“He seemed to have no problems with the idea of killing everyone here, the council, Mikhail and all of us.” She swept her hand toward Zev and the other Carpathians in the chamber.

“Is he mixed blood? Sange rau?” Mikhail clarified.

“I have no way of knowing, you’ll have to ask the council.” Branislava swept a hand through her hair in a gesture of weariness.

I’m going to get you home, Zev said, tenderness nearly bringing tears to her eyes. There isn’t much more you can tell them.

“Was he stronger, faster and a little more intelligent than most Lycans?” Mikhail asked.

Randall nodded. “That’s why he excelled in his military career.”

“He must have been made many years ago,” Mikhail noted, with a warning glance at Zev. Xaviero had the blood he had sought—your grandmother’s blood. This Sandulf is more likely full Sange rau and participating more closely with Xaviero in building his army of mixed bloods, although where the mage is getting Carpathian blood now, I don’t know.

She was too close to the truth tonight, Branislava decided. Too close to the answer to the question Mikhail had just posed. Bile rose and she turned to Zev, uncaring if they needed to stay to protect anyone else. She wanted to go home. She needed to be outside and away from these men and the vivid memories pressing too close. She felt as if she had given everything she had to give.

Zev’s arm circled her waist and he brought her under the protection of his shoulder. “We’re a little beat up, Rolf. Daciana and Makoce as well as the others are close. They’re burning the rogue bodies as we speak.” He nodded toward the prince. “Mikhail, if you don’t mind, we’ll let Fen and Gregori take over here. I’m going to get Branka home.”

Mikhail’s dark eyes slid over her. He gave them a slow nod. “Thank you for your help, Bronnie. I know it couldn’t have been easy for you.”

She forced a small smile and let Zev take over, allowed him to say their good-byes to the council. She turned away from the broken man on the floor. Confronted with his crimes, knowing someone else had seen into his rotting, depraved brain and had seen the secret things he’d done to so many young women, he couldn’t bear to look at anyone.

Zev suddenly shoved her aside—pushed her hard so that she staggered away from him and fell against a sharp boulder jutting from the side of the cave. When she managed to turn her head, she saw her lifemate grappling with Lyall, his fists clamped around both wrists, knee rising hard into the man’s groin and then his foot driving into the inside of Lyall’s knee. The council member collapsed, Zev going down to the floor of the chamber with him, transferring his grip from wrists to head.

The crack was audible as Lyall’s neck broke. Zev’s hand flashed with silver and the stake was driven through the council member’s heart. Zev stepped back and drew his sword. Without a word he severed the head, wiped his blade clean and shoved it back into the sheath.

His gaze jumped to Branislava. Are you hurt, Branka?

She shook her head. Her hands smarted a little, along with one hip and part of her shoulder, but all she cared about was getting away from blood and death and the stench of evil. She hadn’t even felt the attack as Lyall had come at her, his energy masked as Lycans could so easily do.

Zev didn’t look at anyone else as he took her hand and walked out of the chamber. Behind them, she heard Rolf comment.

“That takes care of what to do with Lyall, doesn’t it?”

Sadness overwhelmed her. Once, Zev, very long ago, Lyall was actually a good man. He had a weakness for chasing women and he knew it and tried hard to curb it. He believed in the sacred code strongly, because, like so many other of the old ones, he nearly lost everyone dear to him when the first known Sange rau destroyed so many of the packs.

Zev pulled her closer to him. They stepped out of the cave into the night. At once the fresh breeze touched her face and made her feel as if she could breathe again.

“I’m sorry for him, Branka,” Zev said gently, “but the man you describe has been dead for a long time. There was no redeeming him or the things he’s done.”

She shuddered. She knew better than anyone—no, that wasn’t true. She looked up at his face, her hand smoothing those lines etched deep into a face of masculine beauty. Zev had been with her. He had seen the fall into depravity just as she had. She didn’t have to carry that burden alone.

“I’m very much in love with you, Zev Hunter,” she whispered, and circled his neck with her arms, leaning into his strength.

She laid her head on his chest, her ear over the steady beat of his heart. He felt solid and strong, like a great oak tree with roots that went deep. He was a steady man, one she could always rely on. I appreciate you so much. I really am lucky to have you.

“You’re very tired, mon chaton féroce,” he replied, his voice even more gentle than it had been. “Perhaps it is time to go to ground.”

She shook her head. “Not yet. The night is nearly over, Zev, but I need to be out in it. Somewhere beautiful and clean, somewhere I can breathe.” Without lifting her head, she looked up at him.

He smiled down at her and her heart turned over. “I think I know just the place. It’s a distance, but well worth the travel.”

She wasn’t going to warn him that they only had a couple hours left before the sun began to climb into the sky. She wanted to go with him, somewhere new and exciting, somewhere fresh and clean where she could breathe properly. Somewhere . . . away.

Zev stepped away from her and shifted, so smooth, so easily. She admired that fluid way of his. He learned fast and never hesitated once he made up his mind. Branislava followed his lead and shifted into the form of a night owl. She followed him into the sky, her wings spread wide, the air rushing around her and ruffling her feathers so that she felt free and a little wild.

Below her, everything on the ground dropped away. She left behind the carnage of battle. The smoke rising in the air couldn’t find her as she hurried after Zev. He led her over the forest and up over the first mountain ridge. Below them the glacier-fed lake appeared deep and ice-blue. Small farms dotted the countryside and she spotted the animals, cattle sleeping, horses moving slowly, chickens roosting.

Life was normal around them. She needed to see that. In those houses, children slept with their parents watching over them. Zev kept going, along another mountain ridge where the trees were so close together that it was impossible, even with the eyes of an owl, to penetrate to the floor below.