The first few streaks of dawn's light poured over the large field, turning haystacks into small hills of gold. The wind touched the sheaves still in the ground, setting them swaying gently, like a softly rolling wave. The air was crisp and cold, but the sky clear.

Costin Eliade yawned as he stepped outside onto his porch to look over his farm. Satisfaction appeared in every line of his body. His farm had been in his family for two generations, and his father as well as his grandfather had done their best to improve the conditions. He'd been the first to seek a higher education and put the procedures he'd learned into practice. He had been the first to bring cattle to the farm and successfully sell his beef to the outside world.

Farming was hard work, but he was a man who took great pride in doing for his family. His animals always had the best of care. His fields were planted with rotating crops, and his irrigation system was up to date and served him well. He was also proud of the house. Many farmers took great care of the land and the livestock, but neglected their dwellings. His wife had no complaints with her indoor bathroom and year-round running water. He made repairs instantly to anything that she pointed out.

In his area, he had become the first to introduce cattle and procure a large contract. His cattle made up most of their income and had elevated them to a decent living. Losing the steers would be devastating not only to his family, but to several other families who had thrown in with him as well. His dogs guarded the cattle, three of them, and they were fiercely protective.

Costin reached for the walking stick he kept on the porch just behind the column. It fit neatly into the palm of his hand, worn from use. The ground was uneven and being the sole provider for his family, he didn't take chances on accidents. A turned ankle could mean no one feeding the livestock.

Two small goats bleated at him and raced each other around the yard. One leapt up on a small boulder and lifted his nose to the air. The other rushed toward the larger of the two goats, head down in an attempt to butt it off the boulder. The slightly larger goat sidestepped so that the smaller one was forced to jump playfully past. The smaller goat sent his brethren one laughing look and then lowered his mouth to snack on grass just to the left of the corral. Occasionally both looked toward the horses, and then back out to the field.

In the distance, several yards away, most of the cattle still lay in the cushioned grass, sleepy and not quite ready to face the day. A few birds circled above in the sky, a lazy early morning flight before settling in the field to catch any worms not burrowing into the earth.

Costin took a deep breath of the dawn air. This was the time he liked the best. Just between night and day. Everything was always peaceful. There was such beauty surrounding his farm and he was a man who most of the time was far too busy to notice such things, but not at dawn. Dawn was his time to relax and enjoy what he had.

He watched as the wind playfully tugged at the grass in the field, creating a rippling effect and pushing small tornadoes of dirt playfully into the air. The field rolled gently, the smallest of lifts, as if far below, the ground shifted. The soil lifted slightly almost in the middle of the field, no more than a couple of inches. He wouldn't have noticed but for the horses.

He'd left his best four in the corral, close to the small covered shelter he'd built three winters ago. He had six horses, but two were older and he used them mainly for pulling the cart going into the village to the store. A neighbor had taken them for him, just in case his farm came under attack.

The chickens began to fuss. The horses stomped nervously, sensing something he didn't. He stepped off the porch and walked a few feet away from the house, his eyes on the field. There it was again. A subtle movement beneath the soil, picking up speed and racing straight at the corral.

The horses tossed their heads, eyes rolling nervously. His horses weren't the nervous type, but they were eyeing that strange lift in the soil coming straight at them. A hen flew down to the ground, pecking lazily. She cocked her head to one side and then, wings flapping, gained a few feet of air. The shift was so fast it was nearly impossible to see, although the small hen became a full-sized blue dragon, slamming deep into the earth, burrowing fast.

Tatijana came up out of the ground, a raging, clawing werewolf in her dragon's mouth. She shook him hard and dropped him at the farmer's feet. Fen shifted from the farmer's form back to his own, pulling the silver sword from the walking stick and slicing cleanly through the werewolf's neck, severing the head. He slammed a silver stake through the heart.

As if Fen revealing that Costin was merely an illusion and the warrior was waiting for them, the werewolves poured into the farm out of every conceivable cover. Clearly they'd circled the farm and now closed in fast. They came over the roof of the house and barn, converging on the animals, determined to slaughter everything.

