Carpathian 01 - Dark Prince

with his instinctual predatory nature and won. He breathed deeply, carried her to the chair beside the fire. She deserved a courtship, deserved to know him, to come to feel affection if not love for him before he bound her to him. A human. A mortal. It was wrong. It was dangerous. As he gently placed her on the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    cushions, he caught the first warning of disturbance.
    He swung around, his handsome features dark and menacing. His body lost its protective posture, all at once threatening and powerful. "Stay," he ordered softly. He moved so fast that he blurred, closing the doors to his library, turning to face the front door. Mikhail sent a silent call to his sentries.
    Outside, a lone wolf howled, a second answered, a third, until there was a united chorus. When the noise subsided he waited, his face an implacable, granite mask. Mist drifted through the forest, tendrils of fog, collecting, moving, massing outside his home.
    Mikhail lifted his arm and his front door opened. The fog and mist seeped in, collected in pools until his foyer was thick with it. Slowly the mists connected; bodies shimmered and became solid. "Why do you disturb me this night?" he challenged softly, his dark eyes glittering dangerously.
    A man stepped forward, his fingers clasped solidly in his wife's. She looked pale and drawn, was obviously pregnant. "We seek your council, Mikhail, and bring you news."
    Inside the library, Raven felt fear slam into her, the emotion beating in her head, swamping her, driving out the heavy, trancelike cobwebs. Someone was distraught, crying, feeling pain as sharp as a knife. She staggered to her feet, clutched at the back of a chair. Images pushed in. A young woman with pale, white skin, a large stake protruding from her chest, blood running in rivers, her head detached from her body, something sickening placed in her mouth. A ritual killing, symbolic, a warning of others to come. A serial killer, here, in this land of peace.
    Raven gagged, both hands going to cover her ears, as if that could somehow stop the images pouring into her mind. For a moment she couldn't breathe, didn't want to breathe; she just wanted it to end.
    Wildly, she looked around her, saw a door to her right leading in the opposite direction from the overwhelming emotions. Blindly she stumbled to her feet, weak, disoriented, and dizzy. She staggered out of the library, needing to get some fresh air. Away from the details of death and horror that were so vivid in the minds of the newcomers.
    Their fear and anger was a living thing. They were animals wounded and ready to tear and rend in retaliation. Why were people so ugly? So violent? She had no answer, no longer wanted one. She had taken several steps down a long hall when a figure loomed up. A man a little younger than Mikhail, thinner, with glittering eyes and chestnut, wavy hair. His smile was taunting and held menace as he reached for her.
    An unseen force hit the man square in the chest, knocking him backward, and slamming him into the wall. Mikhail loomed up, a dark, malevolent shadow. He towered over Raven, protectively thrust her behind him. This time the throaty growl was a beast's roar of challenge.
    Raven could feel the terrible rage in Mikhail, rage mixed with grief, his emotions so intense they beat at the air itself. She touched his arm, her fingers curling halfway around the thickness of his wrist, a tiny deterrent to the violence swirling within him. She felt the tension running through him as if it was alive.
    There was a collective, audible gasp. Raven realized she was the center of the group's attention. There was one woman and four men. All eyes were on her fingers circling his wrist as if she had committed some terrible, criminal act. Mikhail's larger body moved to shield her completely from their scrutiny. He made no attempt to shake off her hand. If anything, he moved his body protectively, backing her farther into the wall so that he was pressing against her, obscuring their vision of her.

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    "She is under my protection." A declaration. A challenge. A promise of quick, savage retribution.
    "As we all are, Mikhail," the woman said softly, appeasingly.
    Raven swayed; only the walls were holding her up. Vibrations of rage and grief were beating at her until she wanted to scream. She made a sound, a single, threadlike