Dark Prince (20 page)

Snapping on the lamp, Raven dragged the latest in paperback fiction from her suitcase, determined to get into the tangled web of deceit and murder spiced with romance. She stuck to it for an hour, reading the same paragraph two and three times. It happened repeatedly, but Raven was determined until she realized she had not comprehended a single word. She threw the book across the room in frustration.

What was she going to do about Mikhail? She had no family left in the States, no one who would care if she never returned. After everything that had happened, she still wanted to be with Mikhail, needed to be with him. Common sense dictated that she should leave before it went on much longer. She 'had no room in her mind or heart for common sense. Raven swept a hand tiredly through her hair. She had no wish to return to the work of chasing serial killers.

So what to do about Mikhail? She hadn't learned to say no to him. She knew what love was. She had met a few couples who shared the genuine article. But what she felt toward Mikhail was so far beyond that emotion. It was more than passion and warmth; it bordered on obsession. Mikhail was in her somehow, flowing in her blood, wrapped in her insides, around her heart. He had somehow entered her mind, stolen some secret part of her soul.

It wasn't simply that her body craved his, burned for his, that her skin crawled with need for him. She was like a drug addict desperate for a drug. Was that love or some sick obsession? And then there was what Mikhail felt for her. His emotions were so sharp, so intense. The way he felt around her made what she felt seem a pale imitation. Their relationship frightened her. He was so territorial, so possessive, so wild and untamed. He was dangerous, a man who ruled others and was used to having complete authority. Judge, jury, and executioner. So many people depended on him.

Raven put her hands over her face. He needed her. There was no one else for him. He truly needed her. Only her. She wasn't sure how she knew that, but she did. There was no doubt in her mind. She saw it in his eyes. They were cold and emotionless when he looked at others. Those same eyes smoldered with molten heat when they looked at her. His mouth could be hard, edged with cruelty until it softened when he laughed with her, talked to her, kissed her. He needed her.

She went back to pacing. His customs, his way of living, were so different from hers.
You're scared, Raven,
she chastised herself. She pressed her forehead against the window-pane.
You're really afraid you won't ever be able to leave him.
He wielded so much power, used it without thought. It was more than that, if she was to be strictly fair. She needed him. His laughter, the way he touched her so gently, so tenderly. The way he burned for her, his gaze hungry and possessive, scorching, his need so urgent that he was wild for her. His conversation, his intellect, his sense of humor so close to her own. They belonged to each other. Two halves of the same whole.

Raven stood in the center of her room, shocked at her thinking. Why did she believe that they were meant to be together? Her mind seemed terribly distracted, chaotic even. Usually Raven was cool at all times, thinking things through rationally, yet it seemed she was almost incapable of that now. Everything in her cried out for Mikhail, just to feel his presence, to know he was near. Without conscious thought she reached out to him and found—space. He was either too far away or too deep in a drug-induced sleep for her to reach him. It left her shaky and feeling more alone than ever. Bereft even. She bit at her knuckles anxiously.

Her body moved because it had to. Back and forth across the room, over and over until she was totally exhausted. The weight in her heart seemed to have increased with every step. She was losing her ability to think straight, to breathe. Desperately she reached out again just to touch Mikhail's mind once, to know he was somewhere safe. She found—emptiness.

Raven drew her knees up, dragged the pillow to her. There in the darkness, rocking back and forth, grief overwhelmed her. It consumed her so that all she could think was of Mikhail. He was gone. He had left her and she was completely alone, half a person, a mere shadow. Tears burned, ran down her face, and emptiness clawed at her insides. She could not possibly exist without him.

All her thoughts of leaving, all her careful calculations didn't matter, couldn't matter. The sane part of her whispered that it was impossible to feel this way. Mikhail couldn't be her other half; she had survived for years without him. She couldn't want to throw herself off the balcony simply because she couldn't reach him with a mind touch.

