“I know, I know.” Byron raked a hand through his chestnut hair. “After what happened to Noelle, I could not bear for the same thing to happen to Eleanor. And this was the first time you ever warned one of us off a woman.”
Mikhail managed a wry smile. “The experience is new to me. Until it is not quite so new and raw, it is best I keep her as close to me as possible. Right now she is arguing with me.”
Byron looked shocked. “She argues with you?”
“She has her own mind.” He allowed Byron to help him up.
“You are far too weak to shape-shift. And you will need blood and healing sleep.” Byron sent a call for Jacques.
“I dare not go deep. It would leave her unprotected. She wears my ring and bears my mark. One wrong move and they would murder her.”
“We need you at full strength, Mikhail.” Whirling leaves like miniature tornadoes heralded Jacques’s arrival.
Jacques swore under his breath as he knelt beside Mikhail. “You need blood, Mikhail,” he said softly, immediately beginning to unbutton his shirt.
Mikhail stopped him with a slight gesture. His eyes, world-weary, pain-filled, made a slow study of their surroundings. Byron and Jacques went still, senses flaring out, scanning the forest. “There is no one,” Jacques whispered softly.
“There is someone,” Mikhail corrected.
A low warning growl escaped Jacques’s throat as he instinctively placed his body in front of his prince. Byron was frowning, confusion on his handsome features. “I can detect nothing, Mikhail.”
“Nor can I, but we are being watched.” It was a statement so certain, neither Carpathian chose to dispute it. Mikhail never made a mistake.
“Summon Eric with a car,” Mikhail ordered and laid his head back to rest. Jacques was on the alert, and Mikhail trusted his judgment. He closed his eyes weakly, wondering where Raven had gone. She was no longer nagging at him. In order to maintain the contact, he would have had to use up precious energy, energy he couldn’t spare right now. Yet it worried him, her silence, so unlike her.
Chapter Seven
The ride home in the car was excruciatingly painful. Mikhail’s body craved blood to replace what he had lost. His weakness was growing by the moment, the lines in his face deepening, etched with pain. He was an ancient, and all ancients felt emotions and physical wounds intensely. Normally he would simply have stopped his heart and lungs so that his blood would cease to flow. Then the healer would take over and the others would supply him with what he needed.
Raven changed all that. Raven and whatever—or whoever—was watching them. He could still feel the uneasiness washing over him. He knew another studied them from a distance, even as they traveled the miles to his home.
“Mikhail,” Eric hissed as they aided him into the sanctuary of his house, “let me help you.”
Raven was at the door, taking in Mikhail’s pale features. He looked suddenly older than the thirty years she thought him. There were white lines around his mouth, but his mind was serene, his breathing even and relaxed. She stepped back silently to allow them entry.
She was hurt by Mikhail’s refusal to allow her to help him. If he preferred the company of his people, she was not going to be so undignified as to let them see that it bothered her. Small teeth bit at her lower lip; her lingers twisted together and her eyes were anxious. She just had to see for herself that he was going to be well.
They carried Mikhail down to his sleeping chamber, Raven trailing after them. “Shall I call a doctor?” she inquired, already knowing the answer. She sensed they wanted her gone, that she was in the way somehow. Instinctively she knew that Mikhail would not receive the treatment he needed until she was gone.
“No, little one.” Mikhail held out his hand to her.
She went to him, lacing her fingers through his. He was always so strong, so physically fit, yet now he was pale and drawn. Raven felt close to tears. “You need help, Mikhail. Tell me what to do.”
His eyes, so black and cold, warmed instantly when his gaze settled on her face. “They know what to do. This is not my first wound, nor the worst I have received.”
A small, humorless smile touched her soft mouth. “This was the business you needed to do this evening?”
“You know I hunt those that murdered my sister.” He sounded tired and drained.
Raven hated arguing with him, but some things had to be said. “You told me you were just going out, nothing dangerous. It wasn’t necessary to lie to me about what you were doing. I know you’re the big hotshot around here, but this is what I do. I track killers. We were supposed to be partners, Mikhail.”
Byron, Eric, and Jacques exchanged raised eyebrows. Byron mouthed the word hotshot.No one dared smile, not even Jacques.
Mikhail frowned, knew he had hurt her. “I did not deliberately speak an untruth. I merely went out to do a little investigating. Unfortunately, it turned into something altogether different. Believe me, I had no intention of getting hurt. A careless accident.”
“You have this penchant for getting yourself into trouble when I’m not with you.” Raven’s smile did not quite reach her eyes. “How bad is your leg?”
“A scratch, no more; nothing for you to worry about.”
She was silent again, her blue eyes moving over his face with a faraway, pensive look, as if she had turned inward.
Mikhail felt something twisting deep in his gut. She had that look, the one that meant she was thinking too much again. It was the last thing he wanted when he lay wounded, forced to go to ground at the first opportunity. He did not want her pulling away from him, and there was something in her stillness that worried him. She couldn’t leave him. He knew that intellectually, but he didn’t want her to wantto leave him, to even be able to think about it. “You are angry with me.” He made it a statement.
Raven shook her head. “No, I’m honestly not. Maybe disappointed in you.” She looked sad. “You said there could be no lies between us, yet at the first opportunity, you did lie to me.” For a moment her small teeth bit down hard on her lower lip. There was a sheen of tears in her eyes, but she blinked them away impatiently. “When you’re asking for so much trust, Mikhail, it seems to me you need to trust me as well. You should have had more respect for me, at least for my abilities. I hunt using a psychic link. I trail using someone else’s eyes. Some of you people are very sloppy and complacent. A few of you don’t even bother with mind blocks. All of you are so arrogant, it doesn’t occur to you that a human, not one of your superior race, can crawl inside your minds. You’ve got someone out there just like me, fingering your people for death. If I can get inside your minds, she can do it. My advice, for what it’s worth, is to take far more precautions.”
Raven stepped away from Mikhail’s placating outstretched hand. “I’m just trying to save your lives, not be vindictive.” It was only pride that was keeping her from falling apart. Already she felt the loss of him, of their unique closeness. Somehow she knew there would never be another man, another time in her life when she laughed and talked the way they had and was totally accepted and comfortable. “You don’t need to say anything else, Mikhail. I saw your little scratch firsthand. You were right; you weren’t alone out there—I was watching. Honesty in my language means truth.”
Raven took a deep breath, tugged off the ring, and laid it carefully, regretfully, on the small table beside the bed. “I’m sorry, Mikhail, I really am. I know I’m letting you down, but I don’t fit into this world of yours. I don’t understand it, or the rules. Please do me the courtesy of staying away, of not trying to contact me. We both know I’m no real match for you. I’m leaving on the first available train.”