“Really?” She arched an eyebrow at him. “I don’t dare. You’re already as arrogant as I can stand.”
“You are crazy about me. I know. I read minds.” He suddenly grinned mischievously, like a little boy.
“Next time you make love to me, do you think we might go for convention and find a bed?” She sat up gingerly.
Mikhail’s arm curved around her in support. “Did I hurt you?”
She laughed softly. “Are you kidding? Though I wouldn’t mind a long soak in a hot tub.”
He rubbed the top of her head with his chin. “I think we can arrange that, little one.” He should have realized the wood floor would not be the most comfortable of spots. “You tend to drive every sane thought from my head.” It was an apology as he lifted her into his arms. His long strides took them through the house to the master bathroom.
Raven’s eyes warmed, melted, her smile so loving his breath caught in his throat. “You do tend to get a little primitive, Mikhail.”
He growled at her, lowered his head to hers slowly, fastened his mouth to hers. There was such a mixture of tenderness and hunger, she ached for him. Very gently he set her on her feet, her small face framed in his hand. “I will never get enough of you, Raven, never. But you need to soak in the tub and I need to feed.”
“Eat.” She bent to fill the tub with hot, steamy water. “In English you use the word
eat.
I’m not the greatest cook, but I could put something together for you.”
His white teeth gleamed like a predator’s as he lit candles for her. “You are not here as my slave, little one. At least not in the domestic 1 sense.” His eyes watched without blinking as she knotted her hair on top of her head. It was unnerving, yet Raven’s body tingled under the heat of his gaze. He held out a hand to help her into the large tub. The moment his strong fingers closed around hers, Raven had the peculiar sensation of being captured.
Raven cleared her throat, then lowered her body gingerly into the steaming water. “So, do you believe in being faithful?” She tried to sound casual.
A dark shadow crossed his craggy features. “A true Carpathian of my race does not feel the shallow, childish, pale version of human love. If you were to be with another man, I would know, feel you, your thoughts, your emotions.” He traced his fingertip along her delicate cheekbone. “You would not want to face the demon in me, little one. I am capable of tremendous violence. I will not share you.”
“You would never hurt me, Mikhail, no matter what the cause of your anger,” Raven said softly, with complete conviction.
“You will always be safe with me,” he agreed, “but I cannot say the same for anyone who would threaten to take you from me. All of my people are telepathic. A strong emotion such as sexual passion is impossible to conceal.”
“Do you mean to say those of you who marry...”
“Take a lifemate,” he corrected.
“They never are unfaithful to one another?” she asked incredulously.
“Not a true lifemate. There have been instances—” Mikhail’s fist clenched tightly. Poor sweet Noelle, so obsessed with wanting Rand. “The few that do betray their chosen mate do not feel as they should; otherwise it would be impossible. That is why it is so important to know absolutely in one’s mind, heart, soul, and body. As I know it is so with you.” The ritual words could not bind two who were not already one. Life mating united two halves of the same whole, but he could not find a way to express such a thing in terms she would understand.
“But, Mikhail, I’m not one of your people.” She was beginning to realize there were differences besides customs that she needed to be aware of, to take into consideration.
He crushed herbs into a bowl, dumped the mixture into her bathwater. It would help with her soreness. “You would know if I touched another woman.”
“But you could make me forget,” she mused aloud, a small frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. He could feel her heart begin to race, the sudden doubt in her mind.
He crouched beside the tub, cupping her face with gentle fingers. “I am incapable of betraying you, Raven. I might force your compliance for the sake of your safety or your protection, for your life and health, but not to get away with betrayal.”
She touched the tip of her tongue to her full lower lip. “Don’t force me to do anything unless you ask the way you did when I was feeling sick.”
Mikhail hid a smile. She always tried to sound so tough, his small package of dynamite, with more courage than good sense. “Little one, I live only for your happiness Now, I have to go out for a little while.”
“You can’t go looking for the murderers by yourself. I mean it, Mikhail; it’s too dangerous. If that’s what you’re doing...”
He kissed her, his laughter genuine. “Business, Raven. Take a long soak, look over the house, my books, anything you want.” He grinned at her boyishly. “I have a stack of work beside the computer if you want to try your hand at looking at bids for me.”
“Exactly how I planned to spend my evening.”
“One last.thing.” Mikhail was gone almost before she could blink, and returned nearly as fast. He took her left hand in his. “Your people will recognize this as a clear sign that you are taken.”
She hid her smile. He was so territorial, like a wild animal staking his claim. Like the wolves roaming so freely in his forest. She touched the ring with a reverent finger. It was antique, gold, a fiery ruby surrounded by diamonds. “Mikhail, this is beautiful. Where did you find such a thing?”
“It has been in my family for generations. If you prefer something else... something more modern—” It looked as if it belonged on her finger.
“It’s perfect and you know it.” She touched it reverently. “I love it. Go, but hurry back. I’ll find out all your secrets while you’re gone.”
