Raven’s body, so limp and lifeless, was stripped of her bloodstained clothing and placed on Mikhail’s bed. Healing herbs were crushed, some lit. The poultices were replaced with newer, stronger ones to try to stem further blood loss. Mikhail touched the dark bruises on her face with trembling fingers, the dark marks that stood out starkly against her full white breasts where Jacob had deliberately hurt her in his jealous, drugged rage. Fury seized Mikhail and he longed to crush Jacob’s throat beneath his hands. “She needs blood,” he said abruptly.
“So do you.” Jacques waited for Mikhail to draw the sheet over Raven before he offered his wrist. “Drink while you can.”
Gregori touched his shoulder. “Forgive me, Jacques, but my blood is stronger. It holds immense power. Allow me to do this small thing for my friend.” At Jacques’s nod, Gregori drew a single mark over his vein.
There was silence as Mikhail availed himself of Gregori’s rich blood. Jacques sighed softly. “She has exchanged blood on three occasions with you?” He forced his voice to be neutral, not wanting to appear to reprimand his leader and brother.
Mikhail’s dark eyes flickered warningly. “Yes. If she lives, she will most likely be one of us.” It was left unsaid that she might live to be destroyed by the very one who had converted her.
“We cannot seek human medical aid for her. If our way does not work, Mikhail, her doctors will be useless anyway,” Jacques cautioned.
“Damn it, do you think I do not realize what I have done? You think I do not know I failed her, that I failed to protect her? That by my selfish actions I put her life in jeopardy?” Mikhail stripped off his bloody shirt, balled it in one hand, and threw it to the farthermost corner of the room.
“This is senseless, looking back,” Gregori said calmly.
Mikhail’s boots hit the floor, his socks. He dragged himself onto the bed beside Raven. “She cannot take blood our way; she is too weak. We have no choice but to use their primitive transfusion methods.”
“Mikhail…” Jacques said warningly.
“We have no choice. She did not take all that she needed, not even close. We cannot afford the delay of argument. I ask you, my brother, and you, Gregori, as my friend, to do this for us.” Mikhail cradled Raven’s head in his lap, sat back among the pillows and closed his eyes tiredly while they began the primitive process.
If he lived another thousand years, Mikhail would never forget that first stirring of unease in his mind while he lay as dead beneath the earth. Knowledge had exploded in his brain, spread terror in his heart and fury in his soul. He had felt Raven’s rippling fear. Jacob’s hand on her precious body, the brutal blows, the tearing sensation of the knife as it sliced through skin and into her soft insides. So much pain and fear. So much guilt that she had failed to protect Eleanor and her unborn child.
Raven’s weak touch had slipped inside his mind, so whispery, edged with pain and regret. I’m sorry, Mikhail. I’ve failed you. Her last coherent thought had been for him. He loathed himself, loathed Eleanor for not having the discipline to learn mental communication, focused and pure.
In that one second of understanding, as he lay helpless, locked in the soil, the very foundations of his life, his beliefs, had been rocked. As he burst free, Jacques rising with him, he had mentally reached for Jacob, had buried the bloodstained knife to the hilt in the murderer’s throat.
The storm enabled Vlad to break Eleanor and him free without the fear of blindness or that one moment of complete disorientation that would have given the assassins the time to kill his laboring wife.
Mikhail sought Raven’s mind, crawled to her with warmth and love, his arms a shelter. The needle jabbed the inside of his arm, pierced hers. He had no doubt that his brother would monitor the transfusion closely. Jacques held Mikhail’s life along with Raven’s in his hands. If she died, Mikhail followed her. He knew in his heart, the black fury that remained would endanger anyone near him, Carpathian and human alike. He could only hope that Gregori was up to the job of dispatching Carpathian justice to him swiftly and accurately if Raven should die.