Raven found herself walking across the room, step by slow step, as if someone other than herself compelled her to do so. She flung open the doors to the wraparound balcony. Cold air rushed in, with a hint of dampness. Fog completely veiled the mountains and forest. It was so beautiful, yet Raven was unable to see it. There could be no life without Mikhail. Her hands found the wooden railing, her fingers digging absently into two deep scars she found in the wood. She ran her fingertip back and forth in the depressions, a small caress, the only real thing in a barren world of emptiness.

"Miss Whitney?"

Wrapped up in her own grief, she had noticed no one. She whirled around, her hand going defensively to her throat.

"Forgive me for startling you." Father Hummer's voice was gentle. He rose from a chair positioned in the corner of her balcony. A blanket was wrapped around his shoulders, but she could see he was shivering from long exposure to the night air. "It isn't safe out here for you, my dear." He took her arm, led her like a child back to her room, and carefully locked the balcony doors.

Raven found her voice. "What in the world were you doing out there? How did you get out there?"

The priest smiled smugly. "It wasn't hard. Mrs. Galvenstein is a member of the Church. She knows Mikhail and I are close friends. I simply told her Mikhail was engaged to you and that I needed to deliver a message. As I am old enough to be your grandfather, she thought it safe enough to allow me to wait on the balcony until you returned. And, of course, she would never pass up an opportunity to do something for Mikhail. He is very generous and asks very little in return. I believe he made the original purchase of the inn and allowed Mrs. Galvenstein to make much smaller, more reasonable and manageable payments to him."

Raven kept her back to him, unable to stem the flood of tears. "I'm sorry, Father. I can't talk right now. I don't know what's wrong with me."

He reached his hand over her shoulder to wave a handkerchief at her. "Mikhail was worried this night would be… difficult on you. And tomorrow. He hoped you would spend it with me."

"I'm so afraid…" Raven confessed, "and it's silly. There's no reason to be afraid of anything. I don't know why I'm behaving so badly."

"Mikhail is fine. He's indestructible, my dear, a great jungle cat with nine lives. I have known him for years. Nothing will keep Mikhail down."

Sorrow. It invaded every inch of her body, crawled in her mind, lay heavy on her soul. Mikhail was lost to her. Somehow, some way, during those few hours he was apart from her, he had slipped away. Raven shook her head, her grief so deep and wild she was strangling on it, unable to get enough air to breathe.

"Raven, stop this!" Father Hummer caught her small, bent figure and guided her to the edge of the bed. "Mikhail asked me to be here. He said he would come for you early this evening."

"You don't know…"

"Why would he have gotten me out of bed at such an hour? I'm an old man, child. I need my rest. You need to think, use your intellect."

"But it feels so real, as if he's dead and I've lost him forever."

"But you know it isn't so," he argued reasonably. "Mikhail chose you for his own. What you share with him is what his people share with their mates. They take the physical and mental bond for granted. They cherish it, and from what I have learned over the years it is so strong, one rarely survives the loss of the other. Mikhail's people are more of the earth, wild and free like the animals, but with phenomenal abilities and a conscience."

He surveyed her tear-ravaged face, the grief in her eyes. She was still laboring to breathe, but he felt her tears lessen. "Are you listening to me, Raven?"

She nodded, striving desperately to latch onto his words, to regain her sanity. This man knew Mikhail, had known him for years. She could read his affection for Mikhail, and he was certain of Mikhail's strength.

"For some reason God has given you the ability to form a mental as well as physical link to Mikhail. With that comes awesome responsibility. You literally hold his life in your hands. You must get beyond this feeling and use your brain. You know he isn't dead. He told you he would return. He sent me to you, afraid you might harm yourself. Think; reason. You are human, not an animal crying out for its mate."

Raven tried to grasp what he was saying. She felt as if she was in a deep hole and couldn't claw her way out. She concentrated on each of his words, forcing them into her mind. Deep breathing forced air into her burning lungs. Was it possible?
Damn him for putting her through this, for knowing it would happen. Was she really that far gone?

Raven brushed the tears from her face, determined to pull herself together. She was determined to push the grief aside enough to let in rational thought. She could feel it eating at her, waiting on the outer edges of her consciousness to consume her. "And why can't I eat or drink anything but water?" She rubbed at her temples, missing the alarm that spread across the priest's weathered features.

