Mikhail’s fury. It was beyond imagination, beyond the mere bounds of a physical body. Nothing could contain such turbulent rage. It spilled from him, fed the storm until the very earth heaved and rolled, bolts of lightning slammed into the earth and rain poured down.
Was this all real or some horrendous nightmare? But she knew it was real, and she was close to some terrible truth. There was so much pain; she was so tired and Mikhail was her only comfort. She wanted to crawl back into the shelter he provided and just let him protect her and keep her safe until she was strong again. Mikhail simply waited, allowed her to choose. He was providing warmth, love, closeness, but he was holding something inside himself, away from her.
Raven closed her eyes, concentrated. She remembered
Mikhail suddenly beside her, pain and fear in his dark, mesmerizing eyes, his arms dragging her close, his mind seeking, finding hers, commanding her to stay, holding her anchored to the earth when her body was dying. His brother was there, and more of his people. Something was placed on her abdomen, something that seemed to work its way into her body, something warm and alive. Low, soothing chanting had filled the air all around her.
Shock and alarm emanated from Mikhail’s people. Mikhail’s blood, hot, sweet, revitalizing, soaking into her body, her organs, reshaping muscle, tissue. Not flowing into veins, but…
Raven went rigid, her brain so shocked it was numb. The very breath was driven from her body. Not the first time. Other memories surfaced: Mikhail’s frenzied feeding, her mouth pressed hungrily over his heart. “Oh, God!” The words escaped as a strangled sob of denial.
It was the truth, not some hallucination. But her human brain refused the truth. It wasn’t possible; it couldn’t be. She was in the middle of some terrible nightmare and any moment she would wake up. That had to be what was happening. She was mixing everything up—the assassins’ fanatical belief in vampires and Mikhail’s powers. But her heightened senses told her differently, told her the truth. She was lying in some underground chamber, with soil under her, over her. They had tried to bury her in it. To sleep. To heal.
Mikhail simply waited, allowed her mind to process information, held nothing back from her, even when she drew on his memories. When her reaction came, it took him totally by surprise. He’d expected screams, tears, hysteria.
Raven jackknifed off the mattress, cried out low, an animal sound of pain. She rolled away from him, heedless of the consequences to her mortally wounded body.
He spoke sharply, much more sharply than he intended, his fear for her safety outweighing his compassion. His command paralyzed her body, trapped her helplessly on the floor. Only her eyes were alive with terror as he crouched beside her, ran his hands over her wounds, seeking the extent of the damage.
“Relax, little one. I know this knowledge is shocking to you,” he murmured, frowning as he saw the precious blood seeping from three of the four wounds. He lifted her, cradled her in his arms, close to the shelter of his heart.
Let me go. Her plea sounded in his mind, echoed in his heart.
“Never.” Mikhail’s harsh features were an implacable stone mask. He looked at the doors over their heads. The doors responded, flying open at the touch of his will.
Raven closed her eyes. Mikhail, please, I’m begging you. I cannot be as you are.
“You have no idea what I am,” he said gently, floating up to the next level so nothing would jar her body. “Humans mix up the truth about my race with stories of the undead, stealing babies, killing, tormenting victims. I could not have saved you if you were dead. We are a race of people who belong to the earth, the sky, the wind, and the water. Like any other people, we have our talents and our limitations.” He did not go into details about where vampires came from. She needed truth, but not everything at once.
Mikhail took her to a guestroom, laid her carefully on the bed. “We are not the vampires in your horror stories, the walking dead, for God’s sake. We love, we worship, we work, we give service to our countries. We find it disgusting that the human male can beat his wife or child, that a mother could neglect her child. We are repulsed that the human race can eat the flesh of an animal. To us blood is lifegiving, sacred. We would never dishonor the human by hurting or killing. It is taboo to have sex with a human and then drink of his or her blood. I know I should never have taken your blood—it was wrong—but it was wrong because I did not tell you what could happen. I knew you were my true lifemate and my existence could not continue without you. I should have had more control. For that I will pay through all eternity, but it is done. We cannot undo what has already been wrought.”