Raven became aware of her surroundings slowly. She was on a bed, her body without clothing. Mikhail was behind her, his hands tangled in her thick, damp hair. She recognized the feel of his sure fingers working to braid her hair, his movements calm and deliberate, very matter-of-fact, putting her at ease despite her shadowy memory. She appeared to be in an old castle that was small and inevitably drafty. The bedchamber was warm, and Mikhail had flooded it with the essence of soothing herbs and the romance of flickering candlelight. He had cleaned them both so that their bodies only smelled of each other and the scent of the herbal soap he used. He took his time braiding the length of hair while she tried to orient herself to her new surroundings. Mikhail touched her mind, found it confused, desperately holding on to sanity. She was afraid of him and even more afraid to trust her own judgment. Raven studied each corner of the room, each wall, every detail, while her heart pounded frantically, the sound loud in her ears. The room was beautiful. A fire glowed in the fireplace; long, tapered candles emitted a light fragrance that mingled with the soothing scent of herbs. A well-worn Bible lay on the small end table beside the bed. She didn't really recognize anything, yet it was all strangely familiar.

The quilt on the bed was thick and warm, the material soft against her bare skin. She noticed for the first time that she was naked. At once she felt vulnerable and shy; yet again, she felt as if she belonged here with him. Mikhail's hands slipped from her hair to the nape of her neck, his fingers massaging aching muscles. His touch was familiar, stirring alarming sensations in her body.

"What did you do to Monique and her husband?" Her fingers twisted in the quilt. She tried to ignore the heat of his body as he moved close behind her so that their skin touched, so that the hair on his chest rasped against her back and the hard length of him pressed tight against her bottom. He felt right. He felt a part of her.

Mikhail placed a kiss on a bruise near her throat, then moved to stroke her leaping pulse with his velvet tongue. Her body clenched in anticipation. Her mind seemed confused. "They are safe in their home, loving one another as they should. They remember nothing of Andre and the atrocities he committed against them. They know us as good, close friends." He kissed another bruise, a feather-light touch that seemed to send a flame licking through her bloodstream. His hands moved to her small waist, slid up her narrow rib cage to cup her full breasts. His mind touched hers, and Raven mentally shied away from him.

"Why do you fear me, Raven? You have seen me at my worst, as a killer, a dispenser of justice for our people." His thumbs stroked her nipples, a slow, erotic brush that sent liquid heat curling through her. "Do you believe I am evil? Touch my mind, little one. It is impossible for me to hide anything from you. I never concealed my true nature from you. You looked upon me once with the eyes of compassion and love. Of acceptance. Has that all been forgotten?"

Raven closed her eyes, long lashes sweeping down on high cheekbones. "I don't know what to believe anymore."

"Kiss me, Raven. Merge your mind with mine. Share your body so that we are completely one being. You trusted me before; do so now. Look at me with the eyes of love, in forgiveness for the things I have been forced to do, for the beast in my nature. Do not look at me through the eyes of one who would wish to destroy our people and us. Give yourself to me." His voice was seductive, a black magic spell, his hands caressing every beloved inch of her satin skin. He had committed every hollow, every curve to memory. His body burned with need and his hunger was rising. Her hunger, his. Very gently, so as not to alarm her, Mikhail pressed her slender body to the quilt, his muscular frame covering her smaller one like a blanket. She was so petite, so fragile beneath his exploring hands.

"Why have you become my life, Mikhail? I've always been alone and strong and sure of myself. You seem to have taken over my life."

His palms slid up the curve of her body to frame her face. "You are my only life, Raven. I will admit I took you from all you knew, but you were never meant to live in isolation. I know what that does, how desolate life can be. They were using you up; they would have destroyed you. Can you not feel that you are my other half, that I am yours?" His mouth drifted over her eyes, her cheekbones, each corner of her mouth. "Kiss me, Raven. Remember me."

She lifted long lashes and searched his black, hungry gaze with blue eyes that had darkened to deep purple. There was a burning intensity in the heat of his gaze, of his body. "If I kiss you, Mikhail, I won't be able to stop."

His mouth found her throat, the valley between her breasts, lingered for a moment over her heart, his teeth grazing sensitive skin before he returned to her mouth. "I am a Carpathian male, long in the world of darkness. It is true that I feel very little, that my nature revels in the hunt, in the kill. To overcome the wild beast we have to find our one mate, our other half, the light to our darkness. You are my light, Raven, my very life. That does not take away my obligations to my people. I must hunt those who prey on mortals, those who prey on our people. I cannot feel while I do so or madness would be my fate. Kiss me; merge your mind with mine. Love me for who I am."

