And then he’d dreamed of fleeing the Anda hunting party, and of his first meeting with Deverra. So was this another dream? It couldn’t be anything but, and yet… it felt so real. He reached over and slid his hand along the smooth skin of a woman’s hip and smiled. It felt more than real—it felt good.
The woman made a purring sound deep in her throat and rolled over to face him, but when Qarakh saw who it was, he jerked his hand away as if he’d been burnt.
“I like that. Don’t stop.” She sounded amused.
“What is this place?”
She shrugged and the bearskin slipped down to reveal a bare shoulder. “A place of the mind, a pleasant illusion, a shared dream. It is all these things, and more… and less.”
“Make sense, woman!” he snapped.
“I am still sleeping within the oak tree, and you remain interred in the ground at its base. I used magic to reach out through the tree roots and connect us, mind to mind.”
Qarakh remembered the sensation of wooden tendrils stretching toward him, brushing against his temples before burrowing into his flesh. If he concentrated hard enough, he could feel the roots protruding from his skin.
“If you wish, I can end the spell.” Deverra shifted slightly, and the blanket slipped farther down to reveal the curve of her breast.
Qarakh thought for a moment before answering. “Tell me more about this place.”
She smiled. “As I said, it is a shared dream. Here, we can be together as man and woman. As a mortal man and woman.”
Now Qarakh understood why his vision couldn’t easily penetrate the dimness within the ger. For the first time in years, he was seeing through mortal eyes. It was strange, but at the same time, it was… exciting. There were many advantages to being a Cainite, but for everything gained by the casting off of morality—enhanced senses, increased strength, the power to heal wounds that would slay a human—something was lost. One of these things was the ability to perform the physical act of love. Cainite bodies could go through the motions, but they were undead bodies, and as such could only engage in a hollow mockery of the most life-affirming act of all.
But now, here in this place of dreams, such limitations no longer applied.
Qarakh smiled, showing teeth that were small, blunt and altogether human. Then Deverra came into his arms, and they gave themselves over to a sweet ritual older than even Caine.
Chapter Nine
When Qarakh rose from the earth the next evening, Deverra was already up and waiting for him. At first, it was something of a shock to perceive the world once again through Cainite senses—in varying ways they were both more keen and more limited than mortal ones—but within moments he had readjusted and was ready to continue on to Alexander’s camp.
Deverra had prepared the horses for travel, and as Qarakh approached her, she handed him the reins of his dusky gray mare.
“Sleep well?” she asked, a twinkle in her eye.
Qarakh took the reins from her and climbed into the saddle in a single smooth motion. “Yes, though I did have some strange dreams.”
Deverra mounted her piebald and turned to look at him. “Truly? I never recall my dreams upon awakening.” With a mischievous grin, she turned away, gave the reins a shake, shouted “Tchoo!” The piebald immediately launched into a gallop.
Qarakh shook his head as the priestess rode off. No matter how long he might ultimately continue to stalk the night, he doubted he would ever fully understand the ways of women.
“Tchoo!” he called, and the gray set out in pursuit of the piebald.
Alessandro strode away from his ger, the skin on his left wrist a ragged, dripping ruin. He wasn’t concerned about the wound; it would heal soon enough. But he was troubled by the manner in which he’d received it. He’d been feeding Osip, one of his ghouls, when suddenly the young man—who up to that point had been contentedly sipping vitae from a small cut on his master’s wrist—bit down on Alessandro’s flesh and began tearing at it like a starved animal. Alessandro had cuffed Osip once, but though the blow had been less than gentle, it hadn’t been enough to dislodge the ghoul. Alessandro’s anger had risen then, along with his Beast, and he’d grabbed a fistful of Osip’s hair and yanked. He’d managed to pull the youth away from his bloody wrist, but Osip had continued snarling and snapping, ravenous for more blood, until finally Alessandro was forced to strike the ghoul hard enough to render him unconscious.
He’d nearly pounced upon Osip then, but despite how much his Beast had wanted to rip the little bastard apart for having the temerity to insult his master’s flesh, Alessandro had held back. He knew it hadn’t been Osip’s fault—before Qarakh had departed with Deverra, the Mongol had ordered every Cainite with a ghoul (human or animal) to increase the number of feedings so they might be at full strength should Alexander choose to attack. But ghouls’ intake of vitae had to be carefully managed or they became aggressive and disobedient. Even so, Alessandro still might have killed Osip if it hadn’t been for what had happened to Qarakh’s two ghouls. The khan hadn’t said anything before he departed the previous evening, but when Sasha and Pavla hadn’t shown up for martial training, the other ghouls began talking and the truth soon came out.
Of course, Qarakh’s ghouls were his to do with as he pleased, but knowing how much the Mongol hated waste, Alessandro believed it likely that his Beast had gotten the better of him,
