He navigated the Ether with ease, as did many of his kind. He loved the chill of it against his skin and the vacuum of its hunger as it tried to take his soul. Many said his family was addicted to its constant pull. After all, his ancestral home had been built on the very edge of the world where the veil was most thin, and, even when they weren’t traveling, the hunger of the void was a constant thrill they all experienced from infancy.
Grigori never stayed long away from the rush. He had been the witchblood prince of the Dark Volkhvy since his conception, but he’d been free to come and go as he pleased. He pleased often. Living on the edge of the Ether was nothing compared to traveling through it from place to place all over the globe.
As the son of the Dark Volkhvy king, it was fitting that he rose to prominence as the darkest, most Ether-influenced of all who had come before him. He was too busy taking to worry about the weaker witches who warned him to be careful. He had gloried in every depravity his power would allow until a Russian peasant woman had stood him down.
She’d used love as power. And none of his travels had prepared him for the strength of the shield she bought for her daughter with her blood. Every moment since had felt diminished.
Except the time he’d spent delivering his special promises in Elena Pavlova’s nightmares. More thrilling than challenging the Ether’s inexorable pull, his time with his swan soothed him. The visualization and manifestation of what he wanted to do to her when she was finally in his power had eased his impatience.
She’d taken that away from him.
Grigori paced the length of his quarters. His rooms had been built on the top floor of a complex that almost seemed to be a part of the cliff from which it jutted, an architectural masterpiece of steel and glass and stone. One entire wall of his loft-like space had been made of glass. It faced toward a canyon abyss that no human could have traversed. No human could have seen the shimmer of Ether either, though Grigori stared at it often. It bisected the canyon in a sheet of nearly imperceptible power. At times, when the light and weather provided the exact conditions, the Ether wavered like the northern lights before his rapt attention.
The Ether’s vacuum was the greatest when it was most visible. He’d often been brought to his knees by the pleasure of its hunger. There were times when he’d imagined its hunger had somehow transferred itself to him.
His hunger for Elena was as powerful as the Ether itself. He’d had no way to ease it for weeks. The connection that he’d established to her through her dreams had been severed.
Only now had he discovered why.
Grigori was tall and lean. His muscles wrapped around his bones in corded perfection. The dark power that continually coursed through him burned away all but what was necessary. He had to keep it at a fever pitch to fight the Ether’s pull, especially when he was at home. He looked like a devoted athlete. One addicted to Pilates and the ketosis craze.
And right now his spare frame shook with fury.
The witch who had brought him the message from Ivan Romanov was on his knees. His blood poured onto the polished marble floor, black puddles on white. Steam rose all around him. It proclaimed his weakness. If Grigori’s blood had spilled, it would have ignited into blue-tinged flames.
Two Dark Volkhvy servants held Dominique by the arms. It wasn’t necessary. He had nowhere to go and no power left to take him there. But it was more convenient to Grigori to have him lifted and displayed rather than wilted on the ground. The better to lash out at him again and again. Dominique had failed the witchblood prince. He wouldn’t do so again.
“She is protected,” he whimpered. “She doesn’t stand alone.”
He had repeated the same phrase even after Grigori had reacted with slicing jolts of power that flayed the skin from his back and chest.
Elena had taken a few lovers before. Grigori hadn’t cared. She’d still been his, night after night. His claim had been unchallenged by momentary pleasure taken with mortal men.
But the Light Volkhvy’s dishonored champion was no mortal man.
The name of Romanov was still spoken in hushed tones of anger and fear among the Dark Volkhvy. There was no creature capable of threatening a powerful witch...except the Romanov alpha wolf and his brothers. The rising of the Dark had occurred in direct correlation to the fall of the Romanov family. And Vasilisa, the Light Volkhvy queen, was too wrapped up in her vengeful punishment to care.
“He still stands. Bronwal is defended. And Elena has sought shelter there to seek his help against you,” Dominique said.
Grigori didn’t wait for his servants to act. He leaped forward and grabbed the bleeding witch. He used Dominique’s slashed and bloody body to push open the glass doors that led onto the platform outside. The observation deck had been built to take in the spectacular view. Its edges and its flooring were more glass than steel. Dominique began to scream long before Grigori easily hoisted his body over the rail. His rapidly falling form was soon a tiny speck, but the witchblood prince watched until it hit the Ether and winked out of sight.
Eaten by Ether was too good for the worthless witch.
But at least now Grigori knew.
He’d been to the Bronwal Gathering often as a young man. The power expended to fuel the curse was an incredible lure even for Volkhvy who had power to spare. The Dark and the Light were drawn to the mountain every ten years for a decadent ball. What wasn’t to love? He’d even enjoyed the dangerous element of being close to the one being who could kill him. They all did. They bated the wolf, knowing full well the wolf was almost gone.
He stands.
Did he though? Did he stand with Elena? Or was he a broken creature barely holding out against the Ether’s pull?
Grigori’s fury eased. His servants had backed away from him with their heads down and their hands grasped behind their backs. He might have thrown them to the Ether as well, but he didn’t. He now knew where to go to collect Elena Pavlova once the power of her mother’s blood ran out.