Carpathian 01 - Dark Prince

sly and crafty in his expression. She felt Mikhail's instant warning to be silent, Rand's unrestrained grief, his jealousy and dislike of Mikhail, the thick tension between the two men.
    "Byron and Jacques told me she was under your protection. I could not sleep and knew she was alone without safeguards. I had to do something or I would have chosen to join Noelle." There was a plea for understanding, if not for forgiveness, yet Raven was unconvinced that Rand meant anything he said. She didn't know why because his sorrow was real. Perhaps he was desperate for Mikhail's respect and knew he would not get it.
    "Then I am in your debt," Mikhail said formally, working at controlling his loathing of a man who would leave unprotected a woman who had just given birth to his child to deliberately torment her with another woman's scent on him.
    Raven slid from her perch, a small, fragile woman with compassion in her enormous blue eyes. "I'm truly sorry for your loss," she murmured softly, careful to keep her distance. This man was the murder victim's husband. His guilt and grief crawled through her body with torturous intent, yet she worried for Mikhail.
    Something was not right with Rand. He was twisted inside; not evil, yet not completely right.
    "Thank you," Rand said tersely. "I need my child, Mikhail."
    "You need the healing earth," Mikhail disagreed calmly, implacable in his decision, merciless in his resolve. He would not turn over a precious, helpless baby to this male in his present state of mind.
    Raven's stomach knotted, twisted, and pain went through her heart at the cruelty in those words. She only partially understood what Mikhail's decree meant. This man, grieving for his murdered wife, was being deprived of his child, accepting Mikhail's word as absolute law. She felt his deep pain as if it were her own, yet on some level she couldn't help agreeing with Mikhail's decision.
    "Please, Mikhail. I loved Noelle." Instinctively, Raven knew Rand was not pleading for his child.

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    Fury lent darkness to Mikhail's features, cruelty to his mouth, a red glint to his eyes. "Do not speak of love to me, Rand. Go to the earth; heal. I will find this assassin and avenge my sister. No longer will I be swayed by sentiment. If I had not listened to her pleading, she would be alive today."
    "I cannot sleep. It is my right to hunt." Rand sounded defiant, sulky, like a child who wanted respect and equality, yet knew it would never come.
    A flicker of impatience, of menace, crossed Mikhail's brooding features. "Then I will command you and give you the healing rest your body and mind require." His voice was as soft and neutral as ever. If it hadn't been for the fury burning in his black eyes, Raven would have thought him gentle and caring toward the man. "We cannot afford to lose you, Rand." His voice softened to velvet, enticed, commanded. You will sleep, Rand. You will go to Eric and have him prepare you, guard you. You will remain until you are no longer a threat to yourself or others.
    Raven was shocked and alarmed at the absolute power in his voice, the power he wielded as if it was his due. Mikhail's voice alone could produce a hypnotic trance. No one questioned his authority, even over so grave a decision as keeping a child. She bit at her lip, confused over her feelings. He was right about the baby. She sensed something wrong in Rand, yet that a grown man would obey his order— had to obey his orders—frightened her. No one should have such a voice, such a gift. Something so strong could be misused, could easily corrupt the one who wielded it.
    They stood, regarding each other in the gathering darkness once Rand left them. Raven could feel the weight of Mikhail's displeasure pressing down on her. She lifted her chin defiantly. He moved closer, gliding unbelievably fast, his fingers finding her throat as if he might strangle her. "You will never repeat this foolhardy act again."
    She blinked up at him. "Don't try to intimidate me, Mikhail; it won't work. No one tells me what to do or where I can go."
    His fingers slipped to her wrists, tightened, threatened to crush her fragile bones. "I will not tolerate any foolishness that might put your life in jeopardy. We have lost one of our women already. I will not lose you."
    His sister, he had said. Compassion warred with self-preservation. Most of this confrontation was because he was so afraid for her.