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You could remove her memories, Gregori suggested, clearly not understanding why Mikhail did not do the obvious.
She would not like such a thing.
She would not know. Gregori put a small edge in his tone. He sighed when Mikhail did not respond. Allow me to heal her, then. She is important to all of us, Mikhail. She suffers needlessly.
She would want to do this on her own. Mikhail was well aware that Gregori thought he had lost his mind, but he knew Raven. She had her own courage, and her own ideas of right and wrong. She would not thank him if at some later date she learned he had removed her memories. There could be no untruths between lifemates, and Mikhail was determined to give her time to come to terms with what they had endured together.
Mikhail found the rose-petal-soft skin of her face, traced her delicate cheekbones with gentle fingers. “You were right, little one. We will build our home together, stronger than ever. We will pick a place, deep within the forest, and fill it with so much love, it will spill over to our wolves.”
Her blue-violet gaze flickered with sudden awareness, jumping to Mikhail’s face. The tip of her tongue touched her full lower lip. She managed a tentative smile. “I don’t think I’m cut out to be a Carpathian.” Her voice was a mere thread of sound.
“You are everything a Carpathian woman should be,” Gregori said gallantly, his tone low and melodious, a soothing, healing cadence. Both Mikhail and Jacques found themselves listening intently to the compelling pitch. “You are fit to be the lifemate of our prince, and I give you freely my allegiance and my protection, as I have given it to Mikhail.” His voice deliberately was pitched low, so that it seeped into her fragmented mind like a soothing balm.
Raven’s shattered gaze swung to Gregori. Her long lashes fluttered, her eyes so dark they were nearly purple. “You helped us.” Her fingers sought and found Mikhail’s, entwined with his, yet her gaze never left Gregori’s face. “You were so far away. The sun was out, yet you knew we were in trouble, and you were able to help us. It was difficult for you. I felt it even as you reached for me to take away what I could not endure.”
The silver eyes, pale in Gregori’s dark face, narrowed to a slash of quicksilver. Mesmerizing. Hypnotic. The voice lowered an octave. “Mikhail and I are bound together. We have exchanged blood when we were wounded in battle, and we share a mind link that is strong. That enabled me to come to your aid—through my link with him. We have shared long, dark years of emptiness without hope. Perhaps you represent hope for both of us.”
Raven regarded him steadily, seriously. “That would please me.”
Mikhail felt a surge of love for her wash over him, a surge of pride. Raven had so much compassion in her. Although she was mentally bruised and battered, and Gregori’s mind was firmly closed to them, his harsh features impossible to read, she realized that Gregori was fighting to survive. That he needed to be drawn into the circle of light, of hope. Mikhail could have told her that Gregori was like water flowing through fingers—impossible to hold or control. He was a law unto himself, a dark, dangerous man on the edge of a yawning abyss of madness.
Mikhail slipped his arm around her shoulders. “There is much we must do this night, Raven. We are going to take you somewhere safe.” He spoke softly, as if to a child.
Raven sent him a small, hopeless smile as she shook her head. “I’m staying out in the open tonight, Mikhail. I don’t think I could bear walls around me for any reason, not even to please you.”
Mikhail met Gregori’s eyes over her head in silent understanding. Jacques and Gregori had fed. Mikhail needed to feed in order to bring himself to full strength. He also needed to feed Raven, although he feared she would not consent to it. Not with the horror of being buried alive so fresh in her mind. She needed to think and feel as human as possible.
Mikhail felt at a loss. He could not fail her again, yet the work they needed to do was imperative. His plan had been to keep Raven somewhere safe in a deep sleep. He would have forced her to accept his blood without her knowledge.
“Perhaps a walk would help,” Jacques suggested. He stepped back in an effort to induce her to stand.
Raven’s gaze clung to Mikhail’s for a long, slow moment. Her smile was genuine this time, reaching her eyes and lighting them for the first time. “If only the three of you could see yourselves. It’s very sweet of you to treat me like I’m a fragile porcelain doll, especially when I feel a bit like one, but Mikhail is in me, as I am in him. I feel what he feels and know his thoughts, although he tries to keep them from me.” She leaned over to kiss his blue-shadowed jaw. “I love you for trying to protect me, but I’m not weak. I simply have to come to terms with the human bonds my mind puts on me. None of you can do it for me. I have to do it myself.”
