He focused on them so he could teleport there, but then with a flash, they disappeared. Damn.
How could he give up now? He teleported across the valley to the top of the next mountain, then continued to teleport, zeroing in, as best as he could surmise, on the area that had been lit. After ten minutes of traveling, he landed on a sloping hillside, surrounded by forest. He had to be close now.
Dead leaves and needles cushioned the ground, softening his steps as he moved downhill. Every now and then, the forest cleared for an outcropping of large boulders that gleamed silver in the moonlight.
With his superior hearing, he caught the sound of a trickling stream far to his right. It was running down the hill to the valley below. And behind him, the tiny snap of a twig.
Animal or warrior? He paused to listen more closely. A whooshing sound. He dove behind some bushes just as an arrow missed him and thudded into a tree.
He glanced up at the arrow. The same carved design on the staff. The feathers of a golden eagle. He’d found them!
Or rather, they’d found him. He teleported to a nearby outcropping and crouched on the rocks, scanning the forest.
There. A glimpse of brass glinting in the moonlight. One warrior. He was stealthy, Zoltan had to give him credit for that. The warrior had managed to sneak up on him, and that rarely happened.
Other than that, the warrior didn’t appear that impressive. Slim build. A little below the average height for a man. The brass breastplate wasn’t a good idea, since it reflected the moonlight and gave away his position. The helmet had a black horsehair plume running down the center and cheek and nose guards that covered most of the warrior’s face. He was equipped with bow and arrow, sword, and at least one knife that Zoltan could spot. The warrior looked fierce enough, but archaic, as if he should be sacking Troy, not wandering about Tibet.
The old arrowhead that had killed his father had come from ancient Greece.
Zoltan called out in Greek, “I come in—” He flattened himself on the rock a second before an arrow whooshed over his head. “Peace,” he whispered. The warrior wasn’t big, but he was quick and had excellent aim in the dark.
“Are you a vampire?” Zoltan yelled in Russian, then, leaving his arrow on the rock so his hands would be free, he teleported behind the warrior. Meanwhile, his foe answered his question by firing another arrow over the pile of boulders.
Zoltan breathed deeply, taking in the man’s scent. Rich with blood. AB negative. Human.
The warrior drew his sword, advancing slowly on the rocky outcropping.
Zoltan teleported behind the boulders and waited. “I come in peace,” he said in Hungarian as the warrior came into view. “Pax?” He jumped back to avoid a jab from the man’s sword. Dodging behind a tree, he tried Romanian and Serbian. Wood chips flew as the warrior’s sword struck the tree.
“Français? Deutsch?” He lunged to the ground and rolled as the sword made another swipe at him. “Dammit, I just want to talk!”
The warrior hesitated, his sword raised overhead.
Zoltan eased to his feet. “You understand English?”
The sword sliced down with a swoosh, and he leaped to the side. To hell with this. Zoltan lunged forward, seizing the warrior’s sword arm, then lifting it up and squeezing till the man gasped and dropped the weapon.
The warrior retaliated, using his left hand to grasp Zoltan around the throat. Strong fingers dug into his neck.
Zoltan grabbed the warrior’s wrist and wrenched his hand away. “You understand English, don’t you? Stop your attack.”
The warrior made a sound of frustration as he tried to free his hands from Zoltan’s grasp. He fell backward, taking Zoltan with him, then planted his feet in Zoltan’s stomach and shoved hard, flipping him over.
With a thud, Zoltan landed on his back. He rolled over and made a grab at his opponent. Unfortunately, his hands only caught hold of the man’s bow and quiver of arrows, and he ended up pulling them off the warrior’s back as the man jumped to his feet.
When the warrior made a dive for his sword, Zoltan leaped on the man’s back, smashing him into the ground. With a cry, the man reared back, clonking Zoltan in the head with the brass helmet.
“Ow!” Zoltan was stunned for only a second, but that was enough time for the warrior to wriggle free and make another lunge for the sword.
A trickle ran down Zoltan’s temple, and the smell of blood made him hiss. This had gone on long enough. With a roar, he jumped to his feet. Then using his vampire strength, he swung the warrior around and shoved him against a tree.
The brass helmet hit the tree hard, causing another gasp to escape the warrior. Zoltan pinned the man’s arms overhead and leaned close.
“Now cease your—” Zoltan stopped, taken aback by the eyes that glared at him. They were the bluest he’d ever seen. An improbable royal blue.
He moved to the side, just barely missing the man’s attempt to knee him in the groin. Still, the blow struck his hip hard, making him grunt in pain. Damn, what kind of warrior would go for a man’s groin?
He narrowed his eyes. The noises coming from the warrior had been a little high pitched. Could he be . . . ?
Zoltan released the man’s wrists and ripped the helmet off. Long black hair cascaded, falling past the warrior’s shoulders and framing a face that was delicate and feminine. An expression as stunned as his own. The helmet slipped from his hands, thudding on the ground at his feet, as he stood there, transfixed. She was exquisite. The most beautiful woman he’d—
“Aagh!” Her knee hit home, and Zoltan fell to his knees, doubling over.
She lunged to the ground to reclaim her sword.
