Dark Prince (Author's cut special edition)

by Christine Feehan

  He turned her question over in his mind. She knew, then, knew one of his people had been killed. She probably had picked the details out of someone’s head. The worry and pain was for him. There was no condemnation. Simply worry. Mikhail felt the tension ease from his body, felt warmth curl in his stomach.

  “I will try to keep you as far from this mess as possible, little one.” No one worried about him, about his state of mind or his health. No one thought to feel for him. Something inside him seemed to soften and melt. She was wrapping herself inside him, deep, somewhere he needed her.

  “Perhaps we shouldn’t see each other for a few days. I’ve never been so tired in my life.” She tried to give him a gracious way out. Raven looked down at her hands. She wanted to give herself an out, too. She had never felt so close to anyone, so comfortable, as if she had known him forever, yet was terrified that he would take her over. “And I don’t think your family was thrilled to see an American with you. We’re too . . . explosive together,” she finished ruefully.

  “Do not try to leave me, Raven.” The car drew up in front of the inn. “I hold what is mine, and make no mistake, you are mine.” It was both a warning and a plea. He had no time for soft words. He wanted to give pretty words to her—God knew she deserved them—but the others were waiting, and his responsibilities weighed heavily on him.

  She raised her hand to the line of his jaw, rubbing gently. “You’re so used to having your own way.” There was a smile in her voice. “I can go to sleep all by myself, Mikhail. I’ve been doing it for years.”

  “You need to sleep untroubled, undisturbed, deeply. What you saw tonight will haunt you if I do not help you.” His thumb stroked across her lower lip. “I could remove the memory if you wished.”

  Raven could see he wanted to do it, believed that it would be best for her. She could see it was difficult to ask her to make a decision. “No thank you, Mikhail,” she murmured demurely. “I think I’ll keep all my memories, good and bad.” She kissed his chin, slid across the seat to the door. “You know, I’m not a porcelain doll. I won’t break because I see something I shouldn’t. I’ve chased serial killers before.” She smiled at him, her eyes sad.

  He shackled her wrist in an unbreakable grip. “And it almost destroyed you. Not this time.”

  Her lashes swept down, hiding her expression. “That’s not your decision.” If others persuaded him to use his talents to chase the insane, evil killers in the world, she would not leave him alone. How could she?

  “You are not nearly as afraid of me as you should be,” he growled.

  She flashed him another smile, tugging at her wrist to remind him to release her. “I think you know what’s between us would be worth nothing if you forced me to do your will in everything.”

  He held her captive a heartbeat longer, his dark, dangerous eyes moving possessively over her fragile face. She was so strong-willed, but then she had to be to do what she did. She was afraid, but she looked him in the eyes and stood up to him. Chasing killers made her ill, brought her to the brink of madness, but she did it time and time again. He was still a shadow in her mind. He read her determination to help him, her fear of him and his incredible powers, but she would not leave him to face this horrible killer alone. He wanted to keep her with him safe in his lair.

  Almost reverently, Mikhail trailed his fingers down her cheek. “Go, before I change my mind,” he ordered, abruptly releasing her.

  Again she hesitated. “I’m so sorry. I know you knew and cared about the woman murdered. If there’s anything I can do, Mikhail, please know I will for you.” She leaned in again and brushed another kiss on his temple.

  Raven walked away from him slowly, trying to overcome the dizziness that had taken hold of her. She was careful to walk straight, not wanting him to know she felt as if her body was lead, that every movement was difficult. She walked with her head up and kept her mind purposely blank.

  Mikhail watched her enter the inn. He saw her hand go up to her head, rub at her temple, and then go to the nape of her neck. She was still dizzy from his taking her blood. That had been selfish, beneath him, yet he couldn’t stop himself. Now she was paying for it. Her head ached from the bombardment of emotions—his included. All of his people would have to be more careful to shield their minds.

