He’d never known that kind of love. Not ever. He hadn’t known it existed.
“I have no doubt your birth mother loved you, Benedek,” Silke said aloud. Her tone was low, but very certain. “You may not have thosememories, but you have a code of honor and great capacity to care, or you wouldn’t be the hunter you are.”
His gut clenched. Knotted. Where that well of rage was hidden beneath the ice-cold glacier, he felt his fury stir. He wasn’t the man she insisted she could see. Even with her influence, he doubted he would ever feel much for others. He trusted very few people. His trust was hard-won.
“Don’t think I have a great capacity to care,o jelä sielamak. You will only end up disappointed in your choice. See me as I am, not how you wish me to be.”
“I am in your mind, Benedek,” she reminded. “I see into you and read you, perhaps better than you read yourself. You tend to push all emotion aside, so you think you don’t feel it, but you do. You simply don’t acknowledge what you’re feeling. I suspect most Carpathian hunters are like you in that they don’t recognize their emotions.”
“Perhaps emotions are buried so deep you can’t find them, the way you can’t find the memory of your birth parents,” Fenja ventured.
Benedek shook his head, uncomfortable with the discussion. Any reference to his birth parents, even discussions he’d had in the monastery, made him uneasy. Guilty. Ashamed even. As a toddler, he had believed Marius was his father and Fawn was his mother. He had tried hard to be a good child so they would love him. It hadn’t occurred to him when he was a baby that they were damaged. That revelation came much later, when he was approaching his teenage years, and he’d given up pleasing Fawn. He had come to recognize the madness in her. It had taken longer with Marius. That disclosure came when he saw the brutal attacks and horrific demands on the villagers.
“You aren’t responsible for their deaths,” Silke said.
“Don’t go there.” He poured a firm command into his voice. His rasp was more pronounced than ever, a clue to his inner turmoil. Any of the brethren could have told her the raspier his voice, the more dangerous he became.
“Am I responsible for the death of my mother in childbirth? Had she not gotten pregnant with me, she would still be alive.”
Silke ignored his low warning. She had to be in his mind, witnessing the rising fury beneath all the glacier, but she persisted in ignoring his command.
“Make me understand how you could have possibly been responsible for them. I truly don’t see it.”
Why are you insisting on this discussion when I clearly have made the topic off-limits?He narrowed his eyes at her.You don’t want to hear your mother is close to death,he accused. You’re like a child refusing to acknowledge the cycle of life, and to do that, you want to use me, use a very sensitive subject, to get your way.
The minute he flung the ridiculous accusation at her, he knew he’d screwed up in a big way. He felt the flash of anger before her instant withdrawal. The room almost glowed red, the tension thick. She sat back in her chair, folded her arms across her chest and glared at him.
He should have apologized instantly. He knew he was in the wrong, but she was just far too gorgeous and intriguing with that little spurt of temper. She couldn’t be perfect to live with him, yet she was exactly that—perfect. Everything about her appealed to him.
That was uncalled-for and disrespectful when you know I was trying to help you. Maybe I should have backed off when you told me to, but I didn’t deserve a nasty remark like that.
Benedek liked that she stood up to him. It would matter later in their relationship. He would never be able to handle a partner who didn’t think for herself or stand up for her convictions.
You’re right, o jelä sielamak, I was out of line. There is no excuse, so I won’t try to make one. I’ll work at being better.He was sincere in that promise and hoped she could see and hear his honesty.
“I knew your parents, Benedek,” Fenja said unexpectedly. “My first transition was in that region of the Carpathian Mountains. It was wild. There were a few scattered villages, and I had a mentor whowould work with me. I knew if I went anywhere else, I’d have to acquire more knowledge on my own. I could do that, but it wouldn’t be nearly as fast and I would lose out on helping those who needed me.”
His heart contracted. His mouth went dry. He closed the fingers of his left hand into a tight fist but placed his right palm over his heart. He didn’t look at his lifemate. She would feel the emotions he was feeling. None of them were good. Why hadn’t Fenja led with that? She played everything close to her chest. He couldn’t exactly fault her when he was the same way.
I am with you. Whatever she tells you, I am with you.
Silke’s warmth filled every dark lonely place in his mind. It was strange not to feel alone after centuries of loneliness. He hadn’t recognized that he’d been lonely until she filled him up with light and warmth.
“Your mother was young. Her name was Aerian, and just as her name implies, she was ethereal. Beautiful. In those days there were no surnames, but Radut, your father, told me you came from two lineages that were legendary in your species. Ordinarily, Carpathians had their own healers, but the two lived far from others in the forest, up in the mountains. They had planned to have the baby alone, without help. That was done as well in those days.”
Fenja flashed Silke a small smile. “Not too far from what Benedek was saying about women having babies and taking them into battle. Aerian ran into trouble, and her lifemate put out a call for any healer to come at once and help.”
Benedek couldn’t take his eyes off the older woman. She was very sincere. Everything she said was the truth. He couldn’t remember his birth parents, but she held the key to unlock what little he had stored away.
“I knew of Carpathians but had only met the occasional hunter. Aerian was extraordinary. She felt light. Airy. She was in pain, but she was sweet and kind. She wanted the baby to live. She began bargaining with her husband. She told him she knew a Carpathian male would rarely survive the passing of a lifemate without going into a thrall andeither following her or becoming the undead. She told him he had to be strong, that she knew he was strong, and we were to save the baby, not her, if it came down to one of them. He was to remain alive and care for their son. She had every faith he would do just that. According to my mentor, that was something impossible she asked of her lifemate, and yet she was certain he would love and care for their child alone.”
Benedek shook his head. “That would be impossible.”
“And yet he swore to her he would do so. He also made it very clear to us that we were to saveboth. He wanted his son and wife alive. We had a long, hard task in front of us, but Aerian was quietly determined. In the end, there was blood loss and terrible pain, which she endured stoically, but both patients lived. I never saw two people happier to have their child. You came from extraordinary Carpathians. Rest assured they both wanted you alive and well. They both fought hard, and it was a long, frightening battle.”
Fenja leaned forward in her chair to look Benedek directly in the eye. “Even you, an unborn babe in trouble, lent your strength to your mother. You had tremendous power even as an infant. Never think you weren’t wanted or that you in any way caused your parents’ deaths. Marius did that. He brought Fawn with him and she participated. They ambushed Radut and Aerian.”
Benedek could feel the fury rising. Marius had taught him that ugly emotion, but Radut and Aerian had given him the genetics to combat learned behavior.