“Dammit,” Zoltan growled as he seized one of her ankles and jerked her feet out from under her. She fell onto her side and rolled, lifting her sword overhead.
“Enough!” Gritting his teeth against the pain, Zoltan jumped on top of her, grasped her sword arm, and slammed it to the ground.
She went for his throat again with her left hand, but he grabbed her wrist and pinned it down. She wriggled beneath him, but he pressed his weight on top of her.
“Enough,” he whispered.
Her eyes widened, and she grew very still as she studied him.
He had a strange feeling she was assessing him. “How do you do? My name is Zoltan. And you are . . . ?”
She continued to stare at him.
“I’m afraid we got off to a bad start, but I assure you I mean you no harm.” He gently pried the sword from her hand and tossed it to the side. She didn’t object when he took hold of her wrist again. “Now that’s better. You were about to tell me your name . . . ?”
“You are extremely strong and fleet of foot,” she said softly, as if she was thinking out loud.
“So you do speak English.”
She frowned. “You are fair of face and seemingly intelligent.”
He winced. “Seemingly?”
“It is unclear.”
“Then allow me to clear it up for you. My intelligence is fine.”
She gave him a look that seemed to indicate he’d just proven his lack thereof. “It was not wise of you to come here.”
He snorted. At least she thought he was fair of face. “Actually, I thought it was very clever of me to find you.” Even if it had taken him eight hundred years. “I have some questions, you see, regarding an arrow—” He glanced toward the rocky outcropping where he’d left the arrow and froze.
A snow leopard crouched on the rocks, ready to pounce.
Slowly, never taking his eyes off the wildcat, Zoltan eased off the young woman and reached for her sword. “When I stand, back away. Then run home as fast as you can.”
“You intend to protect me?” she asked. “Why? I was trying to kill you.”
“Yes, but you failed.” He glanced at her, giving her a
wry smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t hold it against you.”
Her eyes widened and she lay very still, staring at him.
Maybe he’d shoved her around too hard. She seemed stunned. He gave her a little shake. “You should go home now, okay? I’ll take care of this.” He’d protected people for almost eight hundred years, so it wasn’t something he questioned anymore. He simply did it.
He straightened, facing the pile of boulders with the sword clenched in his hands.
The snow leopard hissed.
“You’re very brave,” the woman said behind him.
“Seemingly,” he muttered, lifting the sword. “Now back away slowly.”
Pain exploded in his head as something slammed into the back of his skull. He fell forward, dropping the sword. Why? The word skittered around his aching brain just before everything went black.
“Good kitty.” Neona rubbed the young snow leopard’s ears. “Although I should fuss at you for breaking that twig. You ruined my surprise attack.”
The eight-month-old leopard butted its head against her leg.
“Well, you did make up for it, so you’re forgiven. That was very clever of you, pretending you were going to pounce on us.” She smoothed a hand down Zhan’s spotted back.
The snow leopard had become her companion after she’d found him seven months earlier while on guard duty. She’d taken the kitten home, where two of the women had been able to communicate with him. Zhan’s mother and littermates had been killed by a pack of wolves, and he had managed to survive by crawling into a rabbit hole.
Even though Neona didn’t possess the gift of communicating with animals, Zhan clearly preferred her to the other women. Probably because she was the one who had rescued him and nurtured him back to health. She suspected the cat still had enough wildness to dislike the other women’s ability to read his mind.
Right now, she wouldn’t object to having someone to communicate with. She had to decide what to do with the man who called himself Zoltan.
He was still lying on his stomach, unconscious. She winced at the size of the goose egg on the back of his head. She’d hit him hard with the blunt end of her knife, suspecting he possessed an extrahard head.
Her gaze drifted past his broad shoulders, down his back and legs. He had a powerful build, yet he was nimble on his feet. The way he had evaded her attack was amazing. He was an excellent specimen, as Winifred would put it.
Gently Neona turned the man over, and her heart squeezed in her chest. She’d called him fair of face, but that had been a huge understatement. She’d never seen such a handsome man in her life. Nor a man this fast and strong. The men who lived near their territory were either poor farmers or Buddhist monks, not the type of man who could sire a daughter who needed to be a warrior. And since the area was remote and snowed in half the year, outsiders were rare. A man like this Zoltan was extremely rare. Strong, fleet of foot, and incredibly handsome. When he had smiled at her earlier, she’d forgotten how to breathe.
What a beautiful daughter she could have. If only she dared. The daughter could inherit this man’s courage, too.
Kneeling beside him, she placed a hand on his broad chest. “He wanted to protect me even though I attacked him. He has a noble heart.”
The snow leopard butted her hand away with his head, and she smiled.
“Are you jealous? Don’t worry. Once I’m done with him, I’ll have to kill—” Her breath caught. How could she do that? It was one thing to kill a man in the heat of battle, but to lie with him and then kill him? That had to be wrong. Her mother, the queen, would disagree. She always said that nothing was more important than preserving the secrets of Beyul-La.
Neona closed her eyes as a wave of grief crashed over her. Her sister was more important than anything, but now she was gone. Minerva never would have taken a man’s seed and then killed him.
