Dark Prince

Chapter Fifteen

The night air rushed over her body as Raven was carried through the sky toward some unknown destination. She was dizzy and weak, her mind finding it difficult to concentrate on any one thing. At first she made herself try to focus on whatever might be a landmark, so she could convey it back to Gregori. After a while she couldn’t remember why or even what she was doing. On some level, Raven knew it was the drug making her disoriented and sick. It seemed too much trouble to wonder where the vampire was taking her or what he would do to her when they arrived.

The moon was radiant, spilling silver light across the tree-tops, turning everything into a surreal dream. Things slipped in and out of her mind. Soft whispered words, a constant murmuring she couldn’t quite grasp. It seemed important, but Raven was too tired to unravel it all. Had her mind fragmented from chasing the last serial killer? She couldn’t remember what had happened to her. The wind felt good blowing over her body, cleansing her. She was cold, yet it didn’t seem to matter. Lights danced, colors swirled, the sky sparkled brilliantly above her head. Beneath them a large pool of water shone like crystal. It was all so beautiful, and yet her head ached abominably.

“I’m tired.” She found her voice, wanted to hear if she could speak. Perhaps she could wake herself up if she was in the midst of a dream.

The arms tightened fractionally. “I know. You will be home soon.”

She didn’t recognize the voice. Something in her rose up to rebel at the closeness. Her body didn’t like the feel of his against hers. Did she know him? It didn’t feel as if she did, yet he held her as if he had a right to her. There was something slipping in and out of her memory that she couldn’t quite catch. Every time she thought the pieces of the puzzle began to fit themselves together, pain sliced through her head so violently, she couldn’t hold the thought.

They were suddenly walking together, out under the stars, the trees swaying and dipping gently, his arm around her waist. Raven blinked in confusion. Had they always been walking? No one could fly; that was absurd. She was suddenly afraid. Had she lost her mind? She glanced up at the man walking beside her. Physically he was beyond merely handsome, his pale face sensually beautiful. But when he smiled down at her, his eyes were flat and cold, his teeth a flash of menace in his scarlet mouth that struck fear in her heart. Who was he? Why was she with him?

Raven shivered and tried to draw away from the man with a slight, subtle movement. She was weak, and without his support, she might have fallen. “You are cold, my dear. We will be home soon.”

His voice sent a ripple of terror through her; distaste was rolling in her stomach. There was a gloating taunt in his voice. For all his seeming solicitousness, Raven felt as if a giant snake was coiled around her, its cold, reptilian body and hypnotic eyes mesmerizing her. Her mind reached out, struggled to connect.

He would come. Mikhail.

She screamed in agony and fell to her knees, pressing her hands to her head, terrified to move, to think.

Cold hands grasped her arms, dragged her to her feet. “What is it, Raven? Come, tell me, so that I may help you.”

She despised his voice. It grated on her, sent shivers over her skin. There was power there, and a depraved, secret amusement, as if he knew exactly what was happening to her and enjoyed her suffering, her ignorance. As much as she loathed his touch, she could not stand on her own two feet and had to lean against his strong body.

“You need to feed,” he remarked almost casually, but she sensed a hidden excitement in that statement. Raven pressed a hand to her stomach. “I’m feeling sick.”

“That is because you hunger. I have prepared a special surprise for you, my dear. A banquet in your honor. The guests have been waiting impatiently for our return.”

Raven stopped walking and stared up at his cold, mocking eyes. “I don’t want to go with you.”

The eyes flattened, hardened. His smile was a parody, a soulless flash of fangs. She could see his receding gums, the lengthening incisors. He was not beautifully handsome, as she had first imagined, but foul and cruel-looking. “Raven, you have no other place to go.” Again he sounded slightly mocking, sickly solicitous.

Raven pulled her arm away from him and sat down abruptly when her legs buckled beneath her. “You are not...” The name eluded her with an explosive burst of pain. Blood beaded on her forehead and trickled down her face.

Deliberately, the vampire leaned down and ran his tongue coarsely along her cheek, following the path of her blood. “You are ill, my dear. You have to trust me to know what is best for you.”

Raven forced herself to remain calm, to push aside the cobwebs clogging her mind. She had special gifts. She had a brain. Those were two indisputable facts. She was certain she was in grave danger and she had no idea how she had gotten here with him, but she needed to think. She lifted her face to the moon so that it put blue lights in her long, ebony hair. “I’m very confused, I can’t even remember your name.”

