Rand. Mikhail bared 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. “I 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.”
“Why do I find you crouched over my woman?” Mikhail snarled, fury rising until the bloodlust coiled in him like a living thing. Rand’s excuses sickened him, true though they might be. If Noelle had threatened to walk into the sun, the matter should have been brought before him. Mikhail had power enough to stop Noelle from her destructive behavior. Rand well knew that Mikhail was their prince, their leader, and, although he had not shared blood with Rand, he still could read the male’s perverse pleasure in his sick relationship with Noelle, his dominance over her and her obsession.
Behind them, Raven stirred, sat up, shoved at her hair from long habit. She looked drowsy, sexy, a siren waiting for her lover. Rand had turned his head to look at her, and there was something sly and crafty in his expression. She felt Mikhail’s instant warning to be silent, Rand’s unrestrained grief, his jealousy and dislike of Mikhail, the thick tension between the two men.
“Byron and Jacques told me she was under your protection. I could not sleep and knew she was alone without safeguards. I had to do something or I would have chosen to join Noelle.” There was a plea for understanding, if not for forgiveness, yet Raven was unconvinced that Rand meant anything he said. She didn’t know why because his sorrow was real. Perhaps he was desperate for Mikhail’s respect and knew he would not get it.
“Then I am in your debt,” Mikhail said formally, working at controlling his loathing of a man who would leave unprotected a woman who had just given birth to his child to deliberately torment her with another woman’s scent on him.
Raven slid from her perch, a small, fragile woman with compassion in her enormous blue eyes. “I’m truly sorry for your loss,” she murmured softly, careful to keep her distance. This man was the murder victim’s husband. His guilt and grief crawled through her body with torturous intent, yet she worried for Mikhail. Something was not right with Rand. He was twisted inside; not evil, yet not completely right.
“Thank you,” Rand said tersely. “I need my child, Mikhail.”
“You need the healing earth,” Mikhail disagreed calmly, implacable in his decision, merciless in his resolve. He would not turn over a precious, helpless baby to this male in his present state of mind.
Raven’s stomach knotted, twisted, and pain went through her heart at the cruelty in those words. She only partially understood what Mikhail’s decree meant. This man, grieving for his murdered wife, was being deprived of his child, accepting Mikhail’s word as absolute law. She felt his deep pain as if it were her own, yet on some level she couldn’t help agreeing with Mikhail’s decision.
“Please, Mikhail. I loved Noelle.” Instinctively, Raven knew Rand was not pleading for his child.
Fury lent darkness to Mikhail’s features, cruelty to his mouth, a red glint to his eyes. “Do not speak of love to me, Rand. Go to the earth; heal. I will find this assassin and avenge my sister. No longer will I be swayed by sentiment. If I had not listened to her pleading, she would be alive today.”
“I cannot sleep. It is my right to hunt.” Rand sounded defiant, sulky, like a child who wanted respect and equality, yet knew it would never come.