Drawing in a shaky breath, Neona made her decision. She would convince this man to leave and never come back. He might be hard to convince, given his questionable intelligence, so she would have to be firm. Threaten to kill him if she ever saw him again.
In order to succeed, she needed to remain in charge of this situation. After all, she was a warrior woman, so she could never submit to a man. Once he agreed, she would take what she needed, then send him on his way. She pulled a length of coiled rope from a drawstring pouch on her sword belt, then proceeded to tie the man’s hands together. Then she dragged him close to a tree and tied the end of the rope around the trunk.
He moaned.
Was he coming to? Her heart pounded in her chest as she knelt beside him. Was she really going to do this? Coward, her inner voice chided her. If one of the other women had found him, they would be finished by now.
Should she undress him? It wasn’t strictly necessary, but she suspected he was a glorious sight to see.
She lifted the slim piece of red silk that was knotted around his neck. “He dresses strangely.” She gave it a tug, but it only tightened around his neck.
“Sorry.” She slipped her fingers above the knot and managed to loosen it. As she pulled her hand back, she grazed his chin and felt the prickle of whiskers.
Curious, she touched his cheek. How odd a man’s whiskers were. How strangely . . . appealing. Her stomach fluttered with a peculiar sensation, and she quickly withdrew her hand. The man was far too handsome. Even with the trail of blood that oozed from his temple. His hair was shoulder length, the color the deep, earthy brown of freshly tilled soil. His eyes were closed now, but she recalled their color—a golden brown like burnished amber. His nose was straight and strong. His brow wide and intelligent.
Seemingly intelligent, she smiled to herself, remembering how indignant he had looked. Apparently it mattered to him what she thought of him. Even that appealed to her.
She leaned close to look at the cut on his temple. It would be a shame if she left the poor man with a scar. Especially as handsome as he was.
He moaned again and she sat back, waiting to see if he’d open his eyes.
When he didn’t, her gaze wandered down his body. Was he still in pain where she’d kneed him? It was a regrettable move on her part, especially now when she needed his groin to be fully functional.
All the women of Beyul-La possessed a gift, and hers was the ability to heal. Unfortunately, in order to take away the pain, she had to take it briefly within herself.
She extended her hand a few inches above his pants. Was she really going to do this? She bit her lip. What choice did she have? The man was as close to perfection as she would ever find. When would a chance like this ever happen again? An image formed in her mind of a little girl with long dark hair and amber eyes. A brave, noble heart and dazzling smile.
Neona’s eyes filled with tears. She’d lost her sister, but she could have a daughter. A daughter to love.
Or a son to break her heart.
A tear rolled down her cheek. “Please, God, let me have a girl.”
She lay her hand on his groin, closed her eyes, and soon, a low, throbbing ache vibrated into her hand. The man would be all right. The worst of the pain had already subsided. She drew the remaining pain out of him, and it rushed up her arm.
“What the—?”
Neona gasped, opening her eyes. Her hand flinched, tightening its grip on his manhood.
He gave her a wry look. “What are you doing?”
She jerked her hand away and winced as his pain spread through her body before dissipating. “I-I was—”
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, apparently just realizing that his hands were tied together and the rope was attached to a tree.
“I can explain—”
“Dammit!” He tugged at the ropes. “The leopard is right there! Release me so I can protect you.”
“The cat is with me.”
“What?” r />
Stay in charge, she reminded herself. She lifted her chin and looked him in the eye. “Remain calm. This will not take long.”
“What?”
“I plan to take your seed.”
Chapter Three
At first, Zoltan wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. Maybe she’d clonked him so hard he was hallucinating. But what a hell of a dream! This beautiful woman wanted to jump his bones? Just the thought made his groin tighten.
But in what world was this normal? She’d come out of nowhere, attacking him, knocking him unconscious, and now she wanted his seed? If he had any sense, he would teleport away from her and her pet . . . leopard? Or at least teleport out of the ropes she’d bound around his hands.
But the second he teleported he would be letting her know he was a vampire. It was a trump card that he’d rather hold onto until necessary. Besides, if he teleported home, he might never see her again. How could he leave without learning more about her? She was the most intriguing woman he’d ever met.
So he would stay for a while longer, but on his terms. Which meant he had to take charge of the situation. Step one, remove the most immediate threat.
He eyed the snow leopard and sent it a mental message. Are you really her pet or just pretending?
The leopard sniffed and looked away.
I know you can hear me, cat. Harm either of us, and I’ll skin you alive.
The leopard turned back, its golden eyes narrowing into slits. Big words from a guy who’s tied to a tree. Oh, I’m so afraid.
You should be. You’d make a nice pair of slippers.
It arched its back and hissed at him.
“Zhan.” The woman shook her head at the leopard. “Behave.”
The cat edged over to her, giving her a wide-eyed, innocent look.
“That’s a good kitty.” She rubbed its ears, and it purred. “Now run along and play for a little while.”
Did you hear that, cat? Zoltan told the leopard. She wants you to go away.
It glared at him. I’m her favorite. Not you. The leopard stalked across the clearing to a tree, made a show of sharpening its claws, then slinked into the woods.