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Raven closed her eyes, concentrated. She remembered Mikhail suddenly beside her, pain and fear in his dark, mesmerizing eyes, his arms dragging her close, his mind seeking, finding hers, commanding her to stay, holding her anchored to the earth when her body was dying. His brother was there, and more of his people. Something was placed on her abdomen, something that seemed to work its way into her body, something warm and alive. Low, soothing chanting had filled the air all around her.
Shock and alarm emanated from Mikhail’s people. Mikhail’s blood, hot, sweet, revitalizing, soaking into her body, her organs, reshaping muscle, tissue. Not flowing into veins, but . . .
Raven went rigid, her brain so shocked it was numb. The very breath was driven from her body. Not the first time. Other memories surfaced, Mikhail’s frenzied feeding, sexually explosive, her mouth pressed hungrily over his heart. “Oh, God!” The words escaped as a strangled sob of denial.
It was the truth, not some hallucination. But her human brain refused the truth. It wasn’t possible—it couldn’t be. She was in the middle of some terrible nightmare, and any moment she would wake up. That had to be what was happening. She was mixing everything up—the assassins’ fanatical belief in vampires and Mikhail’s powers. But her heightened senses told her differently, told her the truth. She was lying in some underground chamber, with soil under her, over her. They had tried to bury her in it. To sleep. To heal.
Mikhail simply waited, allowed her mind to process information, held nothing back from her, even when she drew on his memories. When her reaction came, it took him totally by surprise. He’d expected screams, tears, hysteria.
Raven jackknifed off the mattress, cried out low, an animal sound of pain. She rolled away from him, heedless of the consequences to her mortally wounded body.
He spoke sharply, much more sharply than he intended, his fear for her safety outweighing his compassion. His command paralyzed her body, trapped her helplessly on the floor. Only her eyes were alive with terror as he crouched beside her, ran his hands over her wounds, seeking the extent of the damage.
“Relax, little one. I know this knowledge is shocking to you,” he murmured, frowning as he saw the precious blood seeping from three of the four wounds. He lifted her, cradled her in his arms, close to the shelter of his heart.
Let me go. Her plea sounded in his mind, echoed in his heart.
“Never.” Mikhail’s harsh features were an implacable stone mask. He looked at the doors over their heads. The doors responded, flying open at the touch of his will.
Raven closed her eyes. Mikhail, please, I’m begging you. I cannot be as you are.
“You have no idea what I am,” he said gently, floating up to the next level so nothing would jar her body. “Humans mix up the truth about my species with stories of the undead, stealing babies, killing, tormenting victims. I could not have saved you if you were dead. We are a race of people who belong to the earth, the sky, the wind, and the water. Like any other people, we have our talents and our limitations.” He did not go into details about where vampires came from. She needed truth, but not everything at once.
Mikhail took her to a guestroom, laid her carefully on the bed. “We are not the vampires in your horror stories, the walking dead, for God’s sake. We love, we worship, we work, we give service to our countries. We find it disgusting that the human male can beat his wife or child, that a mother could neglect her child. We are repulsed that the human race can eat the flesh of an animal. To us blood is life-giving, sacred. We would never dishonor the human by hurting or killing. It is taboo to have sex with a human and then drink of his or her blood. I know I should never have taken your blood—it was wrong—but it was wrong because I did not tell you what could happen. I knew you were my true lifemate, and my existence could not continue without you. I should have had more control. For that I will pay through all eternity, but it is done. We cannot undo what has already been wrought.”
Mikhail finished new poultices, placed them precisely over the wounds to seal them. Her fear, her revulsion, her sense of betrayal, beat at his insides, making him want to weep for her, for both of them.
“What I did with you was not the same thing as using a human woman for sex. We did not just have sex; my body recognized you as my lifemate. There was no way I could ignore the call. I would have had to choose to end my life. The ritual demands the exchange of blood. It is not feeding hunger, it is purely a sensual exchange, a beautiful, erotic affirmation of love and trust. The first time I took your blood, I inadvertently took too much because I felt such ecstasy. I was out of control. I was wrong to tie you to me without your understanding of exactly what it all meant. But I allowed you to make the choice. You cannot deny it.”
