She glanced at Gregori, the impassive expression, the lines etched deeply into his handsome face. His eyes were so cold and aloof. He had seen far too much horror in his lifetime, knew everything that could happen. He had seen it with his own eyes. “Who are they, Gregori?” she asked again.

His pale eyes moved over her face and brushed her soft mouth, leaving a warmth behind. “There is a dangerous group of humans who believe in vampires and practically make a career out of hunting them down. Despite their obsession with the undead—and over the centuries they have often formed secret societies to pursue their depraved passions—they do not recognize or acknowledge the difference between Carpathians and vampires. To them, we are the same and must be exterminated. Perhaps it is just as well that they do not comprehend they are dealing with two separate entities.”

“What drives these people? Have they proof that the vampire exists?” It was nearly impossible to believe; Carpathian renegade hunters were so careful to destroy all evidence of the betrayers.

“Nothing concrete. But the lasting legends and stories and myths keep these humans wondering. And some of the more clever vampires have spent time in society before we were able to hunt them.”

“True,” Savannah said. She knew her history. In the Middle Ages and just after, the undead had had a field day, living openly among the humans they preyed on. It had taken a huge collective effort to wipe them out before they destroyed any chance at a peaceful co-existence between the two species, Carpathian and human. After the most famous Carpathian vampire hunters, such as Gabriel and Lucien, disappeared, it was Mikhail and Gregori and Aidan and other ancients like them who had hunted down those who turned vampire. Together they had protected their remaining women and had taken measures to ensure that Carpathians and vampires remained figments of human imagination, the stuff of legends, novels, and movies. Their campaign to wipe out all memory, all certain knowledge of their kind had been largely successful, but evidently lapses had occurred.

“A few years ago, before you were born, a society of humans, a secret organization, was formed to investigate and exterminate vampires—the kind of vampires written about in dime novels. We believed these humans posed little real threat to us. None of us expected a repeat of the vampire hunts that swept Europe centuries ago.”

There was no sorrow in his expressionless voice, nothing to betray that he was remembering finding his mother’s body, but Savannah knew that he was, knew it as surely as if he had confessed it. “The first time they surfaced to do any damage, they murdered your Aunt Noelle. They would have killed another woman, but your own mother, still human, had the courage to save her. The secret society then targeted your mother and father, Raven and the Prince of our people. Once more we thought we stamped out the threat, but they struck again a few years later. They killed several of our people and a few humans. Noelle’s son was murdered, and your Uncle Jacques was tortured to the point of madness. Again Raven was attacked, when she was pregnant with you, and she almost lost you.”

Savannah reached out to lay a hand on his arm, but she was otherwise careful to keep her sympathy to herself, not wanting him to realize how easily she had slipped into his mind and taken his memories into her heart. She was becoming quite adept at reading him.

Gregori picked up her hand, marveling that anything that small could bring him such pleasure. Just the simple act of touching his arm, her fingers curling around his wrist, could melt his insides, bring him a measure of comfort, of security. It amazed him. Where certain memories always triggered him to go blank inside, to insulate himself so he could face them without flinching, without the beast roaring in rage, that little hand now tempered his fire and fury. He absently traced a safeguard pattern into her palm, hardly aware he was doing so. Even his subconscious wanted to ensure that she was always safe.

The touch of Gregori’s fingers sent darts of fire racing through Savannah’s bloodstream. Her teeth bit nervously at her lower lip. “You were saying about this reporter... what could he know for certain?” she prompted gently. She didn’t want him to stop holding her hand or to stop making that strange, soothing design in the middle of her palm. She wanted the terrible memories holding him in their grip to let him go, to give him back to her. Savannah smiled up at him, her blue eyes clear and steady.

“He does not know anything for certain.” A slightly wicked glint appeared in his eyes. “At least not about you.”

“What did you do?” she asked softly. “Gregori, you don’t have to protect me by calling attention to yourself.

We’re a team, aren’t we? Whatever happens to you, happens to me.”

He looked away from her, out the window. His fingers tightened possessively around her hand. “That may not be so in every case,” he answered carefully.

“What are you saying, Gregori? We are lifemates. One can’t survive without the other. I may not know everything about lifemates, but I know that.”

“That is true, ma petite,ordinarily. And ordinarily, a hunter who finds his lifemate ceases to hunt. Yet Aidan Savage must continue because he is in a land where there are few hunters. Hunters are in more danger from the undead than most Carpathians, so to keep from putting his lifemate in jeopardy, the hunter usually allows other males to take over the task. Aidan Savage does not have that luxury. “ Nor do I.

“And you? Do you intend to quit hunting?” she asked softly, already knowing the answer, already in his mind.

“You know I cannot.” He said it gently, his voice soft.

“I am your lifemate, Gregori.” Her voice trembled just a bit. “You may have to hunt because you’re the very best we have, and our people need you. But if something were to happen to you, I would follow you.”

Gregori’s thumb feathered back and forth across her inner wrist, lingering on her pulse. It was rapid. “It would be dishonest of me to allow you to think I have such a noble motivation. I have hunted for so many centuries, I do not know any other way of life.” His face was impassive, but inside he was holding his breath.

A small smile flirted with her perfect mouth. “If it pleases you to think so of yourself, Gregori, that’s fine with me. You are arrogant enough for several males; you don’t need me to feed you compliments. But perhaps I might be able to do something about teaching you another way of life. In the meantime, I suggest you educate me in the ways of vampires, since it looks as if we’ll be hunting them. And you might also remember you are the greatest healer among us. That is unchallenged by anyone.”

“I am the greatest killer, also unchallenged.” He tried to give her truth again. She touched his hard mouth. “I will hunt with you then, lifemate.”

His heart slammed against his ribs. Her smile was mysterious, secretive, and so beautiful, it broke his heart. “What is behind this smile, bébé”His hand caught and spanned her throat, his thumb brushing her lips in a gentle caress. “What do you know that I do not?” His mind slipped into hers, a sensuous thrust, the ultimate intimacy, not unlike the way his tongue sometimes dueled with her—or his body took possession of hers.

She was familiar with his touch in her mind. She knew he tried to keep its invasiveness to a minimum. He allowed her to set the boundaries and never pushed beyond any barrier she erected, even though he could do so easily. Both of them needed the intimate union of their minds merging, Savannah as much as Gregori. And her newfound knowledge of him was secure behind a miniature barricade she had hastily erected. Wide-eyed and innocent, she looked at him.

His thumb pressed into her lower lip, half mesmerized by the satin perfection of it. “You will never hunt vampires, ma chérie,not ever. And if I were ever to catch you attempting such a thing, there would be hell to pay.”