Dark Prince (Dark Series - book 1)

by Christine Feehan

  Wait. The vampire comes.

  She dragged a shuddering breath into her laboring lungs, the sound loud and distressed in the room.

  Slovensky was shoved carelessly across the room with one powerful swat from Andre’s hand. He stood framed in the doorway, flushed from a fresh kill. His eyes were flat and held a kind of contempt, a merciless promise of savagery. “Good morning, my dear. I am Andre, come to take you to your new home.”

  He glided across the room, clearly enjoying his power over them all. As he approached her, his eyes darkened with rage. “You were told to feed on the priest.”

  “You were told to go to hell.” She said it in her soft, musical voice, deliberately baiting him.

  “You will learn it is better to obey me,” he snapped. Angry at her defiance, he caught the priest by the front of his shirt and hurled him against the stone wall. It was done coldly, callously, without thought of the consequences. “If you are not going to use him for food, we have no need of him, do we?” The vampire’s smile was wholly evil.

  Father Hummer’s body had fallen to the floor heavily, his skull cracking audibly on impact. There was a gasping sound as his lungs fought for air, then a soft sigh as they gave up the fight.

  Raven bit back a scream, struggled for air, her grief so overwhelming, that for a moment her mind couldn’t function.

  Mikhail, I’m sorry. I angered him. This is my fault.

  She felt the warmth of his love surround her, the brush of his fingers so tender on her face.

  Never that, my love.

  She felt his sorrow mingle with hers. Raven lifted her blue-violet eyes to the face of the vampire. “Now, how do you expect to control me?”

  The vampire bent down, his smile evil, his breath foul. “You will learn. Now you will feed.” He snapped his fingers, and Slovensky nearly tripped over his own feet to run out of the cell and return with a glass of dark, murky liquid. His hand trembled as he passed it to the vampire, careful to avoid the razor-sharp long nails. “For you, my dear; breakfast.” The vampire held the glass close enough for her to smell the contents. Fresh blood tainted with something else, some herb she didn’t recognize.

  “Drugs, Andre? Isn’t that stooping a little low even for one such as you?” She had to fight every moment just to breathe, to keep from breaking down and sobbing out her grief for the priest. If only she hadn’t angered the vampire.

  Andre’s face darkened when she uttered his name with such contempt, but he simply stared into her eyes, flooding her with compulsion, the need to obey him.

  Loathing him as she did, fearful for Mikhail and grief-stricken over the priest and Jacques, Raven summoned every ounce of strength she possessed and fought a mental battle with him. Her head nearly exploded with pain and only when little beads of blood appeared on her forehead did he relent.

  The vampire pushed down his fury at her rebellion. She was close to death and if she died all his scheming would be for nothing. “You will die if you do not feed. I know Mikhail knows this. Do you hear me, prince? She dies. Force her to accept what I offer.”

  You must do this, little one.

  Mikhail’s voice was gently coaxing.

  Youwill be dead before I can reach you, and above all else, you must survive.

  The blood is drugged.

  Drugs do not effect Carpathians.

  Raven sighed, looked once more at the vampire. “What else is in it?”

  “Only herbs, my dear, herbs that will confuse you a bit, but will ensure that my friends have plenty of time to study Mikhail. They can keep him alive, a prisoner here. Is that not what you want? That he remain alive? The alternative is to kill him immediately.” He pushed the glass at her.

  Her stomach knotted in rebellion. It would just be so much easier to close her eyes and stop struggling for every breath. She could barely stand the pain in her head. She was responsible for Jacques’s grave wound, for Father Hummer’s death. Worst of all, her beloved Mikhail was racing straight into the arms of the enemy because of her. If she just stopped...

  No!

  Mikhail’s voice was sharp and imperious.

  Do not!

  Gregori added his strength to Mikhail’s protest.

  The vampire wrapped his hand around her throat in his fury that she might choose death and defeat him.

