Dark Prince (Author's cut special edition) Page 10

  Mikhail lay over her slender body, still joined to her, momentarily sated. He felt her tears on his chest. Lifting his head slowly, he bent to taste her tears. “Why do you cry?”

  “How will I ever find the strength to leave you?” she murmured softly, painfully.

  His eyes darkened dangerously. Mikhail rolled over, felt how uncomfortable she was with her nudity, and dragged a blanket around her. Raven sat up, pushed the heavy fall of hair from her face with that curiously innocent, sexy gesture of hers that he loved. Her blue eyes were frankly wary.

  “You will not leave me, Raven.” His voice was much harsher than he intended. With great effort, he forced himself to gentle it. She was young and vulnerable; he had to remember that above all else. She had no idea what the cost of separation would be to either of them. “How can you share what we have and just walk away?”

  “You know why. Don’t pretend you don’t. I feel things, sense them. This is all too bizarre for me. I don’t know the laws in this country, but when someone is murdered, the law and the press are notified. That’s just one thing, Mikhail; we won’t even get into the things you’re capable of doing—nearly strangling Jacob, for heaven’s sake. You’re way out of my league, and we both know it.” She pulled the blanket closer around her shoulders. “I want you, I can’t even think about being without you, but I’m not certain what is going on here.”

  His hand stroked down the length of her hair in a disturbing caress, his fingers moving through silken strands to wisp down her back to the base of her bare spine. His touch melted her insides, and curled her toes. Raven closed her eyes, laid her head on her knees. She was no match for him in any way.

  Mikhail shifted his hand to her nape, his fingers soothing. “We are already committed to one another. Can you not feel it, Raven?” He whispered the words, a husky blend of warmth and sensuality. He knew he was fighting her instincts, her innate sense of self-preservation. He chose his words carefully. “You know who I am, what is inside me. If distance separated us, you would still need to feel my hands on you, my mouth on yours, my body in yours, a part of yours.”

  Just his words alone warmed her blood, fed the ache deep inside. Raven covered her face, ashamed that she had such need of what amounted to a total stranger. “I’m going home, Mikhail. I’m so wrapped up in you, I’m doing things I never thought possible.”

  It wasn’t only physical. She wished it were. She didn’t want to feel his loneliness, his greatness, his incredible will and drive to keep those he led safe from harm. But she did feel it. She could feel his heart, his soul, his mind. She had talked to him without speaking aloud, she had shared his mind. She knew he was in her. His arm curved around her shoulders, drew her huddled form beside him. To comfort or to restrain?

  Raven swallowed the burning tears. There were sounds pouring into her head, rustlings, creaks. She put her hands over her ears to shut them out. “What’s happening to me, Mikhail? What did we do that’s changed me like this?”

  “You are my life, my mate, the half of myself that was missing.” His hand returned to stroking her hair with infinite gentleness. “My people mate for life. I am a Carpathian, I am of the earth. We have special gifts.”

  She turned her head, regarding him with enormous blue eyes. “Telepathic ability. Yours is very strong, much stronger than mine. And so developed—it amazes me, the things you can do.”

  “The price for these gifts is high, little one. We are cursed with the need for one mate, a sharing of souls. Once this occurs—and the ritual can be brutal to an innocent woman—we cannot live apart from our mates. Our children are few; we lose many in the first year, and most of those born are male. We are both blessed and cursed with longevity. For those of us who are happy, a long life is a blessing; for someone alone and tormented, it is a curse. It is one long eternity of darkness, a barren, stark existence.”

  Mikhail cupped her chin in the palm of his hand, and tipped it up so that she could not escape his dark, hungry eyes. He took a deep breath, let it out. “We did not have sex, little one, we did not make love. Ours was as close to a true Carpathian mating ritual as is possible without your being of our blood. If you leave me . . .” His voice trailed off, and he shook his head. He needed to bind her to him irrevocably.

  Te avio päläfertiilam—You are my lifemate. Éntölam kuulua, avio päläfertiilam—I claim you as my lifemate.

