Текст книги "Dark Prince"

Автор книги: Christine Feehan

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“She is under my protection.” A declaration. A challenge. A promise of quick, savage retribution. “As we all are, Mikhail,” the woman said softly, appeasingly.

Raven swayed; only the walls were holding her up. Vibrations of rage and grief were beating at her until she wanted to scream. She made a sound, a single, threadlike sound of objection. Mikhail turned to her at once, his arms sweeping around her, enveloping her. “Guard your thoughts and emotions,” he hissed at the others. “She is very sensitive. I will escort her to the inn and return to discuss this disturbing news.”

Raven had no real chance to see the others before he was striding past them, taking her with him to the small car waiting in the garage. She smiled tiredly, her head resting against his shoulder. “You don’t seem like you belong in this car, Mikhail. Your views on women are so archaic, in a former life you must have been ‘lord of the castle’.”

He glanced at her quickly. His gaze slid over the paleness of her face, dwelt on his mark on her neck, visible through the long mane of her hair. In truth, he hadn’t meant to leave a mark, but now it was there, his brand of ownership. “I am going to help you sleep tonight.” He made it a statement.

“Who were those people?” She asked because she knew he didn’t want her to ask. She was so tired, even dizzy. She rubbed at her head and wished that for once in her life she was normal. He probably thought she was the fainting type.

There was a short silence. He sighed heavily. “My family.”

She knew he spoke the truth, yet he didn’t. “Why would someone do such a terrible thing?” She turned her face up to his. “Do they expect you to track this killer, to stop him?” There was raw pain in her voice, pain for him. Worry. His grief was sharp, edged with guilt and the need for violence.

He turned her question over in his mind. She knew then, knew one of his people had been killed. She probably had picked the details out of someone’s head. The worry and pain was for him. There was no condemnation. Simply worry. Mikhail felt the tension ease from his body, felt warmth curl in his stomach. “I will try to keep you as far from this mess as possible, little one.” No one worried about him, about his state of mind or his health. No one thought to feel for him. Something inside him seemed to soften and melt. She was wrapping herself inside him, deep, somewhere he needed her.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t see each other for a few days. I’ve never been so tired in my life.” She tried to give him a gracious way out. Raven looked down at her hands. She wanted to give herself an out, too. She had never felt so close to anyone, so comfortable, as if she had known him forever, yet was terrified that he would take her over. “And I don’t think your family was thrilled to see an American with you. We’re too... explosive together,” she finished ruefully.

“Do not try to leave me, Raven.” The car drew up in front of the inn. “I hold what is mine, and make no mistake, you are mine.” It was both a warning and a plea. He had no time for soft words. He wanted to give them to her—God knew she deserved them—but the others were waiting and his responsibilities weighed heavily on him.

She raised her hand to the line of his jaw, rubbing gently. “You’re so used to having your own way.” There was a smile in her voice. “I can go to sleep all by myself, Mikhail. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“You need to sleep untroubled, undisturbed, deeply. What you saw’ tonight will haunt you if I do not help you.” His thumb stroked across her lower lip. “I could remove the memory if you wished.”

Raven could see he wanted to do it, believed that it would be best for her. She could see it was difficult to ask her to make a decision. “No, thank you, Mikhail,” she said demurely. “I think I’ll keep all my memories, good and bad.” She kissed his chin, slid across the seat to the door. “You know, I’m not a porcelain doll. I won’t break because I see something I shouldn’t. I’ve chased serial killers before.” She smiled at him, her eyes sad.

He shackled her wrist in an unbreakable grip. “And it almost destroyed you. Not this time.”

Her lashes swept down, hiding her expression. “That’s not your decision.” If others persuaded him to use his talents to chase the insane, evil killers in the world, she would not leave him alone. How could she?

“You are not nearly as afraid of me as you should be,” he growled.

She flashed him another smile, tugging at her wrist to remind him to release her. “I think you know what’s between us would be worth nothing if you forced me to do your will in everything.”

He held her captive a heartbeat longer, his dark, dangerous eyes moving possessively over her fragile face. She was so strong-willed. She was afraid, but she looked him in the eyes and stood up to him. It made her ill, brought her to the brink of madness to chase evil, but she did it time and time again. He was still a shadow in her mind. He read her determination to help him, her fear of him and his incredible powers, but she would not leave him to face this horrible killer alone. He wanted to keep her with him safe in his lair. Almost reverently, Mikhail trailed his fingers down her cheek. “Go, before I change my mind,” he ordered, abruptly releasing her.