Mikhail was hungry, needed to feed. He bent to brush her forehead with his mouth, his heart aching. “Just for one day, little one, I would like to have a normal, happy conversation with you. Court you as I should.”
She tilted her head to look at him, her blue eyes dark with emotion. “You court me just fine. Go eat now and leave me be.”
Mikhail touched her hair just once before he left.
He moved among the townspeople, breathing in the night. The stars seemed brighter, the moon a gleaming silver light. Colors were sharp and clear, smells drifting on the breeze. Wisps of fog trailed here and there in the street. He felt like singing. He had found her after so long and she made the earth move and his blood heat. She brought laughter back into his life and taught him what love was.
The hour was growing late, the couples drifting toward their homes. Mikhail chose a trio of young men. He was hungry and needed strength. The night would be long. He had every intention of confirming or eliminating Mrs. Romanov as one of the assassins. The women needed a midwife and a sorrowing, bereaved one was better than one who might betray them at the first opportunity.
He drew the trio to him with a single silent command, marveling, as he had so many times, at how easy it was to control his prey. He joined their conversation, laughing with them, confiding a couple of hot business opportunities. In their early twenties, they were thinking more about women than making money. It always amazed him how disrespectful human men were toward their women. Perhaps they could not understand what their lives would be like without them.
He led them to the safety of the darkened trees and drank his fill, making certain not to take too much from any of them. He finished as he did everything, carefully, completely. That was why he was the oldest and the most formidable. He paid attention to the smallest of details. He walked with them for a few more minutes, ensuring that they were all fine before leaving them with a casual wave and a feeling of friendship.
Mikhail turned away from them, the smile fading from his lips. The night concealed the hunter in him, the dark, terrible purpose in his eyes, the cruel edge to his sensuous mouth. His muscles rippled wit
h raw power, flexed and contracted with his enormous strength. He moved around the corner and simply disappeared. His speed was incredible, without compare.
His mind reached out for Raven’s, craving the contact.
What are you doing all alone in that spooky old house?
Her soft laughter filled his utter coldness with warmth.
Waiting for my big bad wolf to come home. Do you have your clothes on?
This time her response sent fingers playing over his skin, touching him intimately, heating his body. Warmth, laughter, purity. He hated being away from her, hated the distance separating them.
Of course I have my clothes on! What if more unexpected visitors arrive? I can’t very well greet them naked, can I?
She was teasing, but the thought of anyone approaching his home with her alone and unprotected made a sliver of fear slice through him. It was an unfamiliar emotion and he almost couldn’t identify it.
Mikhail? Are you all right? Do you need me? I’ll come to you.
Stay there. Listen for the wolves. If they sing to you, call me right away.
There was that brief hesitation that meant she was annoyed with his tone.
Idon’t want you to worry about me, Mikhail. You have enough people who make demands on you.
Perhaps that is so, little one, but you are the only one I truly give a damn about. And drink another glass of juice. You will find some in the refrigerator.
He broke the contact, found he was smiling at their brief exchange. She would have argued over the order for nourishment if he had waited long enough. He rather liked to irritate her sometimes. He liked the way her blue eyes deepened into sapphire, and how she got that little edge in her carefully controlled voice.
Mikhail?
Her voice startled him, low and warm and filled with feminine amusement.
Try making suggestions next time, or just plain asking. You go do whatever it is you’re doing, and I’ll go search your extensive library for a book on manners.
He nearly forgot he was crouched at the base of a tree only a few hundred feet from the shack belonging to Hans and Heidi Romanov. Mikhail managed to suppress his urge to laugh.
You will not find one.
Why am I not surprised?
This time Raven broke contact.
For a brief moment he allowed himself the luxury of wrapping himself in her warmth, her laughter, her love. Why God had chosen this time, when Mikhail was in his darkest hour, to send him such a gift, he had no idea. What he had to do was inevitable; the continuation of his race demanded it. The brutal ugliness of it filled him with revulsion. He would have to return to her with death on his hands, the deaths of more than one human. He could not walk away from it, could not hand the job over to someone else. His regret was not in taking the life of Noelle’s murderers, so much as in having to ask Raven to live with his deed. It would not be the first time he’d taken a life.
With a sigh, he shape-shifted. The small rodent scurried easily through the leaves on the ground to cross the open space to the shack. The beat of wings came to his ears and the rodent froze. Mikhail hissed a warning, and the owl gliding in for the attack veered off. The rodent gained the safety of the wooden stairs, flicked its tail, and began to search for a crack or hole in the wall to gain entry.
Mikhail had already picked up two familiar scents. Hans was entertaining. The rodent squeezed through a chink between two rotting boards and found its way into a bedroom. Silently the creature raced across the floor to the doorway. Mikhail allowed the odors of the household to be processed by the rodent’s body. He moved carefully in little stops and starts until he managed to gain a position in a darkened corner of the room.
Heidi Ramanov sat in a wooden chair directly across from him, weeping softly, a rosary clutched in her hand.
