Текст книги "Dark Prince"

Автор книги: Christine Feehan

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Mikhail shifted his hand to her nape, his fingers soothing. “We are already committed to one another. Can you not feel it, Raven?” He whispered the words, a husky blend of warmth and sensuality. He knew he was fighting her instincts, her innate sense of self-preservation. He chose his words carefully. “You know who I am, what is inside me. If distance separated us, you would still need to feel my hands on you, my mouth on yours, my body in yours, a part of yours.”

Just his words alone warmed her blood, fed the ache deep inside. Raven covered her face, ashamed that she had such need of what amounted to a total stranger. “I’m going home, Mikhail. I’m so wrapped up in you, I’m doing things I never thought possible.” It wasn’t only physical: She wished it were. She didn’t want to feel his loneliness, his greatness, his incredible will and drive to keep those he led safe from harm. But she did feel it. She could feel his heart, his soul, his mind. She had talked to him without speaking aloud, she had shared his mind. She knew he was in her.

His arm curved around her shoulders, drew her huddled form beside him. To comfort or to restrain? Raven swallowed the burning tears. There were sounds pouring into her head, rustlings, creaks. She put her hands over her ears to shut them out. “What’s happening to me, Mikhail? What did we do that’s changed me like this?”

“You are my life, my mate, the half of myself that was missing.” His hand returned to stroking her hair with infinite gentleness. “My people mate for life. I am a true Carpathian; I am of the earth. We have special gifts.”

She turned her head, regarding him with enormous blue eyes. “Telepathic ability. Yours is very strong, much stronger than mine. And so developed. It amazes me, the things you can do.”

“The price for these gifts is high, little one. We are cursed with the need for one mate, a sharing of souls. Once this occurs—and the ritual can be brutal to an innocent woman—we cannot live apart from our mates. Our children are few; we lose many in the first year and most of those born are male. We are both blessed and cursed with longevity. For those of us who are happy, a long life is a blessing; for someone alone and tormented, it is a curse. It is one long eternity of darkness, a barren, stark existence.”

Mikhail cupped her chin in the palm of his hand, tipped her chin up so that she could not escape his dark, hungry eyes. He took a deep breath, let it out. “We did not have sex, little one; we did not make love. Ours was as close to a true Carpathian mating ritual as is possible without your, being of our blood. If you leave me... “ His voice trailed off, and he shook his head. He needed to bind her to him irrevocably. The words were in his mind, his heart. The beast raged to say them. She would never escape, yet he could not do that to her, say the words to a mortal. He had no idea what would happen to her.

The spot over her left breast ached, throbbed, even burned. Raven looked down, saw the dark evidence of his brand, touched it with her fingertips. She remembered the feel of his teeth pinning her to the floor, his strength, the warning growl rumbling in his throat like that of an animal. He had taken her body as if it belonged to him, wildly, a little brutally, yet something in her had responded to the ferocious hunger and need in him. At the same time, he had been tender, insuring her pleasure before his own, so careful of her size and the frailty of her small bones. The mixture of his tenderness and wild nature was so impossible to resist, Raven knew no other man could ever touch her as he had. There would only be Mikhail for her.

“Are you telling me you’re of another race, Mikhail?” She was striving to put it all together.

“We believe that we are of another species. We are different. We hide it well—we have to—but we can hear things humans cannot. We speak to the animals, share our minds as well as our bodies and hearts. Understand, this information in the wrong hands would doom us all. My life is literally in your hands.” Inmore ways than one.

She caught the echo of his thought before he could censor it. “Would you have stopped if I had panicked?”

He closed his eyes, ashamed. “I would like to lie to you, but I will not. I would have soothed you, made certain you could accept me.”

“Commanded me?”

“No!” He denied that vehemently. He would not have gone that far. He was certain of that. He believed absolutely that he could have persuaded her to accept him.

“These gifts.” She rubbed her chin across her knees. “You are stronger physically than any human I’ve ever met. And that leap in the library—you reminded me of a great jungle cat—is that part of your heritage, too?”

“Yes.” His hand tangled in her hair again, brought a fistful up to bury his face in it, breathing her in. His scent lingered on her, would remain in her. A trace of satisfaction touched his fathomless eyes.

