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Aidan advanced on Raven, his glittering eyes golden and piercing as his gaze swept over the mortals huddled behind her. “Come with us,” he ordered abruptly. “Mikhail wishes us to see that you are safe.”
Raven’s eyebrows shot up while Monique clutched her arm, clearly frightened. Byron moved in from the other side, effectively boxing her in. “Why?”
“Mikhail wishes us to see that you are safe, and then we must deal with the mortals,” Aidan explained quietly.
Raven scowled at him. “No one is going to deal with these people. Believe it or not, they have feelings. They’re real human beings, and they’ve been put through hell.”
Aidan glanced at Byron and then pinned Raven with a very stern, very male glare meant to intimidate. “They are mortals who know too much. One of them put his hands on you.”
Raven touched her neck without thinking and then dropped her hands. “Did Mikhail tell you that?” She was furious at that thought, but more upset that she was stuck protecting the couple, when Mikhail clearly was in danger. Even more, Aidan never really looked at the couple as a man and woman, but rather as puppets unable to hear what was being said. She might be Carpathian, but it wasn’t that long ago that she’d been human.
“Mikhail did not need to tell me. I smell his stench on you. I can see the marks of his fingers. It is clear he attempted to kill you. Can you deny it?”
Monique cried out and inched closer to her husband.
Raven sighed. “No, of course not, but there were circumstances you perhaps don’t understand.” She tried to be reasonable when she didn’t feel reasonable.
“I do not need to understand the why of it, only that he did it. Go with Byron.”
“Did someone die and leave you in charge?” Raven placed her body squarely in front of Monique. “You touch them over my dead body.” She squeezed Monique’s hand in reassurance as she stared down the Carpathian male.
Raven didn’t recognize him, but she did recognize the stamp of confidence he carried, the complete self-possession. His voice was soft and hypnotic, almost mesmerizing. Ignoring him, she deliberately turned toward Monique.
“Did you see where Andre put the key, so we can free Alexander?” Raven asked, attempting to move around the other Carpathian male blocking her path. She just managed not to laugh at the shocked look on Aidan’s face. “Don’t worry, Monique, they like to look tough and mean, but they’re really very sweet.” She didn’t know this particular Carpathian, but she was fairly certain Mikhail would have a few things to say if he dared touch her.
Aidan winced visibly at that. Raven was laughing openly at him, a teasing glint in her eye. No one teased him—not that he could remember—not since he was a boy, and his twin had still been close to him. He was at a complete loss as to what to do. He glanced at Byron, who shrugged.
Without warning, Raven’s eyes widened, and she clutched her side, a strangled cry catching in her throat. She went down hard, curling in agony, a crimson smear across her forehead, trickling into her eyes. Monique threw herself to the floor beside the younger woman. Raven was completely unaware of her.
Raven’s mind was no longer within the confines of the house, had no knowledge of Aidan or Byron or even Monique and Alexander. She was outside with the blood-red moon spilling down on her, facing a demon of immense power and strength—a demon whose eyes had glowing red flames leaping in them, whose smile was cruelty itself.
He was totally without mercy. He was tall, graceful, supremely confident, and she knew he was going to kill her. There was an animal beauty in the fluid way he moved. There was death and damnation in those soulless eyes. He was absolutely invincible, and it showed in the way he moved, in the very stillness of his body. He struck her body a mortal wound and glided away with blinding speed. There was no pity and no feeling in him—he seemed the perfect killing machine. He was without mercy, relentless, ruthless, and without remorse.
See him as he truly is, a killer, a stalker of mortals and Carpathians alike, Andre hissed in her mind. Know him for the beast that he is. You see an educated man who controls you with his mind. This is the real Mikhail Dubrinsky. He has hunted hundreds of us, perhaps thousands of his own people, and slain them. He will murder us and feel nothing but the joy of ultimate power.
Andre’s mind merged fully with hers so that she was looking through his eyes, feeling his hatred and fear, feeling the pain from the blow Mikhail had administered when Andre had attacked him. Raven struggled to break away from the vampire’s hold on her mind, but Andre knew he was going to die and hung on to her with total determination. She would be his last revenge. He would reveal Mikhail’s true nature to her. With every blow Andre received, with every burning wound Mikhail inflicted on him, Raven would feel the same pain. The vampire could at least glory in that pain.