Raven walked away from him slowly, trying to overcome the dizziness that had taken hold of her. She was careful to walk straight, not wanting him to know she felt as if her body was lead, that every movement was difficult. She walked with her head up and kept her mind purposely blank.

Mikhail watched her enter the inn. He saw her hand go up to her head, rub at her temple, the nape of her neck. She was still dizzy from his taking her blood. That had been selfish, beneath him, yet he couldn’t stop himself. Now she was paying for it. Her head ached from the bombardment of emotions. His included. All of his people would have to be more careful to shield their minds.

Mikhail unfolded his large frame from the vehicle, moved to the shadows, his senses flaring out to tell him he was alone. He took the form of mist. In the heavy fog it was unnoticeable, and he could easily seep beneath her unsecured window. He watched her as she sank onto the bed. Her face was pale, her eyes haunted. Shw swept her mane of hair back, touching his mark as if it ached. It took her a few minutes to kick off her shoes, as if the task was too great.

Mikhail waited until she had flung herself face down, fully clothed on the bed. You will sleep.He gave the order forcefully, expected her compliance.

Mikhail.His name echoed in his head, soft, drowsy, with a hint of amusement. Somehow I knew you would just have to have your way.She didn’t fight it, but went under willingly, a smile curving her soft mouth.

Mikhail undressed her, slid her slender body beneath the covers. He safeguarded the door, a powerful spell guaranteed to keep even the strongest of his own people out, let alone pathetic mortal assassins. He secured the windows and provided the same guards at every possible entry point. Very gently he brushed his lips across her forehead, then reached down to touch his brand on her neck before leaving her.

The others fell silent when he entered his home. Celeste smiled tentatively, pressed a protective hand to the child lying in her womb. “Is she all right, Mikhail?”

He nodded abruptly, curiously grateful for her concern. No one would question him, yet his behavior was completely out of character for him. He got right to the point. “How did the assassins find Noelle unprotected?”

The others looked at one another. Mikhail drilled it into them never to forget the smallest details guarding their safety, but over the years it was so easy to forget, to slip up.

“Noelle had her baby only two months ago. She was so tired all the time.” Celeste tried to excuse the slip.

“And Rand? Where was he? Why did he leave his exhausted wife unprotected while she slept?” Mikhail asked softly, dangerously.

Byron, the man who had been in such trouble earlier, stirred uncomfortably. “You know how Rand is. Always after the women. He took the child to Celeste and went out hunting.”

“And forgot to provide Noelle with the proper safeguards.” Mikhail’s disgust was all too evident. “Where is he?”

Celeste’s lifemate, Eric, answered grimly. “He was crazy, Mikhail. It took all of us to subdue him, but he sleeps now. The child is with him deep in the ground. The healing will do them good.”

“We could not afford to lose Noelle.” Mikhail pushed grief away; it was not the time to feel it. “Eric, can you keep Rand under control?”

“I think you should talk to him,” Eric answered honestly. “The guilt is making him crazy. He nearly turned on us.”

“Vlad, where is Eleanor? She is at risk, heavy with child. We must protect her as we will Celeste,” Mikhail said. “We cannot afford the loss of any of our women and certainly not their children.”

“She is so close to term, I was worried about her traveling.” Vlad sighed heavily. “She is safe and well-guarded for the moment, but I think this war is starting again.”

Mikhail tapped a finger on the small table near the chessboard. “Perhaps it is significant that we have three of our women giving birth for the first time in a decade. Our children are few and far between. If the assassins somehow have gained knowledge of our women’s condition, they will be afraid we are multiplying, growing strong again.”

Mikhail shot the most muscular of the men a quick glance. “Jacques, you have no lifemate to encumber you.” There was the faintest trace of affection in his voice, affection he could never feel or show before and maybe wasn’t aware anyone else knew of. Jacques was his brother. “Neither does Byron. You two will get word to all the others. Lie low, feed only in the deepest cover, sleep deep within the ground, and always use the most powerful safeguards. We must watch our women and get them to safety, especially those who are with child. Do not draw attention to yourselves in any way.”

“For how long, Mikhail?” Celeste’s eyes were shadowed, her face tearstained. “How long must we live like this?”