She forced herself to look and feel apologetic to appease him if he was capable of reading her mind, and she was afraid he was. “What happened to me? I have a terrible headache.”

He offered his hand, his manner suddenly courtly, far more indulgent now that she was relying on him. “You hurt your head.” He drew her up, slipped his arm around her small waist. This time Raven forced herself to accept his touch without flinching.

“I’m sorry; I’m so confused. It makes me feel silly and afraid,” she confessed, her large blue eyes enormous, her mind innocent and blank.

“I am Andre, your true lifemate. Another stole you away from me. When I rescued you, you fell and hit your head.” His voice was singsong, hypnotic.

True lifemate. Mikhail.

This time when the pain beat at her she accepted it, allowed it to wash over her. It stole her breath and pierced her skull. She was careful not to allow any hint of the agony to show on her face or to spill over in her mind. Calling on every ounce of discipline she possessed, Raven focused her mind.

Mikhail? Where are you? Are you real? I’m afraid.

There was a familiar path and she used it with ease, as if she had always done so.

Little one.

The reply was faint, far away, but very real, something to cling to in a world of madness.

Who is with me? What is happening?

She made herself lean on the tall man supporting her, kept her mind a jumble of confusion. She found it interesting that her mind allowed her to work on several different levels at once.

Andre is a vampire. He took you from me. I am coming for you.

Something was very wrong. It was all there, if she just reached for it. Raven believed that faraway voice, felt warmth and love enfold her in strong, protective arms. She knew that feeling, that voice. It wasn’t quite right.

You’re hurt. How?

Mikhail replayed the recent events in his mind for her. Raven inhaled, feeling as if someone had hit her square in the stomach.

Mikhail.

Gregori is turning into some kind of tyrant. I would not dare die.

Memory was flooding in and she was terrified. She made herself compartmentalize her thoughts. The vampire touched only the surface, read what she wanted him to read. She was the shivering, confused woman he expected her to be.

Mikhail’s wounds looked bad to her. He was in the cave, surrounded by others. Gregori was working on the injuries, and Raven was certain he would put Mikhail to ground and she would be left without a lifeline. Raven lifted her chin. The drug might have confused her momentarily, but she could do whatever she had to do.

I can handle Andre. Do not worry about me.

She used more bravado than she felt.

All at once she had to suppress a surge of relief. Memory, fractured as it had been, came back in full force under Mikhail’s soothing mind touch. Mikhail or Gregori or both would come for her, no matter what else was happening. Mikhail would plug up his wounds and crawl if that was what it took to get to her.

“You are very quiet.” Andre startled her.

“I’m trying to remember, but it makes my head ache.”

They were at the top of a plateau. For a moment she couldn’t make out the stone house built into the side of the mountain. It seemed to shimmer in the silver of the moon, one moment a mirage, then a distinct structure, then gone again. Raven blinked her eyes rapidly, taking in every detail, broadcasting to Mikhail. The trick was in not allowing the vampire to know she was thinking of Mikhail. It was Andre who punished her with pain when he knew her thoughts. Confused by the drug, she had been briefly under his power. Now she was simply sick and dizzy. And very, very frightened.

“Is this our home?” she asked innocently, leaning heavily into him.

“We will remain here long enough to dine, my dear.” There was that curious gloating she was coming to dislike intensely. “It is not safe to remain longer than that. The other might pursue us. You must feed in order to be strong enough to escape.”

Deliberately, trustingly, she curled her fingers around the vampire’s arm. “I will try, Andre, but truly I am feeling sick.”

Raven took a step toward the threshold, felt Mikhail’s instinctive protest. She stumbled unsteadily, fell just outside the door, and lay in a small forlorn heap. With an oath, Andre tried to yank her up, to push her inside, but Raven was limp, unable to move on her own. The vampire lifted her into his arms and carried her inside.

The rock house consisted of a large front room and a hole in the far corner where a ladder led to a lower chamber. The room was cold and dank. Mold grew in the cracks. There was a table and a long church bench. Andre waved his hand to light several candles. Raven’s heart stopped, then began to pound in alarm. Chained to the wall nearest the table, eyes dilated with terror, were a man and a woman. The two were dirty and in ragged clothing. Rips in the woman’s dress and the man’s shirt held the stains of blood. There were bruises on both of them, and the man had several burn marks down his right cheek.