“You bit me.” She touched first her neck, then her breast. A sweet, hot ache filled her at the memory of him wild in her arms, his body frenzied with need, his mind a turbulent, red desire, his mouth working eagerly, hungrily at her.

What was wrong with her that she wanted more?She had heard of women so enthralled by sex that they were virtual slaves. Was that what was happening to her? She flung up a hand as if to ward him off. “Mikhail, this is so fast. I can’t fall in love in a couple of days, decide my life in a few minutes. I don’t know you; I’m even a little bit afraid of you, of what you are, the power you wield.”

“You said you trusted me.”

“I do. That’s what makes me so crazy. Can’t you see that? We’re so different. You do crazy things, yet I want to be with you, hear your laughter, argue with you. I want to see your smile, the way your eyes light up, the hunger and need in you when you look at me. I want to take that coldness from your eyes, the distant, faraway stare when your mouth hardens and you look cruel and ruthless. Yes, I trust you, but I have no reason to.”

“You are very pale. How do you feel?” He wanted to tell her it was too late, that they had gone too far, but he knew it would only build her resistance and alarm her needlessly.

“Funny, sort of sick to my stomach, like I should eat something, but the thought of food makes me ill. You gave me one of your herb concoctions, didn’t you?”

“Drink water and juices for a few days, a little fruit. No meat.”

“I’m a vegetarian.” She looked around. “Where are my clothes?”

He grinned unexpectedly, a perfect male smirk. “I got carried away and ripped your jeans. Just stay with me tonight and I will get you new clothes tomorrow.”

“It’s nearly morning now,” she pointed out, unwilling to lie down with him again. She couldn’t lie beside him and not burn for him. “Besides, I want a shower.” Before he had a chance to protest, she slid off the bed, wrapped safely in the old-fashioned quilt.

Mikhail kept his smile to himself. Let her feel safe; it cost him nothing. No way was she leaving his house, not with the assassins residing at her inn. To keep his mind off the image of her naked beneath the spray of water, he concentrated on the details of her emotions before he had taken her by force from the inn’s dining room.

What had caused her frantic distress that night? She had been literally sick, her head pounding. She thought her reaction was caused by his rage, but he had been enraged at her distress. He had felt it before that oaf of a human had laid an unholy hand on her.

Mikhail touched her mind because he had to. He found what he expected, tears and confusion. Her body was changing, had changed with his blood running in her veins. Legend required a human and Carpathian to exchange blood three times for conversion. The blood he had given her from the cup would not count, because she had not taken it directly from his body. He had no intention of converting her, of taking a chance that she might become a deranged vampiress. As it was, he had gone dangerously over the line. He would once more. It would have to last an eternity.

Raven had heard his words, all of which held truth, but he knew she had no idea of the reality. She would hear the whispers from every room in the inn, know when a bee entered the downstairs dining room. The sun would bother her eyes and she would burn easily. Animals would reveal their secrets to her.

Most foods would make her sick. But most of all, she would need him close, need to touch his mind, feel his body, burn with him. She already felt it, and she was fighting it in the only way she knew how—fighting to free herself from him, fighting to understand what was happening to her.

Raven leaned her body against the glass shower stall. She knew she couldn’t hide in the bathroom like a runaway child, but he was so potent, so compelling. She wanted to ease those lines of strain around his mouth, wanted to tease him, argue with him, hear his laughter. She was curiously weak still, a bit dizzy.

“Come on, little one.” Mikhail’s voice wrapped her in a black-velvet caress. His arm reached into the glass shower, turned off the water. He shackled her wrist and pulled her from the safety of the large stall, enveloped her slender body in a towel.

Raven wrung out her long hair, a blush stealing over her entire body. Mikhail was so comfortable, uncaring of his nudity. There was something untamed and magnificent about his raw strength, the casual way he accepted it. He rubbed her body with a large bath towel, buffing her skin until she was warm and rosy. The towel brushed her sensitive nipples, lingered along her rounded bottom, delved in the crease of her hip.

Despite her resolve, her body came alive under his ministrations. Mikhail cupped her face, bent to brush his mouth against hers, feather light, enticing. “Come back to bed,” he whispered, leading her there.

“Mikhail,” she protested softly, breathlessly.

