Dark Prince (18 page)

"Thought what?" Mikhail prompted wearily. The wound hurt like hell. He felt sick and dizzy, and somehow he had to reassure Raven. She was striving to comfort him, to find him; she was even trying to "see" through his eyes.
Stop it, Raven. Do as I say. I am not alone. One of my people is with me. I will be with you soon.

"I thought you would be so involved with that woman, you might not have time for the hunt." Byron ducked his head. "I feel like such a fool, Mikhail. I was so worried about Eleanor."

"I have never shirked my duties. The protection of our people has always come first." Mikhail could not attempt to heal the wound with Raven dwelling in his mind.

"I know, I know." Byron raked a hand through his chestnut hair. "After what happened to Noelle, I could not bear for the same thing to happen to Eleanor. And this was the first time you ever warned one of us off a woman."

Mikhail managed a wry smile. "The experience is new to me. Until it is not quite so new and raw, it is best I keep her as close to me as possible. Right now she is arguing with me."

Byron looked shocked. "She argues with you?"

"She has her own mind." He allowed Byron to help him up.

"You are far too weak to shape-shift. And you will need blood and healing sleep." Byron sent a call for Jacques.

"I dare not go deep. It would leave her unprotected. She wears my ring and bears my mark. One wrong move and they would murder her."

"We need you at full strength, Mikhail." Whirling leaves like miniature tornadoes heralded Jacques's arrival.

Jacques swore under his breath as he knelt beside Mikhail. "You need blood, Mikhail," he said softly, immediately beginning to unbutton his shirt.

Mikhail stopped him with a slight gesture. His eyes, world-weary, pain-filled, made a slow study of their surroundings. Byron and Jacques went still, senses flaring out, scanning the forest. "There is no one," Jacques whispered softly.

"There is someone," Mikhail corrected.

A low warning growl escaped Jacques's throat as he instinctively placed his body in front of his prince. Byron was frowning, confusion on his handsome features. "I can detect nothing, Mikhail."

"Nor can I, but we are being watched." It was a statement so certain, neither Carpathian chose to dispute it. Mikhail never made a mistake.

"Summon Eric with a car," Mikhail ordered and laid his head back to rest. Jacques was on the alert, and Mikhail trusted his judgment. He closed his eyes weakly, wondering where Raven had gone. She was no longer nagging at him. In order to maintain the contact, he would have had to use up precious energy, energy he couldn't spare right now. Yet it worried him, her silence, so unlike her.

Chapter Seven

The ride home in the car was excruciatingly painful. Mikhail's body craved blood to replace what he had lost. His weakness was growing by the moment, the lines in his face deepening, etched with pain. He was an ancient, and all ancients felt emotions and physical wounds intensely. Normally he would simply have stopped his heart and lungs so that his blood would cease to flow. Then the healer would take over and the others would supply him with what he needed.

Raven changed all that. Raven and whatever—or whoever—was watching them. He could still feel the uneasiness washing over him. He knew another studied them from a distance, even as they traveled the miles to his home.

"Mikhail," Eric hissed as they aided him into the sanctuary of his house, "let me help you."

Raven was at the door, taking in Mikhail's pale features. He looked suddenly older than the thirty years she thought him. There were white lines around his mouth, but his mind was serene, his breathing even and relaxed. She stepped back silently to allow them entry.

She was hurt by Mikhail's refusal to allow her to help him. If he preferred the company of his people, she was not going to be so undignified as to let them see that it bothered her. Small teeth bit at her lower lip; her lingers twisted together and her eyes were anxious. She just had to see for herself that he was going to be well.

They carried Mikhail down to his sleeping chamber, Raven trailing after them. "Shall I call a doctor?" she inquired, already knowing the answer. She sensed they wanted her gone, that she was in the way somehow. Instinctively she knew that Mikhail would not receive the treatment he needed until she was gone.

"No, little one." Mikhail held out his hand to her.

She went to him, lacing her fingers through his. He was always so strong, so physically fit, yet now he was pale and drawn. Raven felt close to tears. "You need help, Mikhail. Tell me what to do."