The vampire’s smile was cruel and taunting as he surveyed his helpless victims. “Dinner, my dear, just for you.” He set Raven carefully on the bench as if she was fragile porcelain. Andre slowly glided gracefully across the stone floor, his red, soulless eyes on the woman. He took his time enjoying her terror, laughing at her husband’s impotent raging. As he yanked the woman free of the chain, the man struggled and threatened, cursed Raven. Andre dragged the woman to Raven’s side, forced her to her knees and held her still, one hand gripping her hair so that her throat was exposed.

His thumb slid over the pounding pulse. “Feed, my dear. Feel the hot blood pour into your veins, making you strong again. When you take her life you will have such power as you have never known. This is my gift to you. Infinite power.” The woman sobbed and moaned with terror. Her husband pleaded, swore, fought the chains that bound him. Raven sat up slowly and pushed back her heavy fall of hair with a trembling hand. Andre could have seduced his victims, entranced them so that they welcomed death, but he sought thrills at the expense of human terror. The adrenaline-laced blood was addicting, intoxicating. Everyone seemed to be waiting for her reaction. She could feel Mikhail in her, still and motionless, raging that he was not there to protect her from such a terrible decision.

Her large blue-violet eyes lifted to Andre’s face, expressive, over-bright, as if she was on the verge of tears. Her hand slid soothingly up the woman’s arm. She was extraordinarily gentle, trying to comfort without words. “You doubt me. Why? What have I done? I honestly can’t remember. I would never do such a thing, take a life like this, and neither would you. Why do you test me this way? Have I committed a crime I can’t remember? Why would you be so cruel to me?”

Andre’s face went dark, the red eyes changing to his normal dark brown. “Do not be so distressed.”

“Tell me, Andre. I can’t bear not to know. Did the other one force me to do something you can’t forgive?” She bowed her head as if ashamed. Her voice dropped even lower. “Take my life, Andre. Take your wrath out on me, not this poor, undeserving woman. I will leave if you do not wish my life bound to yours, although I have nowhere else to go.” She met his eyes so that he knew she meant it. “Take my life now, Andre.”

“No, Raven.”

“Then answer me: why this test? Is it because I’m not wholly like you, because I can’t go to ground or shape-shift? You are ashamed of me and wish to punish me.”

“Of course not.”

Raven put her arm around the woman. “I seem to recall, although I’m not certain, that you said you would hire reliable servants. Is this woman the one you spoke of?” Suddenly her face clouded. “Is she your mistress?” She sounded near hysterics, but her hand was still very gentle on the woman’s arm.

“No! No!” the woman protested, but there was confusion and dawning hope in her eyes. “I am not his mistress. That is my husband. We have done nothing wrong.”

Andre was clearly at a loss. He had taken Raven in a desperate attempt to save himself. If he forced her to kill, then she would become as dark and as lost as he. Something inside him shifted and turned as he stared down into the innocence in her eyes. “The woman speaks the truth, Raven. She is nothing to me. A servant, if you wish her.” His voice was lost and lonely, almost uncertain.

Raven reached out for his hand. His mind was a masterpiece of evil, rotted and twisted. Yet Raven felt sorrow for him. He had once been good, no different from Mikhail or Jacques, but in the dark isolation of his existence he had turned down a wrong path. Andre desperately wanted to feel, to be able to face the morning sun, witness a sunset again. He wanted to look in the mirror and not see his receding gum line and the ravages left by his depraved existence. It was an impossibility; no true vampire could ever face himself in the mirror without experiencing tremendous pain. Raven was his only hope and he clung to it. He wanted a miracle. Because she had been human, he had no idea of what she was capable or incapable of doing.

“Forgive me, Andre, if I have done something to cause you to doubt me,” she said gently, compassion welling up so that she wanted to cry. She could not save him, even if she did not belong with Mikhail. No one could. He was far too depraved and bloated with his false sense of power, far too addicted to the adrenaline in a terror-stricken kill. She hated herself for deceiving him, but her life and the lives of the human couple clearly hung in the balance.

His hand stroked her silky hair. “I am not angry with you, my dear, but you are weak and need nourishment.”

The woman stiffened, her face a mask of fear. She stayed very still, waiting for Raven’s reply. Raven looked confused. “But I can’t feed.” Deliberately she allowed Mikhail’s name to shimmer in her mind, and then she was clutching her head in agony. “I don’t know why; I can’t think. I think the other did something to make me this way.”

