Mikhail really 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 souls were one as they were meant to be. He felt the threads weaving them together, soul to soul as they were meant. Their hearts were finally united, their minds one.
Raven allowed his strange 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, and 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, with 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.” There was 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 even 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 simply 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. He always kept up with the latest technology, and he used his bulky computer nightly, although now work had piled up, and he needed to go hunt assassins. 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, and snuggled into him with the innocent trust of a small child. Instantly his heart somersaulted, and a curious warmth and contentment spread through him. He touched her because he could. His hand cupped the fullness of her breast, his mouth brushed her nipple, featherlight. After pressing a kiss to the vulnerable line of her throat, he sent the command for deep sleep, regulating his breathing to join her.
Raven surfaced through layer after layer of sleep. She felt a little 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, and 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 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 and 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 meaning to, Raven communicated 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 many lovers 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, and then caressed her lower lip. You love me the way I am.
Love. The smile faded from her 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 to listen 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 think about me all night? His teasing voice seemed to caress her skin.
Night! It had better not be night again, Mikhail. I’m turning into some kind of a night creature. And don’t flatter yourself. I was not thinking about 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. It was fun to have someone to tease.
She found her way through the house, marveling at the artwork, the sculpture. Outside, the sun had already disappeared behind the mountains. Mikhail had set a small, beautifully carved antique 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, and then 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 eyebrows 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 drifted 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 rushed down the three steps to the path winding into the forest. “I need some air.”
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 away 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 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?”
“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.”
He bared his white gleaming teeth at her like a hungry predator and laughed softly, teasingly. “It is not the wolves that would find you delicious.”
Raven picked up a broken branch and flung it at him. “Stop laughing, you hyena. This is not funny. Your arrogance is enough to make me want to throw up.” It took every ounce of self-control she had not to laugh. The beast was far too charming for his own good.
“Your American colloquialisms are very colorful, little one.”
She threw another branch, and then followed it up with a small rock. “Someone needs to teach you the lesson of a lifetime.”
She looked like a beautiful little spitfire, all sparks and flame. Mikhail drew in his breath slowly, carefully. She was his, all fire and fury, all independence and courage, all heated passion. She melted his heart with it, entered his soul with her soft laughter. He felt it in her mind, although she was being extremely careful not to allow him to see it. “And you think you are the one to do this thing?’ he teased.
Another rock came flying at his chest. He caught it easily, and deliberately polished it before dropping it to the forest floor, all the while his dark
eyes holding her gaze captive.
“Do you think I’m afraid of your wolves?” she demanded. “The only big bad wolf around here is you. Call all your wolves. Go ahead.” She glared into the secret, dark interior of the forest. “Come and get me. What did he say to you about me?”
Mikhail pried her fingers loose from the branch she held like a club, allowing it to fall. He curved an arm around her slender waist, brought her small, soft body up against his much larger, rock-hard frame. “I told them you tasted like warm honey.” He whispered the words with his black velvet sorcerer’s voice. Turning her in his arms, he cupped her small, beautiful face in his hands. “Where is all that marvelous respect a man as powerful as myself deserves?”
His thumb stroked across her full lower lip, a sensuous caress. Raven closed her eyes against the inevitable. She wanted to cry. Her feelings for him were so strong, her throat was aching and burning.
Mikhail brushed her eyes with his lips, tasted a tear, sought refuge in the sweetness of her mouth. “Why would you cry for me, Raven?” he murmured against her throat. “Is it that you still want to run from me? Am I really so terrible? I would never allow any living creature, man or beast, to harm you, not if it was in my power to prevent it. I thought our hearts and minds were in the same place. Am I wrong? Is it that you no longer want me?”
His words tore at her heart. “It isn’t that, Mikhail, never that, I’m just so confused at all of this,” she said quickly, afraid she had hurt him. She caressed his face with her fingertips, reverence in her touch. “You are the most fascinating man I’ve ever known. I feel as if I belong here with you, as though I know you completely. It’s impossible in the short time we’ve been together. I know if I could put some distance between us, I could think more clearly. Everything happened so fast. It’s as though I’m obsessed with you. I don’t want to make a mistake that will cause both of us pain.”
Dark Prince (Author's cut special edition) Page 11