“Until I find and dispense justice to the assassins.” There was a fierce, savage note in his voice. “All of you have become soft, mixing so much with mortals. You are forgetting the gifts that could save your lives,” he reprimanded them harshly. “My woman is mortal, yet she knew of your presence before you knew of hers. She felt your unguarded emotions, knows of the assassins through your thoughts. There is no excuse for that.”

“How can this be?” Eric dared to ask. “No mortal has such power.”

“She is telepathic and very strong in her gift. She will be here often; she will be protected, as will all of our women.”

The others exchanged bewildered, confused looks. According to the legend, only their strongest members might be able to convert a mortal. It simply wasn’t done, was far too risky. It had been tried centuries earlier, when the ranks of their women had been depleted and the men were without hope. But no one dared try it anymore. Most of them believed it was a myth made up to keep their males from losing their souls. Mikhail was unreadable, implacable, his judgment never questioned throughout the centuries. He settled arguments and protected them. He hunted the males who had chosen to turn vampire, dangerous to mortals and immortals alike.

Now this. A mortal woman. They were shocked and it showed. They were obligated to put the life of Mikhail’s woman before their own. If Mikhail said she was under his protection, he meant it. He never said anything he didn’t mean. And if she was harmed, the penalty would be death. Mikhail was a savage, merciless, and unrelenting enemy.

Mikhail felt the weight of his responsibility for Noelle’s death. He had known of Rand’s weakness for women. Mikhail had objected to the union, but he hadn’t forbidden it, as he should have. Rand was not Noelle’s true lifemate. Chemistry would never allow a true mate to cheat on his woman. Noelle, his beautiful sister, so young and vibrant, lost to them forever. She had been headstrong, wanting Rand because he was handsome, not because her soul called to his. They had lied, but he had known they were lying. Ultimately it had been his responsibility that Rand continued to try to find emotion by being with other women, and Noelle had grown into a bitter, dangerous woman. She must have died instantly or Mikhail would have felt it, even deep in his sleep. Rand should never have had the care of one of their women.

Mikhail had thought that, in time, each would find their true lifemate, but Nicole only grew more dangerous and Rand worse in his promiscuous behavior. It was impossible for Rand to feel anything with the women he bedded, yet he continued, almost as if it was a punishment for Noelle’s tight hold on him.

Mikhail closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the reality of Noelle’s senseless murder to sweep over him. The loss was intolerable, his grief wild and intense, mixed with an ice-cold rage and deadly resolve. He bowed his head. Three blood-red tears made their way unchecked down his face. His sister, the youngest of their women. It was his fault.

Mikhail felt the stirring in his head, warmth, comfort, as if arms had stolen around him. Mikhail? Do you need me?Raven’s voice was drowsy, husky, worried.

He was shocked. His command had been strong, far stronger than anything he had ever used on a human, yet his sorrow had penetrated her sleep. He glanced around him, took in the faces of his companions. None of them had picked up the mental contact. It meant that, as groggy as she was, Raven was able to focus, channel, and send directly to him without any spillage. It was a skill few of his people had bothered to accomplish, so complacent were they that humans could not tune into them.

Mikhail?This time Raven’s voice was stronger, alarmed. I’ll come to you.

Sleep, little one. J am well,he reassured, reinforcing his command with the tone of his voice. Be well, Mikhail,she whispered softly, succumbing to his power.

Mikhail gave his attention to those awaiting his orders. “Send Rand to me tomorrow. The child cannot stay with him. Dierdre lost another child a couple of decades ago. She still mourns her many losses. The child will be taken to her. Tienn will guard them carefully. No one is to use a mental link until we know whether one of our adversaries possesses the same power my woman does.”

The shock on their faces was complete. None of them considered a human capable of that kind of power and discipline. “Mikhail, you are certain this woman is not the one? She could be a threat to us.” Eric ventured the suggestion cautiously, even as Celeste’s fingers dug warningly into his arm.

Mikhail’s dark eyes narrowed slightly. “Do you believe I have grown lazy, bloated with my own power? Do you think so little of me that I could be in her mind and not recognize a threat to us? I warn you, I am willing to step down as your leader, but I am not willing to withdraw my protection of her. If any of you wish to harm her, know that you will deal with me. Do you wish me to pass on the mantle of leadership? I weary of my duties and responsibilities.”

“Mikhail!” Byron’s voice was a sharp protest.

