Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 141492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
The scars on his back were deliberate—he and his fellow ancients living in the monastery had tattooed their oath to their lifemate in the only way they could, scarring their backs deliberately so their creed would stay permanently. The process had to be repeated over and over until the scars stayed. He had never considered that the scars on his chest were anything but a distant memory of his battle with the vampires he had hunted down through the centuries. The moment Vasilisa had told him they were a map to his lifemate, a door had creaked open in his mind. Each time he touched those scars, the memories of the past came closer. None of them were good.
Once he recognized that the scars on his chest were actually a map, he knew exactly where his lifemate resided. Algeria. To be more precise—Dellys. It was a small but important harbor. He had been there in the past. Long ago. The memories seemed shrouded in a dark gray veil that was slowly lifting as he neared his destination.
He was beginning to puzzle out the pieces, and, darkness take him, it wasn’t pretty, if he was on the right track. Betrayal and sacrifice weren’t necessarily about the present. Adalasia had warned him. She’d stated it very plainly. He didn’t like where his thoughts were taking him, but unfortunately, Petru was a man who viewed problems from every angle. It was what had kept him alive for centuries.
Benedek. He reached for one of his traveling companions. Benedek Kovak was also an ancient Carpathian. Lethal. Extremely dangerous, a fierce fighter with midnight black eyes and long flowing salt-and-pepper hair. He’d lived in the monastery for well over two hundred years before once again setting forth to look for his lifemate. He had agreed to join Petru, along with four others, on the journey to Algeria. Now that his memories were returning, Petru was more than grateful for the five Carpathians accompanying him.
Are you going to continue to make it a habit to rise before the sun has set?
Benedek was not a man with a sense of humor. Ancients had no emotions, but he had traveled so often with Petru and knew him better than any other. There might have been a hint of Adalasia’s humor in that one brief comeback. They had traveled long distances with her and spent time sharing her mind and emotions. That had given them a brief respite at times from the bleak world they existed in. The emotions weren’t really theirs, they were Adalasia’s, but it was something besides the gray world they had known for far too long.
I woke knowing an attack is imminent.
Seriously, Petru? Clearly Benedek thought that was a poor reason to miss out on an hour of sleep. The undead are always planning our demise.
I do not believe we are the targets. These persistent attacks on us are only to slow us down. We are not the true targets. Petru was certain he was correct. He’d had a lot of time to think over what had been occurring every step of their journey toward Dellys.
It was difficult to move his arm. His body was in a state of paralysis, and his limbs were heavy and felt as if they were made of lead. Still, he managed to bring his hand to his chest and lay his palm over the scars there. How could he never have noticed the map scarred into his skin just as the code of honor had been scarred into his back?
Benedek was silent for a long moment. Who do you believe is the true target?
My lifemate. I believe they delay us so they can kill her before we get there.
How would they know you travel to find her?
It was a good question. Petru had asked that question quite a few times when he was attempting to put the pieces of the puzzle together. His palm rested over the scars on his chest. Those scars were partially made from mortal wounds sustained in battle, yet they were too precise to have been unintentional. Someone had helped to build the scarring up where needed to form the map.
The door in his mind creaked open a little wider. Bats. Hundreds of them flew toward him, an army of them. They were small, with tiny, very sharp teeth. Voices rose in his head, speaking in his ancient language. Human voices speaking in their native language. Everyone calling out at once. The master vampire high on his kills. The army of demons pausing in the bloodbath to capture the moment when he abandoned his family and the humans to their fate. The child. The little girl in the master vampire’s arms, looking up at him with her startling green eyes. Waiting. Certain he would do what was right—what every Carpathian was sworn to do.