Two raced over the house to drop on Fen as he straightened up, the wolves clawing and biting, tearing at his flesh. He reached behind him with one hand and caught one wolf around the neck, jerking him down and off, throwing him toward the porch where the invisible silver net hung between the columns. The wolf slammed into the netting and screamed, hanging there on the slender silver wires.

The second wolf reached his muzzle around and sank teeth into Fen's side, ripping and gnawing in an effort to incapacitate him. Fen snarled, cutting off the pain, stabbing down with a silver stake, driving it deep into the rogue's eye. The werewolf howled and dug his claws deeper. Fen was more worried about the ones he didn't see than the one he did. He spun in a circle, using his sword to cut a wide swath around him, fending off the second wave leaping at him from the horses' shelter.

Wolves flung themselves at the corral with astonishing speed, determined to gut the horses. One wolf threw himself on top of the nearest horse, sinking his teeth into the neck, tearing out great chunks of flesh while a second ripped at the horse's belly. They worked with blinding speed, almost too fast to comprehend.

The horses shifted, revealing the Carpathian warriors Tomas, Lojos and Mataias. The three brothers immediately went back to back, swords at the ready, silver stakes in their other hands. They'd fought wars together and they moved in complete synchronization. The werewolves howled their rage, circling, feinting attacks to keep the attention centered on them while three others leapt up on the corral itself.

The three rogues screamed as the fence flashed silver and sparks accompanied the scent of burned fur and flesh. Tomas nodded his head. "Electricity is a marvelous invention."

"Come on, furball," Lojos added, beckoning with his sword hand to the nearest werewolf.

"Time for a little justice," Mataias added.

The remaining rogues rushed them, using blurring speed, sliding beneath the blades to fling themselves onto the three brothers, ripping with razor-sharp claws at their arms to try to dislodge the weapons.

Gregori shifted back to his own shape, shedding the form of the fourth horse. He came out fighting, trying to unseat the werewolf tearing at him with powerful jaws and teeth. The second wolf, clawing at his belly, dug faster and deeper, trying to eviscerate the Carpathian.

"These furballs are fast." Lojos spat on the ground as he threw a rogue off of him. He was bleeding in half a dozen places even as he stepped up to slice off the head of the werewolf. He had barely started his downswing when his arm was ripped backward.

Mataias tried to wade through the line of werewolves to go to Gregori's aid, but one managed to leap over Tomas and land on his head, strong hands attempting to twist his head off.

The billy goat on the boulder launched himself into the air, ripping at his own horns as he shifted, driving feet first into the wolf on Gregori's back, knocking him back and off the Carpathian warrior. The billy goat's horns morphed into a long silver sword and stake as Jacques took his true form. He sliced through the werewolf's neck cleanly before the body ever hit the ground. Landing on his feet, he straddled the torso, driving a silver stake deep through the heart with his enormous strength.

The werewolf ripping at Gregori's belly spun around and caught Jacques's head in powerful claws, his gaping mouth closing over the Carpathian's shoulder. He tore out a great chunk and went for the throat and a quick kill.

The other goat shifted in midjump, landing behind Jacques and the rogue wolf. Falcon slammed the silver stake through the werewolf's back straight into his heart. The wolf went down hard, taking Jacques to the ground with him.

Falcon reached down and yanked Jacques up. "Not safe down there, bro. These boys came for a fight."

"Bloodthirsty, aren't they?" Jacques acknowledged with a little grin. He wiped blood from his face. The wolf had bitten him numerous times in a few short moments, tearing out great chunks of flesh.

Gregori cut down another leaping for Jacques's back. "Fen wasn't kidding when he said it's the ones you don't see."

As ten of the werewolves had rushed the horses, a good dozen had gone for the all-important cattle. The cattle lying in the grass didn't move. One raised his head, but simply looked bored as the large wolves descended on them. The fastest rogue bore down on the lazy steer fast, saliva dripping from its gaping jaws. Still the cattle didn't move, even when the wolf landed on the steer's back and lowered powerful jaws to take a bite out of the placid animal's neck.

