Mikhail stood in the center of the ferocious storm, his black eyes as cold as death. He stood tall and elegant despite the scarlet stain spreading across his silk shirt. His body was relaxed, unmoving in the midst of chaos. He lifted a hand, and the roaring of the wind died down. Mikhail regarded Andre for a long moment. “Release her.” His voice was very soft, but it struck utter terror in the hearts of all who heard him.
Andre’s fingers tightened convulsively in Raven’s silky hair.
Mikhail’s answering smile was cruel. “Do you wish me to force your compliance, so you come crawling to your death as you forced your victims?”
Andre’s fingers spasmed and his arm jerked like a puppet’s. He stared in horror at Mikhail, never conceiving of such power. Such mind control did not work easily, on Carpathians.
Come to me, Raven.
Mikhail did not take his eyes from the vampire, holding him helpless with his mind alone. So great was his fury, he hardly required Gregori’s mind merge to assist him.
One by one the Carpathian males materialized, their faces masks of condemnation. Raven could feel the human couple’s terror rising, approaching near madness. She staggered to them, wrapping her arms protectively around Monique. “He will save us,” she whispered to them.
“He is like the other,” Alexander rasped hoarsely.
“No, he is good. He will save us.” Raven stated the truth simply, with great conviction.
Mikhail released the vampire abruptly. Andre looked around him, his mouth twisted sardonically. “Does it take an army for you to go on the hunt?”
“You have been sentenced for your crimes, Andre. Should I fail, the sentence will be carried out by another.” Mikhail indicated two Carpathians with his finger and nodded toward Raven. His tall form emanated power and confidence. “You are but a child, Andre.” His voice was a pure tone, pitched low and velvet soft. “You cannot hope to match one who has battled so many times, but I offer you the chance you have worked so hard to attain.” The black eyes glittered with icy fury.
“Vengeance, Mikhail?” Andre asked sarcastically. “How very common of you.” He launched himself, razor-sharp claws extended, fangs dripping.
Mikhail simply disappeared, and the vampire found himself tumbling out of the house on the ground, the savage night closing in on him, the Carpathian males in a huge, loose circle corralling him in. Andre turned in the direction in which the others were looking. Mikhail was standing a few feet from him, a black fury burning in his unblinking gaze.
Aidan advanced on Raven, his glittering eyes golden and piercing as his gaze swept over the mortals huddled behind her. “Come with us,” he ordered abruptly. “Mikhail wishes us to see that you are safe.”
Raven didn’t recognize him, but she did recognize the stamp of confidence he carried, the complete self-possession. His voice was soft and hypnotic, almost mesmerizing. “Did you see where Andre put the key so we can free Alexander?” Raven asked Monique, attempting to move around the other Carpathian male blocking her path.
Without warning, Raven’s eyes widened, and she clutched her side, a strangled cry catching in her throat. She went down hard, curling in agony, a crimson smear across her forehead, trickling into her eyes. Monique threw herself to the floor beside the younger woman. Raven was completely unaware of her. She was no longer within the confines of the house, had no knowledge of Aidan or Byron or even Monique and Alexander. She was outside with the blood-red moon spilling down on her, facing a demon of immense power and strength. A demon whose eyes had glowing red flames leaping in them, whose smile was cruelty itself. He was totally without mercy. He was tall, graceful, supremely confident, and she knew he was going to kill her. There was an animal beauty in the fluid way he moved. There was death and damnation in those soulless eyes. He was absolutely invincible. He had struck her body a mortal wound and glided away with blinding speed. There was no pity and no feeling in him. He was without mercy, relentless, ruthless, and without remorse.
See him as he is, a killer, a stalker of mortals and Carpathians alike.
Andre hissed in her mind.
Know him for the beast that he is. You see an educated man who controls you with his mind. This is the real Mikhail Dubrinsky. He has hunted hundreds of us, perhaps thousands of his own people, and slain them. He will murder us and feel nothing but the joy of ultimate power.
