Mikhail closed his arms around her. He had taken her life away from her, without her knowledge. She was comforting him, declaring him to be a special man, great in her eyes, yet she didn’t know of his crime. She was bound to him, could not be away from him for long. He had no words to explain it to her without giving away more about their race than he could safely do. She thought she couldn’t live up to his greatness. She made him feel humble and ashamed of himself.
His hand cupped her face, his thumb caressing the delicate line of her jaw. “Listen to me, Raven.” He brushed a kiss on the top of her silky head. “I know I do not deserve you. You think you are somehow less than what I am, but in truth, you are so far above me, I have no right even to reach for you.”
When she stirred as if to protest, Mikhail held her tighter. “No, little one, I know this is true. I see you clearly, whereas you do not have access to my thoughts and memories. I cannot give you up. I wish I was a stronger, better man so that I could do so, but I cannot. I can only promise you that I will do everything in my power to make you happy, to provide for you everything I can possibly give you. J ask for time to learn your ways, for room to make mistakes. If you need to hear words of love”—his mouth skimmed down the side of her face to find the corner of her mouth—”then I can say them to you in all honesty. I have never wanted a woman for my own. I have never wanted anyone to have that kind of power over me. I have never shared with any woman what I have shared with you.”
His kiss was infinitely tender, a searing, smoky flame tasting of love and longing. “You are in my heart to stay, Raven. I know better than you the differences between us. I ask only for a chance.”
She turned herself in his arms, pressed her body lovingly against his. “You really think we can make this work? We can find a middle ground?”
She really had no idea of the risk he would be taking. Once she lived with him, he could never seek the safety and sanctuary of the earth. He could not leave her without his protection even for a day. From the moment she moved in with him, the danger to him would increase tenfold, as it would to her. The assassins would not differentiate between them. She would be condemned in their eyes. On top of all his other crimes, he was dragging her into a dangerous world.
His hand moved to the nape of her neck. So fragile, so small. “We will never know unless we try.” His arms closed around her, holding her to him as if he would never let her go.
Raven felt the sudden tensing of his body. He lifted his head alertly, as if scenting the wind, as if listening to the night. She found herself doing the same, inhaling deeply, striving to hear deep into the forest. Far away, the faint, distant howls of the wolf pack floated on the breeze as they called to one another, called to Mikhail.
Shocked, Raven flung back her head. “They’re talking to you! How do I know that, Mikhail? How could I possibly know such a thing?”
He ruffled her hair lightly, affectionately. “You hang out with the wrong crowd.”
He was rewarded with a bubble of laughter. It tugged at his heart, left him open and vulnerable. “What is this?” she teased. “Lord of the manor picks up nineties slang?”
He grinned at her boyishly, mischievously. “Maybe I am the one hanging out with the wrong crowd.”
“And maybe there’s hope for you yet.” She kissed his throat, his chin, the stubborn line of his blue-shadowed jaw.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you look in that outfit?” His arm curved around her shoulders, turned her toward the table. “We are about to have company.” With unhurried movements he poured half a glass of juice into the goblet on his side of the table, crumbled a small piece of pastry to dust between his fingers, and sprinkled it over both of their plates.
“Mikhail?” Raven’s voice was wary. “Be careful if you use mental contact. I think there is another person besides me who has telepathic abilities.”
“All of my people have this ability,” he answered carefully.
“Not like you, Mikhail.” She was frowning, rubbing her forehead. “Like me.”
“Why did you not mention this to me?” he asked softly, his voice a whip of demand. “You know my people are being stalked, our women murdered. I tracked three of the assassins to the very inn where you are staying.”
“Because I don’t know for certain, Mikhail. I try never to touch people. Over the years I’ve taught myself not to have contact, not to allow anyone to touch me.” She speared her hand through her hair, a little frown creasing her forehead. “I’m sorry. I should have said something about my suspicions, but I wasn’t certain.”
Mikhail smoothed the line on her forehead with a gentle fingertip, touched her mouth tenderly. “I did not mean to jump down your throat, little one. We need to discuss this at our first opportunity. Can you hear it?”
She reached out into the night. “A car.”
“A mile or so away.” He dragged the night air into his lungs. “Father Hummer and two strangers. Women. They wear perfume. One is older.”
“There are only eight guests besides myself staying at the inn.” Raven was finding it hard to breathe. “They came in on a tour together. An older couple from the States, Harry and Margaret Summers. Jacob and Shelly Evans are a brother and sister from Belgium. There were four men from different places, somewhere on the Continent. I really haven’t spoken much to them.”
“Any of them could be with the assassins,” he said grimly. He was secretly pleased that she hadn’t paid much attention to the other men. He didn’t want her looking at other men, not ever.
“I think I would have known, don’t you?” she asked. “I deal with killers more than I would like to admit. Only one of these people has telepathic abilities, and certainly no stronger than mine.”
