Chapter 10
The path is steep, carving sharply up the mountainside, taking us higher than I’ve been in the Carpathians yet, and I cling tightly to Lucius’s hand, getting short of breath even though we’re walking slowly. The terrain is rockier here, and the trees have thinned out. The air, itself, is thinner, making the climb even more difficult.

Even Lucius, who is fit and who was raised in these mountains, seems to breathe a little harder. It’s getting dark and we aren’t speaking, too busy concentrating on our footing, and in the silence I can hear him inhaling, exhaling in steady rhythm at my side.

And then the quiet of that lonely spot is broken by the sound of someone – something – close by, but hidden from sight. Foot steps, moving quickly in the opposite direction, slipping and sliding down the mountain so rocks are dislodged and tumble toward the valley below.

Who or whatever has passed us sounds big – or maybe there is more than one of them…

I crush Lucius’s fingers with mine, pulling us both to a stop, and ask in a whisper, with barely concealed alarm, “Lucius? It’s getting late…” I peer into the distance, looking for forms or shadows in the direction of that ominous rustling. “Do you think maybe we should come back tomorrow?”

I know that I don’t need to remind him that there are bears and wolves – and people who destroy vampires – in these mountains. I’m sure that he’ll understand why I’m getting nervous.

The sound of footsteps grows fainter, carried away by a rising wind, but I’m not reassured – until Lucius, who has been a half-step ahead, guiding us on a path I’ve completely lost track of, turns and asks softly, “Would I let any harm come to you, Antanasia? Allow you even to stumble?”

It’s a question that I know will probably always be with us, given how our commitment to one another began – and nearly ended. Given who Lucius IS.

Although I know in my heart that the answer will always be no – that he’d never let me come to any harm – I’m also sure that we’ll never forget, either, what could have happened that night when Lucius took me as the first prisoner in a war on my family.

That moment when the stake – the missing stake – rolled toward the fire… That will always be with us.

Sometimes I think Lucius questions my trust in him more to reassure himself that I really do believe in his love than to reassure me that I have nothing to fear when I’m with him…

As I try to meet his black eyes in the gathering darkness, the wind rushes down the valley again, crashing into us, and I almost do lose my footing on the steep grade, and of course he is there to steady me, clasping my arm with his free hand.

I get my balance, but we stand there for a second face-to-face, and I forget about my fears, because I so desperately want him to kiss me, right then and there. Whenever we’re close like this, and alone, and I can smell his skin, feel his hands on me, I want to feel lips against mine, too…

But Lucius has other plans – a destination in mind.

“Come along,” he says, smiling like he knows that his question about trust has been answered – probably by the look in my eyes, which are lighter than his, and no doubt easily read by the glow of the rising moon. I am sure that he could see what I was thinking, and although we often tell each how we feel, I sometimes still get a little embarrassed about how nakedly apparent my love for him must be, in my eyes. It still seems strange to me, to be so exposed like that, when Lucius – trained since birth to be closed off, invulnerable – is sometimes difficult to read, even for me.

We start to walk again, Lucius slowing his pace even more, because the terrain is getting trickier and the air is getting very thin for lungs like mine, used to life near sea level in southern Pennsylvania.

My eyes are trained downward, because I don’t want to rely entirely on Lucius to keep me safe from falling, and the ground rises ahead of me as we pick our way through the massive rock outcroppings that I’ve come to know as defining the Carpathians.

I’m so focused on the earth at my feet that I lose track of everything around me, including time, and I’m surprised when Lucius suddenly halts and squeezes my hand harder, signaling that I should stop walking and raise my face to look ahead.

And when I do, I am confronted by… nothing.

Continue to Chapter 11....