Gregori’s slashing gaze fastened on Mikhail’s face. Her state of mind is extremely fragile, old friend. She is trying to assimilate everything that has happened and make sense of it, but it has all happened too fast. The continuation of our species could very much lie with her.
Mikhail nodded slightly indicating his awareness of the situation.
You cannot allow her to suffer this way.
Free will is important to her, Gregori. I will not take that from her unless there is no other way.
And if her mind cannot accept what has happened to her? What she has become and all that goes with that? She could become a deranged vampiress, and we would have no choice but to end her life—and with hers, yours. Do not do that to me, Mikhail.
It was the closest to pleading Mikhail had ever heard from Gregori. Before it came to that, I would put her in the ground and allow her mind to heal.
Gregori read the resolve in Mikhail’s eyes and sighed. If she was mine, I would guard her so close, nothing would have a chance to harm her. Have you considered that she could carry the lifemate to one of us? Perhaps my lifemate? Do not take chances with her just to give her the illusion of freedom. None of us are truly free, he warned.
Jacques sent them both a look of reprimand and extended his hand to Raven with Old World gallantry. She took it and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. Mikhail rose beside her, his arm sweeping her into the shelter of his body. She needed the contact, the closeness, the solid reality of his hard frame. Gregori, the instant bodyguard, scanned the air, the ground, moving fast as he did so. His body continually blocked the prince of their people and his lifemate from any possible threat.
The three imposing figures surrounded the smaller one, moving as a unit, an honor guard, their paces slow and leisurely, their minds serene, with no hint of impatience or sign of their desire to get on to the night’s work. Hunger gnawed at Mikhail, but that too was kept at bay. When her mind touched his, Raven felt only love and concern, the desire to please her.
Raven enjoyed the feel of the soft leaves under her feet as they moved through the forest. She lifted her face to embrace the wind, inhaled deeply to take in every secret the breeze could carry and would divulge. Every insect, every rustle in the underbrush, every separate sway of a branch, lightened the terrible dread in her heart, pushed the fearful memories a little farther away.
“I can take them away completely,” Mikhail offered gently.
Raven flashed him a small smile, meant to reassure. Her body moved briefly against his. She was well aware of what a temptation that had been for him, how the other two males thought him insane for not taking the choice from her. “You know I prefer to keep my memories. All of them.”
Mikhail nodded, leaned over, and brushed a kiss over her temple. He felt the weight of Gregori’s pale gaze, his blatant disapproval. He knew he would be facing even more objections when they were alone. Carpathian males never allowed their mates to suffer needlessly. Only Gregori would dare to question or challenge the decisions of his prince. Mikhail usually welcomed the rare clashes. This time he had no way of defending his actions, at least not in a way Gregori would understand. Mikhail just knew Raven needed this semblance of normalcy and the time to come t
o grips with everything that had happened in her own way.
They walked for an hour, Mikhail subtly guiding her up a winding narrow track deeper into the forest and higher up the mountain. The cabin was hidden back against a cliff. The trees grew thick, nearly to the very walls. It looked small from the outside, dark and abandoned.
It was Jacques and Gregori who transformed the dark interior of the cabin to a cheerful, warm welcoming home. The layers of dust disappeared with a hand wave. The logs in the fireplace burst into flame. Candles flickered, and the scent of the woods permeated the air, turning the rooms into a snug haven.
Raven entered the cabin without protest. Gregori and Jacques moved quickly through the small building, supplying as many comforts as they were able in a brief period of time. Beds, blankets, a few clothes, things they pulled from Mikhail’s mind that Raven would recognize and feel comforted by. When they were certain they had done as much as they could, they retreated to the sanctuary of the forest to give Mikhail and Raven some time alone.
