Carpathian 18 - Dark Possesion

our arrogance and superiority, in our belief that we knew more than any other, we came up with a plan to not only destroy the Dubrinsky family, but all enemies of the Carpathian people. The Carpathians would rule all species. And the plan was not only brilliant and possible, but it is being used against our prince as we speak."
    His voice broke on the last word, and he hung his head in shame.
    Chapter Fourteen

    MaryAnn took several breaths, unable to see into his mind. She didn't know if she had pulled away or if he had, but she could only stare at him in disbelief. Manolito De La Cruz was loyal to Mikhail Dubrinsky. She had seen his heroism. She could see the scar on his throat where he had nearly been killed. It took a great deal to kill a Carpathian, but someone had managed to do so while he had been protecting the prince. She would not believe even for one moment that he was involved in a plot to destroy the Dubrinsky family.
    "I don't understand your thinking, Manolito. My friends and I talk politics all day and we often don't agree with our government, but that doesn't mean we are traitors to our country or people."
    Enclosed as she was inside the bubble preventing sound from escaping, MaryAnn couldn't hear the birds or insects. The silence seemed deafening. His misery was overwhelming. It was strange that she couldn't read his mind, yet she could feel his emotions, so strong and deep. The shame. The anger. The guilt. Even a sense of betrayal.
    "Tell me." She made it a command this time. If she was his lifemate as he claimed, then he needed to share this with her. It was eating him alive, and she began to realize, as she watched him stare down at his hands in a kind of wonder, that at that moment, he was more in the realm of the other world than with her.
    She caught his hand and tugged until he sank beside her on the cushion of flowers. "Manolito. This is destroying you. You have to resolve it."
    "How does one resolve betrayal?"
    She tightened her fingers around his. "Did you set out to make a plan to overthrow your prince?"
    "No!" His denial was instant and strong.
    And the truth. She could hear the ring of honesty in his voice.

    "Not my brothers and certainly not me. We were just talking, complaining perhaps, debating certainly. But that was all." He dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his temples as if they were aching. "I honestly do not know how we began to flesh out the details. I do not know how or why an actual plan to overthrow our prince began, but later, when we were angry, we spoke of it for real."
    Ever since his brother Rafael had killed Kirja Malinov, he had tried to remember. All of his brothers had tried to remember. At first they sat quietly around a campfire debating the pros and cons of all decisions Vlad had made. "There was only one other family with children as close together as ours: the Malinovs. When our mother gave birth, so did theirs. We grew up together, my brothers and the Malinovs. We played together as children, fought together as men. The bond between our families was so close. We were different from other Carpathians. All of us. Maybe because we had been born close together. Most Carpathian children are born at least fifty years apart. Perhaps there is a reason for that."
    "Different in what way?"
    He shook his head. "Darker. Faster. Stronger. The ability to learn to kill came too fast, long before we were out of our normal childhood. We were rebellious." He sighed and leaned over to rub his chin in the wealth of her hair, needing the feeling of closeness. "The Malinov brothers were lucky. There was a beautiful female child born to their family about fifty years after Maxim—the youngest boy—was born. Unfortunately, their mother did not survive long after the birth and their father followed her into the next world. The ten of us became her parents."
    She felt the sorrow in him, sorrow that hadn't dimmed through the centuries in spite of the intervening years when he could no longer feel emotion. It was still there, eating at him, tightening his chest, roiling in his gut, choking him until he could barely breathe with it. She saw a child, tall, gleaming black hair, straight and thick, flowing like water down to a small waist. Huge, bright eyes, emeralds shining from a sweet face. A mouth made for laughter, nobility in every line of her body.
    "Ivory," Manolito whispered her name. "She was as much ours as theirs. She was bright and happy and caught on to everything