Dark Prince (Author's cut special edition)

by Christine Feehan

  Raven opened her blue eyes, slumberous, sexy, darkened with desire. She tilted her head to look up at him and then moved to rinse his body. She had no intention of being so kind. Her every stroke was designed to tease, to inflame. Fingertips delved into the dark tangled hair veeing toward his flat belly, slid tantalizingly over the heavy muscles of his chest, rinsing every drop of blood from his skin. So much. It worried her, and she wanted him to feed, to replace what was lost.

  Some small part of Raven recognized that the thought should be appalling to her, yet with her body needing his so desperately, she craved his mouth on her, felt hunger herself. Her hands wandered lower, moved across his flat belly, dipped over the ridge of his hipbones.

  Raven felt his swift intake of breath, the tensing of every muscle. A low growl rumbled deep in his throat, sent darts of fire leaping in her blood. Her fingers sought the hard evidence of his arousal, teased and enticed, her fingertips dancing intriguingly, her palm sliding, and gripping, testing the weight of him.

  He groaned at the effort it took to control himself. This time she was going to participate in the ritual. There would be no way she could argue that she had not known what she was doing. He spread his legs wider to support his trembling body as she touched his shoulder with her tongue, followed a droplet of water that ran in a bead from his neck to his chest.

  Raven’s body clenched, grew heavy, ached, and burned. Her tongue slid over his heart in a lazy, sensual pattern. Her blood leaped and sang to match his. All the time her hands caressed, teased, promised. Her long hair, masses of silk, brushed his body as she followed little beads of water, lower, lower still. She felt him shudder as she tasted him, his body thrusting to meet her silken mouth. The feeling of power was incredible. His hands bunched in her hair; low, aggressive growls escaped from deep in his throat. She found his thighs with her nails, raking lightly, driving him wild, wanting him crazy for her, wanting him mindless with passion.

  Mikhail dragged her up, closer. His hands found the firm muscles of her bottom, cupped, massaged. “I claim you as my lifemate.” He whispered the words, a black magic incantation, centuries old. His hand moved up her spine, around to the fullness of her breast, down satin skin to find the thatch of midnight black curls.

  Raven cried out when his fingers found her beneath the bubbling water, found her and began a slow, torturous exploration. Her mouth was open against his chest, her breath short and coming in little gasps. The craving grew, the fire built, something wild and abandoned in her fought for freedom. She could hear their hearts beating as one, hear his blood, hers. She felt her body pulsing with life, with need, with such hunger that she needed all of him to fill her and make her complete. She needed him in her mind, his erotic, insatiable appetite, the incredible lust he had that made him burn and ache for her. She needed his body possessing hers, taking hers wildly, without reservation. And she needed his blood.

  His hand cradled the back of her head as he moved her to the water’s edge. “I belong to you. I offer my life for you. Take what it is you need, what it is you want.” His whispered words opened up the door to a terrible craving. His fingers moved aggressively, his body pressing hers to the earth, half in and half out of the water.

  Raven felt the soft dirt beneath her, his hard body imprisoning hers. There was a ruthless stamp to his dark features, a merciless slash to his mouth, and burning hunger in the depths of his eyes. When she touched his mind, there was savage, primitive arousal, the animal drive to claim, a Carpathian male’s ruthless, implacable resolve to possess his mate. There was also a love so intense, she could barely conceive of it. Tenderness. A male’s adoration for the only one he could ever want.

  Mikhail tugged her knees apart, saw the sudden admission of commitment to him deep within her eyes. She was hot, pulsating with need, with her body’s invitation. He thrust hard, driving deep, burying himself in her hot core. Her spicy feminine scent mixed with his masculine one, drifted up to become part of their desire. His tongue and teeth glided over her throat, down to capture one aching breast. His hands moved over every inch of her, inciting, exploring, claiming. He was rough, his teeth finding her soft skin, his tongue easing every ache. He could not seem to get close enough. Her tight heat coiled around him, clenching and burning, feeding his wildness.

