Dark Sentinel (Dark, #28)

by Christine Feehan

“The brethren are my family. Dragomir, Isai, Sandu, Ferro and three others you haven’t met as of yet. Fane, who has found his lifemate. We hope to get them to relocate with us. Petru, who is at the compound guarding Tariq, along with Benedek. There were eight of us who stayed there over the years. Several others joined and then left, but these men are my core family.”

The room went quiet. Around the table were the other Carpathian hunters. Maksim, Tariq’s partner in the nightclub business. The triplets, Tomas, Matias and Lojos, renowned for their fighting skills. Dragomir and Sandu and Benedek and Petru, all brethren from the monastery. Isai and Ferro were deep beneath the soil in the healing grounds. Nicu Dalca, an ancient who moved like lightning. Valentin Zhestokly, his eyes as black as ice in a violent storm, sat quietly across from Tariq and with him, Afanasiv Balan, an ancient who was considered extremely dangerous by those at the table.

The warriors of the compound

He touched her mind once again. There was no trepidation. His woman was fearless and eager. Needy. He circled the heavy girth of his cock with his fist, fitting the broad head against her slick entrance. The heat scorched him. Drew

him. He needed, too. He pushed deeper and both shuddered at the same time as the overwhelming sensation threatened to drown them in pleasure. Her tight muscles fought him, and then slowly relented, allowing him to push deeper so that he felt his cock was gripped firmly in a silken, hot fist. He threw his head back, savoring that feeling, filing it away with so many others she’d given him. This was the ultimate, that slow burning heat surrounding him, welcoming him, trying to keep him out, yet pulling him in. Beckoning. Tempting. The sensations poured over him. Into him. Filling him. Filling all those tattered and torn places in him until he was whole. He threaded his fingers through hers and pushed her hands into the mattress beside her head, looking down, straight into her eyes. He held her that way, pinned beneath him, his eyes holding hers captive. Tet vigyázam. He repeated it so she would hear him. Understand him. Never doubt again. Tet vigyázam. He dipped his head to brush a kiss across her mouth. At the same time, he thrust his hips hard, burying himself

driving through her thin barrier to claim every inch of her. Wanting body, heart and soul. She gasped and went stiff, frozen beneath him. He kept still as well, refusing to release her gaze. Tet vigyázam means I love you, Lorraine. And I do. My language or yours. Any language. I love you. I do not want there to be any doubts in your mind. Not now. Not ever. Whatever happens, we do this together. He felt her body slowly relax around his. That vise gripping him eased enough for him to move. Her smile was tentative, but it was there. I know I am falling in love with you, Andor. Everything about you, even the fact that you will want me to sleep beside you in the ground. He wanted that. He did. When she was beside him, no harm could come to her. He set a rhythm. Gently. Tenderly. His heart had turned inside out. His soul, that part of it she had guarded through centu...

She let go, her hips bucking, the waves intense, so strong her sheath clamped down on him, and then the flames reached his balls and the seed boiling there. As if she’d touched a match to a stick of dynamite, he erupted, a long explosion, jet after jet splashing the walls of her sheath, triggering even stronger ripples in her. They rode it out together, soaring, shuddering, their hearts keeping that same wild rhythm. Andor realized that he liked being out of control. He’d spent so many centuries with complete discipline, he never thought that he would be able to let go the way she made him. There was such freedom in feeling, in emotion.

“Whatever it is, I know I would choose you with or without it. You were born for me. It was as if someone created you for me and me for you.” He was wise enough not to say that was exactly what a lifemate was. “I love you, too. I don’t know how that happened, but I know I do. I’m going to learn to say it perfectly in your language.” She kissed his throat. “Say it again. Teach it to me.” So he did.

“She has to be Sergey’s lifemate,” Sandu said. Ferro shook his head. “That is impossible.” “Why would you say that?” Andor asked. “It fits. Why else would he target her even when she was a young Carpathian? She couldn’t have been more than a teenager when she disappeared. Her brother, Traian, was frantic by all accounts. Sergey must have had a reason for taking her.” “I believe he did,” Ferro said. “She has gifts. But she is not his.” “You can’t possibly know that.” “I can, because she is mine. Elisabeta is my lifemate.”