Dark Prince (Author's cut special edition)

by Christine Feehan

  Mist streamed through the forest toward the house set back against the cliffs. It filtered through the iron gates and poured into the courtyard. The mist stacked into a tall, thick column, shimmered, connected, until Mikhail, in his solid form, stood in front of his door. Lifting a hand, murmuring a soft command, he released the safeguard and entered. Immediately he knew Raven was gone.

  Eyes darkened to black ice. White teeth bared, gleamed. A low growl rumbled, was suppressed. His first thought was that someone had taken her, that she was in danger. He sent out a call to his sentries, the wolves, to aid him in his search for her. Taking a deep, calming breath, he allowed his mind to find hers, to zero in on her exact location. It wasn’t difficult to track her. She was not alone. A human. Male.

  His breath caught in his throat. His heart nearly ceased beating. His fingers curled into two tight fists. Beside Mikhail the lamp exploded, burst into fragments. Outside the wind rose, whirled in tiny tornadoes through the trees. Mikhail stepped outside and leaped into the air, spread giant wings and hurtled through the sky. Far below him the wolves howled to one another and began to run in tight pack formation.

  Mikhail glided silently to the heavy branches above Raven’s head. She was pushing her hair away from her face in her curiously sexy, very feminine way. He could feel her compassion, her need to comfort. He could also feel how cold and exhausted she was. The human was grief-stricken, no doubt about it. But Mikhail could smell his excitement, could hear the pounding heart, the flow of blood surging and pooling. He could easily read the man’s thoughts, and they were not at all innocent.

  Furious, more than a little afraid for her, Mikhail launched himself into the air and then settled on the ground a yard away, out of sight. From there, he stalked toward them, a tall, powerful figure appearing out of the night, out of the trees. He loomed over them, menacing, formidable, the hard angles and planes of his face harsh and merciless. Black eyes gleamed with something dark and deadly. The moonlight reflected there gave an eerie red glow, even a feral quality, to his unblinking gaze.

  Threatened, Rudy scrambled to his feet, making a grab for his mystery lady with a vague idea of protecting her. Although Mikhail was several feet farther away from Raven than Rudy, he put on a burst of blurring speed, and his hand was there first, shackling her fragile wrist and yanking Raven behind him, locking her to him.

  “Good evening, Mr. Romanov,” Mikhail said pleasantly, his tone so low and silky both Rudy and Raven shivered. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to tell me what you are doing at this time of night, meeting in these woods alone with my woman?” As he uttered the last word, from somewhere close, a wolf howled ominously, the long, drawn-out note echoing a warning on the night breeze.

  Raven stirred, but Mikhail’s grip on her threatened to crush her bones. Be silent, little one. If you wish this human to see the dawn, you will obey me. He is Hans Romanov’s son. What is in his mind is what his father planted long ago.

  She paled visibly. Mikhail, his parents . . .

  I am holding on to control by a thread. Do not snap it! Mikhail struggled for control with newfound, overwhelming emotions, reminding himself that Raven wasn’t reading Romanov’s mind and had no idea of his twisted thoughts.

  “Mr. Dubrinsky.” Rudy recognized him now, a powerful figure in his home village, an unrelenting enemy or a valuable friend. Mikhail’s voice appeared calm, serene even, yet he looked capable of murder. “We didn’t plan this. I came here because . . .” His voice trailed off. He could have sworn he caught sight of wolves lurking in the trees, their eyes glowing with that same feral quality as the hunter in front of him. One look at that merciless face, and Rudy let go of his pride. “I was grieving. She was out walking, and she heard me.”

  The wolves were silent shadows slipping closer. Mikhail sensed their eagerness, the cry of bloodlust. It washed over him and mixed with black jealousy. The pack whispered and called to him as their brother. The beast in him lifted its head, and roared for release. The human male claimed innocence, but it was easy to read lust in his body, smell the scent of sexual arousal. It was easy for Mikhail to read the taint of sickness in the son, placed there by the father.

  Mikhail’s dark gaze swept Raven’s small figure. She could stop his heart, take his breath away. She never looked beyond the surface; she had trained herself not to. Mikhail read compassion, sadness, exhaustion, and something else. He had hurt her. It was there in the depths of her enormous eyes. And there was genuine fear. She knew the wolves were out there—she sensed their presence, and she heard their voices urging him to protect his mate.

