Dark Demon by Christine Feehan Page A

farmer's memories. She attempted to dim his memory and make it feel like a dream, but, no doubt, rumors of vampires would sweep the countryside. The only thing that mattered, though, was getting Vikirnoff into her room, out of the sun and away from people as quickly as possible.
    Near the inn, she laid him down in the shelter of several bushes, shape-shifted and hastily dressed. "Don't make a sound. Last night, there was a suspicious man in the bar. I don't know why he's here, but he made my alarm bells go off and I never ignore them. I don't want to take a chance on being seen when we go in. Let me just take a look to see if everyone's still in bed."
    His hand fumbled for hers. "You don't have to do this."
    Her heart did a funny little fluttery thing she found annoying. "Just don't move." Natalya pulled her hand away and wiped her palm on her leather pants, trying to erase the strange electrical tingling he seemed to cause whenever she touched his skin.
    "It's getting light," Natalya's voice turned unusually husky. She cleared her throat. His fingers on her bare wrist felt too intimate. "We have to get inside before the sun comes up. It took us too long to get here. The farmers were already working, remember? We had to hide. Just rest while I take a look around."
    She knew she sounded gruff, but her emotions were so unfamiliar and intense around Vikirnoff. She certainly didn't want to feel compassion for his terrible wounds or admiration for his stoic refusal to complain. She needed to keep an emotional distance at all times. Just saving him made her feel like an utter traitor to her brother.
    But she had saved him and now he was her responsibility. Natalya didn't take her responsibilities lightly. She sniffed the air cautiously, searching for signs of anyone up, but she found only Slavica's scent in the kitchen, so she pushed open the door with stealth and studied the large room.
    Slavica stood at the sink peeling potatoes for breakfast. Natalya stole up behind her. "You work too hard."
    The innkeeper swung around, potato and knife in hand. "You! Natalya, you frightened me." Her eyes widened with concern as she took in Natalya's appearance. "What happened to you? Are you injured?"
    Natalya realized she had blood smeared all over her. Most of it belonged to Vikirnoff. "I'm fine. I have someone with me I need to get up to my room, but I don't want anyone to see us. Will you help me? He's injured."
    "How bad?" Slavica was practical.
    Natalya grinned at her. "You're so great. Thank you. He's in bad shape. He's lost way too much blood but I can't take him to a hospital."
    "There is a hidden stairway," Slavica confided. "This inn was built on the site of an old monastery and part of that building was retained and incorporated into the inn. Only our family uses the stairs and rooms for our living quarters."
    "If you wouldn't mind keeping a lookout, I'll go get him," Natalya said. The relief sweeping through her was tremendous.
    Natalya hurried out the kitchen door and ran down the path leading to the dense shrubbery where she had left the hunter. She skidded to a halt when she saw him, slumped, his eyes closed, his face pale, almost gray and small dots of blood beading on his brow. Her heart jumped and her stomach rolled. "Vikirnoff? Do you think you can walk the last few yards to the room?" She couldn't very well become a tiger again, but he looked so worn and pale it frightened her.
    He opened his eyes and managed to climb to his feet with her aid. He stood swaying unsteadily until she slipped her arm around him. "Just a few more minutes and you can lie down." Natalya encouraged him.
    "This place is dangerous," he told Natalya as they entered through the kitchen. He offered a tentative smile to Slavica when she gave an alarmed gasp. "I didn't mean to startle you."
    "I'm honored to have you, sir. My home is your home." Slavica curtsied, her hand going protectively to her throat. "This way, quickly. The workers will be here any