Raven tried again. Grief does strange things to people. Rudy Romanov lost both his parents. His mother was brutally murdered by his own father. Whatever he found has made him blame you. He probably feels guilty for thinking his father was crazy. What he’s doing is a terrible thing, but no worse than what you did to those who murdered your sister.
I had no thought for my sister when I struck at the assassins. There was a grimness in Mikhail’s thoughts. The two cases cannot be compared. The assassins attacked us first. I would have left them alone had they not come after my people. I failed you once, little one. I will not fail to protect you this day.
We’re safe here. The people from the village will come and put out the fire. They’ll probably take Rudy to a hospital or jail. They’ll think he’s crazy. And don’t worry about people thinking we died in the fire. They won’t find our bodies. We can say we were visiting Celeste and Eric, planning our wedding.
She didn’t understand and he didn’t have the heart to tell her. They weren’t safe. The fire was roaring above their heads, consuming the basement floor just as quickly as the upper story. In a short time they would be forced to seek the sanctuary of the earth. He wasn’t altogether certain their combined strength would be enough to open the earth. And if it was, he knew he could not send her into deep sleep. His powers were drained, all but gone this time of day.
They would live or die together. They would be forced to lie in the ground. Raven would have to endure burial alive for the remaining hours to sunset, and there were many hours left. Rudy Romanov would inflict an unbearable torture on Raven. Mikhail knew her greatest fear—suffocation. His lips drew back in another silent snarl. The death of his home, beloved though it was, he could forgive, but to lie helpless while Raven suffered the agony of burial—that went beyond forgiveness.
Raven’s thoughts were all for Mikhail, for his loss. She felt compassion for Romanov; she worried that his evidence might endanger the others. If Mikhail could have summoned the energy, he would have kissed her. Instead, he did it with his mind. All of his love, his appreciation of her compassion, of her unconditional love, of her selflessness, he put it all into his mind’s kiss.
Her eyes widened, went dark violet, then sweetly slumberous, as if he drugged her with his kisses. His hand tangled in her hair. So much silk, so much love. For a moment he closed his eyes, savoring the moment, the way she could make him feel so loved, so cared for. He had never felt that in all his centuries of existence, and he was grateful that he had hung on long enough to experience a true lifemate.
Overhead, the sound of the fire grew loud again. A beam fell, crashed on the ceiling above them, sparks raining through the open cellar door, bringing with them smoke and the fetid odor of death. The death of his home. We have no choice, my love. Mikhail was as gentle as he knew how to be. We must go to ground.
Raven closed her eyes; panic welled up. Mikhail, I love you. Her words were wrapped in sorrow, in acceptance. Not of the sanctuary of the earth, but of inevitable death. She wanted to do anything he needed, but this was the one thing beyond her capabilities. The earth could not swallow her alive.
Mikhail could not waste time on arguments. Feed my command with your remaining strength. Let it flow from you into me, or I will be unable to open the earth.
Raven would do anything to save him. If that meant giving him her last ounce of strength, then so be it. Without reservation, with complete love and generosity, Raven fed his command.
Beside him, the very earth opened, parted, as if a large cube had been neatly removed from the earth. The grave lay open, fresh and cool, its healing soil beckoning Mikhail, its damp darkness sending horror and sheer terror spiraling through Raven.