The other wolves followed, leaping upon the sleepy cattle, sinking claws and teeth into the unsuspecting animals. Teeth clamped down hard on rock. The entire field was filled with boulders, the cattle mere illusions. The three cattle dogs shifted into their natural forms-that of three Carpathian hunters.

Nicolae Von Shrieder, a renowned vampire hunter, wielded his silver sword, the blade flashing scarlet as he removed the head of the nearest rogue. Even as he did so, before he could plunge his stake in the chest of the still clawing creature, two leapt upon his back and tackled his legs, taking him to the ground. They were so fast, these werewolves, leaping higher and moving quicker with no warning than even the vampires he'd hunted for centuries had given.

Traian Trigovise hit the ground running as he shifted. The werewolf coming at him was huge, seemed to be all muscle, teeth and claws and lightning fast. He dove under the wolf's reaching claws, sliding along the ground, hooking his arm around the wolf's knees to bring him down. He slammed the silver stake into the heart before the rogue could recover. Two more were on him before he could make it to his feet. He tried to dissolve, but the claws digging into his flesh prevented escape.

The third cattle dog shifted fast. The Carpathian known simply as Andre was as elusive as a legend could get, moving fast, a shadow only, streaking through the air and literally ripping the wolf from Traian's back. He didn't slow down at all, moving continuously, his sword flashing in the early dawn's light, wreaking havoc with the number of werewolves attacking.

Andre's swordsmanship was superb. He'd fought in centuries past and the sword felt right at home in his hand. He seemed to flow, his feet smooth and sure. The blade gleamed bright red, blood dripping onto the ground and spraying through the air as he calmly cut through the raging wolves.

Traian and Nicolae followed in his wake, slamming silver stakes into hearts as Andre cut the rogues down. The three made short work of the werewolves who had attempted to attack the cattle. Costin Eliade and his cattle were safe on a neighboring farm, leaving the Carpathians to build their trap for the rogues.

It took a few moments to realize they had successfully destroyed the twelve werewolves bent on killing the livestock. Both Traian and Nicolae were surprised at the lacerations and chunks of flesh missing from their bodies. Blood streamed down their chest, necks and backs. Nicolae had slash marks across his belly. Andre had bite marks on his legs, but other than that, he'd remained unscathed.

Traian grinned at Nicolae. "What did we learn from this?"

"That Andre needs to give us both sword lessons," Nicolae acknowledged. "We had to do all the grunt work and look at us. Next time, I want to be the one dancing with the sword while you two do mop up."

Stop congratulating yourselves and get over here. We could use a little help. Gregori used the common Carpathian telepathic communication, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Traian, undaunted, flashed another quick grin and winked at Nicolae. "We also learned werewolves fall for illusion and we had the advantage here."

Nicolae, Andre and Traian moved quickly across the field to go to the aid of the other Carpathians just as a second wave of werewolves leapt over rooftops to drop down on the warriors fighting off the rogues.

I don't like this, Fen said uneasily to Tatijana. Get into the air and see if you can find who is coordinating their attack. They have to have a leader directing them. This is too organized.

He fought his way toward Gregori. He'd dealt with rogue packs throughout the centuries and none were this large. He'd never seen a single pack this large.

How many dead? he asked Andre.

Twelve. Andre's answer was short and clipped. I have come across smaller packs of rogues, but none this size and none this well organized.

Just the fact that Andre added anything at all to his statement further alarmed Fenris. Andre conveyed tension in his terse sentence. Like Fen, he realized something was definitely not right about the attack. It was too well orchestrated, especially that second wave of werewolves sent to join their brethren.

Tatijana immediately took a running start and leapt into the air. As she did so, a werewolf launched himself from the horse shelter rooftop and swatted her out of the sky. Her body tumbled toward the ground, the rogue catching her around her rib cage between his teeth. Fen leapt to meet him, driving his silver sword through the werewolf's gut. As the rogue opened his mouth in a gasp, Fen yanked Tatijana to him, streaking upward to avoid hitting the ground. The werewolf hit hard, rolled and came to his feet howling, holding his ripped belly with one hand while his red eyes tracked Fen and Tatijana.