  Mikhail unfolded his large frame from the vehicle and moved to the shadows, his senses flaring out to tell him he was alone. He took the form of mist. In the heavy fog it was unnoticeable, and he could easily seep beneath her unsecured window. He watched her as she sank onto the bed. Her face was pale, her eyes haunted. She swept her mane of hair back, touching his mark as if it ached. It took her a few minutes to kick off her shoes, as if the task was too great.

  Mikhail waited until she had flung herself facedown, fully clothed on the bed. You will sleep. He gave the order forcefully, expected her compliance as he slipped inside the room.

  Mikhail. His name echoed in his head, soft, drowsy, with a hint of amusement. Somehow I knew you would just have to have your way. She didn’t fight it, but went under willingly, a smile curving her soft mouth.

  Mikhail undressed her and slid her slender body beneath the covers. He safeguarded the door, a powerful spell guaranteed to keep even the strongest of his own people out, let alone pathetic mortal assassins. He secured the windows and provided the same guards at every possible entry point. Very gently he brushed his lips across her forehead, and then reached down to touch his brand on her neck before leaving her.

  Once out of her room, he settled on the railing in the form of a bird, his wings out, his eyes surveying the street below him. The village was small. His was one of the few cars used. Most everyone else had carts drawn by horses. The residents were good people; the outlying area was mainly populated by farmers. Someone had come into their village and committed a murder. He took a breath and let it out. He would find them—and he would kill them. On that thought, he dissolved into mist and streamed back to his car, anxious to get home and talk with the others.

  The five Carpathians waiting for him fell silent when he entered his home. Celeste smiled tentatively and pressed a protective hand against the child lying in her womb. “Is she all right, Mikhail?”

  He nodded abruptly, curiously grateful for her concern. No one would question him, yet his behavior was completely out of character for him. He got right to the point. “How did the assassins find Noelle unprotected?”

  The others looked at one another. Mikhail had drilled it into them never to forget the smallest details regarding their safety, but over the years it was so easy to forget, to slip up.

  “Noelle had her baby only two months ago. She was so tired all the time.” Celeste tried to excuse the slip.

  “And Rand? Where was he? Why did he leave his exhausted wife unprotected while she slept?” Mikhail asked softly, dangerously.

  Byron, the man who had been in such trouble earlier, stirred uncomfortably. “You know how Rand is. Always after the women. He took the child to Celeste and went out hunting.”

  “Leaving my sister alone and unprotected. He obviously forgot to provide Noelle with the proper safeguards.” Mikhail’s disgust was all too evident. “Where is he?”

  The four Carpathians looked at one another, reluctant to give up the information. Mikhail had every reason to despise Rand. All of them knew Rand had a sickness, a need for women, a rare but incurable disease in their society.

  Celeste’s lifemate, Eric, answered grimly. “He was crazy, Mikhail. It took all of us to subdue him, but he sleeps now. The child is with him deep in the ground. The healing will do them good.”

  “We could not afford to lose Noelle.” Mikhail pushed grief away; it was not the time to feel it. “You are certain the child is safe? We have lost a few beneath the earth. It is even dangerous now for our women to try to give birth underground.” He had forbidden the once-common practice, but they had lost so many, and new ideas to protect the babies were all he could think of to try.


  “The child does well beneath the ground,” Celeste affirmed. “I checked on him myself.”

  “Eric, can you keep Rand under control? I will not have him running wild while I hunt these assassins.”

  “I think you should talk to him,” Eric answered honestly. “The guilt is making him crazy. He nearly turned on us.”

  Mikhail’s teeth flashed, a white menace, a show of the predator. His answer was a dark promise of unrelenting retaliation. He turned away from them, looking out the window into the night, not daring to look at his own reflection. He might want to blame and hate Rand, but in truth, his sister’s death was squarely on his shoulders.

  “Vlad, where is Eleanor? She is at risk, heavy with child. We must protect her, as we will Celeste,” Mikhail decreed. Vlad’s lifemate was conspicuously absent. “We cannot afford the loss of any of our women, and certainly not their children.”

  “She is so close to term, I was worried about her traveling.” Vlad sighed heavily. “She is safe and well guarded for the moment, but I think this war is starting again.”