He tugged on her wrist, unbalanced her so that her body came up against him. Her body melted into his, soft breasts pushing against heavy muscle, the evidence of his desire pressing against her stomach. His thighs were two strong columns welded with hers. “I could love you all night, Raven,” he murmured enticingly against her throat. His hands moved over her body, leaving fire in their wake. “I want to love you all night.”

“Isn’t that the point? It’s dawn.” Her hands had a mind of their own, finding every defined muscle with her fingertips.

“Then I will spend the day making love to you.” He whispered the words against her mouth, bent closer to nibble at the corners of her lower lip. “I need you with me. You chase away the shadows and lighten the terrible load that threatens to drown me.”

She skimmed her fingertips across the hard edges of his mouth. “Is this possession, or is it love?” She dipped her head to press her mouth to the hollow of his sternum, to slide her tongue over the ultrasensitive skin above his heart. There was no mark, no scar, but the sweep of her tongue followed the exact line of his earlier wound, where he had forced her to accept his life’s blood. She was merged with him, reading his mind, his erotic fantasies, wanting to bring them to life.

His gut clenched hotly, his body responding with fierce aggression. Raven smiled at the feel of his hard length burning against her skin. She had no inhibitions when she lay with him, only a fierce desire to burn with him. “Answer me, Mikhail, the truth.” Her fingertips brushed his velvet tip, fingers curled around the heavy thickness of him sending hunger raging through his body. She was playing with fire, but he didn’t have the strength to stop her; he didn’t want to stop her.

His hands curled in her damp hair, two tight fists. “Both,” he managed to gasp.

He closed his eyes when her mouth moved over his flat belly, leaving behind a trail of fire. Wherever she touched him, her mouth, hot and moist, followed. He dragged her closer, urging her onto him. Her mouth was tight and hot and driving him mad. A low, ominous growl escaped, the beast shuddering with pleasure, needing primitive satisfaction.

Her fingernails raked the hard column of his thighs, light, erotic, sending fire leaping, coiling in his gut. His mind blurred, merged more deeply with hers, a red haze of lust and need, love and hunger. He craved her touch, her hands, her silky mouth turning him into a living, breathing flame.

Mikhail dragged her up, his hands like bands, although he made every effort to be conscious of his strength. His mouth took hers, mating, dancing, so much hunger beating in him she caught it, pressing closer, her body sliding against his, rubbing, heating.

“Say you want me.” His mouth moved over her throat, closed over her aching breast. Every strong pull sent an answering rush of liquid heat.

“You know I do.” She pressed him to her, wound a leg around his.

She could barely breathe with her need, clawing at him to get closer, to crawl inside the shelter of his body, his mind, to feel his body in hers, taking possession as he was meant to, to feel his mouth at her breast, dragging her further into his world.

“All of it,” he said hoarsely, his fingers probing the nest of tiny curls, stroking, caressing. “Mate with me my way.”

She moved in a kind of anguish against his hand. “Yes, Mikhail.” She was frantic for release, frantic to relieve him. She was consumed with the same red haze, not separating love from lust or hunger from need. She was on fire, hurting, aching, body and mind, even her soul in torment, not knowing where his wild, uninhibited emotions left off and hers began.

Mikhail lifted her easily with his enormous strength, slid her slowly, erotically down his clenching belly until she was pressed against his raging velvet tip. Her heat seared him, beckoned. Raven’s arms slid around his neck, her legs around his hips, opening for him. Slowly he lowered her body over his, impaled her on the thick length of fire so that she surrounded him with such a moist, tight sheath he shuddered, somewhere beyond mere pleasure, a kind of erotic heaven and hell.

Her nails dug into his shoulders. “Stop! You’re too big this way.” Alarm was spreading across her face.

“Relax, little one. We belong together; our bodies were made for one another.” He slid in farther, began to move in a long, slow rhythm, his hands caressing, soothing.

He shifted his shoulders so that he could see her face, his body claiming hers with deep, sure, possessive strokes. Without conscious thought, the words poured out of his soul. “I claim you as my lifemate. I belong to you. I offer my life for you. I give to you my protection, my allegiance, my heart, my soul, and my body. I take into my keeping the same that is yours. Your life, happiness, and welfare will be cherished and placed above my own for all time. You are my lifemate, bound to me for all eternity and always in my care.” With those words, a male Carpathian bound his true lifemate to him for all eternity. Once said, she could never escape him. Mikhail had no intention of binding her to him, but every instinct in him, everything he was, forced the words out of his soul so that their hearts were one as they were meant to be. Their souls were finally united, their minds one.