Drops of bright blood fell to the ground, almost on top of the wolf. Tatijana clamped her hand over the bite marks. She could feel Fen's building rage that she had been bitten. He was anxiously trying to examine her as he went airborne.

I'm all right, Fen, she assured. They're so fast and they jump so high, it's hard to judge a safe distance from them.

I can feel your pain. Don't tell me an untruth, Tatijana, I need to know how you are.

It hurts like hell, but nothing's broken. I thought for a moment he was going to snap my ribs like twigs, but you were on him so fast.

I am Sange rau. Faster than they are. His voice was grim.

Even as he replied, telling her the strict truth, she felt the warmth of healing energy slipping into the wounds on her rib cage. There was instant relief. Thank you.

Always.

The Carpathians were seeing for the first time the damage a rogue pack could have on them. When they realized just how difficult it would be to destroy the Sange rau, they might change their minds about allowing such a mixture of blood to live. It was tantamount to having a nuclear weapon aimed at one's head.

Fen reversed his direction and this time aimed for the ground, moving like a speeding bullet straight toward the werewolf he'd knocked from the sky. The wolf leapt to meet him. At the last moment, Fen pushed Tatijana back skyward, giving her the opportunity to shift into her dragon as he met the wolf head-on. He was moving so fast, a mere streak in the sky, that when he hit the rogue, he nearly went through the body. His fist shot through the chest wall, the silver stake he held in it slamming through the heart so that the wolf was dead before both ever hit the ground.

You play rough. Gregori had observed the encounter in spite of fighting off the latest wave of attackers. His voice was thoughtful. Wary.

Now they begin to understand, Fen said to Tatijana. He will be more concerned that I keep my distance from his prince.

Tatijana sighed. Our prince. Don't pretend you would not guard him with your life. I am in your heart and soul, remember, wolf man? I see what you are doing. You want Gregori and the others to realize what they're up against. Mere words are not enough. They have to see for themselves.

No one Carpathian hunter will ever be able to defeat the Sange rau alone, Fen told her. Only if a miracle occurred. The combination of Lycan and Carpathian abilities is lethal. The Lycans know it, because they have seen thousands of their kind killed, nearly wiping out their species, by only one or two of these monsters. The Carpathians have not faced them, and their arrogance will get them all killed-and possibly their prince if they don't process the information fast. Even now, they can't fathom an enemy like the Sange rau.

Gregori, the prince's primary guardian, would be the first to grasp the enormity of what they were up against. His natural instincts already made him suspicious and wary of Fen. Fen didn't blame him any more than he could blame Zev, who was the Gregori of the Lycans. He was directly responsible for the welfare of the council and it was his duty to keep the Lycan people safe no matter what part of the world they resided in.

Rough is the only way with werewolves. You can't ever underestimate them, Fen answered Gregori.

This pack is well organized. Too well organized.

That is so, but the master is not here. I would know. The Sange rau has left this battle to those he commands. Fen knew Gregori would catch the worry in his voice.

The fighting near the corrals was fierce. Gregori was wounded, and yet he displayed no emotion when he answered. He could have been having a picnic in a park instead of fighting for his life. You believed this master would be close.

I had hoped. Fen thought Abel might throw Bardolf under the bus in order to weaken the Carpathian fighters. It would be a sound strategy, especially given the endless supply of rogues he'd acquired along the way to do his bidding. I need to find the one who has their master's ear. There is a way I can perhaps get information on either Abel or Bardolf, maybe both. At least find out what they are up to. It's risky, but if I get what we need, well worth it.

He felt Gregori's instant rejection of the idea. Tatijana echoed him with her distress.

How risky? We will need you to continue to educate our fighters . . . obviously.

From where Fen was, he caught occasional glimpses of Gregori. The werewolves had definitely targeted him for termination. Fen's vision narrowed as he watched for a moment, the way the wolves circled Gregori. The prince's guardian had been made known to them. He'd been involved in the fight earlier, but why such sacrifices? The bodies of werewolves lay sliced and staked around the prince's guard, and yet still they came after him.

The nagging fear in Fen began to blossom into urgency. Something else was going on here, and he was missing it.

