Leopard 05 - Savage Nature

had lifemates. They all had emotions. They all loved him. He felt nothing and he had the advantage.
    He had already dismissed them, left their world, the moment he’d turned his back and allowed himself the freedom to let go of his responsibilities. Yet their faces, carved with deep lines of sorrow, stayed him for a moment.
    What would it be like to feel sorrow so deeply? To feel love? To feel. In the old days he would have touched their minds and shared with them, but they all had lifemates, and he didn’t dare take the chance of tainting one of them with the darkness in him. His soul was not just in pieces. He had killed too often, distanced himself from all he had held dear in order to better protect those he had loved. When had he reached the point where he could no longer safely touch their minds and share their memories? It had been so long ago he could no longer remember.
    “Zacarias, do not do this,” Riordan pleaded, his face twisted with that same deep sorrow that was on each of his brothers’ faces.
    They n his responsibility for far too long and he couldn’t just walk away without giving them something. He stood there a moment, utterly alone, his head up, eyes blazing, long hair flowing around him while blood dripped steadily down his chest and thighs. “I give you my word that you will not have to hunt me.”
    It was all he had for them, his word that he would not turn vampire. He could rest and he was seeking that final rest in his own way. He turned away from them, from the comprehension and relief on their faces, and once again started his journey. He had far to go if he was to get to his destination before dawn.
    “Zacarias,” Nicolas called. “Where will you go?”
    The question gave him pause. Where was he going? The compulsion was strong, one impossible to ignore. He actually slowed his pace, unsettled by the question. Where would he go? Why was the need so strong in him, when he felt nothing? But there was something, a dark force driving him.
    “ Susu— home.” He whispered the word. His voice carried on the wind, that low tone resonating in the very earth beneath his feet. “I am going home.”
    “This is your home,” Nicolas stated firmly. “If you seek rest, we will respect your decision, but stay here with us. With your family. This is your home,” he reiterated.
    Zacarias shook his head. He was driven to leave Brazil. He needed to be somewhere else and he had to go now, while there was still time. Eyes as red as the flames, soul as black as the smoke, he shifted, reaching for the form of the great harpy eagle.
    Are you going to the Carpathian Mountains? Nicolas demanded through their telepathic link. I will travel with you.
    No. I go home where I belong—alone. I must do this thing alone.
    Nicolas sent him warmth, wrapped him up in it. Kolasz arwa-arvoval —may you die with honor. There was sorrow in his voice, in his heart, but while Zacarias recognized it, he couldn’t echo the feeling, not even a small tinge.
    Rafael spoke softly in his mind. Arwa-arvo olen isäntä, ekäm —honor keep you, my brother.
    Kulkesz arwa-arvoval, ekäm —walk with honor, my brother, Manolito added.
    Arwa-arvo olen gæidnod susu, ekäm —honor guide you home, my brother, Riordan said.
    It had been a long time since he’d heard the native tongue of his people. They spoke the languages and dialects of wherever they were. They’d taken names as they’d moved from country to country, even a surname, when Carpathians never had such names. His world had altered so much over time. Centuries of transformation, always adapting to fit in, and yet never really changing when his world was all about death. At long last he was going home.
    That simple statement meant nothing—and everything. He hadn’t had a home in a thousand years. He was one of the oldest, certainly one of the deadliest. Men like him had no home. Few welcomed him to their fire, let alone their hearth. So what was home? Why had he used that word?
    His family had established ranches in the countries they patrolled throughout the Amazon and the other rivers that fed it. Their range was spread out and covered thousands of miles, making it difficult tont>
    Their Peruvian ranch was situated on the edge of the rain forest, a few miles away from where the rivers formed a Y and dumped into the Amazon. Even that region was slowly changing over the years. His family had appeared to come into the area with the Spaniards. They had made up