Raven could see his plan clearly, knew Mikhail felt the initial rush of agony overwhelming her. She could barely breathe. Wanting to spare him, she tried to close herself off from him. But Mikhail was far too strong to allow her such a withdrawal. She could feel his utter cold fury, his lack of mercy, his desire for battle, the urge to kill the renegade. She could feel his sudden indecision as he realized what the vampire was doing.
Andre laughed, a twisted, cruel sound. He launched himself at Mikhail, not wanting Mikhail to have time to think. Mikhail melted away, but did not retaliate. Hope stirred in Andre, and he took a firmer grip on Raven’s mind. If Mikhail was distracted enough, Andre might have an opportunity to get away. No hunter would dare strike at him while he was connected to Raven.
Raven. Hear me. Calm in the eye of the storm. Gregori. His voice beautiful, hypnotic, and very soothing. Give yourself to me. You will sleep now.
Gregori gave Raven little choice in the matter, but even so, she gave herself up willingly, gratefully, to the hypnotic voice and went under immediately, sinking far from the battle and pain, removing Andre’s last threat to Mikhail.
A long, slow hiss of air escaped Mikhail’s lungs. He moved, a blur too fast to see. Andre’s body flew backward under the blow. The crack was loud in the unnatural silence. Andre struggled to his feet, eyes glazed, wildly seeking his antagonist.
“I have won.” He spit a mouthful of blood and pressed a trembling hand to his chest. “She saw you as you are. What you do here cannot change that.”
He did not take his gaze from Mikhail’s body, didn’t blink, didn’t dare. It seemed an impossibility for even a Carpathian to be that fast. There was something terrible in those black, merciless eyes. Without Raven awake and aware, there was not a shred of pity or compassion.
Andre took a cautious step backward, focused his mind, and aimed. Fiery light crackled and snapped, then hit the ground where Mikhail had been. The noise was tremendous. The blow shook the earth. The whip of electricity sizzled and retreated, leaving a patch of blackened, scarred earth behind. Andre screamed as something snapped his head back and a huge gash opened around his throat, spewing bright crimson blood in a fountain.
The fourth blow opened Andre’s chest, smashing through protective bones and muscle to the heart. Those black, merciless eyes stared into Andre’s without pity as Mikhail ripped the heart from his chest. Mikhail contemptuously dropped the still-pulsing organ to the ground beside the thrashing body. One hand stretched toward the blackened, withered organ that lay only a scant few inches out of reach.
The heart rocked. Tried to return to its owner. Mikhail looked toward the sky, and lightning lit up the dark night. Whips of white-hot energy sizzled and danced through the clouds and then slammed to earth under his direction, incinerating first the heart and then the body of the vampire, ensuring that Andre could not rise again. He stood over his fallen enemy, fighting to control the beast in himself, the wild surge of triumph, the addicting rush of power that shook his body. He felt none of his earlier wounds, only sheer joy in the night, in his victory.
The wildness in him grew dangerously, spread like molten fire. The wind whipped up and carried a scent
. Raven.
Mikhail’s blood surged hotly; his fangs ached, and hunger grew. He scented the humans, the one that had touched his lifemate. Bloodlust shook him, and the Carpathians stepped farther back as the power seemed to radiate from Mikhail’s body, as the need to kill nearly overwhelmed him.
The wind swirled around him in a constant eddy, and Raven’s scent remained elusive and faint. Raven. His body clenched, burned. Raven. The wind whispered her name, and the turbulent storm raging in him began to ease.
Mikhail’s mind reached for the light, the path back from the world of violence. “Destroy every evidence of this thing,” he snapped tersely, to no one in particular.
He moved with blinding speed back inside the ruins of the vampire’s lair, materialized out of thin air, and loomed over Monique, who was holding Raven’s lifeless body in her arms, rocking her.