  His body moved in hers. Long and deep, he filled every part of her, building the friction, then deliberately easing the rhythm. She was making little keening noises, her body begging for release, velvet muscles gripping him hotly.

  Frustrated, Raven moved frantically against him, urging him closer, deeper, faster, harder. Her blood was like molten lava, and she needed more of him. All of him. She hungered for a deeper mating, hungered for his mouth feeding at her, burning her, branding her, welding them together for all eternity.

  “Mikhail,” she was pleading.

  He lifted his head, dark eyes burning with hunger. “I belong to you, Raven. Take what you need from me, as I will take it from you.” He pressed her head to his chest, his gut clenching hotly as her tongue slid over his muscles. There was a moment, heart-stopping, intimate, as he felt the tentative scrape of her teeth and then the bite. Deep. White-hot pain, blue-lightning erotic pleasure. The ground shook. He swelled even more, huge and hard and inflamed as her teeth sank deep.

  Mikhail threw back his head in ecstasy, and a growl of pure pleasure escaped. His body pinned hers to the ground, surging powerfully, building, building while her body spiraled around his, gripping and clenching, climaxing again and again. Mikhail held on to his control. The ritual would be completed and the exchange made voluntarily. Bunching her hair in his hand, he repeated the words that would bind them together. “I give you my protection. I give you my allegiance. I give you my mind. I give you my heart. I give you my soul. I give you my body. I take into my keeping the same that is yours. Your life will be cherished by me for all my time. Your life will be placed above my own for all time. You are my lifemate. You are bound to me for all eternity. You are always in my care.”

  He tugged at her hair, forced her head away from him, observed through half-closed eyes, hungry and watchful, while she closed the pinpricks, her tongue sending flames dancing over his heated body. Mikhail kissed her with every ounce of male dominance he possessed. His mouth burned over her throat, rested on her frantic pulse. His hands tightened on her small hips. His body rested in the hot feminine mystery of hers. He waited.

  She turned her head, offered her throat. “Take what is yours, Mikhail. Take what you require.” She murmured the words breathlessly in an agony of anticipation and need. She was trembling with suspense, with the craving of Carpathian erotic hunger.

  As his hips thrust powerfully forward, his teeth sank deep. She cried out, wound her arms around him, arching up as he drank his fill, as his body drove wildly into hers, staking his claim, his right, taking them beyond the boundaries of the earth. Her body gripped his tightly, insistently. Mikhail abandoned any pretense of control and took her as he wanted, driving on and on until she was wild and hot and crying for him, until her little keening whimpers and the sweet spice of her blood took his raging body over the edge. He emptied himself into her, for the first time in his life feeling totally sated, totally content. They lay joined, their hearts pounding, their lungs laboring, little aftershocks rippling and rocking them. Mikhail rolled them over so his hard length was cushioning her slender body. Her breasts were soft and warm nestled in the tangle of hair veeing down to his stomach. Her head was pillowed on his chest.

  Mikhail stroked her hair, letting his overwhelming love for her spill out and surround her. He sensed how fragile the moment was and didn’t trust the inadequacy of words. His mind was a warm, safe haven of love, and he shared it willingly.

  The intense pleasure blocked out reality for a long while. Raven could only revel in her body’s powerful reaction. Every tiny cell was alive and shrieking in joy. It didn’t seem possible that she could experience such rapture.

  She moved a sl
ow hand to push her hair aside. The small movement sent her muscles clenching around him. Mikhail. Who was this man who had so easily taken over her life and her body? Raven lifted her head and studied his face. So handsome. So dark and mysterious. His eyes held so many secrets; his mouth was so sensual, it took her breath away.

  “Tell me what I’ve done, Mikhail.”

  His eyes were fathomless, watchful. “You have given your life into my care. Rest assured, little one, you are safe in my hands.”

  She touched the tip of her tongue to her suddenly dry lips. Her heart pounded in alarm at the enormity of her decision. She had the taste of him in her mouth, the smell of him on her body, his seed trickling along her leg, and they were still locked together, her body clenching sensuously, hotly, around his.