The others voiced quick, alarmed denials, like frightened children. Jacques was the only one who stood silently, one hip lazily resting against the wall, regarding Mikhail with a secret mocking half-smile. Mikhail ignored him.

“It is nearly sunrise. All of you go to ground. Use every guard possible. When you awaken, check around your dwelling; feel for intruders. Do not overlook the slightest incident. We must stay in close communication and watch each other.”

“Mikhail, the first year is so critical, so many of our children do not survive.” Celeste’s fingers were twisting nervously within her husband’s hand. “I am not sure Dierdre could bear another loss.”

Mikhail’s smile was gentle. “She will guard the child as no other, and Tienn will be twice as watchful as any other. He has been trying to get Dierdre to conceive and she has refused. At least this way, her arms will not be empty.”

“And she will long for another child,” Celeste said angrily.

“If our race is to continue, we must have children. As much as I would like to provide them, it is only our women who can produce such a miracle.”

“It is heartbreaking to lose so many, Mikhail,” Celeste pointed out.

“For all of us, Celeste.” His tone was final, and no one dared to argue or question. His authority was absolute, his rage and grief beyond boundaries. Not only Rand had failed to protect Noelle, a young, beautiful, vibrant woman, but her life had been lost because of some sadistic game Rand and Noelle had played together. He knew that he was every bit as responsible as Rand for Noelle’s fate. His loathing of Rand was directed at himself as well.

Chapter Three

Raven woke slowly, in a dense fog, layers and layers of it. Somehow she knew she wasn’t supposed to wake, but never the less it was imperative she do so. She pried her eyes open and turned her head toward the window. Sunlight was streaming in. She pushed herself into a sitting position, the covers sliding away to expose bare skin.

“Mikhail,” she whispered aloud, “you take altogether too many liberties.” She reached out to him automatically, as if she could not deny herself that need. Sensing he was asleep, she withdrew. The slight touch was enough. He was safe.

Raven felt different, happy even. She could talk to someone, touch someone, never mind that it was a bit like sitting on the back of a hungry tiger. The freedom to relax in another’s presence was a joy. Mikhail had heavy responsibilities. She didn’t know who he was, only that he was someone important. Obviously he was comfortable with his talents, unlike Raven, who still felt she was some kind of freak of nature. She wanted to be more like he was: confident, not caring what others thought.

She knew very little of Romanian life. The rural populations were poor and superstitious. Yet they were a friendly people and truly artistic. Mikhail was different. She had heard of Carpathians; not Gypsies, but a people who were well educated, had money, and lived deep in the mountains and forests by choice. Was Mikhail their leader? Was that why he was so arrogant and aloof?

The shower felt good on her body, rinsing away the heavy, groggy feeling. She dressed carefully, in jeans, a turtleneck, and a sweater. Even with the sunlight, it was cold in the mountains, and she intended to go exploring. Her neck throbbed for a moment, burned. She peeled back her top to examine the wound. It was a strange mark, like a teenager’s love bite, but more intense.

She blushed at the memory of how he’d put it there. Did the man have to be sexy on top of everything else? And she could learn so much from him. She noticed that he was able to shield himself from the ever-present bombardment of emotions all the time. That would be such a miracle—to be able to simply sit in the middle of a crowded room and not feel anything but her own emotions.

Raven pulled on her hiking shoes. A murder in this place! It was a sacrilege. The villagers must be frightened. As she passed through the doorway she felt a curious shifting in the air. It felt as if she had to push through some unseen force. Mikhail again? Trying to lock her in? No. If he was capable of such a thing, the locks would stop her. More likely he was protecting her, locking others out. Torn by grief and rage at the senseless, hideous murder, Mikhail had still helped her go to sleep. The thought of him taking the time to protect and aid her made her feel cherished.

It was three in the afternoon—well past lunch but too soon for dinner—and Raven was hungry. In the kitchen the landlady obligingly fixed her a picnic dinner. Not once did the woman mention a murder. Indeed, she seemed totally oblivious of any such news. Raven found herself reluctant to broach the subject. It was strange; the innkeeper was so friendly and engaging—she even talked of Mikhail, a long-time friend of whom she spoke very highly—yet Raven could not bring herself to say a single word about the murder and what it meant to Mikhail.