  Mikhail knew it was a terrible blow for her to realize just how susceptible he was to the primitive logic of the wolves, to realize how much animal was really in him. Instantly, his arm swept around her, dragging her beneath his shoulder close to his warmth. He sent out a silent command to the wolves, feeling their resistance, their reluctance to obey. They could sense his antagonism to the human, as they felt his own lust for blood, and the need to vanquish an enemy that might threaten his mate’s safety.

  “I heard of your loss,” Mikhail made himself say, his arm curving around Raven protectively. “Your mother was a great woman. Her death was a tremendous loss to our community. Everyone will feel her loss for years to come. Your father and I had our differences, but I would have wished his death on no man.”

  Raven shivered with cold, and the reaction to the knowledge that Mikhail could feel such intense animosity toward anyone. She was the light to his darkness, incapable of understanding that he was first and foremost a predator. His hand moved up and down her arm gently, seeking to reassure her. Mikhail reinforced his command to the wolves. “You had better go home, Mr. Romanov. You need sleep, and these woods are not always safe. The storm has left the animals edgy.”

  “Thank you for being so kind,” Rudy said to Raven, reluctant to leave her with a man who looked so capable of great violence.

  Mikhail watched the man retreat to the safety of the edge of town, beyond the clearing. “You are cold, little one,” he said very gently.

  Raven blinked back tears, forcing her trembling legs to begin walking, one slow step at a time. She couldn’t look at him, didn’t dare. She had simply been enjoying the beauty of the night. Then she had heard Romanov. It was in her nature to help if she was able. Now she had triggered something dark and deadly in Mikhail, something that troubled her deeply.

  Mikhail paced beside her, studied her averted face. “You are going in the wrong direction, Raven.” He put his hand at the small of her back to guide her.

  Raven stiffened, and then twisted away from him. “Maybe I don’t want to go back, Mikhail. Maybe I don’t really know who you are at all.”

  There was more hurt than anger in her voice. Mikhail sighed heavily and reached for her, his grip unbreakable iron. “We will talk in the warmth and comfort of our home, not here where your body is like ice.” Without waiting for her consent, he lifted her easily and moved with a burst of speed. Raven clung to him, her face buried against his shoulder, her slender body shaking with cold and more than a little fear of him, of her future, of what she herself had become.

  Mikhail took her directly to the bedchamber, lit the fire with a lift of his hand, and placed her on the bed. “You could at least have worn shoes.”

  Raven drew his cloak around her protectively, looking up at him from under long lashes. “Why? And I’m not asking about shoes.”

  He lit candles and crushed a variety of herbs to fill their chamber with soothing, healing sweetness. “I am a Carpathian male. I have the blood of the earth flowing in my veins. I have waited centuries for my lifemate. Carpathian men do not like other men near their women. I am struggling with unfamiliar emotions, Raven. They are not easy to control. You do not behave as a Carpathian woman would.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Mikhail leaned lazily against the wall. “I did not expect to come home to find you gone. You put yourself in danger, Raven, something the males
of our race cannot allow. And then I find you with a human. A male.”

  “He was in pain,” she said quietly.

  Mikhail made a sound of annoyance. “He wanted you.”

  Her eyelashes fluttered, blue eyes meeting his, startled and unsure. “But . . . no, Mikhail, you’re mistaken, you must be. I was only trying to comfort him. He lost both of his parents.” She looked close to tears.

  He held up his hand to silence her. “And you wanted to be in his company. Not sexually, but still, his human company, do not deny it. I could feel the need in you.”

  Her tongue touched her lips nervously. She couldn’t deny it. It had been entirely subconscious on her part, but now that he had spoken the words aloud, she knew it was true. She had felt the need for human companionship. Mikhail was so intense, everything in his world so unfamiliar.

  Raven hated that she’d hurt him, hated that she had been the one to push him to the edge of his control. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to do anything but go for a short walk. When I heard him, I felt the need to make certain he was all right. I didn’t know, Mikhail, that I was seeking human company.”

