Dark Promises

Does that surprise you? Something really catastrophic would have to happen to trigger Zacarias to make any kind of move without your permission, Gregori assured.

The Lycan council members rose and drifted toward the tables. Their guards fell into step behind them, flanking them, a solid wall of large men. Mikhail was very aware of how fast the Lycans moved in battle. All were armed, just as his men were.

Somewhere, in the distance, he heard a woman cry out. Colby De La Cruz, Rafael’s lifemate. The sound was high, keening, a wail of fear and sorrow. Nicolas De La Cruz leapt to his feet, his brothers following suit. There was instant silence in the room, the Lycans swinging around to face what appeared to be a very lethal threat.

Mikhail stepped between the two factions, holding up his hand, facing the brothers. Francesca screamed, covered her face with both hands and would have fallen to the floor had Gabriel not caught her around her waist and held her, pressing her face to his shoulder, his eyes cold and hard as he, too, stared with lethal intent at the Lycans.

There was no way to stop the instantaneous ripple of knowledge, of treachery. Mikhail spun around to face the council members. The grief in the room was overwhelming, pressing down on all of them.

“They’re children,” Francesca accused. “You killed our child.” She began to sob. “She’s dead, Gabriel. Oh, God, how could this happen? How could they kill her?”

“You come into my home, sit at my table and all this time, you have been committing such treachery?” Mikhail said, his voice very low, a whip, striking hard at the four council members.

They winced at his tone, looking at one another. The Lycan guards reached for their weapons. Gregori caught Mikhail and all but shoved him back. Lucian stepped up beside him so they presented a solid wall between the Lycans and their prince.

It was Rolf who pushed past his own guards and stood without any weapon, facing his accusers. “I have no knowledge of what is happening. Clearly, you are aware of something tragic taking place. We came here in good faith. We have not committed any crime against your people, and we certainly do not kill children.”

Mikhail moved past his own bodyguards, although both stepped up beside him, prepared, he was certain, to kill everyone in the room if they made a move toward him. He could barely stand the look of such grief carved deeply in Gabriel’s face. Francesca’s weeping broke his heart, yet there was the ring of truth in Rolf’s voice.

“Skyler, Gabriel and Francesca’s daughter, is lifemate to Dimitri,” he explained.

“I heard her,” Francesca said, lifting her face from Gabriel’s shoulder. She pushed back her long dark hair and took a step toward Rolf—a very aggressive step.

Like all Carpathians, man or woman, she held great power. Mikhail might be able to keep the men under control long enough to get to the truth, but a grieving woman who had lost a child was something else altogether.

“I saw. Dimitri hung in a tree by hooks, silver winding its way to his heart. You lied to us. You told us he was safe, but even while you sat here charming us all, you were killing him, torturing him, death by silver you call it,” Francesca accused.

She took another step toward the Lycan. Gabriel put a gentle hand on her arm, but she shook it off. “She set him free, and your army chased her.”

“Paul was with her,” Nicolas said. “He’s been shot as well.”

“With silver,” Francesca said. “They riddled her body with silver.”

Rolf frowned, shaking his head. “They wouldn’t. I’m telling you no sentence was ever passed on Dimitri. He was to be held safely.”

The other council members looked at one another, expressions puzzled or alarmed.

Francesca took another step toward Rolf. “She was nineteen years old. Nineteen.”

The door burst open and a couple stood together in the doorway. Mikhail’s heart sank. How could he possibly prevent a war between Lycan and Carpathian? Razvan of the Dragonseekers, birth father to Skyler, and his lifemate, Ivory, stood shoulder to shoulder. Paul was a De La Cruz. Skyler was Daratrazanoff and Dragonseeker. To harm either of them would set lethal predators relentlessly pursuing the perpetrators of the crime. There would be no stopping the families.

“We did not do this,” Rolf said again, this time looking directly at Francesca. “I swear to you, give you my word of honor, we did not do this.”

“She’s not dead,” Josef yelled. “She can’t be dead. Go after her, Dimitri. You have to go after her.” He scrambled on all fours to get to Dimitri’s side. “She’s Dragonseeker. She’s strong. Go after her.”

Paul dragged himself to the other side of Skyler and Dimitri, one leg useless to him. He nodded his head. “She’ll fight for life with the same determination she fought for you.”

Skyler lay lifeless in her lifemate’s arms. Dimitri took a deep breath. He was bleeding from several wounds himself, the silver twisting through his body, burning with terrible intensity, but nothing could rival the grief and rage rising like a firestorm out of control. The madness was close—too close. He could feel darkness swirling inside him, the edges turning a fiery red. He took another breath, fighting back the emotions that threatened to dishonor him.

“If I can get her spirit and bring her close, you have to convert her, Josef. I cannot do both,” Dimitri instructed. His voice was raspy, hoarse, fear for Skyler choking him.

He shed his body fast, becoming pure spirit, a white light that entered her body and rushed down the tree of life after her fading spirit. He knew her so well. Every expression. The sound of her laughter. The way her eyes changed color and her hair banded with color, even when she dyed it. He knew her heart and soul. That steel spine that made her so formidable. Most of all he knew her love.

I cannot lose you. Your soul is tied to mine. We are one, csitri. Where you go, I will follow. Stay where you are, hold on and let me come get you.

There in the darkness he felt her. There was no light to guide him, but he would know the feel of her anywhere. That soft, gentle nature, the one that surrounded him and held him to her when all else was lost. She had come for him in his darkest hour. His lady. His Skyler.

His spirit moved downward along the trunk of the tree of life, passed the upper branches. Once below them, he couldn’t feel her anymore. For a moment panic nearly threw him back into his own body, but then he settled, calling on centuries of discipline. Hunting her in the cold and dark required calm, not panic, and he refused to lose her when he knew she was still there—somewhere.