Carpathian 23 - Dark Storm

she knew she smelled like sin and sex, but it didn’t
     matter. She clung to him, reluctant to let him go, her heart beating with the same
     rhythm as his. She knew she should put her legs down, but she wanted to hold him as
     long as she could, be connected physically as long as possible.
    “I can’t believe you were able to do that and have the strength to hold me up,” she
     whispered. She didn’t have the strength to speak in a normal tone.
    “There are advantages to being Carpathian,” he said smugly. Dax turned his head to
     brush kisses in her hair. “Your friend is coming this way.”
    “Can you keep us from his view forever? Maybe we should just stay this way, locked
     together for eternity,” she murmured.
    Dax laughed softly, the sound in her mind rather than heard. “Insatiable woman.”
    “I am.” She pressed kisses over his pounding pulse, unrepentant, playfully nipping
     with her teeth. “I’m trying to distract you.”
    “You don’t find hunting vampires exhilarating?”
    She lifted her head to stare into his laughing eyes. He looked so much younger and
     carefree when he laughed, yet it was so rare for him to do so. Very slowly she dropped
     her legs until she was standing. The movement shifted him inside of her, sending another
     ripple of pleasure through both of them.
    “Fine, we’ll go hunting. But this was much more fun. I don’t think the two things
     are comparable.” She gave him a little pout as he slipped out of her.
    His mind stroked hers with caresses as with a wave of his hand she was fully clothed,
     clean and fresh. He was reaching for her pack as if they’d just finished gathering
     her things when Gary walked up. Dax shifted slightly, positioning his body just a
     little in front of her to give her time to recover.
    “Good evening,” Dax greeted. “I trust there were no incidents while I slept.”
    Gary shook his head. “Everything was quiet. Were you able to find the flowers? To
     bring enough back so that we can plant them in the Carpathian Mountains?”
    Riley laughed at the eagerness in his voice. “We brought you back an entire sack of
     seeds and roots as well as the flowers intact. I packed them in the soil so they should
     make the trip, although how you’ll get them through customs I don’t know.”
    “I have friends that will do that,” Gary said. “I just need to get the flowers to
     them. They know how important it is. They never have trouble getting anything they
     want.”
    Dax looked up, his gaze pinning Gary’s. “Carpathians? Your friends are Carpathians?”
    Gary nodded. “Yes, they provided us with weapons and gear for this trek. They’re our
     emergency contact. They were waiting to hear from us,” Gary said. “We need to make
     it to a clearing . . .”
    “You called them already? When did you do this?” Dax asked. His voice was very low.
     Smoldering. The last word ended in a long, slow hiss.
    Riley stiffened, her heart skipping a beat. He sounded . . . scary. Gary seemed to
     be used to the sudden change in Carpathian males. He didn’t blink.
    “We knew they would already be looking for us. As soon as we could get a call out
     to let them know we were alive, we did. We called at sunset.” Gary shrugged casually.
     “They’ll be sending a helicopter to pick us up. They’re aware of the injury to the
     professor, and they’ll deal with the others as well.”
    “What did you tell them about me? About Mitro?” If anything, that low voice, warm
     as molasses, dropped another octave lower.
    “That you were with us, of course, and that a dangerous vampire was on the loose.”
     Gary removed his glasses and looked Dax straight in the eye. “I exchanged blood with
     you voluntarily. Would you be more comfortable reading my mind? You can get the information
     a lot more efficiently.”
    Dax shook his head. “I appreciate that you would allow me to invade your privacy,
     but until I need to ‘see’ who we’re talking about it isn’t necessary. This is more
     than one Carpathian hunter?”
    “The De La Cruz brothers,” Gary explained. “They were sent to South America centuries
     ago. Did you know them?”
    “We had lineages, not surnames. I do not recognize such a name. Show them to me.”
    Gary pictured the images of the De La Cruz brothers in his head in the best detail
     he could muster. It had been centuries since Dax had been in the Carpathian Mountains,
     so it was reasonable that he might have missed