Dark Prince (Dark Series - book 1) Read online

  “If it never happened before, why did you fear it?”

  Mikhail hung his head, his fingers curling into fists. “Because I wanted her, I could not bear to give her up. I wanted her to know me, know the worst. See all of me. I wanted to bind her to me so she could never leave my side.”

  “She is human.”

  “Yes. She has abilities, a mental link to me. Compassion. She walks in beauty. I told myself I would not do this thing, that it was wrong, but I knew I would.”

  “And knowing you would do something you believe is wrong, you still did it. You must have had a good reason.”

  “Selfishness. Did you not hear me? I, I, I. Everything for myself. I found a reason to continue my existence and I took what did not belong to me and still, even now, talking to you, I know I will not give her up.”

  “Accept your nature, Mikhail. Accept yourself as you are.”

  Mikhail’s laughter was bitter. “Everything is so clear to you. You say I am one of God’s children. I have purpose; I should accept my nature. My nature is to take what I believe is mine, hold it, protect it. Chain it to my side if necessary. I cannot let her go. I cannot. She is like the wind, open and free. If I caged the wind, would it die?”

  “Then don’t cage it, Mikhail. Trust it to stay beside you.”

  “How can I protect the wind, Edgar?”

  “You said

  cannot,

  Mikhail. You cannot let her go. Not would not, will not. You said cannot; there is a difference.”

  “For me. What of her? What choice am I giving her?”

  “I have always believed in you, in your goodness and your strength. It is very possible that the young lady needs you as well. You have heard the legends and lies associated with your kind for so long, you are beginning to believe the nonsense. To a true vegetarian, a meat-eater can be repulsive. The tiger needs deer to survive. A plant needs water. We all need something. You take only what you need. Kneel, receive God’s blessing, and go back to your woman. You will find a way to protect your wind.”

  Mikhail knelt obediently, his head bent, allowing the peace of the old man and his words to comfort him. Outside, the fury of the storm abated abruptly, as if it had spent its anger and now could rest in the aftermath.

  “Thank you, Father,” Mikhail whispered.

  “Do what you must to protect your race, Mikhail. In the eyes of God, they are His children.”

  Chapter Four

  Mikhail wrapped his arms around Raven’s slender form, pulled her tight against his hard frame. His body curved protectively around hers. She was heavily asleep, her body light, her face pale. There were deep shadows beneath her eyes. He whispered to her softly. “I am sorry for this, little one, sorry I have placed you in this position. Beast that I am, I know I would do it again. You will not die; I cannot allow it.”

  He traced a line over the vein in his wrist, filled the glass beside his bed with the dark red liquid.

  Hear me, Raven. You need this drink. Obey me at once.

  He pressed the glass to her pale lips, tilted some of the contents down her throat. His blood was very healing, would ensure her life.

  Raven choked, gagged, tried to turn her head away as she had before.

  Obeyme at once. You will drink all of it.

  His command was stronger this time. She detested the contents, her body striving to reject it, but the force of his will won, as it always did.

  Mikhail!

  He heard the forlorn cry in his head.

  You must drink, Raven. Continue your trust in me.

  She relaxed and sank back into the layers of sleep, obeying him reluctantly.

  Mikhail had caught a brief glimpse of her confused thoughts, the swirl of alarmed emotions. She believed she was fighting a nightmare. Her color was better. Satisfied, he lay down beside her. She would remember the blood exchange as only a part of her nightmare. He propped himself up on one elbow, taking the time to study her face, her long thick lashes, her flawless skin and high cheekbones. It wasn’t just her beauty, he knew that; it was what was inside her, the compassion and light that allowed her to accept his wild, untamed nature.

  It was beyond his imagination that such a miracle could occur. Just when he knew he would walk into the sun without hesitation, he had been sent an angel. A slow smile softened his mouth. His angel refused to do anything he told her. She responded far better when he thought to ask. He had been too long accustomed to obedience from all those under his protection. He had to remember that she was mortal, raised in a different time, with different values. It was imprinted on male Carpathians before their births that it was their duty to protect the women and children. With few women and no female children born in the last centuries, it was essential to safeguard every woman they had.

  Raven was mortal, not Carpathian. She did not belong in his world. When she left, she would take his color and emotions with her. She would take the very air he breathed. He closed his eyes against the thought. Where would he find the strength to let her walk away? He had so much to do before sunrise. He wanted to stay with her, hold her, persuade her not to leave him, tell her what was in his heart, tell her what she meant to him, tell her she couldn’t leave him, that he might not survive. He wouldn’t survive.

  He sighed heavily, rose once more. He needed to replenish himself, get to work. Again he crushed healing herbs, then thrust her more deeply into sleep. He was meticulous about the safeguards in his home and added a command to the creatures in the forest. If anyone came near his lair, threatened her in any way, he would know immediately.

  At Mikhail’s call, Jacques and Byron met him in the trees above Noelle and Rand’s home. Once the body had been discovered, it had been properly burned, as was their way. “You touched nothing else?” Mikhail asked.

