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She should have known Ferro wouldn’t leave it alone. He had been careful not to search too far into her memories, as she hadn’t into his. Now, however, she felt him move through her mind. She shook her head, starting to sit up, but he placed his palm very gently between her shoulder blades and held her down on the mat.

“Please do not. It is not necessary for you to see.” She spoke in a low tone. He would see so much—too much. So many times she had traded lives for what she would not give the vampire. Several times she had taken her own life, only to have the vampire bring her back. He would see that. Ferro had been so strong, refusing to meet the dawn even when he had gone past the point of hearing whispers of temptation—when there was nothing left but being a danger to the very people he had protected.

“What the entire cost to you was? I think it is more than necessary, hän ku vigyáz sielamet.” His voice was very gentle. He kept his hand on her back, a connection between them as he moved through her mind.

He’d called her the guardian of his soul. She had been that. She had fiercely guarded his soul because that was all she had. It was the one thing Sergey couldn’t take from her. Not even the memory of having to protect it and what it meant to a Carpathian woman.

“Ferro.” She whispered her protest again, tears burning behind her eyes. She didn’t want him to see her cowardice. Her failures. Her many humiliations. After the perfection of the rising with him, for him to see her in such a terrible light, she couldn’t bear it. She wanted to run and hide herself away.

His hand moved up her back very gently to the nape of her neck, where his fingers began the familiar slow, gentle massage. It felt good and she wanted to press herself into those strong fingers like a cat, but she also wanted to bury her face on the furred mat and cry her heart out.

Elisabeta. Be calm. You always think the worst of yourself in spite of me telling you how I feel about you. You saved my life and the lives of so many. Had I turned vampire, which I would have if Sergey had gotten to my soul, I would have killed many before I would have been destroyed, if indeed I could have been destroyed.

As always, his voice was steady and calm. Ferro started at the beginning of her captivity, not at the end. He knew Sergey would try when she was young and terrified to get what he wanted from her. She could barely remember those days, yet she could vividly recall the horrific punishments he meted out when she refused to hand over her lifemate’s soul.

Elisabeta, there is no need for you to experience these memories again. I want you to lie still and think of flying. Re-create the female owl in your mind. Every feather. Her ears. Her beak. Her tail. I especially want you to hear the notes of her song so you can sing the duet with her male. Any vampire listening must believe the female is truly a bird. That is a command. Do you understand me?

She closed her eyes, tears leaking out. His voice was so gentle, as only Ferro’s could be. He would spare her those ugly memories. She hadn’t looked at them in centuries. The earliest ones were the worst—before Sergey had learned to fear she would really kill herself and he couldn’t bring her back. She had chosen that option only out of sheer desperation, unable to think of any other choice when the vampire threatened the lives of children or entire villages to get to her lifemate’s soul.

She had endured the torment all those centuries for Ferro—her lifemate. He had been the reason she had continued. She’d feared for him. Feared what it would do to him if she was gone from the world. She’d sensed him somewhere, still alive, still hunting, still holding on. As long as he could, she had vowed she would. And yet there had been so many moments of weakness . . . She was so ashamed.

Ferro surrounded her with warmth. Wrapped her in the intensity of the emotion she had come to realize was love for her. His love for her.

You will feel such shame of me if you persist in looking into my memories.