  The words imprinted on every Carpathian male before birth echoed through his mind and resounded in his heart. The beast raged to say them. She would never escape, yet he could not do that to her, say the words to a mortal. He had no idea what would happen to her.

  The spot over her left breast ached, throbbed, even burned. Raven looked down, saw the dark evidence of his brand and touched it with her fingertips. She remembered the feel of his teeth pinning her to the floor, his strength, the warning growl rumbling in his throat like that of an animal. He had taken her body as if it belonged to him, wildly, a little brutally, yet something in her had responded to the ferocious hunger and need in him. At the same time, he had been tender, ensuring her pleasure before his own, so careful of her size and the frailty of her small bones. The mixture of his tenderness and wild nature was so impossible to resist, Raven knew no other man could ever touch her as he had. There would only be Mikhail for her.

  “Are you telling me you’re of another race, Mikhail?” She was striving to put all the pieces of information together.

  “We believe that we are of another species. We are different. We hide it well—we have to—but we can hear things humans cannot. We speak to the animals, share our minds as well as our bodies and hearts. Understand, this information in the wrong hands would doom us all. My life is literally in your hands.” In more ways than one.

  She caught the echo of his thought before he could censor it. “Would you have stopped if I had panicked?”

  He closed his eyes, ashamed. “I would like to lie to you, but I will not. I would have soothed you, made certain you could accept me.”

  “Commanded me?”

  “No!” He denied that vehemently. He would not have gone that far. He was certain of that. He believed absolutely that he could have persuaded her to accept him.

  “These gifts.” She rubbed her chin across her knees. “You are stronger physically than any human I’ve ever met. And that leap in the library—you reminded me of a great jungle cat—is that part of your heritage, too?”

  “Yes.” His hand tangled in her hair again, brought a fistful up to bury his face in it, breathing her in. His scent lingered on her, would remain in her. A trace of satisfaction touched his fathomless eyes.

  “You bit me.” She touched first her neck, then her breast. A sweet, hot ache filled her at the memory of him wild in her arms, his body frenzied with need, his mind a turbulent, red desire, his mouth working eagerly, hungrily, at her.

  What was wrong with her that she wanted more? She had heard of women so enthralled by sex that they were virtual slaves. Was that what was happening to her? She flung up a hand as if to ward him off. “Mikhail, this is happening so fast. I can’t fall in love in a couple of days, or decide my life in a few minutes. I don’t know you, I’m even a little bit afraid of you, of what you are, the power you wield.”

  “You said you trusted me.”

  “I do. That’s what makes me so crazy. Can’t you see that? We’re so different. You do crazy things, yet I want to be with you, hear your laughter, argue with you. I want to see your smile, the way your eyes light up, the hunger and need in you when you look at me. I want to take that coldness from your eyes, the distant, faraway stare when your mouth hardens and you look cruel and ruthless. Yes, I trust you, but I have no reason to.”

  “You are very pale. How do you feel?” He wanted to tell her it was too late, that they had gone too far, but he knew it would only build her resistance and alarm her needlessly.

  “Funny, sort of sick to my stomach, like I should eat something, but the thought of food mak
es me ill. You gave me one of your herb concoctions, didn’t you?”

  “Drink water and juices for a few days, a little fruit. No meat.”

  “I’m a vegetarian.” She looked around. “Where are my clothes?”

  He grinned unexpectedly, a perfect male smirk. “I got carried away and ripped your jeans. Just stay with me tonight, and I will get you new clothes tomorrow.”

  “It’s nearly morning now,” she pointed out, unwilling to lie down with him again. She couldn’t lie beside him and not burn for him. “Besides, I want a shower.”

  Before Mikhail had a chance to protest, Raven slid off the bed, wrapped safely in the old-fashioned quilt, clearing thinking herself safe from him now that she’d put a little distance between them.

