Dark Prince - Feehan Christine - Страница 31

The largest man in the room stirred uncomfortably. “I’ve never heard of a vampire breeding. They kill the living to enlarge their ranks. They sleep in the ground and guard their lairs. You acted before we could investigate this thoroughly.”

“Kurt,” Eugene protested, “we saw the opportunity and we took it. And how come her body just disappeared? After we did it, we ran. The husband and child have not been seen since. We know the woman is dead—we killed her—yet there is no hue and cry over her death.”

“We must find the husband and child,” Hans decreed. “And any others; we must stamp them out.” He peered nervously out the warped glass into the night. He let out a low exclamation of alarm. “Look, Eugene—a wolf. That damn Dubrinsky protects them on his land. Someday they’re going to overrun our village and make off with the children.” He reached down for the old rifle propped against the wall.

Eugene jumped up. “Wait, Hans! Are you certain it’s a wolf? A real wolf? Why would a wolf be out of the woods and staring at your house?”

“Who is this Dubrinsky who keeps wolves?” Kurt demanded.

“He is of the Church!” Heidi hissed, shocked at the implication. “He is a good man, in church every Sunday. Father Hummer is one of his dearest friends. They often eat supper together and play chess. I have seen this with my own eyes.”

Hans waved her testimony aside. “Dubrinsky is the devil himself. See it out there, the wolf slinking in the bushes, watching the house?”

“I tell you, that’s not natural.” Eugene lowered his voice. “It’s one of them.”

“They couldn’t know it was us,” Hans denied, but he betrayed his fear with his trembling hands. He lifted the rifle to his shoulder.

“You’ll have to get it with the first shot, Hans,” Eugene warned.

The rodent raced across the floor into the bedroom and squeezed through the small crack. Mikhail burst from the rodent’s body, his mind reaching out into the night with a warning, shape-shifting as he ran, becoming a huge black wolf with burning eyes of vengeance.

He covered the ground in a rush, leaping at the smaller wolf’s body. As his heavier frame crashed into the smaller one, Mikhail felt fire exploding in his flesh. The smaller wolf slunk into the heavy woods. Although blood gushed from its hindquarters, the huge black wolf didn’t utter a cry, didn’t run away. Instead, the wolf turned its large head and stared at the house with two burning coals for eyes, staring with a promise. Vengeance. Retribution. The dark promise of death itself.

Mikhail!Raven’s sharp cry rang in his head.

The black wolf stared a moment longer, holding Hans Romanov in his power; then it turned and simply vanished into the night. There was no way that any of the men would dare attempt to track it. The huge wolf had come out of nowhere, leaping to protect the smaller wolf. The black wolf was no ordinary wolf, and not one of them wanted to follow it into the timber.

Mikhail trotted to the safety of the deep forest before pain and loss of blood drove him to take his human form. He staggered, caught at a thick tree branch, and sat down abruptly.

Mikhail! Please! I know you’re hurt. Where are you? I can feel your pain. Let me come to you. Let me help you.

Behind Mikhail the bushes rustled. He didn’t bother to turn, knowing Byron was there, ashamed, embarrassed, filled with remorse. “Mikhail. God, I am sorry. Is it bad?”

“Bad enough.” Mikhail clamped his hand over the wound to stop the blood flowing so freely. “What were you doing there, Byron? It was madness, foolhardy.”

Mikhail.Raven’s fear and tears were filling his mind.

Be calm, little one. A scratch, no more.

Let me come to you.She was pleading with him, and it broke his heart.

Byron tore a strip from his shirt and bound Mikhail’s thigh. “I am sorry. I should have listened to you, should have known you would be hunting. I thought...” He trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

“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. Stopit, 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.