Dark Prince (Dark Series - book 1)

by Christine Feehan

  Outside the wrought-iron fence. Rudy Romanov paced back and forth, black anger in his heart, in his mind. Every fourth step he pounded at the fence in a fury of frustration, a baseball bat cracking hard against the thick twisted poles of iron. “Evil! Undead!” The words were hurled into the air toward the house.

  Mikhail growled low, his body trapped in the layers of fog, his instincts fully aroused. His lips drew back in a silent snarl, exposing fangs. A long slow hiss escaped again.

  Accusations beat in his head with the force of Rudy’s anger. “I found my father’s proof. He’s gathered it for years. Everything! It’s all there. The list of your servants. You are evil, the head of the monster. Murderer! Unclean! You turned that beautiful woman into your perverted slave! She would have used me to add to your ranks.”

  The madness of grief and rage blended with a fanatical desire for revenge. Rudy Romanov believed his father’s records and had come to kill the head vampire. Mikhail understood the danger; the very air was thick with it. He called to Raven, brushed her mind with his, a loving, gentle caress.

  Wake, my love. We are in danger.

  Raven’s breath began, slow and even. With his warning filling her mind, she automatically scanned the chamber. Her body felt limp and lifeless, the need for sleep intensely strong. Her brain felt sluggish, uncomprehending.

  Romanov is outside the walls.

  She blinked, tried to clear the fog.

  Hans Romanov is dead.

  His son lives. He is outside, and I can feel his rage and hatred. He is dangerous to us. The sun is up; we are weak. He cannot enter, but we cannot go out.

  It took great concentration and a supreme effort to rub her face against the tangle of hair on his chest. She cleared her throat experimentally. “I can answer the door, see what he wants. I’ll tell him you’re at work. He’ll feel silly and leave us alone.”

  He cradled her head against him. She was still thinking in human terms, unaware of the terrible price of immortality.

  You are still so groggy, you are not hearing him. He is in a dangerous state of mind.

  She had no idea of the price she had paid for loving him. The sun would destroy her should she ever find the strength to rise.

  Raven curled against him like a cat, her need for sleep overwhelming.

  Listen to me, little one. You must stay awake!

  The command was imperious. Mikhail’s arms surrounded her with the intensity of his love, his need to protect her.

  Raven roused herself enough to scan her surroundings. The blackness of Rudy Romanov’s rage was like a living entity, demanding death. The force of it beat in her head.

  He ‘s crazy, Mikhail.

  She lifted a hand, a slow, difficult movement, tried to push at the heavy fall of hair. The air was so thick or she was so weak; the simple movement took intense concentration.

  Last night he was so sweet, grieving for his mother. Now he’s convinced we are his enemy. He’s an educated man, Mikhail. Did I put us in danger? Maybe I did or said something to make him suspicious.

  Raven’s mind was clouded with guilt.

  His chin rubbed the top of her head.

  No, he found something among his father’s papers. He was not suspicious last night; he grieved. Something convinced him that his father’s accusations were well founded. He believes us to be vampire.

  I don’t think anyone will believe him, even if he shows them the evidence he supposedly has. They’ll think he’s in shock.

  She feared for Rudy’s safety as much as for their own.

  Mikhail’s fingers brushed her cheek tenderly. It was so like her to have compassion for a man whose entire being was bent on murdering them. Suddenly his body jerked hard against hers. The house flinched, screamed silently a split second before the first explosion reverberated in their ears. Above them, on the first floor, windows shattered; antique furniture splintered. A heartbeat, two heartbeats. Another explosion rocked the house, fragmenting the wall on the north side.

  Mikhail’s fangs gleamed in the darkness; the hiss of his breath was a promise of merciless retaliation. The smell of smoke, acrid and rank, seeped through the ceiling into their bedchamber, where it swirled and gathered into a pungent, eye-burning cloud. Over their heads flames began to crackle and lick greedily at the books and paintings, at Mikhail’s past, at his present. Orange and red tongues eagerly consumed possessions that Mikhail had acquired in the long centuries of his existence. Rudy wanted to destroy it all, little knowing that Mikhail had many houses, many treasures.

  Mikhail!

  She felt his anguish at the death of his favorite home burning above them. The putrid smell of hatred, fear, and smoke mixed.

  We must go below. The house will eventually fall.

  In her mind the grimness he felt echoed sharply.

  Raven attempted to drag herself into a sitting position, her movements painfully sluggish.

  We have to get out of the house. Going below will only trap us between the ground and the flames.

  The sun is too high. We must go underground.

  His arms tightened perceptibly, as if he could give her the courage to face what had to be done.

  We have no choice.

  You go, Mikhail,

  she said. Fear clawed at her. She was helpless in her present state. Even if she managed to move herself below to the cellar, she could never burrow into the soil, bury herself alive. She would be insane when the time came to return to the surface. She absolutely could not commit herself to such an act, but it was necessary to encourage Mikhail to do so. He was the important one, the one his people needed.

  We go together, my love.