  His touch made her skin crawl; her stomach roiled in protest. Suddenly the vampire screamed and leaped back away from her, his face contorted in fury and pain. Raven could see his charred and blackened palm, still smoking as he held it to his chest. Mikhail had sent his own warning and challenge.

  “You think he will win,” the vampire snarled at her, “but he will not. Now drink!” His hands closed around her wrist, steadying her hand.

  Raven’s mind splintered and screamed at the close proximity of such evil. The crumpled body of Edgar Hummer lay in plain sight, no more than a heap of refuse to the vampire. Touching Andre, she could read his mind easily. He was the most depraved being she had ever encountered.

  The drug would confuse her enough that he could make her believe she belonged to him. Mikhail would be kept alive, living in pain and torment, too weak to attack his captors. Slovensky enjoyed inflicting pain. His brother was eager to dissect a vampire, experiment on one. The vampire was certain the Slovensky brothers would die at the hands of the avenging Carpathians. She read it all, the betrayal and the hideousness of the undead’s plans.

  Mikhail! Do not come to this place!

  She resisted the compulsion to drink the tainted blood, struggling feebly in the vampire’s foul hold.

  I will not allow you to fall into their hands. I will choose death.

  “Drink!” The vampire was becoming alarmed. Her heart was stuttering with effort. There was a smear of crimson across her forehead, indicating agony.

  “Never,” she said between clenched teeth.

  “She dies, Mikhail. Is this what you want for her? She dies in my arms, with me, and I have won anyway.” Andre shook her in his fury. “He will commit suicide the moment you relinquish life. Are you so stupid that you do not realize that? He will die.”

  Her blue-violet eyes searched the gaunt face. “He will destroy you first.” She said it with complete conviction.

  My love.

  Mikhail’s voice was black velvet, soothing in her pain-filled mind.

  You must allow me to decide this matter. You give me no choice but to force your compliance. This should be our decision together, but you cannot see beyond the threat to me. He cannot defeat me. Believe that; hold on to that. He cannot separate us. We live in each other. He does not understand our bond. Together we are too strong for him. I will allow him to capture me. I allow it; that is all.

  The vampire knew the moment Mikhail’s will dominated. Raven allowed the glass to be brought to her lips. Even under compulsion, her body tried to reject the nourishment. The vampire could feel her stomach heave and fight. Her bond with Mikhail allowed her lifemate to calm her enough to accept what the vampire offered.

  Her heart and lungs responded almost immediately to the liquid. Her breathing became less labored; her body grew warm. The moment Mikhail relinquished her will, Raven attempted to squirm away from the vampire. He tightened his arms around her, deliberately rubbing his face against hers. His laughter was cruel, gloating even. “You thought him strong, did you not? But, you see, he jumps to do my bidding.”

  “Why are you doing this? Why do you betray him?”

  “He betrays all of our people.” Mikhail strode through the door, tall and strong, looking invincible.

  Slovensky flattened himself against the wall, trying to appear inconspicuous. Andre pressed a razor-sharp claw into Raven’s jugular. “Be very, very careful, Mikhail. You could kill me, there is no question, but she will die first.” Andre dragged her even closer, locking her in front of him as he lifted her body completely off the ground. Blankets scattered as Raven was dangled helplessly, her eyes fastened on Mikhail.

  Mikhail�
��s smile was tender, loving, as he focused on her face.

  I love you, little one. Be brave.

  “What do you wish, Andre?” His voice was gentle and low.

  “I want your blood.”

  “I will give it to Raven to replenish her.”

  Raven’s heart slammed against her ribs. Deliberately she leaned into Andre’s claw. A dot of blood beaded, trickled down her neck. The vampire tightened his arm around her ribs, nearly cracking them. “Do not do such a stupid thing again,” he reprimanded her, then turned his attention back to Mikhail. “You cannot come close enough to her to give blood. Drain it into a container.”

  Mikhail shook his head slowly.

  He wants my blood for himself, love, to become more powerful, to aid the drug in confusing your mind.

