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Stars glittered across the night sky and the moon spilled light, illuminating the trees below and turning leaves a glistening silver. A female owl skimmed the canopy, dipped lower to speed through the labyrinth of trees before rising again just in time to avoid a thick branch. A second, larger owl chased her in a wide circle above the forest surrounding a clearing where a large two-story stone house sat. The female plummeted toward the steep roof, talons extended toward the chimney, pulled up at the last heart-stopping second to race away from the male, wings flapping noiselessly, the wind riffing iridescent feathers.

Raven! Mikhail Dubrinsky warned his lifemate sharply. That was far too close.

It was exhilarating.

Raven, you are going to get tired. There was a soft warning growl in Mikhail's voice, as if a wolf lurked inside the body of the owl.

Her laughter bubbled up, soft and warm in his mind as they telepathically communicated. I'm not a newbie anymore, Mikhail, and after all these years, I think I can handle flying. I love it. It's my favorite thing to do. Are you ever going to get over being overprotective?

I do not think it is overprotective to watch over the woman of my heart and soul. You always overdo it when you fly. And you risk much more than you should.

That may have been true, but Raven wasn't going to admit it. Once in the body of a bird, she wanted to stay that way for long periods of time. I feel so free.

From the moment of her conversion—human to Carpathian—the one thing that had intrigued and filled her with joy above all else in her new life was the ability to fly. She could soar high above earth and see miles of beautiful forest, cool lakes and a riot of wildflowers. Beauty always surrounded her when she took the form of an owl, making her forget, at least for a few moments, the absolute wonder—and responsibility—of being lifemate to the prince of the Carpathian people.

There was a small silence. Raven, do you not feel freedom when you are with me? I have never caged you, although at times I felt it would be the safest thing to do.

The female owl circled back toward the male to position herself just under his left wing. Of course not, silly. Don't you love flying? The wind lifting your body while the terrain below appears so magical?

There was that whisper of love in her voice—in her mind. Mikhail had come to depend on the steadiness—the absolute steadfastness of her love. It is so. If you ever are despairing of my nature, I would want you to let me know. I feel your sadness sometimes, my love, the ache in your heart.

Don't, Mikhail. It's not because of you. Or because of us. Like any woman who has found her true lifemate, I want children. I can't complain. We have our daughter, Savannah, so precious to both of us and much more than many other of our women are gifted with. If we never have another, I have been lucky enough to have one child as well as the only man who could ever make me happy. You and Savannah are enough for me.

Mikhail wished they were home, where he could pull her into his arms and kiss her soundly. He ached with love for her more than he cared to admit, and he could hear—and feel—the desire in her to hold a child in her arms. It was his greatest failure—not only in his duty to his lifemate, but also in his duty to his people. After hundreds of years, he still couldn't protect his people from their greatest threat—not vampires or the mage, not modern society, not even the lack of emotion in the males after two hundred years and the ever-present darkness creeping into their souls. He couldn't protect them from what he was beginning to believe might be the very extinction of their species.

Mikhail. Raven whispered his name in his mind. A soft sound of utter love and compassion. You will find the answers for our people. You've accomplished so much already by bringing such great minds together in an effort to solve this problem. And three babies have survived in the last few years. We kept Savannah. Francesca and Gabriel have Tamara, and now there is Corrine and Dayan's child, Jennifer. Three girls, my love. There is yet hope.

Mikhail was silent, wanting to roar his despair to the heavens. Th ree female children when so many of the men of his species were without hope. To survive, to maintain honor, they had no choice but to find the one woman who would complete their soul—bring light to their darkness. Without a woman, they had nothing but an endless, barren existence.

That's not so, Raven objected. Many have found their lifemates among my people.

A handful, Raven. Why can't I find the answer when I have such great minds working on the problem? We need women and children or our kind will cease to exist.

After the assassination attempt on his life, more than anything else, Mikhail feared their enemies would realize just how fragile the Carpathian race had become. With so many against them, it would only take one to realize where the true vulnerability of the Carpathian race lay—the absence of women and children. So far all the strikes had been directed against the men, but sooner or later their enemies would realize that to kill the species, they had only to kill the women and children.

The thought of Raven, his beloved lifemate, or his precious daughter, Savannah, as a target was almost more than he could bear—but it was inevitable. The enemy had joined together with the dark mage and had found a way to hide their presence, making them doubly dangerous. No longer could the Carpathians rely on their ability to read minds and sense a threat. They must be more vigilant than ever. Even now Mikhail scanned the forest below them warily, unable to relax completely.

Mikhail. You have closed your mind to mine.

Copyright © 2006 by Christine Feehan