No.Even in an unconscious state, she was trying to save him.
He stroked her hair in long caresses. Sleep, little one. You are in need of healing sleep.Using his mind, he breathed for both of them, in and out, forcing oxygen into his lungs, her lungs. He kept the rhythm of their hearts together. He took on as much of the mechanics of her body as he could to enable her to heal.
Jacques knew Mikhail’s mind was made up. If this woman failed to live, they would lose Mikhail. Right now Mikhail was using his power to keep her blood flowing, her heart pumping, and her lungs working. It was a draining process.
Gregori met Jacques’s eyes over Mikhail’s head. He was not going to allow the couple to die. It was up to them to heal her. “I will do it, Jacques.” It wasn’t a request.
The air stirred beside them and Celeste materialized with Eric. “He chooses to follow her,” she said softly. “He loves her that much.”
“It is already known?” Jacques asked.
“He is withdrawing,” Eric answered. “All Carpathians can feel it. Is there a chance to save them?”
Jacques looked up, his handsome face haggard, his dark eyes, so like Mikhail’s, grief-stricken. “She fights for him. She knows he will choose to follow her.”
“Enough!” Gregori hissed, bringing them all to attention. “We have no choice but to save them. That is all that can be in our minds.”
Celeste reached toward Raven. “Let me do this for her, Jacques. I am a woman; I carry a child. I will make no mistakes.”
“Gregori is a healer, Celeste. You are with child and it is difficult,” Jacques denied softly.
“Both of you are supplying blood for them. You could make a mistake.” Celeste pushed the sheet from Raven’s stomach. Her gasp was audible, her horror very real. Involuntarily she stepped back. “My God, Jacques. There is no chance.”
Furious, Jacques elbowed her out of the way. Gregori stepped between them, his pale eyes flowing over Celeste like mercury, glittering with a calm, cold menace, with a terrible rebuke. “There is no question that I will be the one to heal her. And she will be healed. While I perform this task I want only those who believe completely to attend. Go now if you cannot give me this aid. I must have only complete conviction in my mind and the minds of those around us. She will live because there is no other alternative.”
Gregori placed his hands over the wounds, closed his eyes, and went seeking out of his own body and into the one lying so hideously wounded, as still as death.
Mikhail felt Raven’s stirring of pain. She flinched, tried to move away, tried to fade so that this new, painful sensation could not touch her. Mikhail surrounded her effortlessly, held her still for Gregori to do the intricate work of repairing damaged organs. Relax into it, little one. I am here in this place with you.
I can’t do this.It was more a feeling than words. So much pain. Choose for us, then, Raven. You will not go alone.
“No!” Jacques’s protest was sharp. “I know what you do, Mikhail. Drink now or I will not continue the transfusion.”
Fury welled up, shook Mikhail out of his semistupor. Jacques met the rage in his dark eyes with deliberate calm. “You are too weak from loss of blood to oppose me.”
“Then let me feed.” There was cold fury, black as night in those words. Pure menace, the threat of death.
Jacques exposed his throat without hesitating, managing to prevent a groan of pain as Mikhail bit deep, fed hungrily, ferociously, like a savage animal. Jacques did not struggle or make a sound, offering up his life for his brother and Raven. Eric moved toward them as Jacques’s knees buckled and he sat down hard, but Jacques motioned him away.
Mikhail lifted his head abruptly, his shadowed features so haunted and grief-stricken, Jacques ached for him. “Forgive me, Jacques. There is no excuse for my treatment of you.”
“There is nothing to forgive when I offer freely,” Jacques whispered raggedly. Eric moved immediately to his side, supplying Jacques with blood.
“How could anyone do such a thing to her? She is so good, so courageous. She risked her life to help a stranger. How could someone want to harm her?” Mikhail asked, raising his eyes toward the heavens. Silence was his only answer.
Mikhail’s gaze found Gregori. He watched his friend work with the intense concentration of the healing ritual. The low chant was soothing to him, brought a measure of relief to his tormented soul. He could feel Gregori with them, inside her body, working, weaving the magic of body repair, a painstakingly slow process.
“Enough blood,” Jacques whispered hoarsely as he lit the scented candles and began another low chant.
Gregori stirred, his eyes remaining closed, but he nodded. “Her body is attempting the conversion. Our blood is soaking into her organs and working to change and repair tissue. She needs time for the process.” He moved back inside to the deep penetrating wounds he was aligning. Her womb was damaged, and it was far too important to take any chances. She must be made perfect.
“Her heart is too slow,” Jacques said weakly as he slid from the bed to the floor. He looked startled to find himself there.
“Her body needs more time to make the change and heal,” Celeste added, watching Gregori work. She knew she was witnessing a miracle. She had never been this close to the legendary Carpathian everyone whispered about. Few of their people actually saw Gregori up close. Power emanated from his every pore.
“She is right,” Mikhail agreed weakly. “I will continue to breathe for her, continue to ensure her heartbeats. Eric, you must care for Jacques.”
“Rest, Mikhail, see to your woman. Jacques will be fine. Tienn is here if there is a problem. Gregori has many hours of work ahead of him,” Eric replied. “If it is necessary, we can call others in to help.”
Jacques reached up his hand to his brother. Mikhail took it. “You must calm your anger, Mikhail. The storm is too strong. The very mountains rage with you.” He closed his eyes and laid his head against the bedframe, his hand still clasped in Mikhail’s.
Raven felt almost detached from what was happening to her body. Her awareness of others in the room and their movements came through Mikhail. He was with her somehow, in her body, breathing for her. And there was another, one she didn’t recognize, but he was also in her, working like a surgeon would, repairing the extensive damage to her body, to her internal organs, paying special attention to her female organs. She wanted to just stop, allow the pain to swamp her, to carry her someplace far beyond feelings. She could just let go. She was tired, so tired. It would be so very easy. It was what she wanted, longed for.
She rejected the beckoning peace, fought to hang on to life. Mikhail’s life. She wanted to brush her fingertips over the lines of strain she knew would be around his mouth. She wanted to ease his guilt and rage, assure him that everything had been her own choice. His love, total, uncompromising, unconditional, endless, was almost more than she could cope with. Most of all she was aware of the strange changes taking place in her body.
None of it touched her, wrapped tightly, protectively in the cocoon of Mikhail’s love. He breathed, she breathed. His heart beat, her heart beat. Sleep, little one. I will watch for both of us.
After several long, backbreaking hours, Gregori straightened up, his hair damp with perspiration, his face weary and lined, his body aching with fatigue. “I have done my best. If she lives, she will be able to have a child. Mikhail’s blood and the soil should complete the healing process. The change is taking place rapidly. She does not understand and does not fight it.” He pushed a hand stained with her precious blood through his hair. “She fights only for Mikhail’s life, thinks only of his life and how her death would affect him. I think it is better if she does not understand what is actually happening to her. She does not know the extent of her wounds. There is much pain. She suffers greatly, but she is not a quitter, this one.”