Estessa felt the hot, wet coating of blood trickle down over her wrist, just past the cuff of her glove, and she held onto the hilt of the blade with some odd sense that if she kept it there, the massive beast above her wouldn't be able to move.
The strangest memory surfaced then, her subconscious calling it up from some tucked away corner of her mind, its clarity so precise that Ivan saw it in his own mind's eye. She remembered how it felt, at night, after her sister's murder, when she lay in bed and heard every noise outside her bedroom door, thinking it was Andrew, with the same knife that killed her sister.
Estessa hated the fear, the guilt, the weakness. In her memory, she saw herself as a young girl, curled up as small as possible, trying to make herself invisible, imagining Andrew standing outside the door, waiting. For her. She'd held the covers of her bed, twisted up in her gloved hands. If only she held tight enough, still enough, the monster would go away.
And now she held a weapon, tight enough, still enough.
Estessa opened her eyes, for the first time realizing that she'd ever shut them. Instead of staring up into the face of a wolf, she looked at a man. A beautiful man, his strong, dark brows knit together and his sculpted upper lip curled into a sneer as though he suffered some kind of annoyance. Some trifling annoyance. A knife plunged into his abdomen, up to the hilt, for instance.
Ivan held himself with one hand against the ground, poising above Estessa. He wrapped his other hand around Estessa's glove, right where she gripped the knife. She made some slight sound of protest, but Ivan hushed her by tightening his grasp and dislodging the blade, grunting as he did so. To protect her, he managed his connection to her mind carefully. During the fray with Symon, he learned of her susceptibility to his newfound emotions, and, suspecting she would also be sensitive to physical sensation, he shielded her from his pain.
"You're not dead," observed Estessa.
In characteristic response, Ivan arched one brow.
"No, I am not," he agreed.
"I stabbed you." Estessa sounded calm and reasonable, but Ivan felt her inner tremor of alarm. He had to hand it to her, though. She disguised it well.
"You did." Had Ivan expected his lifemate to gasp in remorse at the realization of what she'd done? Perhaps, at least a little.
"Are you a werewolf?" She asked, testing his hold, her hand and Ivan's still wrapped around the handle of the knife.
"No." Ivan shook his head, less an answer to her question and more an attempt to clear his mind of Estessa's swirling thoughts.
Estessa became very still.
"Then what are you? Not a vampire." He couldn't be, Estessa guessed, or his blood would have burned her.
"Vampire..." Ivan barked a short laugh and finally lifted away from her. Without hesitation, Estessa used this as an opportunity to strike, forcing Ivan to stay her hand and deflect the attempt with ease. The Carpathian stood, hauling his insubordinate little lifemate up with him.
"Stop," ordered Ivan, wrenching the weapon away and hurling it well into the trunk of a far off tree. He held her wrist until she twisted with such violence that he feared she might injure herself. Ivan allowed Estessa a measured amount of space. Holding her gaze, he slowly bent to scoop a handful of earth.
While Estessa calculated the paces and seconds it could take her to reach the gun in her pack, Ivan spat into his palm and smeared the mixture over the wound over his abdomen.
"What are you doing?" She asked partly out of curiosity and partly as distraction. She took a tiny step back, the slightest of movements, but Ivan's keen eyes missed nothing. He smirked.
"After your success with the knife," he said, pushing moist earth where Estessa stabbed him, "do you really think you would fare better with a gun?"
Estessa stiffened. How could he know that?
"What gun?"
Coy little minx, thought Ivan. He didn't bestow her with an answer. Instead, he ripped a portion of his shirt, pulled the strip tight and moved toward her.
Every cell in her body screamed for her to run, but Estessa held her ground, gloved fists clenched. She found herself staring at his shredded and soiled shirt, right where the knife pierced. At his full height, Ivan towered over Estessa and she slowly lifted her gaze to meet the intensity of his dark eyes.
A thrill of panic coursed through her and her throat went dry. She winced, but to her credit, she still did not back down. Her vision flickered to the strip of fabric he held taut, too afraid to truly wonder. Estessa sensed Ivan's predatory nature, he exuded strength and danger, she saw that she was outmatched...but give up?
Never.
"I will fight you," she informed him, her voice textured with sincerity and fear.
His expression unfathomable, Ivan snapped the strip between his hands and then suddenly dropped to one knee, where he gathered a fistful of her gown and raised it, pressing the wad of ruined silk against her belly, urging Estessa to hold it up.
"Of that, I have no doubt," he replied in a wry tone.
Outraged, Estessa threw the hemline down, half onto Ivan, but he caught it up and pressed the skirts against her again.
"Don't you dare!" She sputtered, ferocious and seething, whatever emotions that had been held in check now given all freedom.
But to Estessa's utter astonishment, this dark stranger, this not-quite-human, not-quite-werewolf, not-quite-vampire rather tenderly examined the oozing scrape on her knee. She voiced a yelp of protest when Ivan spit on the strip of cloth before securing it.
"Silence," he commanded. The corners of Estessa's pretty mouth turned down into a deep scowl.
Ivan lingered a moment, right where he knelt. The scent of her blood went straight to his head. He felt dizzied by it and he struggled to contain his desire and subdue the fangs lengthening in his mouth.
"Who are you?" asked Estessa, ignoring his demand. He stood again and Estessa craned her neck to keep their vision locked. More interested now in discovery, she forgot all about having her skirts gathered up to her thighs until, in a bold move, Ivan clasped her, stretching his long fingers up the nape of her neck, threading through her soft hair.
He tilted her head back and traced the line of her jaw, his control visibly wavering. Ivan realized he may have found his counterpart, the only one to complete his soul, but until he fully claimed her, he was more deadly than ever.
"Someone to obey." Ivan's eyes flashed like flames, probably daring, possibly begging for her to defy him. He held her there, every pump of her heart resounding, throbbing in his skull.
Sleep, he intoned suddenly, a direct connection into Estessa's vulnerable mind. Ivan issued this order with enough of a push necessary to rend Estessa to fall limp within his arms.