Hans faced three men, a map spread between them on a table.
“You’re wrong, Hans. You were wrong about Noelle,” Mrs. Romanov sobbed. “You’ve gone crazy and you’ve brought in these killers. My God, you have murdered an innocent girl, a new mother. Your soul is lost.”
“Shut up, old woman,” Hans shouted rudely, his face a mask of fanaticism. He blazed with it, a crusader fighting a holy war. “I know what I saw.” He crossed himself, his eyes darting left and right as a curious shadow like that of a winged creature seemed to pass over the shack.
For a moment everyone in the room went quiet. Mikhail could taste their fear, hear the sudden frantic pounding of their hearts. Inside the house, Hans had hung wreaths of garlic at every window and over the doors. He stood up slowly, licking suddenly dry lips, grabbing at the cross hanging around his neck and moving to a window to assure himself the wreath was in place. “What about that? That shadow just now? You all still think I made a mistake because we found her in a bed and not sleeping in the ground?”
“There was nothing, no dirt, no protections,” a dark-haired foreigner said reluctantly. Mikhail recognized the man’s spoor. Assassin. One from the inn. Inside the rodent, the beast unsheathed its claws and flexed. They had murdered Noelle without even being certain she was what they sought.
“I know what I saw, Eugene,” Hans declared. “After Heidi left, the woman began to lose blood. I had arrived to walk Heidi home because the woods are dangerous. I was going to tell the husband I would bring Heidi back to help. He was very agitated and did not see me as I looked in. I saw it with my own eyes. She drank so much, he was weak and pale. I got out of there and contacted you immediately.”
Eugene nodded his head. “You did the right thing. I came as soon as I could and brought the others. If they’ve learned a way to whelp, we’ll be overrun with the devils.”
The largest man in the room stirred uncomfortably. “I’ve never heard of a vampire breeding. They kill the living to enlarge their ranks. They sleep in the ground and guard their lairs. You acted before we could investigate this thoroughly.”
“Kurt,” Eugene protested, “we saw the opportunity and we took it. And how come her body just disappeared? After we did it, we ran. The husband and child have not been seen since. We know the woman is dead—we killed her—yet there is no hue and cry over her death.”
“We must find the husband and child,” Hans decreed. “And any others; we must stamp them out.” He peered nervously out the warped glass into the night. He let out a low exclamation of alarm. “Look, Eugene—a wolf. That damn Dubrinsky protects them on his land. Someday they’re going to overrun our village and make off with the children.” He reached down for the old rifle propped against the wall.
Eugene jumped up. “Wait, Hans! Are you certain it’s a wolf? A real wolf? Why would a wolf be out of the woods and staring at your house?”
“Who is this Dubrinsky who keeps wolves?” Kurt demanded.
“He is of the Church!” Heidi hissed, shocked at the implication. “He is a good man, in church every Sunday. Father Hummer is one of his dearest friends. They often eat supper together and play chess. I have seen this with my own eyes.”
Hans waved her testimony aside. “Dubrinsky is the devil himself. See it out there, the wolf slinking in the bushes, watching the house?”
“I tell you, that’s not natural.” Eugene lowered his voice. “It’s one of them.”
“They couldn’t know it was us,” Hans denied, but he betrayed his fear with his trembling hands. He lifted the rifle to his shoulder.
“You’ll have to get it with the first shot, Hans,” Eugene warned.
The rodent raced across the floor into the bedroom and squeezed through the small crack. Mikhail burst from the rodent’s body, his mind reaching out into the night with a warning, shape-shifting as he ran, becoming a huge black wolf with burning eyes of vengeance.
He covered the ground in a rush, leaping at the smaller wolf’s body. As his heavier frame crashed into the smaller one, Mikhail felt fire exploding in his flesh. The smaller wolf slunk into the heavy woods. Although blood gushed from its hindquarters, the huge black wolf didn’t utter a
cry, didn’t run away. Instead, the wolf turned its large head and stared at the house with two burning coals for eyes, staring with a promise. Vengeance. Retribution. The dark promise of death itself.
Mikhail!
Raven’s sharp cry rang in his head.
The black wolf stared a moment longer, holding Hans Romanov in his power; then it turned and simply vanished into the night. There was no way that any of the men would dare attempt to track it. The huge wolf had come out of nowhere, leaping to protect the smaller wolf. The black wolf was no ordinary wolf, and not one of them wanted to follow it into the timber.
Mikhail trotted to the safety of the deep forest before pain and loss of blood drove him to take his human form. He staggered, caught at a thick tree branch, and sat down abruptly.
Mikhail! Please! I know you’re hurt. Where are you? I can feel your pain. Let me come to you. Let me help you.
Behind Mikhail the bushes rustled. He didn’t bother to turn, knowing Byron was there, ashamed, embarrassed, filled with remorse. “Mikhail. God, I am sorry. Is it bad?”
Dark Prince (Dark Series - book 1) Page 14
