Carpathian 01 - Dark Prince

Something convinced him that his father's accusations were well founded. He believes us to be vampire.
    I don't think anyone will believe him, even if he shows them the evidence he supposedly has.
    They'll think he's in shock. She feared for Rudy's safety as much as for their own.
    Mikhail's fingers brushed her cheek tenderly. It was so like her to have compassion for a man whose entire being was bent on murdering them. Suddenly his body jerked hard against hers. The house flinched, screamed silently a split second before the first explosion reverberated in their ears. Above them, on the first floor, windows shattered; antique furniture splintered. A heartbeat, two heartbeats.
    Another explosion rocked the house, fragmenting the wall on the north side.
    Mikhail's fangs gleamed in the darkness; the hiss of his breath was a promise of merciless retaliation. The smell of smoke, acrid and rank, seeped through the ceiling into their bedchamber, where it swirled and gathered into a pungent, eye-burning cloud. Over their heads flames began to crackle and lick greedily at the books and paintings, at Mikhail's past, at his present. Orange and red tongues eagerly consumed possessions that Mikhail had acquired in the long centuries of his existence. Rudy wanted to destroy it all, little knowing that Mikhail had many houses, many treasures.
    Mikhail! She felt his anguish at the death of his favorite home burning above them. The putrid smell of hatred, fear, and smoke mixed.
    We must go below. The house will eventually fall. In her mind the grimness he felt echoed sharply.
    Raven attempted to drag herself into a sitting position, her movements painfully sluggish. We have to get Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    out of the house. Going below will only trap us between the ground and the flames.
    The sun is too high. We must go underground. His arms tightened perceptibly, as if he could give her the courage to face what had to be done. We have no choice.
    You go, Mikhail, she said. Fear clawed at her. She was helpless in her present state. Even if she managed to move herself below to the cellar, she could never burrow into the soil, bury herself alive. She would be insane when the time came to return to the surface. She absolutely could not commit herself to such an act, but it was necessary to encourage Mikhail to do so. He was the important one, the one his people needed.
    We go together, my love. He interjected strength into his voice, a strength his muscular body did not echo. His limbs were like lead. It took tremendous effort to drag himself off the bed, and his body landed heavily on the floor. Come on; we can do this.
    The smoke was thicker now, the room beginning to heat like an oven. Overhead, the ceiling began to blacken ominously. The smoke hurt her eyes, stung enough to burn.
    Raven ! It was an imperious command.
    She rolled off the bed, landing heavily enough to knock the wind out of her. It's going up so fast. Alarm bells were shrieking in her head. There was so much smoke; the house was groaning above them.
    Raven dragged herself, inch by slow inch, following Mikhail's painfully sluggish movements across the floor. They could not even crawl; they were so weak, it was impossible to get on their hands and knees.
    They slid full length on their stomachs, using their arms to propel themselves forward until they were at the hidden entrance to the cellar. Raven would have done anything to get Mikhail to a safe sanctuary.
    Heat sucked the air from the room so that their bodies were bathed in perspiration; their lungs labored and burned. Even with their combined strength, it seemed impossible to lift the trap door. Concentrate, Mikhail instructed. Do it with your will.
    She blocked out everything: her fear, the smoke, the fire, Mikhail's agony and rage at his burning home, the predatory beast rising in him. She narrowed her thoughts to the heavy door, focused, aimed. With infinite slowness it began to move, a groaning creak of wood and metal protesting movement but obeying reluctantly. Mikhail fed her power with his own. When the door lay open to them, revealing the yawning chasm below, they slumped exhausted against each other, clinging for a moment, their hearts laboring, their lungs burning with the clouds of smoke whirling around them.
    Debris rained down from the roof to the ceiling above their heads. The fire roared like a giant monster, a stormy conflagration, loud and