“You realize they’ll go looking for you there.”
She sent him a quick look over her shoulder as she hurried across the rooftop, running, crouching low as she did. Sandu cloaked them just in case, as well as muffled the sound of their footsteps.
“I’m not going to stay there. I have some things I have to get before I leave.”
She was sure-footed. She’d made this run before multiple times. It was very dark. The sliver of moon didn’t throw much light, and yet she avoided the two large fans and knew exactly when to leap from one building to the next without even slowing down. Adalasia had clearly practiced for just such an event.
She was at a window, crouched low, peering in. Sandu towered over her. “Let me,” he said gently and moved her aside. He wasn’t asking, but he thought it was better to keep orders to a minimum and, for the ones he gave, do his best not to make them sound like commands. In his world, he was always obeyed. She didn’t look the obedient type.
“You do realize we’re still connected. My mind and your mind. I can catch little snippets of your thoughts,” she informed him. She sounded amused. “You’re definitely the bossy type. I got that right away.”
Heat blossomed low and wicked in his belly, like a tight fist. At the same time, a deep well of laughter came out of nowhere. He had forgotten laughter. Real laughter. The kind that could rush through one’s body with joy and elation. His lifemate.
Sandu found himself smiling down at her. Her breath hitched. Her eyes went dark. She wrinkled her nose at him. “Just get on with it. Whatever you’re about to do.”
“I’m about to see if you’ve got anyone waiting inside for you.” He quickly scanned her apartment. It was empty. “We’re safe to go inside.”
She didn’t ask him how he could tell. That would come later. Just as claiming her would come later—just before dawn. He needed his brethren to help him safeguard her through the day. They would be in the ground and she would be vulnerable to attack.
Adalasia hurried to a back entrance and used a code on the heavy metal door. It unlocked and she went in, Sandu right behind her. She didn’t waste time. She rushed to her bedroom, pushed the bed aside and yanked a small bag from a compartment in the floorboards.
“I have to change.”
Sandu didn’t see, nor did he quite understand why she was shooing him out of her bedroom, but he stepped into the wide living area, where there were several comfortable-looking chairs. The room seemed spacious in spite of the fact that there was no definition between it and the kitchen or eating area. It was clean and appeared warm and welcoming. Everything in the apartment seemed older, as if even the furniture was restored antiques modernized to be comfortable.
He reached out to four of his brethren, ancients who had been secreted in the monastery because they had become too dangerous to remain outside of it. Some had remained for centuries; others had come and gone. Like Sandu, they had come to the States to help out one of their own.
Benedek, I have need of you. I’ve found my lifemate and there is trouble. Sandu used the path of monastery brotherhood, one not known to all Carpathians. Benedek Kovac was a fierce fighter. Like most of the ancients, he was a big man, brutal and vicious when it was called for, with midnight black eyes and flowing black hair. For all of his predatory, feral ways, he was an incredible artist.
Where do we meet?
Sandu told him. He called to his next brother. Petru, I have need of you. I have found my lifemate and there is trouble. If possible, would you be willing to meet us at the caves?
Petru Cioban was a brother to have at one’s side in a battle. His unusual mercury-colored eyes gave the appearance of liquid silver. Sometimes a storm settled there, and that silver turned darker, but it was always a mercury and so unique there was no looking away when he wanted to mesmerize. His hair was just as unusual. The same silvery-white color as his eyes, it covered his scalp and hung thick and long down his back, held in tight bands to keep it under control.
Petru was an ancient with instincts for strategy, for taking down the enemy in unusual ways. He could fight with any weapon and was lightning fast with them.
I will be there, he agreed without hesitation.
Sandu was grateful, but not surprised, that his brethren had responded so quickly with affirmations. A lifemate was sacred. The lifemate of an ancient was extremely sacred. Each of them carried that oath on their backs. They might hide it from the world, but it was there, carved into their skin, an oath to their lifemate that they would stay strong for her no matter what it took or how long it took to find her.