His eyes, so black and cold, warmed instantly when his gaze settled on her face. "They know what to do. This is not my first wound, nor the worst I have received."

A small, humorless smile touched her soft mouth. "This was the business you needed to do this evening?"

"You know I hunt those that murdered my sister." He sounded tired and drained.

Raven hated arguing with him, but some things had to be said. "You told me you were just going out, nothing dangerous. It wasn't necessary to lie to me about what you were doing. I know you're the big hotshot around here, but this is what I do. I track killers. We were supposed to be partners, Mikhail."

Byron, Eric, and Jacques exchanged raised eyebrows. Byron mouthed the word
hotshot.
No one dared smile, not even Jacques.

Mikhail frowned, knew he had hurt her. "I did not deliberately speak an untruth. I merely went out to do a little investigating. Unfortunately, it turned into something altogether different. Believe me, I had no intention of getting hurt. A careless accident."

"You have this penchant for getting yourself into trouble when I'm not with you." Raven's smile did not quite reach her eyes. "How bad is your leg?"

"A scratch, no more; nothing for you to worry about."

She was silent again, her blue eyes moving over his face with a faraway, pensive look, as if she had turned inward.

Mikhail felt something twisting deep in his gut. She had that look, the one that meant she was thinking too much again. It was the last thing he wanted when he lay wounded, forced to go to ground at the first opportunity. He did not want her pulling away from him, and there was something in her stillness that worried him. She couldn't leave him. He knew that intellectually, but he didn't want her to
want
to leave him, to even be able to think about it. "You are angry with me." He made it a statement.

Raven shook her head. "No, I'm honestly not. Maybe disappointed in you." She looked sad. "You said there could be no lies between us, yet at the first opportunity, you did lie to me." For a moment her small teeth bit down hard on her lower lip. There was a sheen of tears in her eyes, but she blinked them away impatiently. "When you're asking for so much trust, Mikhail, it seems to me you need to trust me as well. You should have had more respect for me, at least for my abilities. I hunt using a psychic link. I trail using someone else's eyes. Some of you people are very sloppy and complacent. A few of you don't even bother with mind blocks. All of you are so arrogant, it doesn't occur to you that a human, not one of your superior race, can crawl inside your minds. You've got someone out there just like me, fingering your people for death. If I can get inside your minds, she can do it. My advice, for what it's worth, is to take far more precautions."

Raven stepped away from Mikhail's placating outstretched hand. "I'm just trying to save your lives, not be vindictive." It was only pride that was keeping her from falling apart. Already she felt the loss of him, of their unique closeness. Somehow she knew there would never be another man, another time in her life when she laughed and talked the way they had and was totally accepted and comfortable. "You don't need to say anything else, Mikhail. I saw your little scratch firsthand. You were right; you weren't alone out there—I was watching. Honesty in my language means truth."

Raven took a deep breath, tugged off the ring, and laid it carefully, regretfully, on the small table beside the bed. "I'm sorry, Mikhail, I really am. I know I'm letting you down, but I don't fit into this world of yours. I don't understand it, or the rules. Please do me the courtesy of staying away, of not trying to contact me. We both know I'm no real match for you. I'm leaving on the first available train."

She turned and started toward the door. It flew shut with a loud crash. She stared at it, not turning around. The air was thick with tension, with some dark feeling, one she couldn't put a name to. "I don't think it's going to do any good to prolong this. You need help right now. Obviously whatever they intend is some secret thing not to be shown to outsiders. I am just that. Let me go home where I belong, Mikhail, and let them help you now."

"Leave us," Mikhail ordered the others. They obeyed reluctantly.

"Raven, come here to me, please. I am weak and it would take most of my strength to come to you." There was a gentleness in his voice, an honesty she found heartbreaking.

She closed her eyes against the power in his voice, the soft caressing tone that rubbed sensuously like black velvet over her skin and crawled into her body, wrapping itself around her heart. "Not this time, Mikhail. We not only live in two different worlds, we have two separate value systems. We tried—I know you wanted to—but I can't do this. Maybe I never could have. It happened too fast and we don't really know one another."