  “I do not blame you, little one, never that.” His voice was so gentle, it turned her heart over. “I can easily read your memories. I know of your intent. And I would never blame you for your compassionate nature.”

  “I guess we both have difficulties to contend with,” she said softly. “I can’t be what you want me to be, Mikhail. You use the word ‘human’ like a curse, something less than what you are. Did it ever occur to you that you’re prejudiced against my race? Carpathian blood may flow in my veins, but in my heart and my mind I’m human. I didn’t set out to betray you. I went for a walk. That’s all I did. I’m sorry, Mikhail, but all my life I’ve known freedom. Changing my blood is not going to change who I am.”

  He paced across the floor with quick, fluid energy, all power and coordination. “I am not prejudiced,” he denied.

  “Of course you are. You view my race with a measure of contempt. Would you have been happy if I had fed, using Romanov’s blood? Is that acceptable? To use him for food, but not for a few friendly words?”

  “I do not like this picture you paint of me, Raven.” Mikhail crossed the room to hold out his hand for the cape. The bedchamber was warm and smelled of nature—wood and meadow.

  Reluctantly Raven slipped the cape from her shoulders. Mikhail frowned when he saw that she was clad only in his crisp white shirt. Although the tails reached her knees and covered her bottom, a generous portion of her thighs was exposed, right up to her hips. The effect was incredibly sexy, with her long, wild mane of hair cascading in waves down to the bed, framing her slender form.

  “O köd belso˝—darkness take it,” Mikhail swore softly, a few choice words in his own language, thankful he hadn’t realized she was wearing nothing but his shirt beneath his cape. He probably would have torn out Romanov’s throat. The thought of Raven approaching the young man, smiling at him, mesmerizing him with her siren’s eyes, bending her head to his throat, touching him with her mouth, her tongue, her teeth . . . His gut clenched in total rebellion at the picture.

  He raked a hand through his hair, hung the cape in his closet, and filled the old-fashioned pitcher and basin with warm water. Once he had his imagination under firm control, he could answer her with his usual gentleness. “No, little one, after giving it thought, I cannot say I would have been happy had you been feeding.”

  “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? A Carpathian woman preys on unsuspecting humans.” There was an edge of unshed tears in her voice.

  Mikhail carried the water over to the side of the bed and knelt down in front of her. “I am trying to understand my feelings, Raven, and they do not make sense.” Very gently he began to bathe her feet. “More than anything I want your happiness. But I feel the need to protect you.” His hands were gentle, his touch tender, as he removed every speck of earth.

  Raven ducked her head, rubbing her temples. “I know you do, Mikhail, and I even understand to a point your need to do it, but I am always going to be me. I’m impulsive, I do things. I decide I want to fly a kite, and the next thing I know, I’m doing it.”

  He inclined his head, but then shook it. “I understand and yet I do not. I asked for time to come to grips with my terrible fear for your safety.” His voice was so incredibly gentle, it brought tears to her eyes. “Why did you not simply wait inside until I returned?”

  She touched his coffee-colored hair with her fingertips, felt an ache in her throat. “I wanted to go outside on the porch for fresh air. I had no other thought, but the night just called to me. I’m not feeling very confident in myself right now, Mikhail. I don’t expect someone like you—someone always sure of his actions—to understand, but I needed to feel in control.”

  Mikhail glanced up at her, his dark eyes warm with his feelings for her. “It was my mistake; I should have realized your needs and anticipated them. Knowing you were alone, I should have set better safeguards to protect you.”

  “Mikhail, I am capable of looking after myself.” Her blue eyes were very earnest, impressing on him the truth of her words. He really didn’t need to worry.

  Mikhail did his best to keep from smiling. She was too good, always believing the best of everyone. His fingers circled her small calves. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world, Raven. You do not have a mean bone in your body, do you?”

  Raven looked indignant. “Of course I do. Don’t smile like that, Mikhail, I really do. I can be just as mean if necessary. In any case, what has that to do with what we’re talking about?”

  His hand moved upward to her rib cage beneath the thin silk of his shirt. “We are talking about me needing to protect the one person who matters to me, the one who can only see good in everyone.”

