Carpathian 01 - Dark Prince

veins, my joy, my tears, my very feelings. I would not wish to continue a barren, empty existence. It would be impossible. The torment you felt for those short hours without our mind touch would be nothing compared to the hell to which you wish to condemn me."
    "Mikhail"—she whispered his name in anguish—"I am not Carpathian."
    "You are, little one. Please give yourself time to heal, to absorb all this and adjust to it." He was pleading with her, his voice soft and persuasive.
    She closed her eyes against the tears welling up. "I want to sleep."
    Raven needed more blood. The transfer would be easier on her if she had no idea what was happening to her. The healing sleep of the earth might provide her with comfort; in any case, it would speed the healing process of her body. Mercifully, Mikhail obliged her request and sent her into a deep sleep.

Chapter Ten
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    Raven woke sobbing, her hands curling around Mikhail's neck, clutching him to her, hot tears spilling onto his chest. He dragged her closer protectively, holding her as tight as he dared without crushing her.
    She seemed so fragile and light, so ready to fly away from him. He let her cry, his hand caressing her hair with soothing strokes.
    When she began to quiet, he murmured softly to her, tenderly, in his own language, words of reassurance and hope. Eventually she lay, worn out and exhausted, in the sanctuary of his arms. "It will take time, little one, but give our ways a chance. There are wondrous things we can do. Concentrate on the things you would enjoy. Shape-shifting, flying with birds, running free with the wolves."
    Her small fist jammed into her mouth to stop a strangled sound somewhere between fear and hysterical laughter. Mikhail brushed the top of her head with his chin. "I would never leave you to face any of this Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    on your own. Lean on my strength."
    She closed her eyes against another wave of hysteria. "You don't even understand the enormity of what you've done. You've taken away my very identity. Don't, Mikhail! I feel your protest stirring in my mind.
    What if you woke up no longer Carpathian, but a human. No longer able to run free and fly. No special powers, no healing earth, no more ability to hear and understand animals. Everything that was ever the essence of you would be gone. To survive you had to eat meat." She felt his instant revulsion. "You see, the very thing Carpathians consider disgusting. I'm afraid. I look into the future and I'm so terrified I am unable to think. I hear things, sense things. I…" She trailed off before making any admissions. "Don't you see, Mikhail, I can't do this, not even for you."
    He stroked her hair with loving fingers, trailed a caress over the soft skin of her face. "You have known for a short time. Your sleep was deep and undisturbed." He did not tell her she had been given blood twice more during her sleep, that her body had gone through the rigorous change, ridding itself of all human toxins. He felt she had to absorb certain aspects of their lifestyle slowly. "Do you wish us to seek eternal rest?"
    Her fist thumped his chest. "Not us, Mikhail, me!"
    "There is no you or me. There is only us."
    She took a deep, calming breath. "I don't even know what or who I am anymore."
    "You are Raven, the most beautiful, courageous woman I have ever known." He said it sincerely, stroking back her silken hair.
    Her body was tense, almost rigid with wanting to deny his tranquil statements of fact. "Can I exist without blood? With juice and grains?"
    His hand found hers, laced their fingers together. "I want it to be so for you, but it is not. You must have blood to live."
    She made a sound, a small denial, hunching away from him, withdrawing into herself. It was too far-fetched, too frightening to really comprehend. She wanted to believe it was a nightmare.
    Mikhail sat up, let her go so that he could push the sheet from her slender body. Her mind was blocking out every explanation, refusing to deal with the information he was giving her. Wanting to distract her, he bent to examine her abdomen, his fingers splaying possessively over her skin, touching each white scar gently. "Your wounds are nearly healed."
    She half sat, astonished. "That's impossible."
    He lifted his hands out of the way to show her the long scars. Her eyes widened in disbelief. Mikhail's eyes darkened and burned, brushed her bare breasts with