Raven's body ached and burned. Needed. Hungered. His heart beat so strongly; his skin was hot, his muscles hard against her softness. Every touch of his lips sent a jolt of electricity sizzling through her.

"I cannot lie to you," he whispered. "You know my thoughts; you know the beast that dwells inside. I try to be gentle with you, to listen to you. Always that wildness breaks free, but you tame me. Raven, please, I need you. And you need me. Your body is weak; I can feel your hunger. Your mind is fragmented; allow me to heal you. Your body cries out for mine as mine does for yours. Kiss me, Raven. Do not give up on us."

Her blue eyes continued to search his face, rested on his sensual mouth. A small sigh escaped. His lips hovered over hers, waited for her answer.

It was in her eyes first, that moment of complete recognition. Tenderness rushed over her and she caught his head in her hands. "I think I'm afraid I made you up, Mikhail. That something so much a part of me, so perfect, can't be real. I don't want you to be what I dreamed of and the nightmare to be real." She brought his face the inch separating them and fastened her mouth to his. Thunder pounded in her ears, in his. White-hot heat streaked and danced, consumed her, consumed him. His mind touched hers gently, tentatively, found no resistance, and he merged them together so that his burning need became hers, so that the wild, unbridled passion in him fed hers. So that she knew he was real and would never leave her alone, could never leave her alone.

He fed on her sweetness, exploring every inch of her soft mouth, building flames until they leaped and roared. He caught her slender hips, so small they fit his hands, dragged her beneath him so that his knee could part her thighs, so that her mouth, so hot and urgent, was roaming over the hard muscles of his chest. Her tongue stroked over his pulse and his body clenched, burned, swelled until he thought he might burst from his skin.

Mikhail caught her thick braid at the nape of her neck, holding her to him, his other hand probing in the silky triangle of curls. She was hot and slick with needing him. He murmured her name softly, pushed urgently against her creamy heat. Her tongue stroked again, a long, lingering caress. Small teeth grazed and his heart jumped; his body nearly exploded. There was piercing sweet pain as she found the spot over his leaping pulse, pleasure hot and wild as he drove into her tight velvet sheath of fire. He cried out with the ecstasy of it, pressed her head to him as he surged forward, driving deeper and deeper, as his blood, rich, hot, powerful, fed her starving body.

He hung on to control by a thread, both hands lifting her hips so he could create a fiery friction that sent her rocketing over the edge, her muscles clamping around him until he gently pushed at her mouth, until she released him and he sank his teeth into the swell of her soft breast. She gasped and cradled his head to her as he fed voraciously, his body hard and demanding as it took possession of hers. The aftermath of his fear of losing her, of his violence this night was poured into her body. The heat built; the flames leapt until their bodies were slick with sweat, until she was clinging to him, her body pliant silk, white-hot heat, until they were one single entity, body, mind, heart, and blood. His cry was hoarse and strangled, mingled with her soft throaty threads of sound as he took them both careening over a cliff, scattering them to the very heavens, to the rolling seas.

I cannot lose you, little one. You are my best half. I love you more than I can ever express.

Mikhail rubbed his face over hers and kissed her damp hair.

She touched her tongue to a bead of sweat, smiling up at him tiredly. "I think I would always recognize you, Mikhail, no matter how damaged my mind."

He rolled over, taking her with him so that his weight would not crush her smaller body. "That is how it should be, Raven. You suffered much these past days, and it will stay fresh in my mind for all eternity. Tomorrow night we must leave this region. The vampire is dead, but he has left behind a trail that could destroy our people. We must move to a more isolated area, where perhaps our people can survive the coming persecution." He brought up her arm to examine the long, deep scratches left by Andre.

"You're so certain it is coming?"

A faint, bitter smile touched his mouth as he waved to snuff out the candles. "I have too often in my lifetime seen the signs. They will come, the assassins, and humans and Carpathians alike will suffer. We will retreat for a quarter of a century, perhaps a half century, give ourselves time to regroup." His tongue found the angry marks, and bathed them gently with his healing touch. It was comforting and felt right to her.

Her lashes drifted down, their combined scents lingering in the bedchamber, a soothing fragrance. "I love you, Mikhail, all of you, even the beast in you. I don't know why I became so confused. You aren't evil; I can see so clearly inside of you."

Sleep, little one, in my arms where you belong.