Raven stared up at his face, reading the sorrow in his dark eyes, the fear for her. She wanted to touch him, to ease those lines of strain, to reassure him that she could handle what he was asking of her, but her brain could not accept what he was saying. “I would have chosen death, if you had allowed me to go with you.”
He pushed the hair from her face with gentle, caressing fingers. “The only way I could save you was to make you one of us. You chose life.”
I didn’t know what I was doing. She hadn’t known, had she? Had some small part of her already been putting the pieces of the puzzle together? She honestly didn’t know.
“If you had known, would you have chosen death for me?”
Her blue eyes, so bewildered and confused, so haunted, searched his face. Release me, Mikhail, I do not like to lie here helpless.
Mikhail covered her body with a thin sheet. “Your wounds are severe, and you need blood, healing, and sleep. Do not move around.”
Her eyes chastised him. Mikhail touched her chin with gentle fingers. He released her, his eyes watchful. “Answer me, little one. Knowing what we are, would you have sent me to eternal darkness?”
She made a supreme effort to get herself under control. A part of her still could not believe this was happening. A part of her struggled to understand and be fair. “I told you I could accept you, even love you as you are, Mikhail. And I meant that then. The same is true now.” She was so weak, she could hardly speak. “I know you’re a good man, there is no evil in you. Father Hummer said I couldn’t judge you by our standards, and I won’t. No, I would have chosen life for you. I love you.”
There was too much sorrow in her eyes for him to feel relief. “But?” he prompted softly.
“I can accept it in you, Mikhail, but not for me. I could never drink blood. The thought of it sickens me.” Her tongue touched her dry lips. “Can you change me back? A transfusion, perhaps?”
He shook his head regretfully.
“Then let me die. Just me. If you love me, let me go.”
Mikhail’s eyes darkened, burned. “You do not understand. You are my life. My heart. There is no Mikhail without Raven. If you wish to seek eternal darkness, I must go with you. I had never known the pain and ecstasy of our people’s love until I found you. You are the very air I breathe, the blood in my veins, my joy, my tears, my very feelings. I would not wish to continue a barren, empty existence. It would be impossible. The torment you felt for those short hours without our mind touch would be nothing compared to the hell to which you wish to condemn me.”
“Mikhail”—she whispered his name in anguish—“I am not Carpathian.”
“You are, little one. You have come fully into our world. Please give yourself time to heal, to absorb all this and adjust to it.” He was pleading with her, his voice soft and persuasive.
She closed her eyes against the tears welling up. “I want to sleep.”
Raven needed more blood. The transfer would be easier on her if she had no idea what was happening to her. The healing sleep of the earth might provide her with comfort; in any case, it would speed the healing process of her body. Mercifully, Mikhail obliged her request and sent her into a deep sleep.
Twelve
Raven woke sobbing, her hands curlin
g around Mikhail’s neck, clutching him to her, hot tears spilling onto his chest. He dragged her closer protectively, holding her as tight as he dared without crushing her. She seemed so fragile and light, so ready to fly away from him. He let her cry, his hand caressing her hair with soothing strokes.
When she began to quiet, he murmured softly to her, tenderly, in his own language, words of reassurance and hope. Eventually she lay, worn out and exhausted, in the sanctuary of his arms. “It will take time, little one, but give our ways a chance. There are wondrous things we can do. Concentrate on the things you would enjoy. Shape-shifting, flying with birds, running free with the wolves.”
Her small fist jammed into her mouth to stop a strangled sound somewhere between fear and hysterical laughter. Mikhail brushed the top of her head with his chin. “I would never leave you to face any of this on your own. Lean on my strength.”