  He interjected strength into his voice, a strength his muscular body did not echo. His limbs were like lead. It took tremendous effort to drag himself off the bed, and his body landed heavily on the floor.

  Come on; we can do this.

  The smoke was thicker now, the room beginning to heat like an oven. Overhead, the ceiling began to blacken ominously. The smoke hurt her eyes, stung enough to burn.

  Raven!

  It was an imperious command.

  She rolled off the bed, landing heavily enough to knock the wind out of her.

  It’sgoing up so fast.

  Alarm bells were shrieking in her head. There was so much smoke; the house was groaning above them.

  Raven dragged herself, inch by slow inch, following Mikhail’s painfully sluggish movements across the floor. They could not even crawl; they were so weak, it was impossible to get on their hands and knees. They slid full length on their stomachs, using their arms to propel themselves forward until they were at the hidden entrance to the cellar. Raven would have done anything to get Mikhail to a safe sanctuary.

  Heat sucked the air from the room so that their bodies were bathed in perspiration; their lungs labored and burned. Even with their combined strength, it seemed impossible to lift the trap door.

  Concentrate,

  Mikhail instructed.

  Do it with your will.

  She blocked out everything: her fear, the smoke, the fire, Mikhail’s agony and rage at his burning home, the predatory beast rising in him. She narrowed her thoughts to the heavy door, focused, aimed. With infinite slowness it began to move, a groaning creak of wood and metal protesting movement but obeying reluctantly. Mikhail fed her power with his own. When the door lay open to them, revealing the yawning chasm below, they slumped exhausted against each other, clinging for a moment, their hearts laboring, their lungs burning with the clouds of smoke whirling around them.

  Debris rained down from the roof to the ceiling above their heads. The fire roared like a giant monster, a stormy conflagration, loud and fearsome. Raven slipped her hand into Mikhail’s. He locked his fingers around hers.

  The roof went; the ceiling above us is going to go up fast.

  You go, Mikhail; I’ll wait here as long as I can.

  The hole below was as terrifying as the fire itself.

&n
bsp; We go together.

  Mikhail’s orders were law. Raven could sense the change in him. No longer man, but full Carpathian, a beast gathering its strength, waiting. An enemy was destroying his home, his belongings, threatening the life of his mate. A slow, deadly hiss escaped from Mikhail. The sound made her heart pound. Always with Raven, he was gentle and kind, tender and loving. This was the predator unleashed.

  Raven swallowed her fear, closed her eyes, and cleared her mind. For Mikhail, she had to find a way to go down into that dark earth beneath the cellar below them. Mikhail swirled in her as strong as ever.

  You can do this, my love. You are light, like a feather, so light you float.

  He built the feeling for her. Her body seemed insubstantial, as light as the air itself. Raven kept her eyes closed even when she felt the air stirring gently around her, felt it fanning her skin. She could feel Mikhail in her mind, yet her body was no more than a fleeting wisp, tangled with his.

  Darkness enveloped them, caressed them, carried them down to the fertile soil. Raven opened her eyes, astonished and pleased to find herself in the cellar. She had floated like a feather through the air. It was exhilarating. For a moment her pleasure drove out the fear and horror of the fire. She had moved a heavy object using only her mind, and now she had gone through the air, floating like the breeze itself. Almost like flying. Raven leaned against Mikhail, wearily.

  I can’t believe we did that. We really just floated.

  For the blink of an eye, she put aside the destruction happening all around them and reveled in the wonder of what she had become.

  Mikhail’s answer was to pull her closer, his arms surrounding her, her slender body enclosed and protected by his large frame. Exhilaration faded. She was as much inside him as he was in her, and she felt the ice cold of his bitter, merciless resolve. It was nothing like the white heat of his black rage; this was far, far worse. This Mikhail was all Carpathian, as dangerously lethal as any mythical vampire. The utter lack of emotion, the entire strength of his iron will and total determination was frightening. He would retaliate swiftly and mercilessly. There was no middle ground. Romanov had become his enemy and he would be destroyed.

  Mikhail.

  Compassion and a gentle calm filled his mind.

  Losing your home this way

  —

  the things that have surrounded and comforted you for so long

  —

  it must be like losing a part of yourself.

  She rubbed her face against his chest, a small consoling gesture.

  I love you, Mikhail. We’ll build another home together. The two of us. This is a terrible moment in our lives, but we can rebuild stronger than ever.

  His chin rested on the top of her head, his mind sending hers waves of love, of warmth. But inside that utter coldness remained, unmoved by her words. Only with Raven did he feel tenderness; with the rest of the world it was equal force, kill or be killed.

  Raven tried again.

  Grief does strange things to people. Rudy Romanov lost both his parents. His mother was brutally murdered by his own father. Whatever he found has made him blame you. He probably feels guilty for thinking his father was crazy. What he’s doing is a terrible thing, but no worse than what you did to those who murdered your sister.

  I had no thought for my sister when I struck at the assassins.

  There was a grimness in Mikhail’s thoughts.

  The two cases cannot be compared. The assassins attacked us first. I would have left them alone had they not come after my people. I failed you once, little one. I will not fail to protect you this day.

