“He’s Sange rau, a monster beyond compare.” Gunnolf spit on the ground to show his contempt. “He would kill every man, woman and child we have and never look back.”
“He is not vampire as the others were,” Zev argued.
His tone had gone thoughtful. Dimitri’s gaze jumped up, and he found Zev was now looking at the ground. His rugged features were expressionless, but his piercing eyes saw far too much. Dimitri’s heart gave a jolt in his chest as Zev glided forward, a fluid, easy move that was nearly impossible for Gunnolf to follow, but so very easy for Dimitri.
There, on the ground beneath his swaying body, mostly buried in the thick mat of grass and the ferns and flowers, were a few telling beads of silver glittering, drawing the eye. The sole of Zev’s boot slipped over the silver, mashing it further into the ground. When he moved his boot, stepping forward, grass sprang up as if he’d never taken a step. The silver beads were completely hidden from view.
Zev raised his gaze to Dimitri’s. “You had better get out of here, Gunnolf. You’ve challenged me one too many times and my patience has grown thin. The next time, you had better come prepared to defeat me in battle.”
Gunnolf snarled, baring his teeth, but he turned abruptly and strode away. Zev sighed, shaking his head. “That one and I will tangle in the near future, and it will be a fight to the death.”
“He will not fight fair,” Dimitri predicted. “In fact, I doubt he will come at you face-to-face. He will try to kill you when your back is turned and there is no one to see his treachery.”
“I am truly sorry,” Zev said. “I sent word to the council to try to get this sentence retracted, but there has been no word. I cannot go against my people, but I would help in whatever way I can.”
“You have been kind to bring me water,” Dimitri said.
“No one has ever been able to remove silver from their system,” Zev said, looking down at the ground beneath Dimitri.
Using the toe of his boot, Zev pushed aside the grass and ferns. No trace of silver remained. Frowning, he dug into the soil. “It’s gone.”
Dimitri said nothing. He could feel the grass blades winding their way around his ankle and slipping over his calf to the point of entry where the hooks were embedded in his muscle. Those tiny beads of salve dropped onto his raw wounds. The grass seemed to massage the soothing gel into lesions and then began moving up toward the gashes on his thighs.
Skyler. His woman. His lifemate. Who would have ever thought she could have so much power packed into that little frame of hers? She had a core of pure steel. He had no doubt in his mind that she had made some pact with Mother Earth and this form of healing was her doing. Healing and hiding evidence.
Zev came closer. “I cannot free you, but I can aid you. There is no law that says I cannot provide nutrients for you. Allow me to give you blood.”
Dimitri’s heart jumped and then began to pound. He had never considered that a Lycan would make such an offer. The temptation was overwhelming. He could feel saliva forming in his mouth. His teeth were sharp and terrible.
“I am weak. Far too weak to trust myself. I am uncertain if I could stop.” He forced the truth out, respecting the man, not wanting to take any chances. He would have drained Gunnolf dry, but Zev had integrity and the sentence of the council had clearly come as a shock to him.
“You are wrapped in chains,” Zev pointed out. “I can control your intake.”
Dimitri lifted his head to look around him. The forest was thick with trees and brush, but he felt and heard the life force of other Lycans close by. He could feel eyes on them. “The more you aid me, the more suspect you become in the eyes of the others. The one you call Gunnolf is poisoning the minds of the others against you. By aiding me, you help his cause.”
“What is his cause?” Zev asked. “Why is it so important for you to die before the summit reaches its conclusion? It makes no sense. Key members of our council are meeting right now with your prince and his people to settle the issue of the Sange rau—the Bad Blood, and the Hän ku pesäk kaikak, or Paznicii de toate—Guardian of all. Doesn’t it make sense to see that outcome before sentencing you to death?”
Dimitri tried a smile, exposing his lengthened canines. “I’m the one sentenced to death, so obviously it makes perfect sense to me.”
“I see you’ve retained your sense of humor.”
“I try.” The soothing grass had reached his thighs now, moving up both legs to find those terrible, burning wounds in an effort to ease the pain.
Hunger reached a new high. He could count each individual beat of Zev’s steady, strong pulse. A strange roaring in his head consumed his mind with the urgency to feed. He saw red, the color banding in his vision.
“Maybe you should step back, put a safe distance between us,” Dimitri cautioned. His voice had become more of a growl than an actual vocalization.
Unafraid, Zev stepped closer, his own teeth tearing a hole in his wrist. He was careful to avoid the silver chains encompassing Dimitri’s body as he lifted his wrist, dripping with life-giving blood, to Dimitri’s mouth.
Blood surged to every starved cell, every withered organ, moved over the many burned paths the silver had taken, to revitalize and rejuvenate. Dimitri tried to be polite, tried to hold on to awareness. Zev risked his life by giving him blood. His pack could turn on him at any moment. Dimitri was certain Gunnolf had his own agenda. He wanted more power and Zev was standing in his way. This act of kindness could very well be Zev’s downfall.
Yet Dimitri couldn’t make himself stop. All he had to do was sweep his tongue across that wound in Zev’s wrist to close the gash, but hunger was so raw, so terrible, such a monster gaining control of him, that he couldn’t quite manage on his own.
You must stop me. He pushed the words out from his mind onto a path, any path, hoping Zev would pick it up. They’d used telepathic communication on a hunt of a rogue pack before, although the path had not been between them. Telepathic communication grew easier once it was established, but there was usually a blood path between a Carpathian and the one he reached out to. His heart sank. He’d never given Zev blood.
Zev pulled his wrist from Dimitri, wincing as those strong teeth jerked out of his skin. Dimitri closed his eyes, trying to breathe deep, desperate for more, but grateful for what had been given.
“I heard you. How is that possible?”
Dimitri shook his head. Even that slight movement sent his head spinning. He had grown dizzy with pain and lack of sustenance. “I have no idea. Maybe desperation on my part.”