I think it's worth the risk. I need to know that you and the others can finish this.

We've got this, Gregori assured, even as he fought off two more wolves driving straight at his throat and belly. He knew how they fought now, gutting their prey and tearing great chunks of flesh away to make their victims weak from blood loss.

Zev and his hunters will come quickly, Fen advised. It's important that all Carpathian hunters know the difference between Lycan and werewolf.

Gregori ducked a leaping rogue, so that the creature sailed over his head and right onto Andre's flashing blade. All of us know exactly what the Lycans look like. We have their scent as well. Each of us visited the inn where they were staying. There will be no mistakes, he said with certainty.

The elite may sense my presence, but they cannot identify me. I doubt they are that sensitive in the midst of blood and death, but Zev is more than elite, he is their best. It is possible. Fen had already located his entry point. He needed to use the ground so whoever was directing the battle from his safety zone wouldn't see him coming.

Gregori grunted in pain, quickly cut off, as a great beast landed on him, driving him to the ground. The moment he was down a frenzy was triggered among the rogues. They threw themselves at him, piling on in spite of the other Carpathians racing to Gregori's aid. The Carpathian hunters realized Gregori was the prime target and they redoubled their efforts to fight their way to him. It was Jacques who cut the head from the wolf tearing the flesh from his back and Nicolae who sliced through the one burrowing beneath him to rip at his belly.

The moment Fen saw the others going to Gregori's aid he whirled around and indicated the ground in the middle of the field where the werewolves had tried to surprise the farm. I need a tunnel to follow back to the original source without him seeing. I'll cast an illusion while you burrow quickly for me.

Tatijana waited until Fen sent images of her and her lifemate rushing to aid Gregori, entering the intense fighting near the corrals. The moment the illusion was strong and intact, she shifted to her dragon, trusting Fen to keep her from being seen. Tatijana's dragon followed the trail beneath the soil, burrowing through the earth fast, leaving behind a nice-sized tunnel for Fen to follow in.

Fen left the Carpathian warriors to it. He had one purpose-to track the attack back to its source. He had to find the captain directing the battle, and that meant trusting that the Carpathian warriors would defeat the werewolves at the farm.

Tatijana had paid great attention to detail and the weapons the Carpathians had made were truly exceptional. The Carpathians had shared the information he'd given them on the rogue wolves attacking in packs and they were prepared for the fight. They'd lured the pack to Costin Eliade's farm and coordinated the defense. They'd done everything they could do to decimate the pack and give Fen the chance to find the lair of at least one of the Sange rau.

He knew without a doubt that with two Sange rau so close to the prince, it was only a matter of time before disaster struck. Fen plunged into the hollow tunnel Tatijana's dragon had carved out and moving with his Carpathian/Lycan speed began the race to ferret out the hiding place of the pack's captain.

Tatijana, nothing is adding up. The Sange rau should have led their pack away from Carpathian territory immediately on realizing they were so close.

She was quick on the uptake, following his train of thought. You believe they have an agenda.

Absolutely. I've gone over it a million times. There are only three reasons I can think of that would keep them here. The best would be if either Abel or Bardolf or both were badly wounded and couldn't leave. But that wouldn't explain sacrificing a good part of their pack.

The dragon burrowed back toward the surface once she hit the beginnings of the marsh.

So something much more sinister.

The drive for a lifemate doesn't always end when a Carpathian turns vampire. I've seen cases where they believe a woman would somehow restore their soul and yet they can keep to their ways. Abel may have returned with that idea in mind.

Tatijana already knew him far too well. But . . .

That might be a secondary issue, but more likely Mikhail is the intended target. Did you see the wolves going for Gregori? The prince and a Daratrazanoff have a special bond that creates an unstoppable power. Gregori was specifically targeted.

No matter the reason, the Sange rau had to be dealt with. None of them could afford any more time passing before ferreting the masters out and destroying them.

You'll get them, Tatijana said firmly, every confidence in her voice.

Fen wished he had that same confidence. The nagging worry had grown to a full-blown alarm going off. He had to find the captain directing the werewolf pack's attack on the farm.