Outside, she shrugged into her backpack. She couldn’t sense the horror of murder anywhere. No one at the inn, no one in the street seemed unduly upset. She couldn’t have been wrong; the images had been strong, the grief wild and very real. The images of the murder itself were very detailed, unlike anything her imagination could conjure up.

“Miss Whitney! It is Whitney, isn’t it?” A feminine voice called to her from several feet away.

Margaret Summers hastened toward her, anxiety on her face. She was in her late sixties, frail, with gray hair and a down-to-earth, sensible way of dressing. “My dear, you’re so pale this morning. We all were so afraid for your safety. That young man carrying you off the way he did was very intimidating.”

Raven laughed softly. “He is rather intimidating, isn’t he? He’s an old friend and overanxious about my health. Believe me, Mrs. Summers, he watches over me very carefully. He really is a respectable businessman; ask anyone in the village.”

“Are you ill, dear?” Margaret asked solicitously, moving closer so that Raven felt threatened. “Recovering,” Raven said firmly, hoping it was true.

“I have seen you before!” Margaret sounded excited. “You’re that extraordinary young lady who helped the police catch that murdering fiend in San Diego a month or so ago. What in the world would you be doing here of all places?”

Raven rubbed her forehead with the heel of her palm. “That type of work is very draining, Mrs. Summers. It sometimes makes me ill. It was a long chase, and I needed to get far away. I wanted to go somewhere remote and beautiful, somewhere steeped in history. Somewhere people didn’t recognize me and point me out like I was a freak of nature. The Carpathian Mountains are beautiful. I can hike, sit quietly, and let the wind blow all the memories of a sick mind out of my head.”

“Oh, my dear.” Margaret put out her hand in concern.

Raven sidestepped quickly. “I’m sorry; it bothers me to touch people after I follow a demented mind. Please understand.”

Margaret nodded. “Of course, although I noticed your young man thought nothing of touching you.”

Raven smiled. “He’s bossy, and he has such a flair for the dramatic, but he’s really good to me. We’ve known each other a while. You see, Mikhail travels quite a bit.” The lie seemed to roll easily off her tongue. She hated herself for that. “I don’t want anyone to know about me, Mrs. Summers. I dislike publicity and need solitude right now. Please don’t tell anyone who I am.”

“Of course not, dear, but do you think it’s safe to go wandering off by yourself? There are wild animals roaming these parts.”

“Mikhail accompanies me on my little jaunts, and I certainly don’t go poking around in the wilds at night.”

“Oh,” Margaret looked mollified. “Mikhail Dubrinsky? Everyone talks of him.”

“I told you, he’s overprotective. Actually, he likes the landlady’s cooking,” she confided with a laugh, holding up the picnic basket. “I’d better get going or I’ll be late.”

Margaret stepped aside. “Do be careful, dear.”

Raven gave a friendly wave and sauntered unhurriedly along the path that led through the woods, up the footpath into the mountains. Why had she felt compelled to lie? She liked her solitude, never felt the need to justify herself. For some reason she didn’t want to discuss Mikhail’s life with anyone, least of all Margaret Summers. The woman seemed too interested in him. It wasn’t anything she said; it was in her eyes and voice. She could feel Margaret Summers watching her curiously until the path made an abrupt turn and the trees swallowed her up.

Raven shook her head sadly. She was becoming such a recluse, not wanting to be close to anyone, not even a sweet older woman worried about her safety.

“Raven! Wait up!”

She closed her eyes against the intrusion. By the time Jacob caught up with her, she managed to plaster a smile on her face. “Jacob, I’m glad you recovered from that terrible choking spell last night. It was lucky the waiter knew the Heimlich maneuver.”

Jacob scowled. “I didn’t choke on a piece of meat,” he said defensively, as if she was accusing him of bad table manners. “Everyone thinks so, but it wasn’t that.”

“Really? The way the waiter grabbed you...” Her voice trailed off.

“Well, you didn’t stick around long enough to find out,” he accused sulkily, his brows drawing together. “You just let that... that Neanderthal carry you off.”

“Jacob,” she said gently, “you don’t know me; you know nothing about me or my life. For all you know, that man could be my husband. I was very ill last night. I’m sorry I didn’t stay, but once I could see you were fine, I didn’t think it would be appropriate to throw up all over the dining room.”

“How do you know that man?” Jacob demanded jealously. “The locals say he’s the most powerful man in this region. He’s wealthy, owns all the petroleum rights. Quite the businessman; very high-powered. How would you meet a man like that?”