  “Only the body. All of their clothes and personal items were left as we found them,” Byron assured him. “Rand did not go back in the house. You know they must have some sort of trap set for you. The body was left deliberately as bait.”

  “Oh, I am certain of that. They will use all the modern technology they can come up with—cameras, videos.” Mikhail’s dark features were brooding. “They believe all the legends. Stakes, garlic, beheading. They are so predictable and primitive.” There was a snarl in his voice, contempt for the murderers. “They take so much trouble to learn about our kind before they condemn us to death.”

  Byron and Jacques exchanged an uneasy glance. Mikhail in this mood could be lethal. His hooded eyes, burning with fury, slid over them. “You stay and observe. If I get into trouble, you get out. Do not show yourselves.” He hesitated. “If something goes wrong, I ask a favor.”

  Mikhail had slipped into old-word formality. Byron and Jacques would lay down their lives for him. It was a rare privilege to be asked a favor by the prince of their people. “My woman is sleeping deeply. She rests in my home. The safeguards are many and perilous. You must be careful and take great care to unravel them meticulously. She is to be healed, taught how to shield herself, and if she chooses, to stay in your protection. Through our bloodline, Jacques, you will inherit the mantle of leadership. I believe it should be offered to Gregori at this time, to give you the time you will need to educate yourself to lead. If Gregori should refuse to accept—and most likely he will—my mantle

  must

  pass to you, Jacques. You will find it not to your liking, as I suspect you are already aware. If such becomes the case, you will have to ensure Gregori’s loyalty to you and to our people. You will do these things for me. Byron, you will aid Jacques as Gregori has aided me. Both of you will give your sworn allegiance to Gregori should he accept.”

  Both answered formally, speaking the words that bound them to their vow. Byron cleared his throat. “Have you... that is, is she one of us?” He ventured the question with great caution. They all knew vampires had attempted the conversion of human women. They had even discussed the possibility that they try, because they were in such a desperate situ
ation. The risk far outweighed the advantages. The women that had been converted had gone mad, had murdered small children, and had been impossible to save. Carpathians were born with their abilities and taught rigid discipline. The few who broke their laws were dealt with instantly and harshly. The race respected all forms of life. Because of their tremendous power, it had to be that way.

  Mikhail shook his head. “I know that she is my true mate. The ritual was hard on her. I had no choice but to replenish her.” His words were terse, surly, daring them to continue the inquisition, warning them that it would be at their peril. “I did not bind her to me. She is mortal and it would be wrong.”

  “We will do as you wish,” Byron reiterated with an uneasy glance at Jacques, who looked more amused than worried.

  Mikhail dissolved effortlessly, streamed down through the heavy branches of the fir tree. Once on the ground he took the form of a wolf. Mist couldn’t scent, and he needed the unique capabilities of his furred brethren. He would find spoor and follow it. After all, first and foremost, above all else, he was a predator. His shrewd intellect only served to enhance his hunting abilities.

  The wolf circled the clearing warily, nose close to the ground, examining each tree in the vicinity near the house. The wolf smelled death. It filled his nostrils with its sour, pungent odor. He began to crisscross the ground, covering every inch in his search pattern, identifying Rand’s odor, Eric, and Jacques. He found where the assassins had approached the house. Four men. He lingered over each scent until they were imprinted deeply in his mind. He took his time unraveling the macabre, gruesome story.

  The men had approached stealthily, even crawling from cover to cover at times. The wolf followed their path, straying here and there to cover ground, looking for hidden traps. At the door he paused, circled warily, backed off. Suddenly his hind legs dug into the dirt, and he launched himself straight through a window, shattering glass and landing a good six feet into the room. Deep within the wolf’s body, Mikhail’s laughter was grim and without humor. The four assassins had returned to the scene of their grisly murder to set up cameras to capture images of his kind. If the assassins had had guts, they would have stayed and waited for the body to be discovered. They had done their brutal business and had run like the cowards they were.

  Bile rose in his throat. The wolf shook its head, growled low. Three of the scents were unknown to him, the fourth very familiar.

  A traitor.

  How much had he received to betray Noelle? The wolf leapt again, crashing through a second window. The camera would record a huge wolf, a blurred movement of shattered glass and mist and the wolf again. Only Mikhail, and a few other hunters, Jacques and Gregori, Aidan and Julian were capable of such speed in shape-shifting.

  He began backtracking the assassins. One scent split off from the rest, wound into deep forest, came out near the timberline very close to Edgar Hummer’s cabin and Dr. Westhemer’s office. The wolf stayed in the trees, staring at the small house behind the office with cruel, red, unblinking eyes. Abruptly the wolf spun around, trotted back to where the assassins had split paths, and picked up the trail of the other three. It led straight to the inn where Raven was staying.