  “What do I taste like?” His voice was low, compelling. It whispered against her skin like the brush of fingers. The brush of fantasy.

  She closed her eyes tightly, like a child wanting to shut him out. “Mikhail.” Her body rippled, tightened at the sound of his voice, at the erotic question he whispered.

  He eased out of her, but retained his hold so he could cradle her close as he slid back into the foaming pool. “Tell me, Raven.” He kissed her throat, tiny little kisses, each as potent as wine.

  Her arm wound around his neck, her fingers finding his thick mane of hair. “You taste like the forest, wild and untamed and so erotic you make me crazy.” The admission broke from her, the confession of a grave sin.

  The bubbles fizzed and burst against their sensitized skin, foamed on their most intimate parts. Mikhail leaned back, taking their weight, securing her on his lap. Her rounded bottom brushed against him, sent sweet fire streaking through their blood. “You taste like sweet, hot spice, addictive and so sensual.” His teeth grazed the nape of her neck, and sent a shiver of excitement down her spine.

  Raven lay quietly in his arms, her mind reeling under the impact of what she had done. She would never get enough of Mikhail. There was a wildness between them that could never be sated. Raven was unable to piece it all together; her brain simply refused to acknowledge what she might have become. She had no idea what he meant when he said his species “fed.” The impressions were there, but she only had knowledge of what Mikhail shared with her. Was sex always involved? He had said no, but she couldn’t imagine taking blood deliberately. She closed her eyes tightly. She couldn’t do this with anyone else. She couldn’t imagine taking blood from a human.

  Mikhail pressed her head to him, his fingers soothing in her hair. He murmured softly, his voice pitched low and compelling. She needed time to adjust to her Carpathian blood, the intense emotions and urgent needs. She had willingly participated in the mating ritual. She had made the blood exchange without his silent compulsion. They were irrevocably bound, and there was no reason for her to suffer needless human recriminations and fear of the future. Let her mind accept this new reality slowly.

  Mikhail was brutally honest with himself. After waiting several lifetimes for this woman, he didn’t want her with anyone else. He had never thought of feeding as an intimate thing, only a simple necessity. But the idea of Raven biting into another man’s neck, taking his life force into her body, was abhorrent to him. Every time he gave her his blood, he felt sexual excitement, an overwhelming need to protect and care for her. He had no idea what other Carpathian men felt for their mates, but he knew any man near Raven would be in grave danger. It was just as well her human mind refused to allow her to accept their way of preying on humans.

  Raven stirred in his arms, stretched languidly. “I was thinking of something upsetting, and you took it away, didn’t you?” There was a hint of a smile in her voice.

  He allowed her freedom, watched her sink beneath the foaming water, surface a few feet away. Her large eyes were moving over him with definite laughter. “You know, Mikhail, I’m beginning to think my very first assessment of your character was correct. You’re arrogant and bossy.”

  He swam toward her with lazy, easy strokes. “But I am sexy.”

  She backpedaled, sent a spray of water at him with the flat of her hand. “Stay away from me. Every time you get near me, something crazy happens.”

  “Now might be a good time to take you to task for placing your life in danger. You should never have followed the assassins from the inn. You knew I was unable to hear if you called for help.” He kept swimming toward her, as relentless as a shark.

  Raven took the coward’s way out and waded out of the pool, flinging herself into the next large one. The water was cold on her heated skin. She pointed a finger at him, her soft mouth curving. “I told you I was going to try to help you. In any case, if you dare to lecture me, I’ll have no choice but to go into just how unethical it was to bind me to you without my consent. Tell me—if I hadn’t followed the assassins and Jacob hadn’t stabbed me, I would have remained human, wouldn’t I?”

  Mikhail rose out of the pool, water streaming off his body. Raven’s breath caught in her throat. He looked magnificent, so masculine and powerful. In one fluid leap, he launched himself into the air, jackknifed, and cut cleanly into the deep pool. She found her heart beating frantically, her blood singing for him. He came up behind her, his hands spanning her waist, dragging her close, his powerful legs keeping them afloat.