He was crowding close to her, and Raven was suddenly all too aware of how alone they were, how secluded their surroundings. He had a spoiled, petulant look twisting his boyish good looks. She sensed something else—a kind of sick excitement in his guilty thoughts. She knew she was a big part of his perverse fantasies. Jacob was a rich boy thinking he could have any new toy he wanted.

Raven felt a stirring in her mind. Raven? You fear for your safety.Mikhail was heavy with sleep, fighting his way up through the layers to the surface.

Now she was worried. Mikhail was a question mark in her mind. She didn’t know what he would do, only that he felt protective toward her. For herself, for Mikhail, for Jacob, she needed to make Jacob understand that she wanted no part of him. I can handle this,she sent a sharp reassurance. “Jacob,” her voice was patient, “I think you should leave; go back to the inn. I’m not the kind of woman to be bullied by your attitude. This is harassment, and I’ll have no compunction about registering a complaint with the local police, or whatever they’re called.” She held her breath, feeling Mikhail waiting.

“Fine, Raven, sell yourself to the highest bidder! Try to find yourself a rich husband! He’ll use you and dump you; that’s what men like Dubrinsky do!” Jacob shouted. He spat out a few additional ugly words and stomped away.

Raven let out her breath slowly, thankfully. See,she forced laughter into her thoughts. I took care of the problem all by my little feminine self. Amazing, isn’t it?

From the other side of a grove of trees, out of her sight, Jacob suddenly screamed in terror, the sound fading to a thin wail. The roar of an enraged bear mingled with Jacob’s second scream. Something heavy crashed through the underbrush in the opposite direction of Raven.

She felt Mikhail’s laughter, low, amused, very male. Very funny, Mikhail.Jacob was broadcasting fear, but not pain. You have a questionable sense of humor.

I need sleep. Quit getting into trouble, woman.

Ifyou wouldn’t stay up all night, you might not need to sleep the day away,she reprimanded.How do you get work done?

Computers.

She found herself laughing at the thought of him with a computer. He didn’t belong with cars or computers.Go back to sleep, you big baby. I can handle things just fine, thank you very much, without any great big he-man to protect me.

I would much prefer that you return to the safety of the inn until I rise.There was the merest hint of command in his voice. He was trying to soften his manner with her and she found herself smiling at his efforts.

It isn’t going to happen, so learn to live with it. American women are veryd ifficult.

She continued on her way up the mountain, his laughter still playing softly in her head. She allowed the stillness of nature to seep into her mind. The birds sang to one another softly; the wind whispered through the trees. There were flowers of all colors carpeting the meadow, lifting their petals to the sky.

Raven climbed higher finding peace in her solitude. She perched on a craggy boulder up above a meadow surrounded by forests of thick trees. She ate her lunch and lay back, reveling in her surroundings.

Mikhail stirred, allowing his senses to read his environment. He lay in shallow earth, undisturbed. No human had come near his lair. It was less than an hour to sunset. He burst from the earth into the cold, damp cellar. Even as he showered, adopting the human way to cleanliness, although it wasn’t necessary, his mind reached out to touch Raven’s. She was dozing in the mountains, unprotected, with the darkness gathering. He frowned. The woman had no idea of safety measures. He had an urge to shake her, yet more than that, he wanted to gather her up and hold her forever safe in his arms.

He made his way out into the setting sun, climbing the mountain trails with the speed of his kind. The sun touched his skin, warmed his coolness, made him alive. The specially constructed dark glasses protected his ultrasensitive eyes, yet he still felt a pinprick of unease, as if a thousand needles were waiting to stab at his eyes. As he approached the rock where Raven slept, he caught the scent of another male.

Rand.Mikhailbared his teeth. The sun dipped low beneath the edge of the mountain, cast a dark shadow across the rolling hills, and bathed the forest in murky secrets. Mikhail moved out into the open, his arms held out from his sides, his body a fluid combination of power and coordination. He was pure menace, a stalking demon, silent and lethal.

Rand had his back to him, approaching the woman on the rock. Sensing the power in the air, he spun around, his handsome features grief-stricken and ravaged. “Mikhail—” His voice cracked, his eyes dropped. “1 know you can never forgive me. You knew I was not a true lifemate to Noelle. She would not let me go. She threatened to kill herself if I left her, if I attempted to find another. Like a coward, I remained with her.”