The tunnel beneath the ground ended abruptly in the marsh. Reeds choked the water. Waterfowl ducked heads beneath the surface and rose to flutter wings peacefully, as if no abomination had passed near them. There was no telltale shriveled greenery to mark the way of a vampire, but then he hadn't expected any. He had known all along neither Abel nor Bardolf would be close.

That nagging, growing alarm blared at him. He reached for the prince's guard. Gregori, I need to know where the prince is.

He got the immediate impression of fierce battle. The Carpathian hunters, despite as many as there were and with the traps set for the rogue pack, had not found it so easy to destroy a ferocious and well-trained pack on the offensive.

He is safe.

The voice was clipped. Gregori would not disclose the location of the prince to anyone. Fen could tell by that implacable tone. Gregori was severely wounded. He would need care and blood and the ground to heal him. If the pack couldn't kill Gregori, wouldn't this be the next best thing? Wounding him so badly that he had no choice but to go to ground? The alarm, rather than quieting with Gregori's assurance blared even louder.

The children? he persisted.

They are safe. Gregori was terser than ever.

Fen cursed in his native language. Tatijana, with the main force of Carpathian warriors concentrated here on the farm, the prince, and the all-important children are left with little protection.

Gregori would never leave them without protections, Tatijana said. He's overboard when it comes to the prince's protection. He doesn't even listen to Mikhail at times. He would never leave the prince unguarded with a rogue pack near. And don't discount the women. Your Sange rau and the Lycans might, but many of them are good fighters.

Fen didn't reply. He wasn't about to tell her he didn't find the information reassuring. He emerged out into the open, although he took care to mask his presence. He stood on the edge of the swamp, taking a careful look around, seeking the best vantage point above them, where the captain directing the battle would be able to see the entire farm.

Tatijana shifted into her human form and slid beneath his shoulder, standing close so that her scent enveloped him. It always amazed him that the huge blue dragon could be his lifemate, this woman with her shapely figure in human form.

"Can you find the location of the prince?"

She shook her head. "No one, not even Dragonseeker, can get into Gregori's mind."

"Then we'll have to do this the hard way."

The way he said it alerted Tatijana instantly. "What are you planning?"

He sighed. She wasn't going to like it. He didn't like it, but he felt there was no other choice. "The pack was sent out, but neither of the two main leaders came here with them, not even to ensure the orders were carried out effectively. That tells me Bardolf and Abel have plans far beyond the destruction of Costin Eliade's farm. And we need to know now what that is."

Tatijana tipped her head up to look at him. She was already in his mind, but she didn't understand what it was he planned to do. "I don't like where this is going," she admitted, looking him straight in the eye.

He slipped his arm around her. He didn't like where it was going either. "I think Abel or Bardolf plans to hit the prince while the pack distracts the Carpathians and Lycans by hitting the farm."

There was a small silence while she turned the idea over in her mind. "That would mean they would know about the trap at the farm and deliberately sacrificed some of their pack as a distraction."

"Or they didn't know it was a trap but sent them to devastate the farm no matter what, believing warriors would come to defend it. Certainly the elite Lycan hunters will come," Fen said, but he didn't believe that was the case.

Abel was Carpathian. He knew how Carpathians thought and how they fought vampires and other enemies. Abel also knew Lycans, or at least rogues. He'd always been known for his intelligence. He'd orchestrated the attack. Fen would bet everything he was on that.

Across the marsh, a boulder jutted out from the mountain. He was certain he would find the wolf put in charge of running the attack on the farm. He indicated the spot to Tatijana. "Over there, that's where we're going to find him. I'll need you to stay close to me, but out of his sight at all times, even when you think he's dead."

Tatijana frowned at him, placing a cautionary hand on his arm. "Are you going to tell me what you're going to do?"

"There has to be something more at play here then a rogue pack overrunning a farm in retaliation for my interference. Bardolf might make the mistake of underestimating the Carpathians, he was Lycan before he embraced the vampire, but Abel was not only Carpathian, but a successful and a valued vampire hunter. He would know what he was running into by coming here."