Raven allowed his words and the hot strength of his possession to calm her. Her body seemed to melt around his. He took them higher, bending his head to lap at her nipple, his hands cupping her small bottom possessively. She threw back her head, her hair flowing around them, over them, brushing their bare skin so that their flesh burned. She felt as if she truly was where she belonged. She felt wild and free. She felt a part of him, his other half. There could be no other than this man who was so hungry for her. Who needed her so desperately, who knew her own kind of lonely existence.

He moved harder, deeper, turning so that he could lay her half across the end of the bed, so he could drive them closer and closer to the edge. He felt her body ripple, tighten, drag at his, once, twice. She cried out with pleasure, felt as if her body was dissolving into his. There was so much pleasure, wave after wave until Raven thought she couldn’t possibly stand any more.

He bent his dark head to her slowly, giving her every opportunity to stop him. His body continued to bury itself in hers, his dark eyes holding her blue ones captive. Mesmerizing, pleading, so in need. Raven arched her body toward him, thrusting her breasts invitingly, offering to assuage his burning hunger.

Mikhail’s soft growl of satisfaction rumbled in his throat, sent a thrill of excitement leaping in her blood. His body was aggressive now, his hands lifting her small hips for better access. She felt the brush of his lips so gently over her breast, her heart. His tongue slid over her skin, over his mark on her, erotic and warm. He surged into her powerfully, filling her, stretching her. He sank his teeth into soft flesh.

Raven cried out as white-hot heat seared her breast. She cradled Mikhail’s head to her, feeling the whirlwind of emotions storming through him as the fire in him built and built, higher and higher, until she thought they would both go up in flames. His mouth moved over her skin, devouring her as he took her, consuming them both. The feeling was like nothing she had ever experienced, erotic and burning.

She could hear herself screaming his name in joy, in wild abandon, her nails digging into his back. She had a primitive desire to find the heavy muscle over his breast with her mouth. They were exploding together, disintegrating, flying to the sun. Mikhail lifted his head to give a throaty growl, dipped his head to feed more.

He was careful this time, just taking enough for an exchange. His body was still locked with hers. He gave one last flick of his tongue to close the wound, heal even the smallest of pinpricks. Mikhail studied her face. Pale. Drowsy. He uttered his command, his body hard and eager at the idea of what he was doing.

Her body was still rippling with life, accepting his long, possessive strokes. He made the slash across his chest, pressed her soft mouth to his burning skin. It was ecstasy, his body convulsing almost painfully. The beast in him threw back its head and roared with pleasure, contentment, the terrible hunger temporarily assuaged.

He cupped the back of her head in his large hand, held her to him, stroking her throat, savoring the feel of her feeding. It was pure eroticism, pure beauty. He spoke softly, reluctantly, when he was certain she had taken enough for an exchange, enough to replenish what he had taken. He caressed the length of her hair, allowed her to surface.

She blinked up at him, a frown creasing her forehead. “You did it again.” She rested her head tiredly against the quilt. “Either that, or every time we get carried away I’m going to faint.” She tasted a faint coppery taste in her mouth.

Before she had a chance to identify what it was, Mikhail kissed her, his tongue licking along her teeth, the roof of her mouth, probing, exploring, dancing with hers. Very slowly he eased from her body, his hands caressing her soft skin.

“I can’t move,” Raven admitted with a smile.

“We will catch a nap and face the world later,” he suggested, his voice pure black magic. Very gently he cradled her in his arms, placed her properly in the bed, and pulled up the blanket. Her long lashes caught and held his fascinated gaze. His fingertip stroked her throat, traced the valley between her breasts. She was still so sensitive, he could feel her shiver beneath his touch, and it flooded him with warmth.

“If I really wanted you to love me, I should have presented more of a challenge.” She burrowed deeper into a pillow. “My hair is a mess.”

Mikhail sat on the edge of the bed, took the mass of silk in his hands, and gently began to weave the thick strands into a long, loose braid. “If you presented much more of a challenge, little one, my heart would never be able to take it.” He sounded amused.

