There was no point in protesting that she could not do this thing he expected of her, somehow become light and energy. She had no choice but to try. Gregori believed she could do it, and she had to believe it also. She owed Raven and her child a chance at life. In any case, she was first and foremost a doctor. It was in her nature to heal.

“We do it together,” Gregori instructed softly, his voice a cool, soothing balm in the chaos of her mind. She could feel herself respond to that beautiful pitch, the tinkle of silver, the purity of goodness. Shea sank to the floor beside Raven’s still body, closed her eyes, and sought a calm place in her mind to center herself. At first everything seemed to intrude, but somehow Gregori was there with her, showing her how to adjust her thoughts and refocus. First the room seemed to drop away, then time and space. Her heart jumped wildly at the odd sensation, but Gregori’s soft chanting allowed her to remain calm and float above the earthly chaos. Gradually her body diminished, becoming smaller and smaller until all that remained was her soul. Light and energy. Power.

“We go together. Keep your attention on Raven and her wounds. You cannot think of yourself or what could happen. Believe in yourself. If you begin to falter, reach out to me.” Gregori’s powerful light seemed to bathe her soul with trust and warmth.

She found only the healer in him. All else was pushed aside.

There was so much selflessness, so much purity of soul, Shea could only marvel. She followed his lead without reservation. He was the very epitome of what she had always striven to be. A true healer, with a gift so rare and precious, she felt humbled in his presence. Later she could remember that Gregori was a powerful ancient, that he could make anyone believe and see anything he wanted.

Chapter Fifteen

Shea seemed to float above Raven’s body. Her world narrowed until it was only the woman lying so still on the floor. At first it seemed as if Raven was dead, as if her life force was completely gone. Slowly, in her own stillness, with new awareness, Shea could feel the low energy seeping from Raven. Colors seemed to pulse around her, but they were pale and seemed to be fading.

“Now, Mikhail,” Gregori ordered.

The words were spoken aloud, yet in her head. Shea realized she hadn’t seen Mikhail. He was somewhere with Byron, holding Raven alive from a distance. She wanted to ask his forgiveness for allowing this to happen, but the light that was Shea was already positioning herself over Raven. She felt mild surprise that she seemed to know what to do, but then she realized she wasn’t alone. The ball of pure white light beside her was guiding her movements. Her every thought focused on Raven’s body; nothing else mattered. She felt Mikhail give Raven the command to awaken to mortal unconsciousness.

Blood spurted, poured from the wounds. Raven’s heart was loud, echoing through Shea’s light. She found herself streaming through the blood, white-hot heat cauterizing the worst of the wounds. She worked quickly, in deep and complete concentration, to stem the flow of Raven’s life force before she expired. Shea’s brain assessed the internal damage to each organ even as she worked. The repairs were done through thought. Every stitch was meticulous, every extraction of bullet fragments precise and careful. It was no different from operating physically, except it was more draining. Maintaining the level of concentration necessary for such a prolonged period was exhausting. Still, there was little sense of time passing. Just as she was in the operating room, Shea was caught up in the job at hand. She even felt as if she were sweating, as if a nurse should wipe her brow for her.

This was the world Shea knew. Her world. She had the patience to deal with extensive injuries. She had the knowledge and skills. More than that, she had the sheer determination. She would not lose her patient if there was any possibility of success.

The damage was horrific. Shea was shocked that Raven had survived as long as she had. Even a trauma center could not have saved her life; there were far too many mortal injuries. And the baby... How could the baby possibly survive?

Gregori approached the tiny being cautiously. The extent of the trauma was enormous. The baby was fading as blood gushed from its mother’s body. He could feel its willingness to slide away from the pain and outrage of the assault. He could only hope Shea would stop the bleeding quickly, as he had to concentrate on the child. She was so tiny, almost nonexistent, yet he could feel her pain and her puzzlement. She knew fear before she was born, knew pain, and now held forever the knowledge that life was not safe, even here in her mother’s womb.

Gregori murmured softly, reassuringly, to her. He had bathed her in his light once before, and she recognized him now, moved toward him, seeking comfort. Very carefully he attended to the wound in the artery that supplied her with nourishment. Very soon he would give her his own blood, sealing her fate, binding her ever closer to him. There were several tears in the placenta, which he meticulously sealed. She was afraid as his light floated closer, so he provided waves of reassurance and warmth.

There was a laceration in her right thigh. It hurt, and blood was seeping into the fluid surrounding her. With the lightest of touches he closed the wound, his touch lingering to calm her. His chant, the low pitch of his voice, echoed in her heart, in her mind, invading her soul. Gregori talked to her as he worked, the purity of his tone beguiling her, soothing her, so that she stayed with Raven rather than simply letting go, fading away with the steady trickle of blood.

Gregori could feel the strength in her, the determination. Without a doubt, she was Mikhail and Raven’s daughter. If she chose to go, she would do so, but if she chose to stay, she would fight with every breath left in her body. Gregori made certain she wanted to fight. He whispered to her in his most beguiling voice, promised a fascinating future, lured her with the secrets and beauty of the universe awaiting her. He promised her she would never be left alone; he would be there to guide her, to protect her, to see to her happiness.

Before he could complete his work, he felt Shea tremble, felt her suddenly become aware of the pain of her own wounds. Reassuring the child that he would return, he worked his way out of Raven’s body, taking Shea with him. She was swaying on her knees, so pale and drained she was gray. Although the injuries to her shoulder and arm were not critical, she had lost more blood than she could afford.

Jacques was supporting her, holding her against his chest, his arms keeping her from toppling over. She didn’t really seem to notice, only pushed ineffectually at him. “I’m not finished. Why did you bring me out, Gregori?” she protested, annoyed. Her one thought was to get back to her patient.

“You must feed or you will not be able to continue,” he counseled softly. “And Raven needs blood.” The healer’s silver eyes went to Jacques’, and he nodded.

Jacques thrust his mind into Shea’s without hesitation, commanding that she feed. She was so tired and drawn, she could barely turn up her face to the hollow of his neck. At once his body clenched with her breath so warm against his skin. He drew her closer, felt the scrape of her teeth, a slight nip on his neck. Jacques nearly groaned aloud, cursed the depth of Carpathian sexuality that could send his body into hard, painful need when there was blood and death all around them.

Shea whispered something against his pulse, something soft and sighing that invaded his body and left him hungry for her intimate touch. He covered his moan of urgent need as her teeth sank into his neck. Hot flames danced through his bloodstream, darted along his muscles and nerves. His hands found her waist, her back, cradled her head to him. His body needed to sate itself with hers. Never had the heat been so burning and the need so great.