  Mikhail tapped a finger on the small table near the chessboard. “Perhaps it is significant that we have three of our women giving birth for the first time in a decade. Our children are few and far between. If the assassins somehow have gained knowledge of our women’s condition, they will be afraid we are multiplying, growing strong again.”

  Mikhail shot the most muscular of the men a quick glance. “Jacques, you have no lifemate to encumber you.” There was the faintest trace of affection in his voice, affection he could never feel or show before, and maybe wasn’t aware anyone else knew of. Jacques was his brother. “Neither does Byron. You two will get word to all the others. Lie low, feed only in the deepest cover, sleep deep within the ground, and always use the most powerful safeguards. We must watch our women and get them to safety, especially those who are with child. Eleanor must remain out of sight, Vlad. Celeste, neither of you must draw attention to yourselves in any way. If necessary, your lifemates will hunt for you.”

  “For how long, Mikhail?” Celeste’s eyes were shadowed, her face tearstained. “How long must we live like this?”

  “Until I find and dispense justice to the assassins.” There was a fierce, savage note in his voice. “All of you have become soft, mixing so much with mortals. You are forgetting the gifts that could save your lives,” he reprimanded them harshly. “My woman is mortal, yet she knew of your presence before you knew of hers. She felt your unguarded emotions, knows of the assassins through your thoughts. There is no excuse for that.”

  “How can this be?” Eric dared to ask. “No mortal has such power.”

  “She is telepathic and very strong in her gift. She will be here often; she will be protected, as will all of our women.”

  The others exchanged bewildered, confused looks. According to the legend, only their strongest members might be able to convert a mortal. It simply wasn’t done. It was far too risky. It had been tried centuries earlier, when the ranks of their women had been depleted and the men were without hope. But no one dared try it anymore. Most of them believed it was a myth made up to keep their males from losing their souls. Mikhail was unreadable, implacable, his judgment never questioned throughout the centuries. He settled arguments and protected them. He hunted the males who had chosen to turn vampire, dangerous to mortals and immortals alike.

  Now this. A mortal woman. They were shocked, and it showed. It was no small thing to call Raven his woman. It was the same as calling her his lifemate. Decreeing she was under his protection put her under the protection of all Carpathians. They were obligated to put the life of Mikhail’s woman before their own. If Mikhail said she was under his protection, he meant it. He never said anything he didn’t mean. And if she was harmed, the penalty would be death. Mikhail was a savage, merciless, and unrelenting enemy.

  Mikhail felt the weight of his responsibility for Noelle’s death. He had known of Rand’s illness, his weakness for women. Mikhail had objected to the union, but he hadn’t forbidden it, as he should have. Rand was not Noelle’s true lifemate. Chemistry would never allow a true mate to cheat on his woman. Noelle, his beautiful sister, so young and vibrant, lost to them forever. She had been headstrong, wanting Rand because he was handsome, not because her soul called to his. In truth, although he never allowed himself to think about it, Noelle had been just as ill as Rand. Power corrupted, and one had to always be careful not to allow such a thing to happen.

  Rand and Noelle had lied, but he had known they were lying. Ultimately it had been his responsibility that Rand had continued to try to find emotion by being with other women, and Noelle had grown into a bitter, dangerous woman. She must have died instantly, or Mikhail would have felt it, even deep in his sleep. Rand should never have had the care of one of their women.

  Mikhail had thought that, in time, each would find their true lifemate, but Noelle only grew more dangerous and Rand worse in his promiscuous behavior. It was impossible for Rand to feel anything with the women he bedded, yet he continued, almost as if it were a punishment for Noelle’s tight hold on him.

  Mikhail closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the reality of Noelle’s senseless murder to sweep over him. The loss was intolerable, his grief wild and intense, mixed with an ice-cold rage and deadly resolve. He bowed his head. Three blood-red tears made their way unchecked down his face. His sister, the youngest of their women. It was his fault.