  Six

  Mikhail kept his smile to himself. Let her feel safe—it cost him nothing. No way was she leaving his house, not with the assassins residing at her inn. To keep his mind off the image of her naked beneath the spray of water, he concentrated on the details of her emotions before he had taken her by force from the inn’s dining room.

  What had caused her frantic distress that night? She had been literally sick, her head pounding. She thought her reaction was caused by his rage, but he had been enraged at her distress. He had felt it before that oaf of a human had laid an unholy hand on her.

  Mikhail touched her mind because he had to. He found what he expected, tears and confusion. Her body was changing, had changed, with his blood running in her veins. Legend required a human and Carpathian to exchange blood three times for conversion. The blood he had given her from the cup would not count, because she had not taken it directly from his body. He had no intention of converting her, of taking a chance that she might become a deranged vampiress. As it was, he had gone dangerously over the line. He knew he would never be able to resist one more time—one last time. The experience would have to last an eternity.

  Raven had heard his words, all of which held truth, but he knew she had no idea of the reality. She would hear the whispers from every room in the inn, know when a bee entered the downstairs dining room. The sun would bother her eyes, and she would burn easily. Animals would reveal their secrets to her.

  Most foods would make her sick. But most of all, she would need him close, need to touch his mind, feel his body, burn with him. She already felt the pull of their two souls trying to be complete, and she was fighting it in the only way she knew how—fighting to free herself from him, fighting to understand what was happening to her.

  Raven leaned her body against the glass shower stall. She knew she couldn’t hide in the bathroom like a runaway child, but he was so potent, so compelling. She wanted to ease those lines of strain around his mouth, wanted to tease him, argue with him, hear his laughter. She was curiously weak still, a bit dizzy.

  “Come on, little one.” Mikhail’s voice wrapped her in a black-velvet caress. He reached into the glass shower, turned off the water, shackled her wrist, and pulled her from the safety of the large stall. When she shivered, he enveloped her slender body in a towel.

  Raven wrung out her long hair, a blush stealing over her entire body. Mikhail was so comfortable, unconcerned with his nudity. There was something untamed and magnificent about his raw strength, the casual way he accepted it. He rubbed her body with a large bath towel, buffing her skin until she was warm and rosy. The towel brushed her sensitive nipples, lingered along her rounded bottom, delved in the crease of her hip.

  Despite her resolve, her body came alive under his ministrations. Mikhail cupped her face, bent to brush his mouth against hers, featherlight, enticing. “Come back to bed,” he whispered against her soft lips, his tongue tasting the satin finish as he led her back to the bedchamber.

  “Mikhail,” she protested softly, breathlessly.

  He tugged on her wrist, unbalanced her so that her body came up against him. Her body melted into his, soft breasts pushing against heavy muscle, the evidence of his desire pressing against her stomach. His thighs were two strong columns welded with hers. “I could love you all night, Raven,” he murmured enticingly against her throat. His hands moved over her body, leaving fire in their wake. “I want to love you all night.”

  “Isn’t that the point? It’s dawn.” Her hands had a mind of their own, finding every defined muscle with her fingertips, stroking across his hard male form, seeking her own exploration.

  “Then I will spend the day making love to you.” He whispered the words against her mouth, bent closer to nibble at the corners of her lower lip. “I need you with me, Raven. You chase away the shadows and lighten the terrible load that threatens to drown me.”

  She skimmed her fingertips across the hard edges of his mouth. “Is this possession, or is it love?” She dipped her head to press her mouth to the hollow of his sternum, to slide her tongue over the ultrasensitive skin above his heart. There was no mark, no scar, but the sweep of her tongue followed the exact line of his earlier wound, where he had forced her to accept his life’s blood. She was merged with him, reading his mind, his erotic fantasies, wanting to bring them to life.

  His gut clenched hotly, his body responding with fierce aggression. Raven smiled at the feel of his hard length burning against her skin. She had no inhibitions when she lay with him, only a fierce desire to burn with him. “Answer me, Mikhail—the truth.” Her fingertips brushed his velvet tip, fingers curled around the heavy thickness of him sending hunger raging through his body. She was playing with fire, but he didn’t have the strength to stop her; he didn’t want to stop her.

