Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 145341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
“Absolutely, I would. I don’t do anything by halves, Vasilisa. When I become a father, I intend to be the best father I can be. I understand the need for women and children better than most. I treasure my lifemate and will certainly treasure any children we have together.”
She believed him. She believed he would stay home with the children if she didn’t care to. He’d probably homeschool them, as well, and they’d rock every assignment.
Vasilisa found herself smiling. “To the right, just follow that little worn path. The shepherd’s cabin is there.”
Afanasiv set her down right at the door. Like the one Garald and Taisiya occupied, this cabin was well stocked with supplies for anyone in need. Wood was neatly stacked in one corner of the room close to the woodstove. The single cot that stretched along the wall closest to the stove had several neatly folded blankets stacked on the mattress. Canned goods were stored on crude shelves over a sink. Two metal plates and forks and knives were arranged on another shelf.
It was a familiar sight. Over the centuries, Afanasiv had seen many cabins, some not so fancy and others on wealthy ranches, but they were all there for the same reason—to aid the shepherd or cowboy in bad weather.
They settled quickly in the warmth once Afanasiv got the fire going. He simply waved his hand, and the logs burned brightly, flames rolling over them to heat the interior fast.
Vasilisa sank down onto the cot, leaving the chair for Afanasiv. She pressed her back to the wall as she watched his face carefully. By others’ standards, he would never be considered a handsome man, but he was wholly masculine and, to her, utterly attractive. He always appeared calm when, right now, she was a mass of nerves.
“Relax, sívamet, I am no longer in the underworld. I’m safe here with you. They cannot call me back.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know.” He was firm about it. “I’m going to drop my shields now. You may find some shocking battle tactics, but ignore them. We have to consider the time. If dawn reaches us, we will have to go to ground and try this on the next rising.”
She hadn’t thought about the position of the moon or sun. Sorina was always chastising her, reminding her to be cognizant of when the sun rose and fell.
Vasilisa nodded and shed her body. She was becoming more adept at doing so. It was a matter of letting go of one’s ego and becoming a healing light or attempting to discover what was wrong without any truly selfish motive. Afanasiv did the same. The two of them traveled through his mind, Vasilisa not really knowing what she was searching for, but certain she would know if she stumbled across memories of demons.
Here. She had no idea how much time had passed before Siv called out to her. These are the memories I lost, or a better way of putting it is “misplaced.”
Vasilisa was so elated, she almost missed the uneasiness in Afanasiv’s voice. Let me look while you keep watch, she suggested, not wanting him to have to relive the experience.
Afanasiv had followed one of his brethren to the underworld, determined to find him and bring him back. All along, it had been Afanasiv they wanted, not his fellow Carpathian. They were interested in two things: his unusual eyes, with the colors that swirled from blue to green and back again, and the birthmark he had carried for centuries that never faded—a small warriorlike symbol of the dragon. The dragon appeared to be etched into his skin, yet when the demons went looking for it, it faded away, hiding from them.
He was tortured in brutal, violent ways that no one should ever have to endure. Vasilisa, at times, found herself weeping for him, praying his body wouldn’t stand up to the abuse and he would die, but then she realized he had overcome what the demons had done to him. He was alive. He had escaped. She watched every detail of his escape carefully so that if there was a need, she would know the way out. Only then did she return to her body.
“You are Dragonseeker. Why not use that name, an old and well-respected name?” She made certain there was no judgment in her before she spoke, although it made no sense to use a surname no one would recognize.
“A distant relative, no more. You saw what the demons did. They were in a frenzy to get me to betray my lifemate and code of honor. No Dragonseeker has ever turned vampire. I was not about to be the first. There is so much hatred toward the Dragonseeker lineage.”
“Is there any wonder, Siv?” She watched his face closely. Perhaps he really wasn’t putting it all together. “Skyler is Dragonseeker. Tatijana is Dragonseeker. Razvan is Dragonseeker. Branislava is Dragonseeker. Natalya is Dragonseeker. Every name is someone who played a part in defeating one of the high mages. Getting just one Dragonseeker to turn would destroy the legend.”