Dark Lycan (Carpathian)

She had followed him—into the labyrinth of evil her father had held her captive in. She had supported his every decision, following him into danger and fighting alongside him.

He kissed her again, savoring the taste of her, a part of him wondering how he got so lucky. His world had changed almost overnight. “I love you more than life itself, Tatijana,” he murmured. “Inadequate words but heartfelt.”

Tatijana laid her head on his shoulder again, closing her eyes, her body relaxing into his. Sometimes, like now, for Fen, it felt as if she simply melted into him. Soft. Cool. His lady.

“Fen.” Tatijana lifted her head from his chest to look into his eyes.

He felt the familiar tightening of his gut, the strange slow somersault of his heart the moment their eyes met.

“What’s next? What are you planning to do?”

“I’ve got to stop Abel. He’s after Mikhail. He plans to wipe out the entire species. We’re all connected through the prince. I don’t know what Abel stands to gain from killing Mikhail, but he’s dead set on it.”

“Maybe he’s moved on,” she said hopefully. “He’s lost most of his pack and now Bardolf. It would make sense for him to run.”

Fen sighed, his fingers at the nape of her neck, massaging gently. Tension was creeping back in when she’d been limp and relaxed only moments earlier. “I don’t think he’s going anywhere. I think his mission was to kill Mikhail, and unfortunately for him, I ran across his tracks, as did Zev. He wasn’t expecting either of us.”

“Do you really think you can kill Abel? How long has he been a Sange rau? Isn’t it true that your abilities grow with time?”

He felt the anxiety in her mind, heard the note of worry she tried to keep from her voice. “I’ve seen him in action, and I think we’re fairly evenly matched. So, yes, I believe I can kill him. It may take a little bit of luck and I know I’ll probably need recovery time after, but I’ll get the job done.”

He didn’t need to pretend confidence for her, and in any case he doubted if he could deceive her. He was confident. He brushed another kiss on the top of her head for reassurance. “No matter if Abel moved on or not, I would have to hunt him down. It’s what I do. It’s who I am. I can’t let him kill whoever he pleases. He lives for that now. The rush. The blood. No one is safe, no species. He has to be destroyed.”

“I know. But isn’t Zev supposed to hunt rogues?”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Abel is no rogue. He’s far more than that and you know it. The key to killing Abel is to remember what he’s like, I think. I grew up with him. I knew him as a child. The memories are vague, but I’m slowly pulling them up. He was a good man. Honorable. He didn’t have the character flaws one associates with those who choose to lose their souls. I have no idea what would make him choose to become the very thing he hunted so successfully for centuries. I ran across him once in a rare while. He was unswerving, even relentless in carrying out his duties.”

“What usually tips someone over the edge?” Tatijana asked, curiosity in her mind. “You all start out with honor.”

“I think it has to do with character. I’ve met Carpathians who crave power. Who enjoy killing. Remember, we are predators. We’re born to hunt. The darkness is in all of us, but just like everyone, we have character strengths and weaknesses. There were some whose paths I crossed that I was certain would turn if they didn’t find their lifemate very quickly. Abel wasn’t one of them.”

“Would he turn if he did find his lifemate and she was killed somehow?”

That gave him pause. There was always that danger. In the midst of grief, of wrenching intense sorrow when the other half of one’s soul had been ripped away, insanity could ensue. Tatijana may have hit on something, although he didn’t like the idea. If Abel had become vampire upon losing his lifemate, and it was known, that would make it much more difficult for Mikhail to convince the Lycan council that any Guardian who had a lifemate would be safe from becoming the Sange rau.