She could hear the car easily now, but the dense fog prevented them from seeing it. Mikhail tipped up her chin with two fingers. “We are already bound together in the way of my people. Will you speak vows in the way of yours?”
Her blue eyes widened with shock, eyes a man could drown in. Eyes a man could spend eternity staring into. A small, very male smile tugged at his mouth. He had succeeded in shocking her.
“Mikhail, are you asking me to marry you?”
“I am not really certain I know how it is done. Should I be on my knee?” He was grinning openly at her. “You’re proposing to me with a carload of assassins approaching?”
“Wanna-be assassins.” He displayed knowledge of Stateside slang with a small, heart-wrenching smile. “Say yes. You know you cannot possibly resist me. Say yes.”
“After you made me drink that disgusting apple juice? You set your wolves on me, Mikhail. I know there’s a long list of sins I should be reciting.” Her eyes were sparkling with mischief.
He pulled her into his arms, against the heavy muscles of his chest, fitting her neatly into the cradle of his hips. “I can see this is going to take some heavy persuasion.” His lips moved over her face like a brand, fastened on her mouth and rocked the very earth.
“No one should be able to kiss like this,” Raven whispered.
He kissed her again, tantalizingly sweet, his tongue sliding over hers sensuously, pure magic, pure promise. “Say yes, Raven. Feel how much I need you.”
Mikhail dragged her closer so the hard evidence of his desire was clearly imprinted against her flat stomach. Taking her hand in his, he brought it down to cover the aching bulge, rubbed her palm slowly back and forth across him, tormenting both of them. He opened his mind so she could feel the sharpness of his hunger, the edge to his passion, the flood of warmth and love enveloping her, them.
Say yes, Raven;
he whispered it in her head, needing her to want him back, to accept him, good or bad.
You take such unfair advantage.
Her reply held a trace of amusement, was warm honey spilling over with love.
The car nosed out of the mist, came to a halt under a canopy of trees. Mikhail turned to face the outsiders, instinctively placing his body protective
ly between Raven and the three visitors. “Father Hummer, what a pleasant surprise.” Mikhail extended a welcoming hand to the priest, but there was a hard bite to his voice.
“Raven!” Shelly Evans pushed rudely past the priest and rushed toward Raven, although her eyes were devouring Mikhail.
Mikhail saw the ripple of dismay in Raven’s eyes before Shelly reached her, flinging her arms around Raven and hugging her tightly. Shelly had no idea Raven could read her envy and her sexual interest in Mikhail. He could feel Raven’s natural revulsion to physical touch, to the woman’s concern, to her fantasies about Mikhail, but Raven managed a smile and returned the hug.
“What’s this all about? Is something wrong?” Raven asked softly, gently disentangling herself from the taller woman.
“Well, my dear,” Margaret Summers said firmly, glaring at Mikhail and reaching for Raven. “We insisted Father Hummer bring us to check on you.”
The moment the thin, wrinkled hand touched her arm, Raven recognized the push at her mind. At the same time her stomach heaved, rolled, and shards of glass pierced her skull, fragmenting her mind. For a moment she couldn’t breathe. She had touched death. She drew away instantly, wiping her palm on her thigh.
Mikhail!
She focused on him entirely.
I’m sick
.
“Mrs. Galvenstein did not assure you Raven was safe in my care?” Mikhail gently but firmly inserted his body between Raven and the older woman. He had felt the older woman’s clumsy attempt at a probe when she brushed by him. His teeth gleamed whitely. “Please enter my home and make yourselves comfortable. I believe it is growing rather cold out.”
Margaret Summers was twisting this way and that, observing the table with two glasses and plates, the crumbs of pastry on two plates. Her eyes pinned Raven, as if trying to see through the material of her dress to her neck.
Mikhail’s arm curved around Raven’s shoulder, swept her into the healing shelter of his body. He hid his smile as he watched Mrs. Summers hold Shelly back until Father Hummer preceded them into Mikhail’s house. They were so predictable. He bent his head.
Are you all right?
I’m going to throw up. The apple juice.
She looked up at him accusingly.
Let me help you. They will not know.
He turned, blocking her smaller frame with his large one. He spoke a soft command, kissed her gently.
Better?
She touched his jaw, her fingers conveying what she felt.
Thanks.
They turned together to face their visitors.
Margaret and Shelly were staring in awe at Mikhail’s home. He had money, and the interior of his home reeked of it: marble and hardwood; soft, warm colors; artwork and antiques. It was obvious Margaret was both surprised and impressed.
Father Hummer seated himself comfortably in his favorite armchair. “I believe we interrupted something important.” He looked pleased with himself and secretly amused, his faded eyes twinkling every time they met the blackness of Mikhail’s fathomless gaze.
“Raven has consented to become my wife.” Mikhail brought her fingers to the warmth of his mouth. “I did not have enough time to give her the ring. You drove up before I could put it on her finger.”
Margaret touched the well-worn Bible sitting on the table. “How very romantic, Raven. Do you plan on being married in the Church?”