She closed her eyes against another wave of hysteria. “You don’t even understand the enormity of what you’ve done. You’ve taken away my very identity. Don’t, Mikhail! I feel your protest stirring in my mind. What if you woke up no longer Carpathian, but a human? No longer able to run free and fly? No special powers, no healing earth, no more ability to hear and understand animals? Everything that was ever the essence of you would be gone. To survive, you had to eat meat.” She felt his instant revulsion. “You see, the very thing Carpathians consider disgusting. I’m afraid. I look into the future, and I’m so terrified I am unable to think. I hear things, sense things. I . . .” She trailed off before making any admissions. “Don’t you see, Mikhail, I can’t do this, not even for you.”
He stroked her hair with loving fingers, trailed a caress over the soft skin of her face. “You have known for a short time. Your sleep was deep and undisturbed.” He did not tell her she had been given blood twice more during her sleep, that her body had gone through the rigorous change, ridding itself of all human toxins. He felt she had to absorb certain aspects of their lifestyle slowly. “Do you wish us to seek eternal rest?”
Her fist thumped his chest. “Not us, Mikhail, me!”
“There is no you or me. There is only us.”
She took a deep calming breath. “I don’t even know what or who I am anymore.”
“You are Raven, the most beautiful, courageous woman I have ever known.” He said it sincerely, stroking back her silken hair.
Her body went tense, almost rigid with wanting to deny his tranquil statements of fact. “Can I exist without blood? With juice and grains?”
His hand found hers, and he laced their fingers together. “I want it to be so for you, but it is not. You must have blood to live.”
She made a sound, a small denial, hunching away from him, withdrawing into herself. It was too far-fetched, too frightening, to really comprehend. She wanted to believe it was a nightmare.
Mikhail sat up, letting her go so that he could push the sheet from her slender body. Her mind was blocking out every explanation, refusing to deal with the information he was giving her. Wanting to distract her, he bent to examine her abdomen, his fingers splaying possessively over her skin, touching each white scar gently. “Your wounds are nearly healed.”
She half sat, astonished. “That’s impossible.”
He lifted his hands out of the way to show her the long scars. Her eyes widened in disbelief. Mikhail’s eyes darkened and burned, brushed her bare breasts with heat. Raven’s small teeth tugged at her lower lip, and a red flush spread over her entire body. She clutched at the sheet and dragged it over her.
His white teeth gleamed at her in a predator’s smile, pure taunting male. He leaned close so that his mouth brushed across her ear as he spoke. His warm breath beckoned and enticed. “I have kissed every inch of your body. I have been in every secret corner of your mind.” His teeth skimmed her earlobe, sent a shiver along her spine. “I will admit, the blush suits you.”
Raven found herself holding her breath, heat coiling deep within her. She pressed her forehead against the heavy muscles of his chest so that he couldn’t see the answering flare in her eyes. “Mikhail,” she warned, “there is no way you can change what I feel by seducing me. I know I cannot handle this.”
“I hear your thoughts, little one. You have closed your mind to all possibilities.” He whispered the words like a terrible seduction. “I will give you what you wish. I no longer can bear your unhappiness.” His hand moved up to his chest, right below her chin, hovered over his heart.
Her stomach clenched at the sudden knowledge of his intention. The sweet odor of hot blood mingled with his wild, masculine scent. Before she could stop him, before she could voice a protest, his life’s blood streamed freely down his chest. Instinctively she clamped both hands over the wound to apply pressure.
Eyes wild with fear, Raven cried out frantically. “Stop, Mikhail. Don’t do this.” Tears welled up, spilled over. “Please tell me what to do to save you.” There was desperation in her voice.
“You can stop it.”
“I can’t, Mikhail. Stop this, you’re scaring me.” She pressed as hard as she was capable, but the blood continued to flow between her fingers.
“Your tongue has the power to heal; so does the saliva in your mouth.” His voice was dark, hypnotic. He leaned back as if his strength was waning. “But do not counteract my choice unless you live also, because I refuse to go back to a world of darkness.”