Mikhail drew up the quilt, wrapped protective arms around her, and sent them both to sleep.

It was a small group that gathered in the darkness of the tiny churchyard on consecrated ground. Jacques was wan and pale, his wound a raw scar still in the stages of healing. He slipped his arm around Raven's slender shoulders, swaying a little unsteadily. She glanced up at him with a quick reassuring smile. Behind Jacques, Byron stood close to make certain his friend didn't fall. Off to one side Aidan stood alone, tall and straight, his head bowed slightly.

The churchyard was on the castle grounds, old, with exquisite ancient architecture, the chapel small but beautiful. Stained-glass windows and a high rising steeple threw a darker shadow across the small graveyard. Scattered tombstones, angels, and crosses were silent witnesses as Mikhail waved a hand to part the welcoming soil.

Out of respect, Gregori had fashioned a wooden box, intricately carved with ancient figures of reverence. He lowered the box slowly into the waiting arms of the earth and stepped back.

Mikhail crossed himself, recited the burial ritual, and sprinkled holy water on Edgar Hummer's coffin. "He was my friend, my guide when I was troubled, and he believed in the need for the continuation of our race. I never met a man, human or Carpathian, with more compassion or light in him. God shone in his heart and through his eyes."

Mikhail waved his hand and the earth filled in until it was as if it had never been disturbed. He bowed his head, fought unexpected grief, felt the blood-red tears that escaped unchecked. It was Gregori who secured the headstone and Gregori, a nonbeliever in Mikhail's faith, who led the final prayer. Their voices, so beautiful and mesmerizing, rose in a Latin chant in the priest's honor.

Mikhail inhaled the night air, sent regret to his wolves. The answer was a chorus of mournful howls echoing through the dark forest.

Gregori's body bent first, feathers shimmering iridescent in the moonlight. A six-foot wingp spread and he glided to the high branch of a nearby tree, razor-sharp talons digging into a branch. The owl's body went motionless, blended into the night, simply waited. Aidan was next, a peculiar golden color, powerful and lethal, just as silent. Byron's form was shorter, more compact, his feathers a mantle of white. Mikhail's solid form wavered in the shadows and he launched himself into the night sky, the other three following.

As if in perfect understanding they soared higher, shimmering feathers beating strongly as they raced silently toward the clouds high above the forest floor. The wind rushed against their bodies, under their wings, riffling feathers, brushing away every vestige of sadness and violence left behind by the vampire.

In the air they wheeled and banked sharply, four great birds in perfect synchronization. Joy erased dread and the heavy weight of responsibility in Mikhail's heart, lifted guilt and replaced it with rapture. The powerful wings beat strongly as they raced across the sky together, and Mikhail shared his joy with Raven because he couldn't contain it, not even in the owl's powerful body. It spilled out, an invitation, a need to share one more pleasure of Carpathian life.

Think, my love; visualize what I put in your head. Trust me as you have never trusted me before. Allow me to give you this gift.

There was no hesitation on her part. With complete faith in him, Raven gave herself into his keeping, reached eagerly for the vision. The slight discomfort, the strange disorientation as her physical body dissolved, did not faze her. Feathers shimmered, sprouted.

Beside her, Jacques stepped back, allowing the smaller female owl to hop onto a tall stone angel before his own large frame compressed, reshaped. Together they launched themselves into the night, soared high to join the other four powerful birds circling above them, One of the males broke formation, circled the female, and dipped close to cover her body with one wide wingp. Playfully she dropped low to slide away. The other males walled her in, curbing her antics as she learned the joys of free flying. The male owls stayed in close formation, the female in the center, circling above the forest, climbing high into the mist. For a space of time they dipped and swirled, clearly playing, soaring high, plunging toward earth, pulling up to fly through trees and over the heavy blanket of fog.

After some time they settled into a leisurely flight, once more with the males protectively surrounding the female. Mikhail felt the night remove every vestige of tension and dissipate it to the four corners of the earth. He would take Raven far away from the village, give her plenty of time to learn Carpathian ways. She represented the future of their race, his future. She was his life, his joy, his reason for existing; she was his hold on all that was good in the world. He intended to see that her life was filled with nothing but happiness.

Mikhail dropped lower to cover her feathered body with his, touching her mind, feeling her joy. Raven responded by filling his mind with love and warmth and a child's wondrous laughter at the new sights and sounds and smells she was experiencing. She raced him across the sky, her laughter echoing in all their minds. She was their hope for the future.