Dark Prince (14 page)

"We really are from two different worlds, aren't we?" she asked sadly.

He brought her hand to the warmth of his mouth. "There is such a thing as compromise, little one. We can move between the two worlds or create our own."

Her blue eyes slid over him, a faint smile touching her mouth. "That sounds so good, Mikhail, so twentieth century, but somehow I think it's more likely I would be the one compromising."

With his strange old-world courtesy, Mikhail held up a branch for her to pass beneath. The path was a large oval leading back to his home. "Perhaps you are right"—male amusement again—"but then, it has always been my nature to control and protect. I have no doubt you are more than a match for me."

"Then why are we back at your house instead of at the inn?" she asked, one hand on her hip and a smile dancing in her blue eyes.

"What would you do there so late at night anyway?" His voice was pure velvet, more enticing than ever. "Stay with me tonight. You can read while I work, and I will teach you how to build better shields to protect yourself from the unwanted emotions of those around you."

"How about for my hearing? Your little medicinal concoctions have increased my hearing to the point of absurdity." She arched an eyebrow at him. "Do you have any idea what else is going to happen to me?"

His teeth grazed the back of her neck, his fingers brushed across her breast possessively. "I have all kinds of ideas, little one."

"I'll just bet you do. I think you're a sex maniac, Mikhail." Raven slipped out of his grasp. "I think you put something in that concoction to make me a sex maniac, too." She seated herself at the table, calmly picked up her glass of juice, and looked up at him steadily. "Did you?"

"Drink that slowly," he ordered absently. "Where do you come up with your ideas? I have been so careful with you. Have you felt me giving you suggestions?"

She found herself reluctant to drink. "You're always making me sleep." Raven took a cautious sniff of the juice. Pure apple, nothing else. She hadn't had a thing to eat or drink in nearly twenty-four hours, so why was she reluctant?

"You needed to sleep," he said without remorse. Mikhail watched her with his brooding, hawklike eyes. "Is something wrong with your juice?"

"No, no, of course not." Raven put the glass to her lips, felt her stomach clench in protest. She replaced the glass on the table, the contents untouched.

Mikhail sighed softly. "You know you must take nourishment." He leaned close. "How simple it would be if you allowed me to help you, but you have said I should not. Does this make sense?"

Her gaze slid from his; her fingers nervously fiddled with the glass. "Maybe I'm just coming down with the flu. I've been feeling funny for a few days, dizzy and weak." She pushed the glass away.

Mikhail pushed it back. "You need it, little one." He touched her slender arm. "You already are too small. I do not think losing weight is a good idea. Take a sip."

She speared a hand through her hair, wanting to please him, knowing he was right. Her stomach insisted on rebelling. "I don't think I can, Mikhail." She raised a troubled gaze to his. "I'm really not trying to be difficult; I think I'm sick."

His face, dark and sensual, had a slightly ruthless set to it. He loomed over her, his fingers curling around the glass of juice.
You will drink.
His voice was pitched low and intense, brooking no argument, making it impossible to disobey. "The juice will stay down; your body will accept it." He spoke gently aloud, his arms protective as he circled her shoulders.

Raven blinked up at him, then looked at the empty glass on the table. She shook her head slowly. "I can't believe you're capable of doing that. I don't remember drinking it and I'm not sick now." She turned her face from him, staring out into the dark mystery of the forest. The fog caught the light from the moon, glistened and gleamed.

"Raven." His hand caressed the nape of her neck.

She leaned into him. "You don't even know how really special you are, do you? The things you can do are beyond anything I've ever seen. You scare me, you really do."

Mikhail leaned his weight against the post, genuine puzzlement on his face. "It is my duty and my right to take care of you. If you need the healing of sleep, then I must provide it. If your body needs to drink, then why should I not aid you? Why should this frighten you?"

"You really don't understand, do you?" Raven fixed her gaze on a particularly intriguing wisp of fog. "You are a leader here. Obviously your skills are far superior to mine. I don't think I could ever fit into your life. I'm a loner, not the first lady."

"I have great responsibilities, yes. My people count on me to keep our businesses running smoothly, to hunt down the assassins murdering our people. They even think I should single-handedly find out why we lose so many of our children in their first year of life. There is nothing special about me, Raven, except that I have a will of iron and I am willing to shoulder these burdens. But I have nothing for myself; I never have had. You give me a reason to go on. You are my heart, my soul, the very air I breathe. Without you, I have nothing but darkness, emptiness. Just because I have power, because I am strong, that does not mean I cannot feel utterly alone. It is cold and ugly to exist alone."