Frantically she bent her head to his chest, swept her tongue over the edges of the wound, sealing the gap as if it had never been. The revulsion was in her brain, but not in her body. Something wild lifted its head; her eyes went slumberous and sensual. Heat coiled, and spread. Her body hungered, craved him. She heard the ebb and flow of the blood in his veins, the drumbeat of his heart, like a call. She wanted more, needed the erotic ecstasy only he could provide.
Mikhail’s hands were in her hair, bunching, dragging her head back, exposing her throat. His mouth moved over her soft skin, her frantic pulse. “Are you sure, Raven?” He whispered it so sensually her body went liquid in answer. “I want you to be completely sure. You must be certain this is your choice.”
She circled his neck with her arms, cradled his head. “Yes.” The memory of his mouth moving against her, the white-hot pleasure piercing her very soul, made heat pool low and wicked in her abdomen. She wanted this, even needed this.
“You give yourself to me freely?” His tongue tasted the texture of her skin, flicked across her pulse, and traced down the valley between her breasts.
“Mikhail.” His name was a plea. She feared that he was waiting too long and might not be able to live, to breathe, to merge completely with her.
He lifted her easily and cradled her in his arms. His tongue lapped her nipple, once, twice. Raven gasped, arched closer to him, her body scenting the wildness in him rising to match, to conquer, the wildness in her. She seemed to float through the air, every nerve ending raw with hunger and need. The sweet scent of blood called to her. Temptation.
She smelled fresh air and opened her eyes to discover the night. It whispered to her with the same sensual power as the ebb and flow of Mikhail’s blood. Trees swayed overhead; the wind cooled her body, yet fanned her need.
“This is our world, little one. Feel its beauty, hear its call.”
It was all like a dazzling dream, as if they were drifting with the faint mist, a part of the night itself. The stars overhead played hide-and-seek through the canopy of leaves and branches. The moon was elusive, wandering behind floating clouds. Everywhere Raven heard the sounds of life. It was in the sap of the trees, the rustle of small animals, the beat of wings, the echoing, savage cry of a night hunter as it missed its prey.
Mikhail raised his head and called, a wild sound of joy. It was answered. Raven could feel the rapture in the wolves’ rejoinders. It filled her heart, and in her, the wildness grew.
He carried her through a maze of paths, deep into the mountains, until they were at the entrance of a downward-sloping cave
. “Hear it,” he ordered as he passed into the murky shadows. “Hear the earth sing to you.”
Impossibly, she could see rich veins of minerals curving on either side of the narrow walls, just as if the sunlight were pouring into the tunnel. She could hear the rush of water echoing through the many chambers. Bats called to one another, and the earth welcomed it all.
Mikhail was sure-footed, striding through the maze of tunnels without hesitation, every step taking them deeper underground until they were in a huge steam-filled grotto. Water ran in a frothy fall to pour into a series of pools. Crystals gleamed like jewels all around them.
He took them into the farthest pool from the fall, where the water bubbled up like soda and was warm and fizzy against their skin. He sank into the water, with Raven cradled in his arms and steam rising around them.
The bubbles nibbled at sensitive skin, danced and teased like so many fingers, foamed and caressed like the lapping of tongues. With lazy, languid movements, Mikhail began to wash her slender body—her small feet, her calves, her thighs. Raven moved against his hands, closed her eyes to give herself up to pure sensation. Carpathian blood flowed hotly in her veins. Carpathian needs and desire warred with the human limitations and taboos her brain insisted on.
His hands slid in a tender, loving caress over her flat stomach, his fingertips reverently tracing each scar, wiping away the last traces of the poultices and blood. He paid careful attention to each rib, her back, and finally her face and hair. Mikhail was so gentle, he made her want to cry. He had not touched her anywhere intimately, yet he had begun a slow fire in her blood, a melting in her body. She ached for him. Needed him.