"Raven." Heat curled in her very name. "Come here to me."

She pressed her fingers to her forehead. "I can't, Mikhail. If I let you get around me again, I'll lose respect for myself."

"Then I have no choice but to come to you." He shifted his weight, using his hands to move his injured leg.

"No!" Alarmed, she whirled around. "Stop it, Mikhail. I'm calling the others back inside." She pressed him back among the pillows.

His hand caught the nape of her neck with unexpected strength. "You are the only reason I am living right now. I told you I would make mistakes. You cannot give up on me, on
us.
You do know me, everything important. You can look into my mind and know I need you. I would never hurt you."

"You have hurt me. This hurts. Those people out there are your family, your people. I'm from another country, a different race. This isn't my home and it never will be. Let me call them to you and just let me go."

"You are right, Raven. I told you there would be no lies between us, yet I have this need to protect you from anything violent or frightening, anything that can hurt you." His thumb moved over her delicate cheekbone, slid lower to caress her silken mouth. "Do not leave me, Raven. Do not destroy me. It would kill me if you left me." His eyes were eloquent, persuasive, meeting hers unflinchingly, not attempting to hide the raw truth of his words from her, his total vulnerability.

"Mikhail," she said softly in despair. "I look at you and something deep within me says we belong together, you do need me, and I will never be complete without you. But I know it's nonsense. I've lived most of my life on my own, and I was quite happy."

"You were isolated, in pain. No one saw you, knew who you were. No one else could appreciate you or care for your needs as I can. Do not do this thing, Raven. Do not."

His hand on her arm drew her inevitably closer. How could she resist Mikhail at his most tempting? It was too late, far too late. His mouth was already finding hers. His lips were cool, tender, so gentle it brought tears to her eyes. She rested her forehead against his. "You hurt me, Mikhail, really hurt me."

"I know, little one, I am sorry. Please forgive me."

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Is it really that easy?"

His thumb erased a tear trickling down her face. "No, but it is all I have to give you at this moment."

"You need help and I know I can't be the one to help you. I'll go. You can contact me when you feel up to it. I promise not to go anywhere until you're better."

"Put my ring back on your finger, Raven," he said softly.

She shook her head, drew away from him. "I don't think so, Mikhail. Let's let things be for a while. Let me think things through."

His hand caressed her nape, slid over her shoulder, down her arm until his fingers circled her wrist. "I need to sleep tomorrow, really sleep. I want you protected from these people." He knew she would assume he meant that they would drag him.

Raven smoothed back the tangle of coffee-colored hair from his forehead. "I'll be fine on my own, as I have been for years. You're so busy looking after the world, you think there's no one who is capable of looking after themselves. I promise you I won't leave, and I promise I will be careful. I won't go hiding in their closets or under their beds."

Mikhail caught her chin firmly. "These people are dangerous, Raven, fanatical. I found that out tonight."

"Can they identify you?" All at once she couldn't breathe. She was becoming desperate to have his friends take care of his wounds.

"No way. And there is no way they will know. I found out two more names. Eugene, very dark, a Hungarian accent."

"That would be Eugene Slovensky. He came in on the train with the tour group."

"Someone named Kurt?" He lay back against the pillow, no longer able to block out the pain in his thigh. It was cutting at his nerve endings like a rusty saw blade going through his skin.

"Kurt Von Halen. He was on the tour also."

"There was a third man. No one spoke his name." His voice revealed his weakness. "He was about seventy, gray hair, a thin gray mustache."

"That must be Harry Summers, Margaret's husband."

"The inn harbors a nest of assassins. The worst of it was, the midwife told her husband, told all of them that Noelle was not of the undead. How could they believe such nonsense when she gave life to a child? God! What a terrible waste of life." Grief washed over him anew, added to his burden of pain.

Raven could feel it hammering at her insides cruelly. "I'm going to go now so they can help you, Mikhail. You're getting weaker by the minute." She bent to kiss his forehead. "I can feel their anxiety."