Dark Peril Read Free

deteriorating. Senility had set in. But how he missed her when he couldn’t bring her to him. She seemed closer there in the heat of the forest, with the rain coming down in silvery sheets. The veil of moisture reminded him of the first time he’d managed to peer through that haze in his dream and see her face so clearly. She’d stolen his breath. She’d looked so frightened, as if she’d deliberately revealed herself—finally taken a chance, but stood trembling, waiting for him to pass judgment on her.
    At that moment he’d felt closer to actual love than he ever had before. He tried to compare the feeling with what he’d felt for his sister, Rhiannon, in the early days when they’d all been happy and he still had his emotions. He’d held on to the memory of love all those centuries, yet now, when he needed the feeling to complete his dream, before he went out fighting, the feeling was entirely different.
    Feeling. He turned the word over and over in his mind. What did it mean? Memories? Or reality? And why would his memories be so sharp all of a sudden, here in the forest? He smelled the rain, inhaled the scent of it, and there was an edge of pleasure in the sensation. It was frustrating, to almost catch the feeling, and yet it eluded him. It wasn’t simply a byproduct of ingesting the vampire blood—he’d begun “dreaming” much earlier. And the dreams took place while he was awake.
    He was suspicious of all things that didn’t make sense. He wasn’t a man prone to dreams or fantasies, and this mythical woman was becoming too much a part of his life—of him. She was tricking him into thinking she was a true lifemate—a reality instead of a myth—yet here in the land where myths and legends came to life, he could almost convince himself she was real. But even if she was, it was far too late. The continual pain clawing at his belly told him his time had run its course and he had to carry out his plan to infiltrate the enemy camp, gain their plans, send the information to Zacarias De La Cruz and then kill as many vampires as he could before he went down. He chose to go out fighting for his people.
    He shifted, taking the form of the lord of the skies—the harpy eagle. The bird was larger than normal, and the harpies were already large birds. His wingspan was a good seven feet, his talons enormous. The form would help to protect him as he went into the sunlight before reaching the relative shelter of the canopy. He hopped on the ground and into the light. In spite of the heavy rain, the light burst over him. Smoke rose from the dark feathers, pouring off the bird’s form. He’d suffered burns and his body remained ravaged with the scars, although they’d eased over time, but he would never forget that pain. It was branded into his very bones.
    Sharply sucking in his breath, he forced himself to spread his wings and rise toward that hideous burning mass of heat. The rain sizzled over him, spitting and hissing like an angry cat as the large bird took flight, wings flapping hard to get height to take him into the trees. The light nearly blinded him, and inside the eagle, he shrank away from the rays, no matter how diffused by the rain. It seemed to take forever to cross the thirty feet, although the bird was in the trees almost immediately. It just took a few moments to realize the sun was no longer directly on his feathers. The sounds of hissing and spitting gave way once again to the calling of the birds and monkeys, this time in sharp alarm.
    Below him, a porcupine dropped the figs he’d been dining on as the shadow of the eagle passed overhead. Two female spider monkeys, drunk on fermented fruit, stared up at him. The Amazon rain forest passed through eight borders, extending through the countries with its own diverse life forms. A silky anteater climbing in the branches of a tree paused to gaze at him with a wary eye. Bright red and blue macaws called warnings as he flew above them, but he ignored