Dark Prince. Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 1

True lifemate. Mikhail. This time when the pain beat at her she accepted it, allowed it to wash over her. It stole her breath and pierced her skull. She was careful not to allow any hint of the agony to show on her face or to spill over in her mind. Calling on every ounce of discipline she possessed, Raven focused her mind. Mikhail? Where are you? Are you real? I’m afraid. There was a familiar path and she used it with ease, as if she had always done so.

Little one. The reply was faint, far away, but very real, something to cling to in a world of madness.

Who is with me? What is happening? She made herself lean on the tall man supporting her, kept her mind a jumble of confusion. She found it interesting that her mind allowed her to work on several different levels at once.

Andre is a vampire. He took you from me. I am coming for you.

Something was very wrong. It was all there, if she just reached for it. Raven believed that faraway voice, felt warmth and love enfold her in strong, protective arms. She knew that feeling, that voice. It wasn’t quite right. You’re hurt. How?

Mikhail replayed the recent events in his mind for her. Raven inhaled, feeling as if someone had hit her square in the stomach. Mikhail.

Gregori is turning into some kind of tyrant. I would not dare die.

Memory was flooding in and she was terrified. She made herself compartmentalize her thoughts. The vampire touched only the surface, read what she wanted him to read. She was the shivering, confused woman he expected her to be.

Mikhail’s wounds looked bad to her. He was in the cave, surrounded by others. Gregori was working on the injuries, and Raven was certain he would put Mikhail to ground and she would be left without a lifeline. Raven lifted her chin. The drug might have confused her momentarily, but she could do whatever she had to do. I can handle Andre. Do not worry about me. She used more bravado than she felt.

All at once she had to suppress a surge of relief. Memory, fractured as it had been, came back in full force under Mikhail’s soothing mind touch. Mikhail or Gregori or both would come for her, no matter what else was happening. Mikhail would plug up his wounds and crawl if that was what it took to get to her.

“You are very quiet.” Andre startled her.

“I’m trying to remember, but it makes my head ache.”

They were at the top of a plateau. For a moment she couldn’t make out the stone house built into the side of the mountain. It seemed to shimmer in the silver of the moon, one moment a mirage, then a distinct structure, then gone again. Raven blinked her eyes rapidly, taking in every detail, broadcasting to Mikhail. The trick was in not allowing the vampire to know she was thinking of Mikhail. It was Andre who punished her with pain when he knew her thoughts. Confused by the drug, she had been briefly under his power. Now she was simply sick and dizzy. And very, very frightened.

“Is this our home?” she asked innocently, leaning heavily into him.

“We will remain here long enough to dine, my dear.” There was that curious gloating she was coming to dislike intensely. “It is not safe to remain longer than that. The other might pursue us. You must feed in order to be strong enough to escape.”

Deliberately, trustingly, she curled her fingers around the vampire’s arm. “I will try, Andre, but truly I am feeling sick.”

Raven took a step toward the threshold, felt Mikhail’s instinctive protest. She stumbled unsteadily, fell just outside the door, and lay in a small forlorn heap. With an oath, Andre tried to yank her up, to push her inside, but Raven was limp, unable to move on her own. The vampire lifted her into his arms and carried her inside.

The rock house consisted of a large front room and a hole in the far corner where a ladder led to a lower chamber. The room was cold and dank. Mold grew in the cracks. There was a table and a long church bench. Andre waved his hand to light several candles. Raven’s heart stopped, then began to pound in alarm. Chained to the wall nearest the table, eyes dilated with terror, were a man and a woman. The two were dirty and in ragged clothing. Rips in the woman’s dress and the man’s shirt held the stains of blood. There were bruises on both of them, and the man had several burn marks down his right cheek.