Andre dragged the woman up by her hair. “I will return in a few minutes. You see to it Raven comes to no harm.” His eyes were flat and cold. “Do not try to leave this place. I will know.”

“Andre, stay,” Raven whispered, fighting for him in spite of herself.

He swung away from her and sped out, away from the light, back toward the world of death and madness he was familiar with.

The woman clutched at Raven. “Please, let us go. He is evil; he will kill us, make us his slaves until our fear no longer amuses him.”

Raven pushed herself upright, desperately fighting dizziness. “He will know. He can see in the dark, smell you, hear your very heart beat.” The room was so cold and musty smelling, so depressing. The air itself was stale and told of death. With Raven’s sensitivity she could almost hear the screams of the countless victims who had been brought to this place, chained to the stained walls. She was every bit as frightened as the human woman was. “Who are you?”

“Monique Chancellor. That is my husband, Alexander. Why did you help me?”

“Guard your thoughts, Monique. He can read them.”

“He is

nosferatu

unclean. The vampire.” It was more of a statement than a question. “We must leave this place of death.”

Raven rose unsteadily to her feet, hanging on to the back of the chair, the table, to make her way to the door. She stared up at the stars, gazed slowly over the landscape in each direction, taking note of every rock wall, the cliffs rising behind the house. She studied the dwelling itself, the windows, the doors, the structures of the walls, paid particular attention to the wide open spaces leading to the house.

“Please, please.” The woman clawed at her. “Help us.”

Raven blinked to bring her into focus. “I’m trying to help you. Stay calm; keep out of his way. Draw as little attention to yourselves as possible.” She closed the door, having accomplished what she had hoped to do. Mikhail and Gregori would know as much detailed information as she could transmit.

“Who are you?” Alexander demanded suspiciously. He had pulled at his chains so much, she could see his wrists were raw.

Raven rubbed her pounding temple, a growing nausea gripping her stomach. “It isn’t a good idea to have open wounds around him.” She could smell blood and her body, desperately weak, needed nourishment. Raven ignored the woman sobbing quietly in a corner and went to the man to see if she could find a way to ease his discomfort. As she bent to examine his wrist, his other hand whipped up to clutch a handful of her hair, yanking hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. He dragged her back against his chest so that both hands could grip her throat, fingers digging into soft flesh.

“Alexander, stop, what are you doing?” Monique cried.

“Monique, get the key to these cuffs,” Alexander ordered, his powerful fingers crushing Raven’s windpipe so that the room began to spin.

Raven could feel his fear, his frantic attempt to save his wife and himself. He was afraid she was a vampire, cruelly playing with them for some perverse enjoyment. Raven couldn’t blame him, but his hands were squeezing the life out of her.

Raven!

The cry was close, a ripple of fury moving through her mind.

Alexander’s hands were torn from her throat; there was a loud popping noise signaling broken bones. He was slammed into the wall behind them, held so that his feet dangled helplessly four feet from the floor. Monique screamed as the air rushed from her husband’s lungs. He began to strangle, his eyes bulging honibly.

Release him, Mikhail! Oh, God, please. I can’t bear to be responsible for another death. Ijust

can’t.Raven sank to the floor, drew up her knees, and huddled there, rocking. “Please,” she whispered aloud. “Release him.”

Mikhail fought his kiffing rage, managed to suppress it enough to release the human from his mind assault. He hurtled through the air, tracking Raven easily. He was barely aware of Gregori keeping pace with him to his left, of Aidan and Byron slightly behind him, of Eric and Tienn and a few others struggling to keep up some distance behind. None of them mattered. He had hunted vampires over many centuries and he had always felt a twinge of reluctance, of pity perhaps. There was none now.

Mikhail kept his fury tamped down so that it seethed and boiled like magma in a volcano, so that it sought to escape in any direction it could, needing a violent, explosive release. If he allowed it to seep out, the very earth, the winds, the creatures in the mountains would react. It would be a clear warning to the vampire. He felt no pain and he was well fed; Gregori had seen to that personally. The combination of their ancient blood was powerful beyond measure. Even so, a spot of blood soaked through the white feathers on the owl. Instinctively, Mikhail shifted and circled to stay downwind so that any passing breeze could not carry that scent to the vampire.

Into the night there came a cry of pure terror, evil laughter, a gloating triumph. Every Carpathian, so tuned to the land, felt the vibration of violence, the disturbance of power, the cycle of life and death. Raven, as psychically sensitive as she was, instantly found her mind drawn to the scene of violence.

Break off Raven.