Her fingertips brushed the bare skin of his thigh, but she didn’t lift her long lashes. Mikhail sat for a long time on the edge of the bed, just watching her drift off to sleep. She was so small, a human, yet she had changed his life overnight. And he had taken hers. Taken her life. He had not wanted to say the ritual words; he had been as much under compulsion as his own prey when they exposed their throats to him.

She might say he was a stranger, but they had been in one another’s minds, shared the same body and offered their lives for each other. The exchange of blood as they made love was the ultimate in confirmation of their commitment. Each literally offered his life, vowed to give up his own life to safeguard the other. It was a beautiful, erotic ritual. It was a oneness of mind, heart, soul, body... blood.

Carpathians safeguarded their sleeping quarters from one another. They were vulnerable in sleep and while they were in the throes of sexual passion. The decision to take a lifemate was not a conscious act; it was instinct, a hunger and need. They knew. They recognized their other half. Mikhail recognized Raven as his. He had fought the binding ritual, yet his animal instinct had overcome his civilized trappings. He had dragged her halfway into his world and he was totally responsible for the consequences.

Light was beginning to filter in from upstairs. Mikhail completed the task of making his home safe against intruders. The next night would be long. Work had piled up, and he needed to go hunting. But he had this moment for peace and contentment.

Mikhail slid into bed beside Raven, dragged her hard against his body, wanting to feel every inch of her. She murmured his name sleepily, snuggled into him with the innocent trust of a small child. Instantly his heart somersaulted, and a curious warmth and contentment spread through him. Peace. He touched her because he could. His hand cupped the fullness of her breast, his mouth brushed her nipple, feather light, just once. After pressing a kiss to the vulnerable line of her throat, he sent the command for deep sleep, regulating his breathing to join her.

Chapter Five

Raven surfaced through layer after layer of sleep, felt as though she were wading through quicksand. You did it again!It was sheer outrage that brought her awake, had her sitting up quickly. She was alone in the bedroom. His bedroom.

His mocking, masculine laughter echoed in her mind. Raven threw the pillow against the wall, wishing she could hit him with it. She had lost another day. What was she becoming? His sex slave?

The idea has possibilities,he mused.

Get out of my head!she snapped indignantly, then stretched languidly, a lazy, feline quality to her movements. Her body was deliciously sore, aching everywhere, an intimate reminder of his possession. She couldn’t be angry with him; he made her laugh at his outrageous behavior. How could she mind when her body felt the way it did?

When she rose to take her shower, she saw clothes laid out for her at the end of the bed. Mikhail had already been out shopping. Raven found herself smiling, absurdly pleased that he had remembered. She fingered the skirt, the soft, full midnight-blue material, the matching blouse. You didn’t buy me jeans.She couldn’t resist teasing him.

Women do not belong in men’s clothing.He was unruffled.

Raven stepped into the shower, released the thick braid so she could shampoo her hair. You don’t like the way I look in a pair of jeans?

His laughter held deep, genuine amusement. That is a loaded question .

Where are you?Without realizing it, Raven was communicating a sultry invitation. She touched his mark over her breast with light fingertips. The contact caused her blood to heat, the mark to throb.

Your body needs rest, little one. I have not exactly been the gentlest of lovers, have I?There was self-mockery in his tone, guilt in his mind.

She laughed softly. I don’t have very much to judge you by, do I? There hasn’t been a parade of men in my life.Her soft laughter wrapped him in loving arms. If you like, I could always find someone to compare you with.She offered it sweetly.

She felt the brush of strong fingers on her throat, curling around the fragile column. How did he do that? I’m so scared, macho man. Someone needs to drag you kicking and screaming into this century.

The fingers brushed her face, caressed her lower lip. You love me the way I am.

Love. The smile faded from her soft mouth at the word. She didn’t want to love him. He already had far too much power over her. You can’t hold me here, Mikhail.Obsession might be the right word, not love.

Little rabbit. There are no chains on the doors, and the telephone is in working order. And you do love me; you cannot help yourself. I am perfect for you. Hurry up; you need to eat.

You’re a pain in the neck.As she brushed out her hair, she realized how much easier their telepathic communication was. Practice? Her temples didn’t ache from the effort. She tilted her head for a moment, listened to the sounds of the house. Mikhail was pouring liquid into a glass; she could hear it clearly.