Father Hummer cleared his throat. "How long has that been going on, Miss Whitney?"

The terrible emptiness crouched in her gut, in her mind, waiting to leap, to sink its teeth into her again. Raven struggled for control. She lifted her chin. "Raven; please call me

Raven. You seem to know all about me anyway." She was trying to control the trembling. Holding out her hands, she stared at them as they shook. "Isn't this silly?"

"Come to my house, child. It will be dawn soon. You can spend the day with me. I would consider it a great honor."

"He knew this would happen to me, didn't he?" Raven asked softly, beginning to understand. "That's why he sent you. He was afraid I might actually harm myself."

Edgar Hummer let out his breath slowly. "I'm afraid so, child. They are not as we are."

"So he tried to tell me. But I'm not like them. Why would this happen to me?" Raven asked. "It doesn't make any sense. Why did he think this would happen?"

"You completed the ritual with him. You are his other half. The light to his darkness. One can't be without the other. Come with me, Raven, back to my house. We'll sit together and talk of Mikhail until he comes for you."

Chapter Eight

Raven hesitated. The idea of learning more about Mikhail was tempting. Very tempting. "I think now that I know what is happening to me, I might be able to handle it on my own. It's very late, Father, and I already feel ashamed that you've had to sit in the cold and watch over me."

Father Hummer patted her wrist. "That's nonsense, girl. I enjoy these little errands. At my age, one looks forward to the unusual. At least come downstairs and spend some time with me. Mrs. Galvenstein keeps a fire going in the parlor."

Raven shook her head vigorously, an instinctive act of protection for Mikhail. The inn held many of his enemies within its walls. She would never place him in danger no matter how difficult a time she might be experiencing.

Edgar Hummer sighed softly. "I can't leave you, Raven. I gave my word to Mikhail. He has done so much for my congregation, the people in this village, and asks little in return." The priest rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "I must stay, child, in case it grows worse."

Raven swallowed hard. Margaret Summers was asleep somewhere in the building. Raven could guard herself, even her most intense grief, but she could easily read Father Hummer's natural worry. If she could do it, Margaret could. Making up her mind, Raven caught up her jacket, brushed at the tears on her face, and led the way down the stairs before she changed her mind. The most important thing for her at that moment was to protect Mikhail. The need was elemental, part of her soul.

Once outside, Raven zipped her jacket to her chin. She had changed to her faded jeans and a college sweatshirt the moment she had returned to her room. Fog was everywhere, thick, only a foot or so from the ground. It was very cold. She glanced at the priest. His English might be a bit halting, but intelligence and integrity shone on his weathered features and in the faded blue of his eyes. He was cold from the time spent on the balcony. The priest was too old to be dragged from the warmth of his cottage to do such a task in the middle of the night.

She pushed back stray tendrils of hair as she forced herself to walk calmly through the village. It should have been peaceful, but she carried the knowledge that a group of fanatical people was murdering those they believed to be vampires. Inside her heart was aching and heavy. Her mind needed the reassurance of a mind touch with Mikhail. She glanced at the older man beside her. His walk was brisk, his manner restful, soothing. This was a man long ago at peace with himself and those around him.

"You're certain he's alive?" The question slipped out before she could stop it, just when she was so proud of herself for appearing normal.

"Absolutely, child. He gave me the impression that he would be gone this day until nightfall without the usual means of contacting him." He grinned at her, a conspirator's grin. "Personally, I use his pager. Gadgets fascinate me. When I visit him, I play on his computer as often as I can. Once I locked the thing up and it took him a while to figure out what I did to it." He was absurdly pleased with that. "Of course, you understand, I could have told him, but it would have taken all the fun out of it."

Raven laughed; she couldn't help herself. "At last, a man after my own heart. I'm glad someone besides myself gives him a hard time. He needs it, you know. All those people bowing and scraping. It's not good for him." Her hands were freezing so she shoved them into her pockets.