  Already he could feel the effects of the drugs in her. She was struggling to stay with him.

  I cannot allow him my blood.

  The words echoed sadly.

  Raven reached for Gregori.

  You must come.

  The drug he has given you is an ancient one,

  Gregori explained, the words brushing softly in her mind,

  made from the pressed petals of a flower found only in the northern regions of our lands. It will disorient you, but that is all. The vampire will attempt to plant his own memories of you with him and then will use pain to control your thoughts. He has established a blood bond, so he can monitor you. When you think of Mikhail, he can cause you pain. It is not the drug, it is the vampire. Censor your thoughts as much as possible to conserve your strength. When you reach for Mikhail as your mind and body must, Andre must not know. You focus better than any Carpathian I have known. He knows nothing of our bond. I can find you anywhere. The moment I am finished attending Jacques, I will go to Mikhail. You have my word Mikhail will survive. We will find you. Stay alive for the sake of all our people.

  The vampire and Mikhail stared across the room at one another. Power emanated from Mikhail’s every pore. He looked coolly amused by the vampire’s dilemma.

  A ripple of malevolence distorted the tense vibrations in the room, striking at Raven’s temple.

  Mikhail!

  She screamed the warning in her mind as Slovensky shot him three times. In the small cell, the noise was a loud clap of thunder reverberating off the rock walls. The bullets drove Mikhail backward and he fell beside Father Hummer, his precious blood staining his white silk shirt a vivid crimson.

  “No!” Raven fought the vampire in earnest, fear lending her strength that the loss of her blood had taken. For a moment she wrenched herself nearly free but was jerked back, the vampire’s hands around her throat, squeezing hard. Raven fought down panic. She didn’t dare pass out.

  Gregori, Mikhail’s down. They shot him.

  I feel it. All Carpathians feel it. Do not worry. He will not die.

  Gregori was clearly moving closer.

  They were very careful to inflict flesh wounds that bleed heavily, not mortal wounds such as they gave Jacques. He is conveying to me the extent of his injuries.

  The vampire dragged Raven with him to the door. “The others will come, but it will be too late. Do not think he will get out of this,” he hissed in her ear. “Slovensky and the others will die for this deed, and with them all records of what occurred in this place. You will be mine, far away where they cannot find you.”

  Raven kept her eyes and mind focused on Mikhail, broadcasting to Gregori everything she saw: Slovensky manacling Mikhail’s wrists and ankles, chaining him to a wall, laughing, taunting, kicking at him. Mikhail remained silent, his dark eyes very black, glinting like ice.

  The vampire lifted her slender body, ran with blurring speed from the place of death and destruction, launched himself skyward, his talons gripping Raven as he sped into the night.

  Gregori merged his mind with Mikhail’s easily. Over the centuries of battles, wars, and vampire hunters, they had exchanged blood many times to preserve one another’s life. Mikhail was in pain, his blood loss great. The shooting had been a deliberate attempt to weaken his immense power. Slovensky was busy taunting Mikhail with graphic details of torture.

  Mikhail’s black eyes smoldered an eerie red, a burning flame he turned on Slovensky as the man approached him. The power in those chilling eyes stopped Slovensky for a moment. “You’ll learn to hate me, vampire,” James Slovensky snarled. “And you’ll learn to fear me. You’ll learn who really holds the power.”

  A slight, mocking smile touched Mikhail’s mouth. “I do not hate you, mortal. And I could never fear you. You are but a pawn in a game of power. And you have been sacrificed.” The voice was very low, a musical thread of sound that Slovensky found himself wanting to hear again.

  The man knelt beside his victim, smiling his pleasure at the other’s pain. “Andre will give us the rest of you bloodsuckers.”

  “And why would he do that?” Mikhail closed his eyes, his face lined and strained, but the hint of a smile remained.

