Carpathian 01 - Dark Prince

long-sleeved shirt.
    Gregori.
    Raven woke strangling, clutching her throat, desperate to drag air into her burning lungs. She was confused, panic-stricken, struggling desperately. "Feel the air on your skin," Mikhail ordered softly, his mouth against her ear. "Feel the night, the wind. You are safe in my arms. The night is beautiful; the colors and scents speak to us."
    Raven's blue-violet eyes were all over the place, seeing nothing, taking in nothing. She inhaled deeply, and made herself as small as possible. The cool night air was working a slow magic, easing the terrible strangling in her throat. Tears glittered like gems in her eyes, tangled in her long lashes.
    Mikhail tightened his hold on her so that she could feel the enormous strength in his powerful frame.
    Slowly, inch by inch, her body became less rigid, so that she relaxed into him. He touched her mind with a gentle, warm stroke, finding her struggling for control.
    "I am here with you, Raven." Deliberately he spoke the words out loud, so he would sound as human as possible. "The night is calling to us, welcoming us; can you hear it? There is such beauty in the song of insects, the night creatures. Let yourself hear it." He used a rhythmic, compelling tone, almost hypnotic.
    Raven drew her knees up, lay her forehead on them, hunching into herself. She was rocking back and forth, her hold on reality a tenuous thread. She simply breathed in and out, appreciating the ability to do so, concentrating on the mechanics of it.
    "I want to take you to a safer place, somewhere away from here." His sweeping gesture took in the charred remains of his once beautiful home.
    Raven's head remained down. She simply breathed in and out. Mikhail touched her mind again. There was no thought of blame or betrayal. Her mind was fragmented, bruised and broken, trying desperately to survive. Her familiar clothes and his presence gave her a measure of comfort. His ice-cold fury, his need for violent retaliation stirred to life.
    "Little sister." Jacques emerged from the edge of the timberline, flanked by Gregori. When Raven didn't look up, Jacques sat beside her, his hand brushing her shoulder. "The wolves are quiet tonight. Did you hear them before? They were mourning the loss of Mikhail's home. Now they are silent."
    She blinked, her lost gaze focusing on Jacques's face. She didn't speak; his identity didn't seem to register. She was trembling, her small frame shaking, locked between the three powerful men.
    You could remove her memories. Gregori suggested, clearly not understanding why Mikhail did not do the obvious.
    She would not like such a thing.
    She would not know. Gregori put a small edge in his tone. He sighed when Mikhail did not respond.
    Allow me to heal her, then. She is important to all of us, Mikhail. She suffers needlessly.
    She would want to do this on her own. Mikhail was well aware that Gregori thought he had lost his mind, but he knew Raven. She had her own courage, and her own ideas of right and wrong. She would not thank him when she learned he had removed her memories. There could be no untruths between Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    lifemates, and Mikhail was determined to give her time to come to terms with what they had endured together.
    Mikhail found the rose-petal-soft skin of her face, traced her delicate cheekbones with gentle fingers.
    "You were right, little one. We will build our home together, stronger than ever. We will pick a place, deep within the forest, and fill it with so much love, it will spill over to our wolves."
    Her blue-violet gaze flickered with sudden awareness, jumping to Mikhail's face. The tip of her tongue touched her full lower lip. She managed a tentative smile. "I don't think I'm cut out to be a Carpathian."
    Her voice was a mere thread of sound.
    "You are everything a Carpathian woman should be," Gregori said gallantly, his tone low and melodious, a soothing, healing cadence. Both Mikhail and Jacques found themselves listening intently to the compelling pitch. "You are fit to be the lifemate of our prince, and I give you freely my allegiance and my protection, as I have given it to Mikhail." His voice deliberately was pitched low, so that it seeped into her fragmented mind like a soothing balm.
    Raven's shattered gaze swung to Gregori. Her long lashes fluttered, her eyes so dark they were nearly purple. "You helped us." Her fingers sought and found Mikhail's, entwined with