Raven paced across the wooden floor, putting distance between herself and Mikhail. Her mind was still very fragile, and she wanted to spare Mikhail as much as possible. She touched the back of a chair, curling her fingers around the solid wood. The familiar feel of wood helped to lessen her trembling.
“Thank you, Mikhail, for my blue jeans.” She gave him a faint smile over her shoulder.
He found her mysterious, sexy, innocent, and so very fragile. In the depths of her blue eyes he could find no anger, no blame, only love for him shining there.
“I am happy you like them, although I still say they are garb for men, not a beautiful woman. I was hoping they would make you smile.”
“Only because you get that pained look on your face.” She stood at the window, her eyes easily piercing the darkness. “I never want to do that again.” She said it starkly, meaning it. Wanting him to know she meant it. She looked at his reflection in the glass. “I mean it, Mikhail. I don’t want to ever have the feeling of being buried alive again. I thought I would lose my mind. Maybe I very nearly did.”
Mikhail inhaled sharply, cutting off his first response. He chose his words carefully. “Our blood and, ultimately, our bodies welcome the soil. Overnight the wound on my leg was gone. Your wounds, so deep, all mortal, were healed in ten days.”
Raven watched the wind tug at leaves on the ground. “I’m very intelligent, Mikhail. I can see for myself that what you’re telling me is true. Intellectually, I may even accept it, and marvel at it. But I never want to do that again. I cannot. I will not, and I ask that you accept this failing in me. You’re asking rather a lot from me. I don’t think this is too much to ask in return.”
He crossed the distance separating them. His hand curled around the nape of her neck to drag her into his arms. He held her, there in the old cabin, deep within his mountains and forest. He grieved for the loss of his home, his books, grieved for his past, but most of all, he grieved over his inability to spare Raven. He could command the earth, the animals, the sky, yet he could not bring himself to remove her memories because she had asked him not to do so. Such an innocent, small request. Like the one she was making now. The soil rejuvenated them, supplied them with necessary minerals for their bodies. He found peace in the earth, and couldn’t imagine never lying deep within her again.
Raven lifted her head, studying his shadowed features with serious eyes. Very gently she smoothed the deep lines of worry from his forehead. “Don’t be sad for me, Mikhail, and stop taking so much on yourself. Memories are useful things. When I am stronger, I can take this experience out and examine it, look at it from all angles, and perhaps grow more comfortable with the things we have to do to protect ourselves.” There was a trace of humor and a good amount of skepticism at the thought.
Mikhail shook his head. “I am sorry, Raven. I had no idea Romanov would force my hand. If we had not put you in the earth, we both would have died.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
“I believe I can make you happy in spite of everything, Raven. Just give us a chance.”
Raven took his hand. “You know, my love, you are not responsible for my happiness, or even for my health. I’ve had a choice every step of the way, from our very first meeting. I chose you. Clearly, in my heart and in my head, I chose you. If I had it to do over again, even knowing what I would have to go through, I would choose you without hesitation.”
His smile could melt her heart. Mikhail cupped her face in his hands, lowered his head to capture her mouth with his. Instantly electricity crackled between them. She could taste his love in the moist darkness of his mouth. Hunger rose, sharp and gnawing. The sound of blood surging hotly, the beating of hearts, the instant explosive chemistry, was nearly overwhelming for both of them. His arms slipped around her, dragged her close against his hard frame; his tender mouth carried the unmistakable flavor of intense love. Mikhail’s fingers tangled in her silky hair as if he would hold her for all eternity.
Raven melted into him, and for a heartbeat of time she was boneless, pliant, honeyed heat warming him. She pulled away first. It was easy to read the clawing hunger in him. That same hunger was growing in her. Her body needed nourishment after its grueling ordeal. She lifted long lashes to his beloved, masculine features, to take in the sensual stamp of his mouth, the slumbering, sensual invitation in his black gaze.
Raven kissed his throat, her hands going to the buttons of his shirt. Her body clenched, pulsing with heat and hunger. Her mouth moved over his skin. She inhaled his scent, the wild mystery of the night. Inside, the terrible craving grew and spread like wildfire. Her tongue tasted the texture of his skin, traced the line of his muscle, moved back to stroke across the pulse beating so strongly in his throat.