"That would mean he's deliberately sacrificing the rogue pack." She shook her head. "It doesn't make sense, Fen. I just think you're wrong."

Her tone of voice told him she wasn't certain of the truth of what she was saying aloud. She wanted him to be wrong, but none of it made sense to her. She was also very aware he had sidestepped her earlier question.

"We don't know how big this pack is. I think we're dealing with an enormous pack and if so, he's got pawns to spare. He sent out twenty-five or thirty to the farm, figuring he might lose over half. What are the others doing? Where has he sent them? These wolves were a sacrifice for a greater end. There is no other explanation."

"You have to tell me what you're going to do." For the first time, fear crept into Tatijana's voice. She tightened her fingers around his arm. "Fen, don't throw your life away."

"Gregori isn't going to reveal where the prince is to anyone else, certainly not to me, and I don't have time to try to persuade him. He doesn't yet understand the difference between a vampire and the Sange rau. The combination of mixed blood adds to the cunning and intelligence as well as physical capabilities."

Now she was really alarmed. Her green eyes grew multifaceted, brilliant with color. He had no words to reassure her. Instead he bent down and brushed a kiss along the corner of her mouth.

"Bardolf believes he's in a full partnership with Abel, but there is no such thing among vampires, and ultimately, Abel and Bardolf are both vampires. Abel will sacrifice Bardolf in a heartbeat."

"You're telling me these things in case you don't survive. I'm your lifemate, Fen. My fate is tied to your fate. I will follow wherever you lead."

He shook his head. "The prince must not die. Above all else, Tatijana, every Carpathian must put the life of Mikhail Dubrinsky first. Our kind will not survive his passing. Not at this time. If something happens to me, you must convince Gregori it is Mikhail they will try to kill. Everything else they do is secondary, no matter how it looks."

She shook her head, but he could feel her conceding he was right.

"I have seen signs from the beginning that Abel is the master Sange rau, clearly orchestrating every detail of the attacks. It was Bardolf's shadow sliver at risk, not Abel's. Although there was no risk to Abel, he was the one using the familiar Bardolf created."

He dropped another kiss on the top of Tatijana's silky head and then glanced at the sun. It was barely making its appearance. "Perhaps you can give us cloud cover. Bring it in slowly, make it natural," he suggested.

Tatijana swallowed hard, but nodded. "No problem."

"Abel is the key here. I need to remember everything I can about him. His friends and allies. I think he was a first or second cousin to the prince," Fen mused aloud. "Abel always seemed a decent sort. I was surprised that he had turned."

"What are you going to do?" she demanded.

This time there was no denying her. In any case she had to know, because in the end, she was his only real chance at succeeding.

"There is a reason why we sever the head from the shoulders, Tatijana," he said. "The silver stake through the heart takes time for the werewolf's body to recognize and the brain continues to function. That brain contains all information the wolf has acquired over his lifetime and sometimes, others as well. It also contains the hatred and bloodlust the werewolf feels in a lethal, concentrated amount. Enough to kill any who has harmed it and dares to try to acquire its knowledge."

"Are you crazy? No. Absolutely no. We don't even know for certain that Mikhail is in danger."

"We do know that there are two Sange rau close and everyone, human, Lycan and Carpathian alike are in danger. This has to be done."

She heard the absolute implacable determination in his voice and took a deep breath. "Alright then. Tell me what to do."

"That's my lady. I can do this, Tatijana, because I have you." He glanced up at the sky. The cloud cover she'd promised had drifted in slowly, pushed by a gentle wind. She had such a skill, her touch light. He doubted if even an elite Lycan would have detected the clouds were not natural. He was lucky to have her and he would treasure this memory of her straight spine, straighter shoulders and clear eyes.

"Tatijana, you cannot show yourself by word or deed. No emotion. You will be tempted time and again to step in, but you cannot. If you do, all will be lost. But"-he took both her hands-"you are Dragonseeker and there are none greater or with more honor. That moment when I call to you, come for me, pull me back. Do you understand?"

She turned to face him completely, grasping his forearms as a warrior would. Her green eyes stared directly into his. "I will not lose you, lifemate. I will come for you."

He believed her.