  His hands curled in her damp hair, two tight fists. “Both,” he managed to gasp.

  He closed his eyes when her mouth moved over his flat belly, leaving behind a trail of fire. Wherever she touched him, her mouth, hot and moist, followed. He dragged her closer, urging her onto him. Her mouth was tight and hot and driving him mad. A low, ominous growl escaped, the beast shuddering with pleasure, needing primitive satisfaction.

  Her fingernails raked the hard column of his thighs, light, erotic, sending fire leaping, coiling in his gut. His mind blurred, merged more deeply with hers, a red haze of lust and need, love and hunger. He craved her touch, her hands, her silky mouth turning him into a living, breathing flame.

  Mikhail dragged her up, his hands like bands, although he made every effort to be conscious of his strength. His mouth took hers, mating, dancing, so much hunger beating in him she caught it, pressing closer, her body sliding against his, rubbing, heating.

  “Say you want me.” His mouth moved over her throat, closed over her aching breast. Every strong pull sent an answering rush of liquid heat.

  “You know I do.” She pressed him to her, wound a leg around his.

  She could barely breathe with her need, clawing at him to get closer, to crawl inside the shelter of his body, his mind, to feel his body in hers, taking possession as he was meant to, to feel his mouth at her breast, dragging her further into his world.

  “All of it,” he said hoarsely, his fingers probing the nest of tiny curls, stroking, caressing. “Mate with me my way.”

  She moved in a kind of anguish against his hand. “Yes, Mikhail.” She was frantic for release, frantic to relieve him. She was consumed with the same red haze, not separating love from lust or hunger from need. She was on fire, hurting, aching, body and mind, even her soul in torment, not knowing where his wild, uninhibited emotions left off and hers began.

  Mikhail lifted her easily with his enormous strength, slid her slowly, erotically down his clenching belly until she was pressed against the broad head of his raging erection. Her heat seared him, beckoned. Raven’s arms slid around his neck, her legs around his hips, opening for him. Slowly he lowered her body over his, impaled her on the thick length of fire so that she surrounded him with such a moist, tight sheath he shuddered, somewhere beyond mere pleasure, a kind of erotic heaven and hell.

  Her nails dug into his shoulders. “Stop, Mikhail. You’re too big this way.” Alarm spread ac
ross her face.

  “Relax, little one. We belong together, our bodies were made for one another.” He slid in farther, began to move in a long, slow rhythm, his hands caressing, soothing.

  He shifted his shoulders so that he could see her face, his body claiming hers with deep, sure, possessive strokes. Without conscious thought, the words formed in his mind. Te avio päläfertiilam—You are my lifemate.

  His ancient language, the sacred words to bind them soul to soul, rose up before he could think, before he could guard against them. He was a Carpathian male, his body buried deep in the body of his lifemate, joined skin to skin. The ferocious hunger would never leave him, and the need to bind them together for all time overwhelmed him. The words poured out of his soul—aloud—from his soul to hers.

  “Éntölam kuulua, avio päläfertiilam—I claim you as my lifemate. Ted kuuluak, kacad, kojed—I belong to you,” he whispered his fierce claim. “Élidamet andam—I offer my life for you. Pesämet andam—I give you my protection. Uskolfertiilamet andam—I give you my allegiance. Sívamet andam—I give you my heart. Sielamet andam—I give you my soul. Ainamet andam—I give you my body. Sívamet kuuluak kaik että a ted—I take into my keeping the same that is yours. Ainaak olenszal sívambin—Your life will be cherished by me for all my time. Te élidet ainaak pide minan—Your life will be placed above my own for all time. Te avio päläfertiilam—You are my lifemate. Ainaak sívamet jutta oleny—You are bound to me for all eternity. Ainaak terád vigyázak—You are always in my care.” With those formal words, a male Carpathian bound his true lifemate to him for all eternity. Once they were said, she could never escape him.