Twenty-One
Wake her, Gregori,” Mikhail demanded, dragging Raven into his arms. Very gently he cradled her to his chest, rocking her with his body.
Gregori complied as his form shimmered translucent, and then took shape beside Mikhail. For the first time there was a hint of anxiety in Gregori’s pale eyes, although there was hard arrogance stamped on his harshly handsome features.
Raven blinked, and took a moment to focus. Her breath caught in her throat, and fear leapt into her enormous, expressive eyes.
That look stabbed through Mikhail as nothing else might had done. “Csitri—little one.” He breathed the endearment softly, his breath warm against her ear. “Do not ever fear me.”
She pressed away from him. “I don’t know you,” she whispered, her voice strangled and raw, her eyes on his bloodstained hands.
Mikhail frowned and looked down at his hands. There was no blood there; he had bathed his body in the cleansing energy of the white-hot heat. No blood could remain on him. Vampire blood burned like acid—yet she still saw the scenes from the battle. He glanced at Gregori with a small frown of inquiry.
Gregori shook his head in puzzlement.
Raven seemed light and insubstantial in Mikhail’s arms, as if she might fade away to nothing. She needed nourishment and care. Very carefully Mikhail touched her mind. His skull exploded with pain. Her mind was a maze of fragments, desperately holding on to her sanity. She feared him, but even more, she was afraid to trust her own judgment. Fragments of the battle, of Mikhail standing in front of Andre, haunted her mind.
Her blue-violet gaze, so confused, so frantic and bewildered, sought and found Monique. She gave a small inarticulate cry and strained toward her.
Mikhail’s body went rigid. He turned his head slowly in the direction of her pleading gaze. Monique huddled beside her husband, her horrified eyes on Mikhail and the men crowding beside him. Mikhail forced down the wildness of his nature and his resentment of the humans that Raven would turn to for comfort rather than him.
For one long moment his black gaze rested on the male who had dared to put his hands around Raven’s throat and tried to end her life. Power pulsed in the room. Tension stretched into terror.
You are not helping, Gregori pointed out. And I must say, this is strange to be the one cautioning you against violence.
Very funny. But the exchange eased some of the ferocious need to retaliate in him.
Mikhail took a deep breath and addressed the couple. “I am sorry we met under such terrible circumstances. I had no choice but to destroy Andre. No prison in the world would have held him,” Mikhail managed quietly. “Aidan, please release the gentleman from those restraints.”
Aidan reached casually around Monique and tugged at the chains. A lazy ripple of muscle, and the links parted. Without looking at Alexander, Aidan used his thumb to separate the cuffs, freeing the mortal. Immediately he stepped away from him, abhorring such close proximity with the man. Alexander had wrapped his hands around a Carpathian woman’s throat and threatened to kill her. Every instinct in each of the males urged him to break the mortal’s neck and be done with it. They took their lead from Mikhail, but the tension was almost electric.
Alexander slipped his arm protectively around his wife’s shoulders. He made every effort to keep from trembling in the face of the intimidating Carpathians. This was one long unholy nightmare. He knew one thing for certain in a world that appeared to have gone mad around him—he had been wrong about Raven. Who or what she was, he didn’t know, but she had done her best to protect them at great cost to herself. If they were to live, it would be because she had intervened on their behalf.
The antagonism of the males was very clear. He lifted his gaze instinctively to Mikhail. “What do you plan to do with us?”
Against Mikhail’s chest, Raven’s body shuddered and trembled. “Sivamet—my love. You are sívam és sielam—my heart and soul,” Mikhail whispered softly. “I would never harm people you care about. Look into my mind and read for yourself. See if my intent is evil.”
Raven felt Mikhail strong and warm against her body, not cold and clammy as the other had been. Her heart cried out for his touch, as if everything in her strained to crawl inside him and be safe. But could her eyes have lied to her? Could her mind be lying now?
The dawn approaches. We have only an hour or two, Gregori warned. She must be given nourishment soon.
Return to Jacques. Keep him safe for us, Mikhail replied. He waved his hand to the others, releasing them to their lairs.
Her mind is very fragile, Gregori warned, always the healer.
