Dark Prince (Author's cut special edition)

by Christine Feehan

  “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, and leaned back lazily. “You could hardly call it hiding out. We phoned Mrs. Galvenstein, your innkeeper, 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 know 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 the 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 and then proceeded to regale everyone who would listen with what he’d done.” Mikhail grinned mischievously at the two women. “He claimed 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 pouring in from 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, and then 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, and then 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?”

  Father Hummer instantly rose. “Of course, Mikhail, and I do apologize for barging in at such an inopportune moment. The ladies were very agitated, and it seemed the most expedient way to alleviate their fears.”

  “Raven can come back with us,” Margaret offered solicitously. “You look as though you need a rest, dear, and you can tell us all about your engagement.”

  Raven knew she would never survive a car ride with the woman. Shelly was nodding her head eagerly, giving Mikhail her best smile. “Thank you so much, Mikhail. I would love to discuss this further with you, maybe take some notes?”

  “Of course, Miss Evans.” Mikhail handed her his business card. “I am swamped with work right now, and Raven and I want to be married as soon as possible, but I will do my best to find some time.” He was ushering his guests to the door, using his large, muscular frame and his beguiling smile to prevent anyone from touching Raven. “Thank you, Mrs. Summers, for offering to look after Raven for me, but we were interrupted, and I intend to make certain she does not leave me without the all-important ring.”

  When Raven moved to step around him, he cut her off, his body so graceful and subtle that his movement was not noticed. His hand slid down her arm to shackle her fragile wrist. “Thank you for coming,” she called softly from behind him, afraid that if she spoke too loud, her head would shatter into a thousand fragments.

  When their visitors had left, Mikhail dragged her protectively into his arms, his face a mask of dark menace. “I am sorry, little one, that you had to endure such a thing.” He carried her into his house and made for the library. Köd jutasz belso˝.

  Raven could hear soft words in his own language muttered under his breath. He was swearing, and it made her smile. “What does that mean?”

  He blinked down at her. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Literally, ‘Shadow take you.’ That old woman is evil.”

  “She isn’t evil, Mikhail, she’s twisted, fanatical. It was like touching the mind of a burning crusader. She believes what she’s doing is right.” She rubbed the top of her head against the rigid set of his jaw.

  “She is beneath contempt.” He spat the words. “She is obscene.” Very
gently Mikhail deposited Raven in the comfort of his armchair. “She came to test me, to bring a priest into my home and try to outwit me. Her brush in my mind was clumsy and inept. She uses her gift to mark others for murder. She read only what I allowed.”

  “Mikhail, she believes in vampires. How could she possibly think you’re a walking corpse? You have unusual gifts, but I can’t see you murdering a child to keep yourself alive. You go to church, you’re wearing a cross. The woman is nuts.” She rubbed at her pounding temples in an effort to relieve the pain.

  Mikhail loomed over her, a dark shadow holding one of his herb concoctions in his hand. “And what if I was a mythical vampire, little one, holding you captive in my lair?”

  She smiled up at his serious face, absorbing the pain in his brooding eyes. “I would trust you with my life, Mikhail, vampire or not. And I would trust you with the life of my children. You’re arrogant and sometimes overbearing, but you could never be evil. If you are a vampire, then a vampire is not the creature of the legends.”

  He moved away from her, not wanting her to see how much her total, unconditional acceptance meant to him. It didn’t matter to him that she didn’t know what she was saying. He felt the truth of her words. “Most people have a dark side, Raven, I more than others. I am capable of extreme violence, cruelty even, but I am not a vampire. I am a predator, first and foremost, but I am not a vampire.” His voice was husky, strangled.

  Raven moved to close the distance between them, to touch the edge of his mouth, smooth a deep line. “I never thought such a thing. You sound like you believe such a terrible being exists. Mikhail, if such a thing was true, I would know you could not be one of them. You always judge yourself so harshly. I can feel the good in you.”

  “Can you?” he asked grimly. “Drink this.”

  “It better not put me to sleep. I’m going back to the inn to my own bed sometime this night,” she told him firmly as she took the glass from him. Her voice teased him, but her eyes were anxious. “I do feel the good in you, Mikhail. I see it in everything you do. You put everyone else first in your life.”

  He closed his eyes in pain. “Is that what you think, Raven?”

  She studied the contents of the glass, wondering why her words were hurting him. “I know it. I have chased killers, yet I did not have to follow through and bring those killers to justice. That must eat away at you all the time.”

  “You give me far too much credit, little one, but I thank you for your faith in me.” His hand curled around the nape of her neck. “You are not drinking. It will help with your headache.” His fingers found her temples with their soothing magic. “How can you go back to that inn when we both know the assassins are staying there? It is the old woman who leads them to our people. She is curious about you already.”

  “She can’t possibly believe I’m a vampire, Mikhail. Why would I be in danger? I might even be of some help to you.” A mischievous smile curved her soft mouth. “I can hear so much better these days.” She toasted him with the glass and willingly drank the mixture.

  “There is no argument when your safety is involved. I will not have you in the middle of this battle.” His black gaze was clearly troubled.

  “We agreed to compromise. Your world and mine. I have to be my own person, Mikhail. I have to make my own decisions. I know you would never let me go through the torment of tracking a killer by myself. I want to help you, be there for you. That’s what a partnership is.”

  “Being apart from you even under normal circumstances would torment me. How can I tolerate such a thing as you being in the same house with those who murdered my sister?”

  “I’ll hear things that will help you,” she persisted.

  He shook his head, his face set in implacable lines.

  She attempted to tease him, wanting the darkness to recede from his eyes. “Do one of your sleeping numbers on yourself, or teach me how to do it. I’ll happily help you fall asleep.”