  “I do not,” she denied, shocked that he would think so. “I knew Margaret Summers was fanatical.”

  His hand moved upward to caress the soft underside of her breast, to cup the weight of it in his palm. His eyes had gone black and deep with emotion. “You defended her, as I recall.”

  He was taking her breath away with his absent, leisurely exploration of her body. It was more than physical; she felt him inside her, admiring her, even as he wanted to force her compliance to his will. She felt him in her body, stroking her mind, caressing her heart. She sensed his feelings for her growing and growing until they consumed him.

  Mikhail sighed softly. “I am never going to get anywhere with you, am I? You have a way of disarming me. I am the leader of my people, Raven. I cannot have this. I have no choice but to resort to orders. I cannot have defiance from my own woman.”

  Her eyebrows flew up. “Orders?” she echoed. “You think you’ll give me orders?”

  “Absolutely. It is the only recourse open to me that prevents me from being a laughingstock among my people. Unless, of course, you have a better idea.” There was laughter in the depths of his eyes.

  “How do I divorce you?”

  “I am sorry, little one,” he answered blandly. “I do not understand this word. In my language, please.”

  “You know very well you speak English just as well as you speak your language,” she said. “How does one lifemate split from the other? Separate. Break apart. No longer together.”

  The glint of humor in the depths of his eyes deepened to total amusement. “There is no such thing, and if there was, Raven”—he bent very close, his breath fanning her cheek—“I would never allow you to go.”

  Raven looked innocent and wide-eyed. The hand on her breast, his thumb stroking her nipple, was making it hard to breathe. “I was only trying to help you. Royalty has so few options these days. You have to worry about what the public thinks. You can rely on me, Mikhail, to help you ponder such issues.”

  He laughed softly, tauntingly male. “I guess I must be thankful to have such a clever lifemate.” His fingers slipped a button of the white shirt free. Just one, widening the gap across her
breasts to give him more room for his lazy exploration.

  Raven’s breath caught in her throat. He was doing nothing really, simply touching her, his touch so gentle and loving she was melting inside. “I really am trying to understand your way of life, Mikhail, but I don’t think my heart can take it yet.” She tried to be truthful. “I know nothing of your laws or your customs. I don’t even know exactly what you are, what I am. I think of myself as human. We’re not even married in the eyes of God or man.”

  This time Mikhail threw back his head and laughed loudly, heartily. “You think the pale ceremony of humans is a deeper binding than that of a true Carpathian ritual? You do have much to learn of our ways.”

  Her small white teeth scraped at her lower lip. “Has it occurred to you that I might not feel bound by Carpathian laws and rituals? You have so little regard for things I consider sacred.”

  “Raven!” He was shocked, and it showed. “Is that what you think? I have no regard for your beliefs? That is not so.”

  She ducked her head so that her silky hair fell around her face, hiding her expression. “We know so little about one another. I know nothing about who I’ve become. How can I fulfill your needs, or you mine, if I don’t even know what or who I am?”

  He was silent, his dark, fathomless eyes studying her sad face, the sorrow in her eyes. “Perhaps there is some truth in your words, little one.” His hands followed the contours of her body, shaped her narrow rib cage, her small waist, moved up to frame her face.

  “I look at you and know what a miracle you are. The feel of your skin, soft and inviting, the way you move, like water flowing, the brush of your hair like silk, the feel of your body surrounding mine, completing me, giving me the strength I need to continue a task that seems so hopeless, but so necessary. I look at the way you are made, so beautiful, your body so perfect, made for mine.”

  Raven stirred restlessly, but his hands held her captive, tilting her chin so that she had no choice but to meet his black eyes. “But it is not your body that holds me, Raven, not your flawless skin or the perfection of the combination of our bodies when we come together. It is when I merge with you and see who you really are that I realize what a miracle really is. I can tell you who you are. You are compassion. You are gentleness. You are a woman who is so courageous you are willing to risk your life for complete strangers. You are a woman willing to use a gift that causes you great pain for the benefit of others. There is no hesitation in your giving, it is who you are. There is such a light in you, it shines through your eyes and radiates through your skin, so that anyone seeing you can easily see your goodness.”