Andre’s mind was merged fully with hers so that she was looking through his eyes, feeling his hatred and fear, feeling the pain from the blow Mikhail had administered when Andre had attacked him. Raven struggled to break away from the vampire’s hold on her mind, but Andre knew he was going to die and hung on to her with total determination. She would be his last revenge. With every blow Andre received, with every burning wound Mikhail inflicted on him, Raven would feel the same pain. The vampire could at least glory in that pain.
Raven could see his plan clearly, knew Mikhail felt the initial rush of agony overwhelming her. She could barely breathe, but, wanting to spare him, she tried to close herself off from him. But Mikhail was far too strong to allow her such a withdrawal from him. She could feel his utter cold fury, his lack of mercy, his desire for battle, the urge to kill the renegade. She could feel his sudden indecision as he realized what the vampire was doing.
Raven. Hear me.
Gregori. Calm in the eye of the storm.
His voice beautiful, hypnotic, soothing.
Give yourself to me. You will sleep now.
Gregori gave Raven little choice in the matter, but even so, she gave herself up willingly, gratefully, to the hypnotic voice and went under immediately, removing Andre’s last threat to Mikhail.
A long, slow hiss of air escaped Mikhail’s lungs. He moved, a blur too fast to see. Andre’s body flew backwards under the blow. The crack was loud in the unnatural silence. Andre struggled to his feet, eyes glazed, wildly seeking his antagonist.
“I have won.” He spit a mouthful of blood and pressed a trembling hand to his chest. “She saw you as you are. What you do here cannot change that.” He did not take his gaze from Mikhail’s body, didn’t blink, didn’t dare. It seemed an impossibility for even a Carpathian to be that fast. There was something terrible in those black, merciless eyes. Without Raven awake and aware, there was not a shred of pity or compassion.
Andre took a cautious step backwards, focused his mind, and aimed. Fiery light crackled and snapped, then hit the ground where Mikhail had been. The noise was tremendous; the blow shook the earth. The whip of electricity sizzled and retreated, leaving a patch of blackened, scarred earth behind. Andre screamed as something snapped his head back and a huge gash opened around his throat, spewing bright crimson blood in a fountain.
The fourth blow opened Andre’s chest, smashing through protective bones and muscle to the heart. Those black, merciless eyes stared into Andre’s without pity as Mikhail ripped the heart from his chest. Mikhail contemptuously dropped the still pulsing organ to the ground beside the lifeless body, ensuring that the vampire could not rise again. He stood over his fallen enemy, fighting to control the beast in himself, the wild surge of triumph, the addicting rush of power that shook his body. He felt none of his earlier wounds, only a sheer joy in the night, in his victory.
The wildness in him grew dangerously, spread like molten fire. The wind whipped up and carried a scent.
Raven.
Mikhail’s blood surged hotly; his fangs ached and hunger grew. He scented the humans, the one that had touched his lifemate. Bloodlust shook him, and the Carpathians stepped farther back, as the power seemed to radiate from Mikhail’s body, as the need to kill nearly overwhelmed him. The wind swirled around him in a constant eddy, and Raven’s scent remained elusive and faint.
Raven.
His body clenched, burned.
Raven.
The wind whispered her name and the turbulent storm raging in him began to ease.
Mikhail’s mind reached for the light, the path back from the world of violence.
“Destroy this thing,” he snapped tersely, to no one in particular. He gathered energy from the sky and bathed his hands in it, removing the tainted blood from his body. He moved with blinding speed back inside the ruins of the vampire’s lair, materialized out of thin air, and loomed over Monique, who was holding Raven’s lifeless body in her arms, rocking her.
