He poked at Gregori’s chest with a knife and, drew a spot of blood. “You don’t look so tough now, vampire,” he gloated. “Not so impressive at all. Are you feeling a little sick?” He laughed softly. “I’ve heard the older the vampire, the greater the sensitivity to pain.” He poked again, slicing downward so that he opened a flowing cut. “I hope so. I hope you take a long time to die when the techs get you. Meanwhile, you just remember who will be playing with Savannah. I have plans for that little whore.” He bent close to peer into Gregori’s hooded eyes. “Not that this is personal, you understand. It’s all in the name of science.”

Savannah’s burst of strength, fed by her rage at the reporter taunting Gregori and causing him pain, landed her against the invisible wall. The foundation didn’t budge. Whatever Gregori had constructed to contain her was stronger than she thought. She pounded until her fists bled, tears streaming down her face. She could feel every cut, every slice the reporter inflicted. She could hear his taunts and threats. She implored her lifemate to allow her to come to him, but silence was her only answer.

None of it seemed to affect Gregori. He felt the pain but simply put it aside during his self-examination. The poison was thick, moving slowly and painfully throughout his system. He began to break down the chemicals to analyze them so that his people could come up with their own antidote to such a thing. Most of his kind could never do what he was doing. But he was a healer, knowledgeable in herbs and chemicals, poisons both man-made and natural. This was an interesting mixture, fast-acting and dangerous. They had used blood they had taken from their victims for a base. The pain had gone from a dull ache to agony in a few short minutes, enough to incapacitate all but the ancients and their most learned healers. As soon as he had the compounds broken down, he broadcast them to Aidan Savage. The hunter had studied the healing arts under him and would be able to utilize the information.

Within his own body he began the. healing process, breaking down each chemical to its natural and separate form and disposing of or absorbing it. Only when the process was complete did he return to his outside surroundings. He had been aware of the reporter poking at and cutting him with a knife, presumably to make him weak from loss of blood. He was bleeding from several different cuts. He could feel the sting of them as the wind tugged at his tattered clothing.

His pale eyes rested on the reporter’s face. “Are you finished, Carter, or is there something else you would like to try before I return you to your laboratory?” he asked very gently.

The man gasped, realizing the drug was no longer affecting the vampire. He stabbed wildly for Gregori’s heart. In midair the knife stopped abruptly, as if caught by someone with enormous strength. Slowly, inexorably, the tip turned to point straight at Carter’s throat.

“No, God, no! Don’t do it. I can tell you so much. Don’t do it! Make me like you. I can serve you,” Wade Carter pleaded as the knife inched closer to his jugular.

Suddenly the knife clattered harmlessly to the ground below them. Instantly Wade fumbled to retrieve the dart gun. But in his hand it lengthened into a hideous scaly shape that began to coil around his arm. Wade screamed, the sound filling the night air and setting the wolves howling in answer.

Gregori regarded him with impassive silver eyes. The eyes of death. “This is my world, Carter, my domain. You walked into it and deliberately challenged me. You tried to hurt what is mine. I cannot allow such a thing.” He bent his dark head so his unblinking eyes could hold the other man in their thrall, hold him prisoner. “And understand this, Carter—this is very personal.”

He tossed the other man to the ground easily, uncaring that the drop was dangerously high. The snake coiled itself around the reporter’s body, effectively tying him so that it was impossible to move. Gregori floated to the ground, snagged the man’s shirt, and dragged him through the dirt to his car. “I think we need to pay this laboratory a small visit, do you not, Mr. Carter? You seemed quite anxious for my presence there, and I can do no other than to oblige you and your friends.”

No, Gregori,Savannah pleaded. Let’s get out of here. Leave him, and let’s go.

Break off from me,bébé, he ordered and retreated, pulling his mind from hers.

Savannah could feel his implacable resolve. He had made up his mind to destroy the laboratory, what they had of the drug they had used on him, and all the data on it. He also intended to destroy anyone connected to the society that he found. She could find no rage in him such as she herself felt. No need for revenge. He was cool and ruthless, a machine performing a brutal task for the welfare of his race. Gregori had put aside all emotions and was an anonymous robot set on destruction. He was unswerving, relentless. Nothing could stop him.

Savannah, trapped in her cube of protection, slid to the floor and drew up her knees. This was his life. This was who he was, what he had become over the long centuries, a dark angel of death to those who declared war on his race. Gregori, the Dark One.He believed himself a monster without equal. She covered her face with her hands. There was no way to stop him. No way at all. Mikhail, her own father, Prince of their people, the only one commanding Gregori’s loyalty, could not stop Gregori from doing what he deemed right or necessary.

Her teeth bit into her lower lip. He wielded so much power. There was no other who could have broken down that deadly poison in his own bloodstream. No other who would have deliberately baited a trap using his own body the way Gregori had. She knew the price he paid. She shared intimacy of his mind as well as his body.

He really could turn off his feelings, leave himself an emotionless machine to do the things necessary to protect his people. But inside, deep within his soul, he believed himself an unredeemable monster. The things he had to do for the preservation of their race required enormous pieces of his soul.

Chapter Nine

The night was dark and moonless. Clouds covered the stars and added an air of mystery and menace to the evening. The car pulled up in front of what looked like a deserted warehouse on the bay. There was no one on the docks. The water looked murky, almost oily. Gregori stepped out of the car and listened to the waves slapping at the pier. He scanned the area with the ease of long practice.

Inside the large building three men talked in low tones. Gregori waved a hand at the reporter, and Wade Carter slumped back behind the wheel of the car, his eyes glazed. The wind stirred, and an eddy of leaves and twigs whirled together in a bizarre dance where Gregori’s solid form had been. Then the night was silent again. Unnaturally so.

Gregori entered the building through a crack in a yellowed window. He streamed into the room and wound his way through a collection of burners and beakers filled with various chemicals. On the far side of the room were three tables. Bolts of steel held manacles for ankles and wrists. There were three dissecting tables, where the society’s “scientists” could leisurely carry out their experiments on their victims. There was a splash of blood on one of the tables. Gregori hovered over it to examine its composition. To his relief, it was not one of his people.

In one corner of the warehouse was a bank of impressive computers, high-tech equipment, and rows of file cabinets. Three desks formed a loose semi-circle closing off the area.

The three men were playing poker, obviously waiting for someone else. He streamed across the table, a cold wind that blew the cards in every direction. The men dived for the flying cards, looking all around for the source of the unexpected disturbance. Uneasily they looked at one another, then back around the large warehouse.