  Mikhail joined Byron and Jacques in the treetop. “Three of them stay at the inn. I will recognize them when I am close to them. Tomorrow I will escort my woman back to collect her things. While I am there, I will be able to pick out their scents. There is no way of knowing if others are involved. Until we find out, we will have to be very careful. They have a video camera set up in the house; the trigger is on the door. Everyone needs to stay out of there.” Mikhail was silent for a long moment.

  “Does Celeste go to Dr. Westhemer?” he finally asked softly.

  “I think she sees Hans Romanov’s wife. She works with the doctor and delivers most of the babies,” Jacques replied.

  “And Eleanor?” Mikhail asked.

  Jacques stirred uncomfortably. “I believe so.”

  “This woman assisted Noelle’s birth?”

  Byron cleared his throat. “Noelle delivered the child at home with Heidi Romanov helping her. Rand was there; I came at his call. After the midwife left, Noelle hemorrhaged. Rand had to give her blood. I stayed with Noelle while Rand hunted. And no, Mrs. Romanov did not see any of it. There was no one close; I would have known.”

  “It was Hans Romanov who led the others to Noelle. I do not know if his wife was involved, but someone informed the assassins that the Carpathians were reproducing.” Mikhail gave the information in a soft monotone. His eyes burned, glowed, his body trembled with fury; his hands opened and closed, but his voice was perfectly controlled. “It is necessary to know if the woman is involved.”

  “She must be,” Byron snapped. “Why are we waiting?”

  “Because we are not the barbaric animals these evil ones have named us. We have to know if the midwife is a traitor. And it is not your duty to dispense justice, Byron. It is not an easy thing to live with, the taking of life.” Mikhail had felt the weight of each of those lives down through the centuries, but as his power and responsibilities grew, so did the ease with which he killed. As his emotions had faded, it was only his strong will and sense of right and wrong that prevented him from losing his soul to the insidious whispers of the darkness struggling for supremacy.

  “What do you want us to do?” Jacques asked.

  “It is not safe for Eleanor or Celeste to be in their homes. No more trips to the midwife. Take Celeste to my home above the lake. Eric will be able to study the ancient arts, which he has neglected. It is an easy place to defend. Eleanor cannot travel as far.”

  “They can use my home,” Byron offered. “They will be close if they need help.” Eleanor was his sister, and he had always loved her dearly. Despite the fact that his emotions were long gone, he remembered what it felt like.

  “It is risky. If your relationship is known and she is under suspicion, or if you were seen assisting Rand...” Mikhail shook his head, not liking the idea. “Maybe they should take over my home.”

  “No!” The simultaneous protests were instant and sharp.

  “No, Mikhail, we cannot afford the risk to you.” Jacques sounded alarmed.

  “Our women come first before any of us, Jacques,” Mikhail reminded him gently. “Without them, our race will die. We can have sex with humans, but we cannot procreate with them. Our women are our greatest treasures. Each of you must eventually mate and father children. But be certain the one you choose is your true lifemate. All of you know the signs: colors, emotions, the burning for her. The bond is strong. When one dies, the other usually chooses to die also. It is death or vampire. We all know that.”

  “But Rand...” Byron trailed off.

  “Rand became impatient with the waiting. Noelle was obsessed with him, but they were not true lifemates. I think they ended up hating each other, trapped in the sickness of their relationship. He will survive her passing.” Mikhail worked to keep the disgust from his voice. True lifemates could not survive long without each other. That fact and the high mortality rate of their children, had taken a huge toll on their dwindling race. Mikhail was not certain his people would survive into the next century. No matter how hard he tried, he could not find the hope necessary to keep the males from turning vampire.

  “Mikhail—” Jacques chose his words carefully—”only you and Gregori know the secrets of our race. You know Gregori will choose his solitary existence. Only you can teach the rest of us, lead us, help us to grow. If we are to survive, grow strong again, it cannot be done without you. Your blood is the life of our people.”

  “Why do you say this to me?” Mikhail snapped, not wanting to hear the truth.

  Jacques and Byron exchanged a long, uneasy glance. “We have been concerned for some time about your continued withdrawal.”

  “My withdrawal was inevitable and is hardly your business.”

  “You have chosen to remain completely alone, even among those of us you call blood ki
n,” Jacques went on.

  “What is it you are trying to say?” Mikhail snapped impatiently. He had been away from Raven for too long. He needed to see her, hold her, touch her mind with his.

  “We cannot afford to lose you. And if you do not wish to continue your life, you will begin to take greater risks, become careless,” Jacques drawled slowly.

  Mikhail’s dark, brooding eyes slowly warmed, and a smile tugged at the hard corners of his mouth, softening the lines in his beautifully chiseled features. “You young devils. How have you managed to watch me without my knowledge?”

  “The alpha pair fear for you also,” Jacques admitted. “As I am of your blood and under your protection, they accept and speak with me. They watch over you when you take your solitary walks and when you run with the pack. They say there is no joy in you.”

  Mikhail laughed softly. “I need a good wolf hide for this winter. Whatever my feelings, Noelle was our sister, one of my people. I will not rest until her murderers are brought to justice.”