Mikhail commanded it.

She pressed her hands to her temples. Andre was laughing, flinging himself from the branch of a tree atop a woman attempting to crawl away from him. A smaller body lay crumpled at the foot of the tree, pale and lifeless where he had dropped it. The woman moaned, pleaded for her life. The vampire laughed horribly again, then kicked her away from him, onily to force her to crawl back to him, begging to serve hсu “Andre! No, you cannot!” Raven yelled it aloud, dragging herself up to stumble to the door. She ran into the night, spun in a circle to catch the direction. Weakness overcame her and she fell heavily to lie immobile in the grass.

Monique followed her, dropping to her knees beside her. “What is it? I know you are not what my husband thinks. I know you are trying to save us.”

Team were running down Raven’s face. “He killed a child; he is taunting the mother. He will kill her also. I can’t save her.” Raven took what comfort she could as the woman cradled Raven’s head in her lap.

Monique touched the dark bruises at Raven’s throat. “I am sorry for what Alexander did to you. He is mad with anger and fear for us. You took a terrible risk. That monster might have killed you.”

Raven closed her eyes tiredly. “He still might. We can’t get away from him.”

The night around them carried disturbing vibrations. Somewhere deep inside the forest, an animal missed its prey and screamed its rage. An owl hissed; a wolf snarled.

Raven clutched Monique’s hand, was relieved when she could move her legs. “Come on. We have to get inside. Stay quiet and out of sight if you can. When he returns, he will be high as a kite and unpredictable.”

Monique helped Raven to her feet, slipping her arm around the smaller woman’s waist. “What did you do to Alexander when he hurt you?”

Raven walked reluctantly back to the stone house. “I did nothing to him.” She touched the bruises on her throat. Alexander had complicated things. Andre could not fail to notice the marks on her.

“You feel things we know nothing of,” Monique guessed uneasily.

“It is not a comfortable gift. He killed tonight. A woman, a child. I sent him out and traded our lives for theirs.”

“No!” Monique denied that. “You have nothing to do with what he chooses to do, any more than my husband is responsible for what that monster did to me. Alexander believes he should have found a way to protect me. He will not forgive himself. Don’t be like him, Raven.”

Raven stood on the stone steps and faced the moon-bathed land. The wind stirred and the glowing silver light darkened ominously. Monique gasped, clutched at Raven, tried to draw her into the comparative safety of the house. A red stain grew, spread, completely consumed the moon. A low moan rode on the wind, growing louder until it became a howl. A wolf lifted its muzzle to the bloodstained moon and howled in warning. A second joined in. The entire mountain rumbled ominously.

Monique whirled around and ran to her husband. “Pray with me, pray with me.”

Raven shut the door and leaned against it. “Don’t panic on me, Monique. We have a chance if we can stall him.”

Alexander glared at her, his arm protectively around his wife, his hand already swollen and sore-looking. “Don’t listen to her, Monique. She almost strangled me; she threw me against the wall with unbelievable strength. She is unclean.”

Raven rolled her eyes in exasperation. “I’m beginning to wish I did have all that power you think I have. I’d find a way to keep you from talking.”

“He is afraid for us.” Monique spoke in a conciliatory tone. “Can’t we take off his chains?”

“He would try to attack Andre the moment he returned.” Raven made a face at Alexander, completely exasperated with him. “That would get him killed fast.” She shivered, turning stricken eyes on Monique. “He comes. Stay very quiet, no matter what happens. Don’t draw attention to yourself.”

The wind outside howled, an eerie, lonely sound that faded away, leaving in its wake an unnatural silence. Raven heard her own heart beat in the void. She stepped backward just as the door splintered and cracked. The candle flames leapt, threw shadows on the wall, grotesque, macabre; then the lights were snuffed out.

“Come, Raven. We must leave now.” Andre snapped his fingers, holding out his hand. The vampire’s face was flushed with fresh blood. The glow of evil was in his eyes; his mouth was twisted with cruelty.

Raven regarded Andre with large, accusing eyes. “Why do you come to me like this? Tell me what is going on.”

He moved with blurring speed, and at the last moment, Raven remembered she, too, was capable of such feats. She felt his hot, foul breath, smelled death on him. His razor-sharp nails raked her arm as she ducked away. She pressed her small body into the corner. “Don’t try to force my compliance when a simple explanation will do.”

“You will regret this defiance,” he snarled, and hurled the church bench out of his path so hard that it crashed and splintered against the wall only inches from the shivering human couple.