Chapter Sixteen
Raven became aware of her surroundings slowly. She was on a bed, her body without clothing. Mikhail was behind her, his hands tangled in her thick, damp hair. She recognized the feel of his sure fingers working to braid her hair, his movements calm and deliberate, very matter-of-fact, putting her at ease despite her shadowy memory. She appeared to be in an old castle that was small and inevitably drafty. The bedchamber was warm, and Mikhail had flooded it with the essence of soothing herbs and the romance of flickering candlelight. He had cleaned them both so that their bodies only smelled of each other and the scent of the herbal soap he used. He took his time braiding the length of hair while she tried to orient herself to her new surroundings. Mikhail touched her mind, found it confused, desperately holding on to sanity. She was afraid of him and even more afraid to trust her own judgment. Raven studied each corner of the room, each wall, every detail, while her heart pounded frantically, the sound loud in her ears. The room was beautiful. A fire glowed in the fireplace; long, tapered candles emitted a light fragrance that mingled with the soothing scent of herbs. A well-worn Bible lay on the small end table beside the bed. She didn’t really recognize anything, yet it was all strangely familiar.
The quilt on the bed was thick and warm, the material soft against her bare skin. She noticed for the first time that she was naked. At once she felt vulnerable and shy; yet again, she felt as if she belonged here with him. Mikhail’s hands slipped from her hair to the nape of her neck, his fingers massaging aching muscles. His touch was familiar, stirring alarming sensations in her body.
“What did you do to Monique and her husband?” Her fingers twisted in the quilt. She tried to ignore the heat of his body as he moved close behind her so that their skin touched, so that the hair on his chest rasped against her back and the hard length of him pressed tight against her bottom. He felt right. He felt a part of her.
Mikhail placed a kiss on a bruise near her throat, then moved to stroke her leaping pulse with his velvet tongue. Her body clenched in anticipation. Her mind seemed confused. “They are safe in their home, loving one another as they should. They remember nothing of Andre and the atrocities he committed against them. They know us as good, close friends.” He kissed another bruise, a feather-light touch that seemed to send a flame licking through her bloodstream. His hands moved to her small waist, slid up her narrow rib cage to cup her full breasts. His mind touched hers, and Raven mentally shied away from him.
“Why do you fear me, Raven? You have seen me at my worst, as a killer, a dispenser of justice for our people.” His thumbs stroked her nipples, a slow, erotic brush that sent liquid heat curling through her. “Do you believe I am evil? Touch my mind, little one. It is impossible for me to hide anything from you. I never concealed my true nature from you. You looked upon me once with the eyes of compassion and love. Of acceptance. Has that all been forgotten?”
Raven closed her eyes, long lashes sweeping down on high cheekbones. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“Kiss me, Raven. Merge your mind with mine. Share your body so that we are completely one being. You trusted me before; do so now. Look at me with the eyes of love, in forgiveness for the things I have been forced to do, for the beast in my nature. Do not look at me through the eyes of one who would wish to destroy our people and us. Give yourself to me.” His voice was seductive, a black magic spell, his hands caressing every beloved inch of her satin skin. He had committed every hollow, every curve to memory. His body burned with need and his hunger was rising. Her hunger, his. Very gently, so as not to alarm her, Mikhail pressed her slender body to the quilt, his muscular frame covering her smaller one like a blanket. She was so petite, so fragile beneath his exploring hands.
“Why have you become my life, Mikhail? I’ve always been alone and strong and sure of myself. You seem to have taken over my life.”
His palms slid up the curve of her body to frame her face. “You are my only life, Raven. I will admit I took you from all you knew, but you were never meant to live in isolation. I know what that does, how desolate life can be. They were using you up; they would have destroyed you. Can you not feel that you are my other half, that I am yours?” His mouth drifted over her eyes, her cheekbones, each corner of her mouth. “Kiss me, Raven. Remember me.”
She lifted long lashes and searched his black, hungry gaze with blue eyes that had darkened to deep purple. There was a burning intensity in the heat of his gaze, of his body. “If I kiss you, Mikhail, I won’t be able to stop.”