“Of course the child must be married in the Church. Mikhail is strong in his beliefs and would consider nothing less,” Father Hummer said in a mild rebuke.
Raven kept her hand in Mikhail’s as they curled up together on the sofa. Margaret’s faded eyes were as sharp as talons. “Why have you been hiding out, my dear?” Her gaze was darting everywhere, trying to ferret out secrets.
Mikhail stirred, leaned back lazily. “You could hardly call it hiding out. We phoned Mrs. Galvenstein, your landlady, and let her know Raven was staying with me. Surely she told you.”
“The last I heard of Raven, she had gone into the wilds to meet you for a picnic,” Margaret declared. “I knew she was ill and I was worried, so I found out your name and asked the priest to escort us here.” Her sharp gaze rested on a silver antique mirror.
“I’m sorry I caused you distress, Mrs. Summers,” Raven said sweetly. “I’ve had a terrible case of the flu. If I had known anyone would be worried, I would have called.” She said it pointedly.
“I wanted to see you for myself.” Margaret pursed her lips together stubbornly. “We’re both Americans, and I feel responsible for you.”
“I am grateful for your concern. Raven is the light of my life.” Mikhail leaned forward with his predator’s smile. “I am Mikhail Dubrinsky. I do not believe we have been formally introduced.”
Margaret hesitated; then, with a lift of her chin, she placed her hand in his and muttered her name. Mikhail oozed goodwill and love spiced mischievously with a healthy dose of lust for Raven.
Shelly eagerly introduced herself. “Mr. Dubrinsky?”
“Mikhail, please.” His charm was so intense, Shelly nearly fell off her chair.
She wiggled a lot and crossed her legs to give him a better view. “Mikhail, then.” Shelly flashed a coquettish smile. “Father Hummer tells us you are somewhat of a historian and would know all the folklore in and around the country. I’m doing a paper on folklore. Specifically, if there is any truth to the local legends. Would you know anything about vampires?”
Raven blinked, tried not to burst out laughing. Shelly was definitely in earnest, and she had fallen for Mikhail’s magnetism. She would be very embarrassed if Raven laughed. She concentrated on Mikhail’s thumb stroking the inside of her wrist. It helped her feel stronger.
“Vampires.” Mikhail repeated the term matter-of-factly. “Of course the most popular area for vampires is in Transylvania, but we have our own stories. All through the Carpathian Mountains there are extraordinary tales. There is a tour, following Jonathan Harker’s route to Transylvania. I am sure you would find it most enjoyable.”
Margaret leaned forward. “Do you believe there is truth to the stories?”
“Mrs. Summers!” Raven showed her shock. “You don’t, do you?” Margaret’s face closed down, her lips pursed again belligerently.
“I always have believed there is a grain of truth in nearly every story handed down through the ages. Perhaps that is what Mrs. Summers believes,” Mikhail said gently.
Margaret nodded her head, relaxed visibly, and bestowed a benevolent smile on Mikhail. “I’m so glad we agree, Mr. Dubrinsky. A man in your position should certainly be a man with an open mind. How could so many people over hundreds of years tell such similar stories without some truth to the legend?”
“A living corpse?” Raven’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t know about the Middle Ages, but I’d notice if dead people started walking around dragging off children.”
“There is that,” Mikhail agreed. “We haven’t had a large number of unexplained deaths that I’m aware of in the last few years.”
“But some of the locals tell stories of some pretty strange things.” Shelly was loath to give up her ideas.
“Of course they do.” Mikhail grinned engagingly. “It is so much better for business. A few years ago... when was it, Father? You remember when Swaney wanted to drum up the tourist trade and he poked himself in the neck with a couple of knitting needles and had the newspaper take pictures. He hung a wreath of garlic around his neck and walked about town, claiming the garlic made him sick.”
“How do you know it wasn’t real?” Margaret demanded.
“The pinpricks became infected. It turned out he was allergic to the garlic and he had no option but to confess.” Mikhail grinned mischievously at the two women. “Father Hummer made him do penance. Swaney said the rosary thirty-seven times in a row.”
Father Hummer threw back his head and laughed heartily. “He certainly had everyone’s attention for a while there. Newspaper people were flying in fr
om all directions. It was quite an entertaining show.”
Mikhail grimaced. “As I recall, I had to spend so much time out of my office, I worked day and night for a week to catch up.”
“Even you had enough of a sense of humor to appreciate his little venture, Mikhail,” Father Hummer said. “I’ve been around a long time, ladies, and I’ve never once encountered a walking corpse.”
Raven swept a hand through her hair, rubbed at her pounding head. The slivers of glass were relentless. She always associated such pain with prolonged exposure to a sick mind. Mikhail’s hand came up, brushed her temple tenderly, trailed his fingers down her soft skin. “It is getting late, and Raven is still feeling the effects of the flu. Perhaps we could continue this discussion another evening?”
Dark Prince (Dark Series - book 1) Page 12