“I love you, Mikhail.” The words were whispered against his throat. A siren’s whisper. Silk and candlelight. Satin and hot, steamy sex. An invitation to it all.
Every muscle in his body tightened. Need swept through him. Anticipation. She was a miracle of beauty, a mix of human frailties, courage, and compassion. Mikhail’s fist bunched in her hair, held her head still for him. Her mouth was a silken flame moving over his chest, building heat and fire until his mind was a red haze of hunger.
“This is dangerous, little one.” Black velvet seduction was in the molten huskiness of his voice. He wanted her with every cell in his body, every beat of his heart, but she’d been through so much, and touching her would lead to the desperate hunger that drummed in his veins with every heartbeat.
“I need you.” She whispered the truth, and her breath warmed his flat nipples, doing intriguing things to his chest.
She did need him. His hard body, hot and wild, stamped out the feel of the cold earth closing over her head. Her body moved restlessly, suggestively, against his. Her hands slid downward, parting the edges of his shirt and lower still to find the zipper where his sex strained to break free. His gasp was audible, a harsh groan of raw need answering the enticing brush of her fingers.
“I need to feel your body in mine, Mikhail, real and alive. I need this more than I’ve ever needed anything. Touch me. Touch me everywhere. I want you deep inside me.”
Mikhail tugged her shirt over her head and dropped it to one side. His hands spanned her narrow rib cage, arching her body backward so he could rub his shadowed jaw across the soft creamy swell of her breasts. The abrasive brush sent flames licking along every nerve ending. His mouth moved up to trace the softness of her lips. His tongue stroked the fragile line of her neck, where her pulse beat so frantically, the vulnerable line of her throat, slowly, with great care, before lowering with deliberately tormenting laziness to her nipple. She felt a rush of damp heat, a fiery ache igniting the gnawing hunger. When his lips closed over her breast, hot and erotic, she cried out and threw her head back, arching into him, offering herself up to the strong pull of his hot mouth.
Without warning, the monster in him broke free, growling possessively and clawing away he
r offensive blue jeans. Teeth scraped her flat stomach as he dropped to his knees. Through the thin cotton panties she felt the hot moist probing of his tongue, wild, wet, stealing her breath. He ripped away the thin material to attack, stroking and caressing.
Raven cried out, welcoming the untamed beast in him, rising to meet his erotic assault. When he ripped the panties aside she pressed herself to the hot hunger of his mouth. Mikhail growled low in his throat, the sound a rumble of stark possession. He reveled in her wild response to his assault. He needed the uninhibited, abandoned grip of her clenched fists in his hair pulling him in closer to her, the husky, inarticulate cries issuing from her vulnerable throat. Her body clenched, white heat raging for release. Her cries became a plea.
Growling with pleasure, his own body burning, scorched, and unbearably sensitive, he held her relentlessly on the edge. The power, the velvet heat, their mingled scents, washed over him, became part of his insatiable desire. He wanted her to know that she was his, to burn and need mindlessly as he did.
His own name echoed in his head with her soft, inarticulate pleas, the sound hardening his body to an unbearable ache. The power sharpened his hunger, put such an edge on his appetite, both sexual and physical, that he could barely find enough control to stop from devouring her. And his body demanded her touch, the silken heat of her mouth, the graze of her teeth over sensitized skin. His skin was so hot, aching for her.
With a growl, he took her over the edge, her body rippling powerfully, clenching and unclenching, needing more, needing his invasion, needing his body filling hers. She dropped to her knees, pushed at his pants, tugged until they were at his thighs, until he was free and straining toward her. Raven’s nails raked his buttocks; her tongue found his heavy chest muscles.
Her taunting laughter, low and seductive, echoed in his mind. The brush of her silky hair over his thighs was nearly unbearable. It was his turn, and he let her know with a growling plea, an imperious demand. When she complied, the hot satin of her mouth, moist and erotic, nearly drove him crazy. If he had been in control, if he had been the one with dominance before, it was now Raven’s, and she exulted in power, in what she could do to him.