His mouth found her throat, the valley between her breasts, lingered for a moment over her heart, his teeth grazing sensitive skin before he returned to her mouth. “I am a Carpathian male, long in the world of darkness. It is true that I feel very little, that my nature revels in the hunt, in the kill. To overcome the wild beast we have to find our one mate, our other half, the light to our darkness. You are my light, Raven, my very life. That does not take away my obligations to my people. I must hunt those who prey on mortals, those who prey on our people. I cannot feel while I do so or madness would be my fate. Kiss me; merge your mind with mine. Love me for who I am.”
Raven’s body ached and burned. Needed. Hungered. His heart beat so strongly; his skin was hot, his muscles hard against her softness. Every touch of his lips sent a jolt of electricity sizzling through her.
“I cannot lie to you,” he whispered. “You know my thoughts; you know the beast that dwells inside. I try to be gentle with you, to listen to you. Always that wildness breaks free, but you tame me. Raven, please, I need you. And you need me. Your body is weak; I can feel your hunger. Your mind is fragmented; allow me to heal you. Your body cries out for mine as mine does for yours. Kiss me, Raven. Do not give up on us.”
Her blue eyes continued to search his face, rested on his sensual mouth. A small sigh escaped. His lips hovered over hers, waited for her answer.
It was in her eyes first, that moment of complete recognition. Tenderness rushed over her and she caught his head in her hands. “I think I’m afraid I made you up, Mikhail. That something so much a part of me, so perfect, can’t be real. I don’t want you to be what I dreamed of and the nightmare to be real.” She brought his face the inch separating them and fastened her mouth to his. Thunder pounded in her ears, in his. White-hot heat streaked and danced, consumed her, consumed him. His mind touched hers gently, tentatively, found no resistance, and he merged them together so that his burning need became hers, so that the wild, unbridled passion in him fed hers. So that she knew he was real and would never leave her alone, could never leave her alone.
He fed on her sweetness, exploring every inch of her soft mouth, building flames until they leaped and roared. He caught her slender hips, so small they fit his hands, dragged her beneath him so that his knee could part her thighs, so that her mouth, so hot and urgent, was roaming over the hard muscles of his chest. Her tongue stroked over his pulse and his body clenched, burned, swelled until he thought he might burst from his skin.
Mikhail caught her thick braid at the nape of her neck, holding her to him, his other hand probing in the silky triangle of curls. She was hot and slick with needing him. He murmured her name softly, pushed urgently against her creamy heat. Her tongue stroked again, a long, lingering caress. Small teeth grazed and his heart jumped; his body nearly exploded. There was piercing sweet pain as she found the spot over his leaping pulse, pleasure hot and wild as he drove into her tight velvet sheath of fire. He cried out with the ecstasy of it, pressed her head to him as he surged forward, driving deeper and deeper, as his blood, rich, hot, powerful, fed her starving body.
He hung on to contr
ol by a thread, both hands lifting her hips so he could create a fiery friction that sent her rocketing over the edge, her muscles clamping around him until he gently pushed at her mouth, until she released him and he sank his teeth into the swell of her soft breast. She gasped and cradled his head to her as he fed voraciously, his body hard and demanding as it took possession of hers. The aftermath of his fear of losing her, of his violence this night was poured into her body. The heat built; the flames leapt until their bodies were slick with sweat, until she was clinging to him, her body pliant silk, white-hot heat, until they were one single entity, body, mind, heart, and blood. His cry was hoarse and strangled, mingled with her soft throaty threads of sound as he took them both careening over a cliff, scattering them to the very heavens, to the rolling seas.
I cannot lose you, little one. You are my best half. I love you more than I can ever express.
Mikhail rubbed his face over hers and kissed her damp hair.
She touched her tongue to a bead of sweat, smiling up at him tiredly. “I think I would always recognize you, Mikhail, no matter how damaged my mind.”
Dark Prince (Dark Series - book 1) Page 35
