Skyler, can Paul reach out to his uncles? If so, have him convey the news that we are being pursued by an assassin. We’re certain the assassin is Sange rau.

There was a brief silence, presumably while she conferred with Paul. He has exchanged blood with Nicolas.

Tell them to keep moving as if nothing has changed, but one will have to take Zev from Fen. I’m going to start dropping back just a little at a time, giving the impression I’m hurt and the flight is beginning to tell on me, Dimitri said.

You are hurt. Dimitri, you can’t fight this monster, not in your condition, Skyler objected.

He laughed softly in his mind, reaching for her to surround her with love. Csitri, I’ve got no intention of fighting him. I’ll leave that to Fen. He needs to feel needed and I’d never take that away from him.

For a moment he thought Skyler wouldn’t catch on, but she did. He’s listening, isn’t he? You’re provoking your brother again.

Of course I am.

Fen gave a little derisive snort. He just can’t handle that I’m better in a fight.

Says you. As I recall, the last time, it was me saving your sorry butt, Dimitri pointed out.

You have to take this threat seriously, Skyler insisted, somewhere between laughter and exasperation.

No worries, sívamet. We’ve got this, Dimitri said with confidence.

He was confident. He’d survived the Lycans’ worst torture and he had his lifemate. It didn’t matter that his body was torn and exhausted, his mind was stronger than ever. His senses were rapidly developing.

You and I both know, the Sange rau will be difficult to kill, Fen cautioned on their private path of communication. I know you’re trying to keep Skyler from worrying, but don’t get overconfident.

In all the centuries we’ve been traveling, different continents even, how many times have either of us ever run across the Sange rau? Dimitri asked his brother.

I’ve seen four, counting Abel and Bardolf.

I’ve only come across Abel and Bardolf, and they were specifically sent to kill Mikhail, Dimitri said, waiting to let the implication sink in.

Dimitri knew the precise moment Paul conveyed the warning to Nicolas and Nicolas sent it to Zacarias. There was no change in them, but he felt the difference. He hoped their pursuer didn’t as well. He faltered just a little, looked as if he tried to recover and slipped back, away from his protectors. Nicolas and Rafael in bird form flew past him, hesitated a moment and then continued on as if he’d told them to keep going.

Fen got the meaning fast. Someone is creating them, using mixed blood to enhance them and using them as assassins. They aren’t necessarily vampire.

And they’re probably newly made. Abel and Bardolf were most likely their most experienced and oldest. They would never send an amateur after the prince in our territory. Whoever is behind this is creating his own army of mixed bloods.

Dimitri allowed the body of his bird to dip a little, seeking a lower altitude, his wings beating double the time the others did, but not actually getting anywhere. The wind shifted just a little, blowing into him, making him falter more. He tried to redouble his efforts—the others seemed to be moving away from him faster—but he was too worn-out.

The large bird of prey—a bald eagle—seemed to come out of nowhere, dropping fast, talons extended, its beak a strange color. Dimitri shifted from an owl’s body to that of the larger eagle, so fast it was impossible to detect the change until the other was nearly on top of him. Dimitri had just enough time to realize the talons and beak were silver weapons, designed to shred, stab and kill fast. He met the bird’s talons with his own, locking them together so that they tumbled from the sky, end over end. Neither could shift, and the ground seemed to be rising fast to meet them.

The assassin tore at Dimitri’s body, stabbing repeatedly in the chest, seeking the heart. He never heard or saw the attack from behind, Fen streaking through the sky, going for the kill. The Sange rau didn’t even feel the stake going through his body to penetrate his heart. When Fen removed the head and the bird landed dead on the ground, Dimitri called down the lightning to burn it.

He sank into the soft soil, sitting abruptly, pushing both hands through his hair. There was blood on his chest, seeping from a dozen slashes and stabs.

“You know, Fen, I think I’ll take that ride now,” he said when Fen strode up to him.

16

On his last return home, Dimitri had taken up residence in the old family dwelling, deep in the forest where the wolves gave him warning if visitors came too close. He’d done a few modern repairs on it, but he wasn’t in residence often. The outside stone was covered in moss, and trees and brush had grown so close they nearly covered the house. Thick vines wove around the stone columns that formed the verandah. The vines were so thick they’d nearly formed an impenetrable wall, yet there was an archway at the stairs as if it had been designed that way.

Beneath the stone building, deep underground, Dimitri and Skyler lay entwined together, their bodies slowly healing. Dimitri woke each rising and hunted, sustaining the two of them and then going back to ground to allow Mother Earth to rejuvenate them both.

He woke and lay listening to the beat of the earth’s heart. Over time the rhythm had become reassuring, a constant, steady drumbeat he could always count on. It didn’t matter where in the world he was, if he lay in the ground, it was there.

He opened the soil above their heads, staring at the underside of the house his parents had constructed so many centuries earlier. He had played in the room above them. He remembered the sound of his mother’s laughter and the murmur of his father’s voice. He realized he wanted to stay, to make this their home. It was deep enough in the forest to keep their wolf pack safe and yet still close enough to the other Carpathians that Skyler could have company whenever she wanted.

He leaned over her. He loved watching her as she slept. Skyler always looked peaceful now—so different from the nights he’d entered her room and found her tossing and turning caught in the throes of a hideous nightmare. Gently he brushed back silken strands of hair that had come loose from the braid he’d woven for her just the last rising.

Her lashes were long and feathery, dark, yet tipped with gold. He traced her high cheekbones with the pad of his finger, absorbing the satin-smooth skin. It had always annoyed her that she couldn’t tan. Josef and Paul teased her mercilessly, throwing their hands over their eyes to accuse her of blinding them with her white stomach or legs depending on what she was wearing. If she was out in the sun at all, she burned a bright red, and then they called her “lobster girl.”