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. Stop it, 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.”