  “You would still be human,” he agreed, his voice a black magic spell that could send heat coiling through her, despite the cold water.

  “If I had stayed human, how could you have remained with me as a lifemate?” She pushed her rounded bottom against the cradle of his hips, enjoying the sudden excitement as his body swelled and hardened in response to the pressure. She laid her head back on his shoulder.

  “I would have chosen to grow old with you and die when you died.” His reply was husky, and one hand cupped the softness of her breast. Her hair was brushing his body like so much silk, sending darts of pleasure through him.

  Raven lifted her head abruptly, swung around to face him, her blue eyes searching the mysterious depths of his eyes. “Do you mean that, Mikhail? You would have stayed with me as I grew older?”

  He nodded, trailed his fingers down her cheek in a gentle caress. “I would have aged right along with you. When your breath ceased, so would mine.”

  She shook her head. “How can I resist you, Mikhail, when you steal my heart?”

  His grin turned her heart over, somersaulted her stomach. “You are not supposed to resist me, little one. I am your other half.” His hands settled around her neck, urged her close to him until his mouth found hers and they melted together, sinking beneath the cool waters of the natural pool.

  Raven regarded him soberly, her eyes suddenly serious. “I wouldn’t want to resist you, Mikhail. I believe you really would have grown old with me. You have the kind of courage I’ve always wanted to have but lacked. New things frighten me. I hate being a coward . . .”

  He snorted inelegantly in derision. “Raven, stop being silly. You put your life in danger for complete strangers. That is not the act of a coward.”

  She frowned at him. “That’s not what I meant.” She stepped close to him and circled his neck with her arms. “When it comes to my emotions being involved, I always hold back or run away for fear of getting rejected or hurt. You persisted even though I was so hesitant and uncertain. You would have changed your entire way of life to accommodate me, and yet I refused to extend you the courtesy of even considering your way of life.”

  She pressed her face against his chest, her tongue tracing the path of the droplets of water. The drumbeat of his heart found an answering rhythm in her veins. “I’m sorry, Mikhail. I should have seen what you were trying to show me.” She raised her eyes to his. “I feel complete with you. I know I’m where I’m supposed to be, although I’m certain it will take time to grow used to your way of life.”

  Mikhail lifted her into his arms, urging her legs around his waist. She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of him entering her, savoring the sl
ow ride, the natural undulation of her body. “I could live here, like this,” she whispered.

  “Funny,” he watched the sensations pouring over her face, felt them filling her mind. “I had exactly the same thought.”

  Half the night was gone when Mikhail carried her back to their home. Raven hastily wrapped herself in one of his shirts. “Do you realize I don’t have any clothes here?” She couldn’t quite meet his eyes, blushing every time his dark gaze brushed her body. She could still feel the imprint of his body on hers, the strength of his possession. “I need to get back to the inn. All of my things are there.”

  His eyebrow shot up. Now was not the time to tell her she really wouldn’t need clothes. Her personal things would help ease the transition. He reached a lazy arm for his own clothes. “I’m sure Mrs. Galvenstein will deliver your things for us. I will call and make sure it is done immediately. I will be going out for a short time, Raven. There are a few loose ends that need to be taken care of. You will be safe here.”

  Her chin lifted in challenge. “I’ll throw something together and come with you. I never want to go through another day like the one I had when I couldn’t reach you. It was hell. It really was, Mikhail.”

  At once his dark eyes touched her face with gentleness. “I never wanted that for you. Gregori placed me in a healing sleep, csitri—little one—and I could not answer your call. That was not supposed to happen. I sent Father Hummer to you, thinking I would be asleep, but if there was great need, I would surface enough to reassure you.”

  “But it didn’t happen like that.”

  He shook his head. “No, Raven. Gregori sent me into a healing sleep. One does not surface when Gregori has elected otherwise. He did not know about you, about your need for my touch. It was my failing, not his, and I am sorry.”

  “I know,” she acknowledged. “You can see why I can’t be without you now. I’m afraid, Mikhail, afraid of everything, myself, you, what I’ve done here.”