  “You turned him, forced him into such an unholy life, the same way you turned the woman. He is going to try to save her.” Slovensky leaned closer, drew his knife. “I think I should dig that slug out of you. We wouldn’t want you getting an infection now, would we?” His giggle was high-pitched with anticipation.

  Mikhail didn’t flinch away from the blade. His black eyes snapped open, blazing with power. Slovensky fell backwards, scrambling away on all fours to crouch against the far wall. Fumbling in his coat, he jerked out the gun and held it pointed at Mikhail.

  The ground rolled almost gently, seemed to swell so that the concrete floor bulged, then cracked. Slovensky grabbed for the wall behind him to steady himself and lost the gun in the process. Above his head a rock fell from the wall, bounced dangerously close, and rolled to a halt beside him. A second rock, and a third fell, so that Slovensky had to cover his head as the rocks rained down in a roaring shower.

  Slovensky’s cry of fear was high and thin. He made himself even smaller, peering through his fingers at the Carpathian. Mikhail had not moved to protect himself. He lay exactly as Slovensky had positioned him, those dark eyes staring at him. Swearing, Slovensky tried to lunge for the gun.

  The floor bucked and heaved under him, sending the gun skittering out of reach. A second wall swayed precariously and rocks cascaded down, striking the man about the head and shoulders, driving him to the floor. He watched a curious, frightening pattern form. Not one rock touched the priest’s body. Not one came close to Mikhail. The Carpathian simply watched him with those damn eyes and that faint mocking smile as the rocks buried Slovensky’s legs, then fell on his back. There was an ominous crack, and Slovensky screamed under the heavy load on his spine.

  “Damn you to hell,” Slovensky snarled. “My brother will track you down.”

  Mikhail said nothing, simply watching the havoc Gregori was creating. Mikhail would have killed James Slovensky outright, without the drama Gregori had such a flare for, but he was tired, his body in a precarious state. He had no wish to drain his energy further. Raven would be in the vampire’s hands for the time it took Gregori to heal him. He couldn’t allow himself to think of what Andre might do to her. Mikhail stirred, pain shafting through him. More rocks fell on Slovensky in retaliation, covering him like a blanket, beginning to form a macabre grave.

  Gregori moved into the room with his familiar silent glide, grace and power clinging to him as he strode through the wreckage of the wall. “This is becoming a bad habit.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Mikhail said without rancor.

  Gregori’s touch was infinitely gentle as he inspected the wounds. “They knew what they were doing. Placed these precisely to miss vital organs but to bleed you as much as possible.” It took seconds to deal with the manacles and free Mikhail from the chains. Gregori pressed soil over the wounds to stop further leakage.

  “Check Father Hummer.” Mikhail’s voice was weak.

  “He is dead.” Gregori barely glanced at the broke
n body.

  “Be certain.” It was an order. Mikhail never ordered Gregori to do anything. That had never been their relationship.

  For a moment Gregori’s silver eyes glittered as they stared at one another. “Please, Gregori, if there is a chance...” Mikhail closed his eyes.

  Shaking his head at the delay, Gregori dutifully went to the priest’s crumpled body and felt for a pulse. He knew it was fruitless, knew Mikhail knew it, too, but just the same he checked. Gregori was careful to be gentle with the body. “I am sorry, Mikhail. He is gone.”

  “I do not want him left in this place.”

  “Stop talking and allow me to do my job,” Gregori growled, easing Mikhail back onto the floor. “Take my blood while I stop up these holes.”

  “Find Raven.”

  “Take my blood, Mikhail. The vampire will not harm her. He will have some patience this night. You must be strong for the hunt. Drink what I freely offer. I would not want to find it necessary to compel you.”

  “You are becoming a nuisance, Gregori,” Mikhail complained, but obediently he took hold of the healer’s proffered wrist. Gregori’s blood was ancient, as was Mikhail’s. There was none other that could help as quickly. There was silence as Mikhail fed, replenishing what was lost. Gregori turned his wrist slightly to ease Mikhail away from him, knowing his strength was needed for healing and transporting his prince to safety.