Dark Prince (Author's cut special edition) Read online

  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.

  His customs, his way of living, were so different from hers. You’re scared, Raven, she chastised herself. She pressed her forehead against the windowpane. 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 and 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 at 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 behind him.

  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—and a priest—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’m not good company 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 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 brokenly, 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 on to 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 were 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 crowding 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 c
all 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.”

  Raven hesitated. The idea of learning more about Mikhail was 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. I will be more than happy to sit on the balcony.”

  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. And she wasn’t going to let the elderly priest sit all night in the cold. 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 could change 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. Thankfully 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 for 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. He has to be close for it to work, but it’s a thrill when it does. Gadgets fascinate me almost as much as they do him. He always has to have the very latest of any invention. 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.

  “I do my best, Raven,” the priest admitted, “but we don’t need to tell him. Some things are best kept between us.”

  She smiled at him, relaxing just a little. “I agree with you on that. How long have you known Mikhail?” If she couldn’t reach out to him, touch him, maybe she could soothe the gaping raw wound of emptiness by talking about him. She found she was beginning to feel angry at Mikhail. He should have prepared her for this.

  The priest looked toward the forest, toward Mikhail’s home, and then raised his eyes heavenward. How was he supposed to answer that question? He had known Mikhail since his own youth, when he’d been a green priest, sent straight from his homeland to a tiny village in the middle of nowhere. Of course he had been moved around since, but he was semiretired now, and they let him go where he wanted, the place he had grown to love.

  Her blue eyes were sharp as they studied him. “I don’t want to put you in the position of having to lie, Father. I find myself doing enough of that for Mikhail, and I’m not even certain why. Lord knows, he doesn’t ask me to.” There was sorrow in her voice, regret, confusion.

  “I wouldn’t lie,” he said.

  “Is omission the same thing as a lie, Father?” Tears made her eyes luminous, sparkling on her long lashes. “Something is happening to me, something I don’t understand, and it terrifies me.”

  “Do you love him?”

  She could hear the sound of their footsteps loud in the silence of the predawn hours. Their hearts beat steadily, their blood pumping in their veins. As she passed houses, she could hear snoring, creaks, rustles, the sound of a couple making love. Her fingers sought and found Mikhail’s ring as if it were a talisman. She covered it carefully with her palm, as if she could hold Mikhail there.

  Did she love him? Everything in her was fascinated, exhilarated, by Mikhail. Certainly the physical chemistry between them was powerful, explosive even. But Mikhail was a mystery, a dangerous man who lived in a world of shadows she could not possibly comprehend.

  “How do you love what you don’t understand, what you don’t know?” Even as she asked the question, she could see his smile, the tenderness in his eyes. She could hear his laughter, their conversations that went on for hours, the silences that stretched companionably between them.

  “You know Mikhail. You’re an extraordinary woman. You can sense his goodness, his compassion.”

  “He has a streak of jealousy, and he’s extremely possessive,” Raven pointed out. She did know Mikhail, both the good and bad, and she had accepted him the way he was. But now she realized that although he had opened his mind to her, she had only glimpsed parts of him.

  “Don’t forget his protective streak, his deep sense of duty,” Father Hummer countered with a small smile.

  Raven shrugged, finding she was near tears again. It was humiliating for her to be so out of control when she knew the priest was right. Mikhail was not dead; he was somewhere in a drug-induced sleep and would get in touch with her the moment he was able. “The intensity of what I feel for him scares me, Father. It isn’t normal.”

  “He would give his life for you. Mikhail would be incapable of harming you. If I know anything of him, I know that you can enter a relationship with him knowing he would never be unfaithful, never raise his hand to you, and always put you first in all things.” Edgar Hummer said the words with complete conviction. He knew the truth of it as surely as he knew there was a God in heaven.

  She swiped at the tears with the back of her
hand. “I believe he wouldn’t hurt me, I know he wouldn’t. But what of others? He has so many special gifts, so much power. The opportunity to misuse such a talent is tremendous.”

  Father Hummer pushed open the door to his cottage and waved her inside. “Do you actually believe that’s what he did? He’s their leader by blood. The lineage goes back far in time. He is called their prince, although he would never admit it to you. They look to him for leadership and guidance, just as my congregation often comes to me.”

  Raven needed something to do, so she built a fire in the stone fireplace while the priest brewed a cup of herbal tea. She knew he was Mikhail’s friend, and probably knew more about his mysterious life than she did, but she was reluctant to risk giving out information that might later endanger Mikhail. No matter how conflicted she was, Raven felt the need to protect him.

  “He’s really a prince?” For some reason that dismayed her. On top of everything else, she was contemplating a commitment to royalty. Those things never worked out.

  “I’m afraid so, child,” Father Hummer admitted ruefully. “His is considered the last word on everything. Perhaps that is why he tends to look and act as though he might be an important person. He has many responsibilities, and as long as I’ve known him, he has never failed to meet any of them.”

  She sat back on the handwoven rug, pushing the heavy fall of hair away from her tearstained face. “Sometimes when Mikhail and I are together, it feels as if we’re two halves of the same whole. He can be so serious and brooding and so alone. I love to make him laugh, to bring life into his eyes. But then he does things . . .” Her voice trailed off.