  We’re safe here. The people from the village will come and put out the fire. They’ll probably take Rudy to a hospital or jail. They’ll think he’s crazy. And don’t worry about people thinking we died in the fire. They won’t find our bodies. We can say we were visiting Celeste and Eric, planning our wedding.

  She didn’t understand and he didn’t have the heart to tell her. They weren’t safe. The fire was roaring above their heads, consuming the basement floor just as quickly as the upper story. In a short time they would be forced to seek the sanctuary of the earth. He wasn’t altogether certain their combined strength would be enough to open the earth. And if it was, he knew he could not send her into deep sleep. His powers were drained, all but gone this time of day.

  They would live or die together. They would be forced to lie in the ground. Raven would have to endure burial alive for the remaining hours to sunset, and there were many hours left. Rudy Romanov would inflict an unbearable torture on Raven. Mikhail knew her greatest fear—suffocation. His lips drew back in another silent snarl. The death of his home, beloved though it was, he could forgive, but to lie helpless while Raven suffered the agony of burial—that went beyond forgiveness.

  Raven’s thoughts were all for Mikhail, for his loss. She felt compassion for Romanov; she worried that his evidence might endanger the others. If Mikhail could have summoned the energy, he would have kissed her. Instead, he did it with his mind. All of his love, his appreciation of her compassion, of her unconditional love, of her selflessness, he put it all into his mind’s kiss.

  Her eyes widened, went dark violet, then sweetly slumberous, as if he drugged her with his kisses. His hand tangled in her hair. So much silk, so much love. For a moment he closed his eyes, savoring the moment, the way she could make him feel so loved, so cared for. He had never felt that in all his centuries of existence, and he was grateful that he had hung on long enough to experience a true lifemate.

  Overhead, the sound of the fire grew loud again. A beam fell, crashed on the ceiling above them, sparks raining through the open cellar door, bringing with them smoke and the fetid odor of death. The death of his home.

  We have no choice, my love.

  Mikhail was as gentle as he knew how to be.

  We must go to ground.

  Raven closed her eyes; panic welled up.

  Mikhail, I love you.

  Her words were wrapped in sorrow, in acceptance. Not of the sanctuary of the earth, but of inevitable death. She wanted to do anything he needed, but this was the one thing beyond her capabilities. The earth could not swallow her alive.

  Mikhail could not waste time on arguments.

  Feed my command with your remaining strength. Let it flow from you into me, or I will be unable to open the earth.

  Raven would do anything to save him. If that meant giving him her last ounce of strength, then so be it. Without reservation, with complete love and generosity, Raven fed his command.

  Beside him, the very earth opened, parted, as if a large cube had been neatly removed from the earth. The grave lay open, fresh and cool, its healing soil beckoning Mikhail, its damp darkness sending horror and sheer terror spiraling through Raven.

  She tried valiantly to keep her mind calm.

  You go first.

  She knew she could not follow him. She also knew it was imperative that he believe she would; otherwise there was no way to save Mikhail.

  In the space of a heartbeat Mikhail rolled, with Raven locked in his arms, taking both of them over the edge into the waiting arms of the earth. He felt her silent scream echoing in his own mind. He steeled his heart against the violent fear in her and with his last ounce of strength concentrated on closing the earth over them. Being a shadow in her mind made it easy to read her intentions. She would never have gone with him.

  She screamed and screamed; the sound in his head was wild and out of control. Sheer, primitive terror. She begged him, pleaded. Mikhail could only hold her, absorb wave after wave of terror. Her mind was a maze of panic and chaos. He was exhausted, having used his last ounce of strength to get them to safety.

  In his life, centuries of living, he had never known what it felt like to hate. Lying there, helpless to send her into oblivion, with his home burning above him and Raven walking the edge of madness beside him, he learned. Once again he had chosen life for them, and in doing so had committed
her to terrible suffering. If he was to help her, he had to gather strength again. The only way he could regain what was lost was to cut himself off from her, to rejuvenate himself in the immortal sleep of his kind and allow the soil to replenish him. A fresh wave of hatred ate at him.

  Raven.

  Even their strong mental bond was becoming difficult.

  Littleone, slow your heart to match mine. There is no need for air. Do not try to breathe.

  She couldn’t hear him, fighting desperately for air where there was none. Along with her panic and hysterical fear, she felt a sense of betrayal that he would force his will, his decision on her.

  Mikhail refused to commit himself to sleep; instead he stayed alert, his hands in her hair, his body relaxed, absorbing the healing richness of the soil. He would not leave her alone to face what she considered a burial. While she suffered, he was determined to share that terrible burden. The chaos in her mind continued for what seemed an eternity. As her body wore out completely, as exhaustion penetrated the mindless screaming, she began to strangle, the sound a horrible gurgle in her throat.

  Raven!

  His tone was sharp, an imperious command. Her fear was far too great and his powers no more than a mere shadow, insubstantial. Mikhail could feel her throat closing as if it was his own, heard the terrible death rattle.