Ivan attacked Symon without holding back. The brothers needed no words, each knowing the stakes and striking out viciously to win. Not until Symon sensed the depth of his twin's aggression did he realize that his chances suffered. Centuries ago, when they were young and inseparable, they sparred and trained together every night. They anticipated one another's moves, fought their foes side by side. Symon always thought he knew where Ivan would strike before even Ivan knew. But this time was different. This time Ivan had something to lose beyond himself and this made him wild and unpredictable. Deadly.
Before Ivan could pin him, Symon pulled back, distancing himself from the forest that Ivan sought so desperately to protect.
"You have been learning, brother," heaved the vampire, an ugly, pulsing gash opened across his chest where Ivan had gone for his heart. "But I have lessons to teach you yet."
"My brother is dead," replied Ivan, his voice low, even and laced with menace.
Symon laughed and receded into shadows before Ivan could reach him again.
"Dead? For tonight, perhaps. But there are other nights."
Ivan lunged, but Symon vanished, leaving nothing but scorched earth in his wake.
The storm subsided and Ivan turned toward the forest. He shifted, a seamless blend of darkness, into his huge wolven form. He caught Estessa's scent easily, recognizing it as though it had been imprinted within him. Ivan realized that it had, because this woman was his lifemate. His Carpathian eyes registered the emerald hues of the trees, even in the shroud of night.
And he could feel. He felt a tumult of emotions from her and, in private, savored each one.
Instinctively, even while he fought, Ivan had reached out to Estessa, sent her commands and impressions. But now, as he came near the canopy of willow boughs where she hid, he sensed her fear. And something else: a resounding strength that lived within her.
The enormous black wolf huffed against the ground, scenting the place where Estessa fell and cut her knee. A trace of her blood was enough to bring Ivan's blood to heated, frenzied life. Ivan silently crossed to the willow trees, his nature demanding that he claim his mate in the way of his kind.
Estessa did not, at first, see the dark muzzle that parted a section of willow branches behind her. Just like when she first began to run, she sensed a presence behind her, but this time she refused it, refused to believe it real or give it credence by turning to regard it. Instead, she plunged a mud-slicked glove into the bag and pulled out a blade. The knife had an evil, curving point and felt weighty in her hand.
Crafted of silver, the blade gleamed in the slivers of moonlight penetrating through leaves. Estessa wrapped her fingers around the hilt, testing the weapon. She thought it felt like sin and death.
Other items lay in the bag, including another weapon, practical clothing, cash, water and fruit. The other weapon, she did not touch, simply because she hadn't enough time to examine it yet. It was a gun, pilfered from a desk drawer and hastily included in her pack. Estessa had rudimentary knowledge of guns from watching Andrew's men handle them, but holding one and firing it, she knew, would be different from observing.
Observing.
Watching.
Watched.
Suddenly Estessa's fear of being watched manifested into something else, something tangible, like she could feel a gaze on the exposed skin of her back. Adrenaline burst through her veins and Estessa stood, steady as she could manage. Maybe she was wrong, she hoped. Perhaps she would turn and there'd be no one there. But, some way, she knew.
Estessa turned her head slowly, pausing in profile, where Ivan, still as a wolf, could see her lower lip tremble. Primal emotions coursed through him, holding him fast where he stood, his amber eyes huge and lit from within. He saw her precious, small, gloved fingers tighten around the handle of the weapon she held, ready to attack or defend. His gaze traced the shape of her face, every nuance and detail on which he had not yet had the privilege to dwell.
She turned and her breath caught in her throat. The wolf was massive, a beast of mythical proportions. Ivan inhaled her fear and didn't miss the stirring beneath it. Estessa trembled, helpless to prevent it. A man, yes...a vampire, even, but she had not expected this creature.
When she spoke, her voice came out barely as a whisper.
"Stay."
Estessa thrust the blade outward, gesturing away.
"I mean, go!" She corrected and shuffled backward until the rough bark of the willow scratched her skin.
Ivan heard her heart beating, he saw the rapid rise and fall of her chest. In response, he lowered his head and paced closer. Estessa slashed outward with the knife.
"Back!" This wolf was going to shred her. Eat her, tear her limb from limb, right there in the dark, beautiful forest, beneath a willow tree.
Unless she could kill it first. Estessa pointed the blade like a gun, using both hands. But still, the beast drew near, forcing her to inch to the side of the tree trunk, where she lost her footing over her own bag. Instantly the wolf leapt to her, its huge forepaws landing on either side of her. Ivan loomed above Estessa and lowered his muzzle.
Their eyes connected, his a low lit amber and hers a most unusual shade of violet. This little human woman held Ivan captive with nothing more than her eyes, as if all beauty in the world could be found there, calling to him, promising him all he'd secretly desired and never known.
Her scent consumed him and he bared his teeth with the effort to maintain control. A deep noise, half growl, half purr, came from his throat. She had the face of an angel, the courage of a lion, the frailty of a human.
She also had a very, very sharp knife.
Ivan felt the blade pierce his skin and sink into muscle a moment before he shifted.