A small moan of terror escaped Monique, and instantly the vampire whirled around, his eyes red and glazed with power. “You will crawl to me like the dog you are.” His voice was low, hypnotic, his eyes mesmerizing.

Alexander lunged to the end of his chains, trying to stop Monique, who went to the floor in obedience, her manner sensual and fawning. Raven walked calmly across the room to kneel down in Monique’s path. “Hear me, Monique. Don’t do this thing.” Her blue-violet eyes stared directly into the older woman’s. Raven’s voice was beautiful, purity itself, low and entrancing. It made the vampire’s voice appear foul and disgusting. A look of confusion, bewilderment, and shame crossed Monique’s blank face.

The vampire exploded into action, leaping the distance to Raven’s side, seizing her by the hair, yanking her backwards, nearly off her feet.

The world erupted around them. The night itself seemed to rage, the wind screaming and howling, gusting across the wide open space to beat at the windows. A dark funnel cloud boiled down from the seething sky and tore the roof from the structure; the whirling mass lifted furniture and scattered treasures collected over the years, Monique wailed loudly and dragged herself to Alexander, where they clung together. Voices hissed and whispered, low murmurs of fury, of accusation, of condemnation. The mountain rumbled ominously, and the furthermost wall burst outward, spewing rocks and mortar as if dynamited.

Mikhail stood in the center of the ferocious storm, his black eyes as cold as death. He stood tall and elegant despite the scarlet stain spreading across his silk shirt. His body was relaxed, unmoving in the midst of chaos. He lifted a hand, and the roaring of the wind died down. Mikhail regarded Andre for a long moment. “Release her.” His voice was very soft, but it struck utter terror in the hearts of all who heard him.

Andre’s fingers tightened convulsively in Raven’s silky hair.

Mikhail’s answering smile was cruel. “Do you wish me to force your compliance, so you come crawling to your death as you forced your victims?”

Andre’s fingers spasmed and his arm jerked like a puppet’s. He stared in horror at Mikhail, never conceiving of such power. Such mind control did not work easily, on Carpathians.

Come to me, Raven.

Mikhail did not take his eyes from the vampire, holding him helpless with his mind alone. So great was his fury, he hardly required Gregori’s mind merge to assist him.

One by one the Carpathian males materialized, their faces masks of condemnation. Raven could feel the human couple’s terror rising, approaching near madness. She staggered to them, wrapping her arms protectively around Monique. “He will save us,” she whispered to them.

“He is like the other,” Alexander rasped hoarsely.

“No, he is good. He will save us.” Raven stated the truth simply, with great conviction.

Mikhail released the vampire abruptly. Andre looked around him, his mouth twisted sardonically. “Does it take an army for you to go on the hunt?”

“You have been sentenced for your crimes, Andre. Should I fail, the sentence will be carried out by another.” Mikhail indicated two Carpathians with his finger and nodded toward Raven. His tall form emanated power and confidence. “You are but a child, Andre.” His voice was a pure tone, pitched low and velvet soft. “You cannot hope to match one who has battled so many times, but I offer you the chance you have worked so hard to attain.” The black eyes glittered with icy fury.

“Vengeance, Mikhail?” Andre asked sarcastically. “How very common of you.” He launched himself, razor-sharp claws extended, fangs dripping.

Mikhail simply disappeared, and the vampire found himself tumbling out of the house on the ground, the savage night closing in on him, the Carpathian males in a huge, loose circle corralling him in. Andre turned in the direction in which the others were looking. Mikhail was standing a few feet from him, a black fury burning in his unblinking gaze.

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 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. “Did you see where Andre put the key so we can free Alexander?” Raven asked Monique, attempting to move around the other Carpathian male blocking her path.

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. She 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. He had struck her body a mortal wound and glided away with blinding speed. There was no pity and no feeling in him. He was without mercy, relentless, ruthless, and without remorse.

See him as he 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 was 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. 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, but, wanting to spare him, she tried to close herself off from him. But Mikhail was far too strong to allow her such a withdrawal from him. 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.

Raven. Hear me.

Gregori. Calm in the eye of the storm.

His voice beautiful, hypnotic, 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, 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 backwards 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 backwards, 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 lifeless body, ensuring that the vampire 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 a 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 this thing,” he snapped tersely, to no one in particular. He gathered energy from the sky and bathed his hands in it, removing the tainted blood from his body. 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.