Raven dressed slowly, thoughtfully. Her telepathic abilities were increasing; her senses were more acute. Was it simply Mikhail’s company, or was it something in the herb concoctions he was always pouring down her throat? There was so much she wanted to learn from him. He had great psychic talent.

The skirt swung around her ankles with a sexy little swish, and the blouse clung to her curves. She had to admit that the outfit made her feel feminine, as did his choice of sheer lace panties and matching bra.

Are you going to sit there and moon about me all night?

Night! It had better not be night again, Mikhail. I’m turning into some kind of a mole. And don’t flatter yourself; I was not mooning over you.It took great effort to lie blatantly; she was proud of herself.

And you think I believe your nonsense?He was laughing again, and Raven found she couldn’t help giving in to her own sense of humor.

She found her way though the house, marveling at the artwork, the sculpture. Outside, the sun had already disappeared behind the mountains. Raven gave a little resigned sigh. Mikhail had set a small antique, beautifully carved table on the porch outside the kitchen. He turned his head as she approached, a smile warming his eyes, chasing away the shadows. Heat pooled in her abdomen, ran liquid through her body.

Mikhail bent his dark head to hers, his mouth brushing hers tenderly. “Good evening.” He touched her hair, skimmed his fingers down the side of her face in a long caress. She allowed him to seat her at the table, marveling at his gallant, old-world courtesy. He placed a glass of juice in front of her. “Before I go to work, I thought we could collect your things from the inn.” His long fingers selected a blueberry muffin and transferred it to the antique plate. It was exquisite, but Raven was so shocked at his words, she could only stare at him for a moment, her blue eyes enormous.

“What do you mean, collect my things?” It hadn’t occurred to her that he might expect them to live in the same house together. His house.

His smile was slow, wicked, sexy. “I could keep providing you with new things.”

Raven’s hand trembled. She put it in her lap, out of sight. “I’m not moving in with you, Mikhail.” The idea was scary. She was a very private person, needing large amounts of time alone. He was the most overwhelming being she had ever encountered. How would she ever be able to sort things out with him so near all the time?

His eyebrow shot up. “No? You accepted our ways; we went through the required ritual. In my eyes, the eyes of my people, you are my lifemate, my woman. My wife. Is it the way of the American women to live apart from their husbands?”

There was that infuriating trace of mocking male amusement in his voice, the note that always made her want to throw something at him. She had an idea he was laughing at her secretly, amused by her caution.

“We aren’t married,” she said decisively. It was difficult to ignore the way her heart leapt with joy at his words.

Tendrils of fog were drifting into the forest, winding around thick tree trunks, spreading out to hover a few feet from the ground. The effect was eerie, but beautiful.

“In the eyes of my people, in the eyes of God, we are.” There was an implacable resolve, a my-word-is-law in his voice that set her teeth on edge.

“What about in my eyes, Mikhail? My beliefs? Do they count for nothing?” she demanded belligerently.

“I see the answer in your eyes, feel it in your body. You struggle needlessly, Raven. You know you are mine...”

She stood up quickly, pushed the chair out of her way. “I don’t belong to anyone, least of all you, Mikhail! You can’t just decree what will be in my life and expect me to fall in with your plans.” Raven ran down the three steps to the path winding into the forest. “I need some air. You’re driving me crazy.”

Mikhail laughed softly. “Are you so afraid of yourself?”

“Go to the devil, Mikhail!” Raven set her foot on the path and began walking quickly before he could charm his way around her. And he could; she knew it. It was his eyes, the shape of his mouth, the little grin he gave her when he was deliberately provoking her.

The fog was very dense, the air wet and heavy with it. With her acute sense of hearing, she could hear every rustling in the bushes, every swaying of the branches, the beat of wings in the sky.

Mikhail paced himself behind her. “Perhaps I am the devil, little one. I am certain that has crossed your mind.”

She glared at him over her shoulder. “Stop following me!”

“Am I not a gentleman, obligated to see his lady home?”

“Stop laughing! If you laugh at me one more time I swear I won’t be responsible for what I do.” Raven became aware of the slinking figures then, the burning eyes following her. Her heart nearly stopped, then began to pound. “Fine!” She whirled around and glared at him. “This is great! Just great, Mikhail. Call in the wolves to eat me alive. I find the idea so you.So logical.”