Gregori murmured softly, reassuringly, to her. He had bathed her in his light once before, and she recognized him now, moved toward him, seeking comfort. Very carefully he attended to the wound in the artery that supplied her with nourishment. Very soon he would give her his own blood, sealing her fate, binding her ever closer to him. There were several tears in the placenta, which he meticulously sealed. She was afraid as his light floated closer, so he provided waves of reassurance and warmth.
There was a laceration in her right thigh. It hurt, and blood was seeping into the fluid surrounding her. With the lightest of touches he closed the wound, his touch lingering to calm her. His chant, the low pitch of his voice, echoed in her heart, in her mind, invading her soul. Gregori talked to her as he worked, the purity of his tone beguiling her, soothing her, so that she stayed with Raven rather than simply letting go, fading away with the steady trickle of blood.
Gregori could feel the strength in her, the determination. Without a doubt, she was Mikhail and Raven’s daughter. If she chose to go, she would do so, but if she chose to stay, she would fight with every breath left in her body. Gregori made certain she wanted to fight. He whispered to her in his most beguiling voice, promised a fascinating future, lured her with the secrets and beauty of the universe awaiting her. He promised her she would never be left alone; he would be there to guide her, to protect her, to see to her happiness.
Before he could complete his work, he felt Shea tremble, felt her suddenly become aware of the pain of her own wounds. Reassuring the child that he would return, he worked his way out of Raven’s body, taking Shea with him. She was swaying on her knees, so pale and drained she was gray. Although the injuries to her shoulder and arm were not critical, she had lost more blood than she could afford.
Jacques was supporting her, holding her against his chest, his arms keeping her from toppling over. She didn’t really seem to notice, only pushed ineffectually at him. “I’m not finished. Why did you bring me out, Gregori?” she protested, annoyed. Her one thought was to get back to her patient.
“You must feed or you will not be able to continue,” he counseled softly. “And Raven needs blood.” The healer’s silver eyes went to Jacques’, and he nodded.
Jacques thrust his mind into Shea’s without hesitation, commanding that she feed. She was so tired and drawn, she could barely turn up her face to the hollow of his neck. At once his body clenched with her breath so warm against his skin. He drew her closer, felt the scrape of her teeth, a slight nip on his neck. Jacques nearly groaned aloud, cursed the depth of Carpathian sexuality that could send his body into hard, painful need when there was blood and death all around them.
Shea whispered something against his pulse, something soft and sighing that invaded his body and left him hungry for her intimate touch. He covered his moan of urgent need as her teeth sank into his neck. Hot flames danced through his bloodstream, darted along his muscles and nerves. His hands found her waist, her back, cradled her head to him. His body needed to sate itself with hers. Never had the heat been so burning and the need so great.
Gregori’s teeth tore at his own wrist. His mind merged with Mikhail’s, and together they forced Raven’s reluctant compliance. She was still a fledging, a mere quarter of a century old, yet she was already strong. It took both of them to force her to feed from other than Mikhail. She resisted for a moment.
For our child, little one,Mikhail whispered softly, lovingly, bending her will to his. You must do this for our child.
Gregori added his own reinforcement. I have never asked anything of you, Raven, of our friendship. This I ask.
Raven pushed down her revulsion and allowed Mikhail and Gregori to put her into a trance so that she was able to accept the life-giving fluid that both she and her daughter needed so desperately.
Gregori concentrated on connecting with the child. It was so helpless, so tiny, so afraid. A living, thinking being already. He could feel the confusion and its sudden awareness of being alone. He sent waves of reassurance. His blood, flowing into the small body, would strengthen their bond, ensure that her chemistry would match his.
He had spent a lifetime preparing for this moment, the time when he would have the opportunity to choose his mate. He had always known it would be a child of Mikhail’s. When Raven had been attacked and mortally wounded years before, Gregori had made certain he had supplied the blood to heal her: His ancient blood was powerful and strong, and he had sent with it the rudiments of the first bonding in the hopes that Raven, a human woman, would conceive a female child. Now he was able to reinforce that bond, seal the child to him for all time. She was bound to him, body and soul, as he was to her. For the first time in centuries he felt hope. And to a male Carpathian on the verge of turning vampire, hope was the only thing left.
Shea closed the wound on Jacques’ neck with a sensuous stroke of her tongue, then blinked up at him with eyes slightly glazed and cloudy. Almost at once her expression changed, and she shoved Jacques away. It wasn’t that he had taken her free will; she would have fed to save Raven and the child. It was the way he had forced her to help him kill their enemy. Calmly, without emotion, he had commanded it.
You have always known I had demons in me, red hair.
Shea brushed a hand over her face, then shoved her wild hair aside as if to push him along with it. I always thought you would behave like a man, not a wild animal wanting to kill.
It is in our nature to kill. We are predators.
Even if you were trying to save my life and felt you needed to kill Wallace, you did not have to use me to do it so viciously. Go away. I have work to do, and I’m very tired.
Jacques did not move from her side. Despite the rain, it was light outside. Even with the intense storm he was generating, the light was beginning to affect all their eyes. They had very little time to finish; soon their bodies would demand the sleep of their kind. He could convince Shea later that he was no monster. Right now his job was to protect all those present while they worked.
He scanned their surroundings continually. He built the storm and kept it roiling and frenzied above them, making the area unsafe to travel within. He supported Shea’s swaying body and kept an eye on the healer, who was looking gray and gaunt. What they were doing was a mystery to Jacques. He was proud that Shea was able to perform such a miracle, and he was secretly pleased that the healer needed her help.
Jacques knew Mikhail must be worried sick and feeling helpless. He had been the logical choice to take Byron to the cave of healing and place him in the ground until the healer could get to him. That meant that Mikhail had to keep Raven alive from a distance, a feat that was wearing after a time. And he would want to be the one to supply his own mate with blood and protect her from further harm.
Jacques swore softly to himself. Three Carpathian males should never have allowed humans to fool them. Why hadn’t they detected the presence of the men nearby in the forest? Why hadn’t the threat to Raven and Shea been ferreted out?
He looked at Shea’s arm, red and raw with open wounds, and cursed again. He was sworn to protect her and keep her happy. So far he had done a poor job of it. How was he going to take away the trauma of this day and show her the beauty of their life together? For the first time he became aware of the body of Eugene Slovensky. He sighed and moved away from Shea to hoist the carcass onto his shoulder and toss it outside to the wolves. The last thing Shea would need when she finished the grueling operation was to see any grisly evidence of their kills.