian now. Powerful and strong because his blood flowed in her veins. He felt