  Mikhail felt the stirring in his head, warmth, comfort, as if arms had stolen around him. Mikhail? Do you need me? Raven’s voice was drowsy, husky, worried.

  He was shocked. His command had been strong, far stronger than anything he had ever used on a human, yet his sorrow had penetrated her hypnotic induced sleep. He glanced around him, took in the faces of his companions. None of them had picked up the mental contact. It meant that, as groggy as she was, Raven was able to focus, channel, and send directly to him without any spillage. It was a skill few of his people had bothered to accomplish, so complacent were they that humans could not tune in to them.

  Mikhail? This time Raven’s voice was stronger, alarmed. Are you all right? I’ll come to you.

  Sleep, little one. I am upset, but unharmed, he reassured, reinforcing his command with the tone of his voice.

  I can help.

  There is no need this night. Sleep. I will feel much better knowing you are safe and getting much-needed rest.

  Be well, Mikhail, she whispered softly, succumbing to his power.

  Mikhail gave his attention to those awaiting his orders. “Send Rand to me tomorrow. The child cannot stay with him. Dierdre lost another child a couple of decades ago. She still mourns her many losses. The child will be taken to her. Tienn will guard them carefully. He is aware that Dierdre is close to leaving this world. The many sorrows have grown too much for her to bear. If he grows suspicious of anyone, tell him to send out a call immediately, as you should. Do not wait to find out if the threat is real or imagined. It is better to be safe. No one is to use a mental link until we know whether one of our adversaries possesses the same power my woman does.”

  The shock on their faces was complete. None of them considered a human capable of that kind of power and discipline. “Mikhail, you are certain this woman is not the one? She could be a threat to us.” Eric ventured the suggestion cautiously, even as Celeste’s fingers dug warningly into his arm.

  Mikhail’s dark eyes narrowed slightly. “Do you believe I have grown lazy, bloated with my own power? Do you think so little of me that I could be in her mind and not recognize a threat to us? I warn you, I am willing to step down as your leader, but I am not willing to withdraw my protection of her. If any of you wish to harm her, know that you will deal with me. Do you wish me to pass on the mantle of leadership? I weary of my duties and responsibilities.”

  “Mikhail!” Byron’s voice was a sharp protest.

  The others voiced quick, alarmed denials, like frightened children. Jacques was the only one
who stood silently, one hip lazily resting against the wall, regarding Mikhail with a secret mocking half-smile. Mikhail ignored him.

  “It is nearly sunrise. All of you go to ground. Use every safeguard possible. When you awaken, check around your dwelling; feel for intruders. Do not overlook the slightest incident. We must stay in close communication and watch each other.”

  “Mikhail, the first year is so critical, so many of our children do not survive.” Celeste’s fingers were twisting nervously within her husband’s hand. “I am not sure Dierdre could bear another loss.”

  Mikhail’s smile was gentle. “She will guard the child as no other, and Tienn will be twice as watchful as any other. He has been trying to get Dierdre to conceive, and she has refused. At least this way, her arms will not be empty.”

  “And she will long for another child,” Celeste said angrily.

  “If our race is to continue, we must have children. As much as I would like to provide them, it is only our women who can produce such a miracle.”

  “It is heartbreaking to lose so many, Mikhail,” Celeste pointed out.

  “For all of us, Celeste.” His tone was final, and no one dared to argue or question.

  His authority was absolute, his rage and grief beyond boundaries. Not only had Rand failed to protect Noelle, a young, beautiful, vibrant woman, but her life had been lost because of some sadistic game Rand and Noelle had played together. Mikhail silently vowed that he would never again allow a woman’s impassioned plea or tears to overrule his judgment. He knew that he was every bit as responsible as Rand for Noelle’s fate. The rage and loathing he felt was just as potent directed at himself.

  Raven woke slowly, in a dense fog, layers and layers of it. Somehow she knew she wasn’t supposed to wake, but nevertheless it was imperative she do so. She pried her eyes open and turned her head toward the window. Sunlight was streaming in. She pushed herself into a sitting position, the covers sliding away to expose bare skin.