Mikhail nodded his understanding. As the Carpathian males drifted away, Alexander breathed a sigh of relief, earning him Mikhail’s attention. “Where is your home?”
“It isn’t far. We can walk there easily,” Alexander said, hope stirring.
“What are you going to do with her?” Monique demanded suddenly.
Mikhail’s expression softened, became loving, even tender, as he looked down into Raven’s face. “There is no need to fear for her. She is my life.”
Very gently he set Raven on her feet, one arm supporting her small waist as well as locking her to him. He turned his powerful eyes on the couple. His voice dropped even lower, a soft hypnotic pitch that inspired no fear, created instant acquiescence.
“What are you doing?” Raven asked fearfully.
“I am ensuring that they survive, that their lives are not ruined by the trauma suffered here, and that they forget our species. It is their only safeguard, little one.”
“You’re taking their free will.” Raven was wringing her hands together, wanting to weep and unsure why. “You’re taking away their knowledge of me, of our bond.” She looked up at him with sudden insight. “You don’t like that Monique and I may be so close.”
“It is true I do not care for your reliance on her rather than on me, but I have no choice in this matter if they are to live.” Mikhail bent, brushed his mouth tenderly over her temples, her eyes, soothing her with the power of his mind, of their blood bond. “They would never recover from such trauma. He would begin to think of himself as less than a man. She would wonder if he could have found some way to protect her. And they would begin to blame you as well. You know I must aid them to forget, my love.”
He stared down into her eyes until the confusion lifted just enough that she nodded. It was a tiny acquiesce, but there all the same, and he didn’t hesitate. He took the necessary blood from both the man and the woman, enough that he could always monitor them. He removed the memories of the atrocities Andre had committed, reinforced their love, their bond. He implanted memories of Raven and himself in their minds, good friends should they ever cross paths again, although he was hoping he could avoid the possibility. There was no point in tempting fate. He sent the couple walking out under the stars homeward, hand in hand.
Cradling Raven in his arms, he took to the sky and hurried to his nearly impregnable retreat.
Raven became aware of her surroundings slowly. She was on a bed. Mikhail was behind her, his hands tangled in her thick, damp hair. She recognized
the feel of his sure fingers working to braid her hair, his movements calm and deliberate, very matter-of-fact, putting her at ease despite her shadowy memory.
She appeared to be in an old castle that was small and inevitably drafty. The bedchamber was warm, and Mikhail had flooded it with the essence of soothing herbs and the romance of flickering candlelight. He had cleaned them both so that their bodies only smelled of each other and of the herbal soap he used.
Mikhail touched her mind, found it confused, desperately holding onto sanity. She was afraid of him, and even more afraid to trust her own judgment. He took his time braiding the length of hair while she tried to orient herself to her new surroundings.
Raven studied each corner of the room, each wall, every detail, while her heart pounded frantically, the sound loud in her ears. The room was beautiful. A fire glowed in the fireplace. Long, tapered candles emitted a light fragrance that mingled with the soothing scent of herbs. A well-worn Bible lay on the small end table beside the bed. She didn’t really recognize anything, yet it was all strangely familiar.
The quilt on the bed was thick and warm, the material soft against her bare skin. She noticed for the first time that she was naked. At once she felt vulnerable and shy, yet again, she felt as if she belonged here with him. Mikhail’s hands slipped from her hair to the nape of her neck, his fingers massaging aching muscles. His touch was familiar, stirring alarming sensations in her body.
“What did you do to Monique and her husband?” Her fingers twisted in the quilt. She tried to ignore the heat of his body as he moved close behind her so that their skin touched, so that the hair on his chest rasped against her back and the hard length of him pressed tight against her bottom. He felt right. He felt a part of her.
Mikhail placed a kiss on a bruise near her throat, and then moved to stroke her leaping pulse with his velvet tongue. Her body clenched in anticipation. Her mind seemed confused.
He kept his voice even, not letting on that he had explained it all to her before and that she’d witnessed that they both were safe. “They are safe in their home, loving one another as they should. They remember nothing of Andre and the atrocities he committed against them. They know us as good, close friends.”