  His hand slipped around her throat experimentally. “I bet you would. How does your head feel, little one? Better?”

  “Much, thank you. So, tell me what you know so far.” Raven watched him pace across the hardwood floor, all restless energy. “I have done this, Mikhail. I’m not an amateur, and I’m not stupid. Mrs. Summers may look like a sweet old lady, but she’s very sick. If she’s targeting people as vampires and has a fanatical following, a lot more people could be hurt. And these people must believe Mrs. Summers. They killed your sister . . .”

  “Noelle,” he supplied softly. “Her name was Noelle.”

  Her eyes touched his face, her mind flooding his with warmth and comfort. “Noelle,” she echoed gently, “was killed in a textbook style for vampires. Stake, beheading, garlic. This is a sick group. We at least have a place to start. I think it would be safe to assume Mr. Summers is involved. So that’s two of them.”

  “That silly girl Shelly is a blind. They are using her to help them by asking her ridiculous questions. She is not directly involved—they do not trust her to keep her mouth shut. Her brother planted the idea of studying folklore in her head, and this tour is supposedly a research trip for her. She is easily led by him.”

  He raked a hand through his thick hair. He needed to feed soon. There was a dark, cold anger in him. It crawled through his body, dangerous and deadly. Jacob was unscrupulous, even with his sister, it seemed. And he had looked upon Raven with lust.

  Raven looked up and found unblinking eyes on her. They were dark, fathomless, the eyes of a hunter. A prickle of unease ran down her spine. She felt her hand tremble as she smoothed out her skirt. “What is it?”

  Sometimes Mikhail looked like a stranger, not the warm man she knew with laughter and tenderness in his heated gaze but someone calculating and cold, someone more lethal and cunning than she could imagine. Automatically her mind reached out to his.

  Do not. He slammed a block down hard.

  Raven’s lashes fluttered against a sudden spurt of tears. Rejection was painful anytime, and coming from Mikhail it hurt like hell. “Why, Mikhail? Why are you shutting me out? You need me. I know you do. You’re so willing to help everybody, be everything for everybody. I’m supposed to be your partner, be all things, everything to you. Let me help you.” She approached him slowly, cautiously.

  “You do not know what could happen, Raven.” He stepped backward, away from temptation, away from her pain.

  She smiled. “You always help me, Mikhail. You look after me. I’m asking you to trust me enough to let me be what you need.” He was allowing his mind block to fragment, bit by bit. She sensed grief mixed with rage at Noelle’s senseless murder and fear for Raven’s safety. Love, strong and growing, a hunger, sexual and physical. Raw need. Someone definitely needed to love and comfort this man.

  “I need you to do as I ask you,” he said in desperation, fighting the beast lifting its head hungrily.

  Her laughter was soft, enticing, the sound dancing over his skin. “No, you don’t. Too many people think your word is law. You need someone to defy you a little bit. I know you won’t hurt me, Mikhail. I can feel your fear of yourself. You think there’s something in you I can’t love, some kind of monster you’re afraid for me to see. I know you better than you know yourself.”

  “You are so reckless, Raven, so heedless of danger.” He gripped the back of a chair so hard the wood threatened to disintegrate into dust. As it was, it would hold the imprint of his fingers for all time.

  “Danger, Mikhail?” She tipped her head to one side, her hair falling in a slide over one shoulder. Her hands went to the top button of her blouse. “I would never be in danger from you, even if you were furious with me. The only danger right now is to my clothes.” She took a step back, laughing again, letting the sound warm him, ignite the fuse deep inside him.

  Heat coiled, spread; need slammed into him, hard and urgent. Hunger tore at him, a blind red haze. “You, little one, are playing with fire, and I am totally out of control.”

&nbs
p; He made one last attempt to save her. Why couldn’t she see how selfish he really was? How he had taken over her life and would never release her? He was the monster she couldn’t see. Perhaps with the rest of the world cold logic and justice ruled him, but not with her. With Raven he was taken over by emotions with which he was so unfamiliar that he could not control them. He did things he felt were unconscionable. He let her see the violence in his mind, tearing her clothes, taking her body without thought or control.

  She answered him in her mind, warmth, love, her body eager for his, receptive, accepting of his violent side. She had total trust and faith in his feelings for her, in his commitment to her.

  He swore softly, ripping the clothes from his fettered body, leaping upon her like an attacking jungle cat. “Mikhail, I love this dress,” she whispered against his throat, laughter still spilling into his mind. Laughter. Joy. No fear.

  “Get out of the damned thing,” he said hoarsely, not realizing he was confirming her belief in him.

  She took her time, teasing him by fumbling at buttons, making him find the hook in her skirt. “You do not know what you are doing,” he objected raggedly, but his hands were gentle on her body, carefully stripping away her clothes until she was all bare satin skin and long silky hair.

  Mikhail curled strong fingers around the nape of her neck. She felt so small and fragile, her skin warm. She had a woman’s haunting scent, like wild honey, a breath of fresh air. He backed her into the bookcase, his hands shaping her body, stroking the soft swell of her breast, absorbing the feel of her into his skin, his tissues, his very insides. He lowered his head, found the dark tip of her nipple with his tongue. The demon in him receded at the feel of her soft skin, her acceptance of his nature. He didn’t deserve her.

  Raven’s body went weak at the first touch of his mouth, so hot and demanding, fastened on her breast. The shelf behind her held her up, pushing against the bare skin of her bottom.

  Excitement surged through her, anticipation. His eyes drifted over her with so much hunger, so much possession. With so much tenderness. That melted her heart, made her want to cry that he could have so much feeling for her. Everywhere his gaze traveled, her skin burned for him, her body ached for his touch.