Raven pressed a hand to her stomach. Mikhail looked so remote, so alone. She hated the way he stood silent, straight and proud, waiting for her to rip his heart out. She had to comfort him and he knew it. He read her mind; he knew she couldn't bear that loneliness in his eyes. She crossed the distance separating them. Raven didn't say anything. What could she say? She simply laid her head over his heart and slipped her arms around his waist.

Mikhail closed his arms around her. He had taken her life away from her, without her knowledge. She was comforting him, declaring him to be a special man, great in her eyes, yet she didn't know of his crime. She was bound to him, could not be away from him for long. He had no words to explain it to her without giving away more about their race than he could safely do. She thought she couldn't live up to his greatness. She made him feel humble and ashamed of himself.

His hand cupped her face, his thumb caressing the delicate line of her jaw. "Listen to me, Raven." He brushed a kiss on the top of her silky head. "I know I do not deserve you. You think you are somehow less than what I am, but in truth, you are so far above me, I have no right even to reach for you."

When she stirred as if to protest, Mikhail held her tighter. "No, little one, I know this is true. I see you clearly, whereas you do not have access to my thoughts and memories. I cannot give you up. I wish I was a stronger, better man so that I could do so, but I cannot. I can only promise you that I will do everything in my power to make you happy, to provide for you everything I can possibly give you. J ask for time to learn your ways, for room to make mistakes. If you need to hear words of love"—his mouth skimmed down the side of her face to find the corner of her mouth—"then I can say them to you in all honesty. I have never wanted a woman for my own. I have never wanted anyone to have that kind of power over me. I have never shared with any woman what I have shared with you."

His kiss was infinitely tender, a searing, smoky flame tasting of love and longing. "You are in my heart to stay, Raven. I know better than you the differences between us. I ask only for a chance."

She turned herself in his arms, pressed her body lovingly against his. "You really think we can make this work? We can find a middle ground?"

She really had no idea of the risk he would be taking. Once she lived with him, he could never seek the safety and sanctuary of the earth. He could not leave her without his protection even for a day. From the moment she moved in with him, the danger to him would increase tenfold, as it would to her. The assassins would not differentiate between them. She would be condemned in their eyes. On top of all his other crimes, he was dragging her into a dangerous world.

His hand moved to the nape of her neck. So fragile, so small. "We will never know unless we try." His arms closed around her, holding her to him as if he would never let her go.

Raven felt the sudden tensing of his body. He lifted his head alertly, as if scenting the wind, as if listening to the night. She found herself doing the same, inhaling deeply, striving to hear deep into the forest. Far away, the faint, distant howls of the wolf pack floated on the breeze as they called to one another, called to Mikhail.

Shocked, Raven flung back her head. "They're talking to you! How do I know that, Mikhail? How could I possibly know such a thing?"

He ruffled her hair lightly, affectionately. "You hang out with the wrong crowd."

He was rewarded with a bubble of laughter. It tugged at his heart, left him open and vulnerable. "What is this?" she teased. "Lord of the manor picks up nineties slang?"

He grinned at her boyishly, mischievously. "Maybe I am the one hanging out with the wrong crowd."

"And maybe there's hope for you yet." She kissed his throat, his chin, the stubborn line of his blue-shadowed jaw.

"Did I tell you how beautiful you look in that outfit?" His arm curved around her shoulders, turned her toward the table. "We are about to have company." With unhurried movements he poured half a glass of juice into the goblet on his side of the table, crumbled a small piece of pastry to dust between his fingers, and sprinkled it over both of their plates.

"Mikhail?" Raven's voice was wary. "Be careful if you use mental contact. I think there is another person besides me who has telepathic abilities."

"All of my people have this ability," he answered carefully.

"Not like you, Mikhail." She was frowning, rubbing her forehead. "Like me."

"Why did you not mention this to me?" he asked softly, his voice a whip of demand. "You know my people are being stalked, our women murdered. I tracked three of the assassins to the very inn where you are staying."

"Because I don't know for certain, Mikhail. I try never to touch people. Over the years I've taught myself not to have contact, not to allow anyone to touch me." She speared her hand through her hair, a little frown creasing her forehead. "I'm sorry. I should have said something about my suspicions, but I wasn't certain."

Mikhail smoothed the line on her forehead with a gentle fingertip, touched her mouth tenderly. "I did not mean to jump down your throat, little one. We need to discuss this at our first opportunity. Can you hear it?"^

She reached out into the night. "A car."

"A mile or so away." He dragged the night air into his lungs. "Father Hummer and two strangers. Women. They wear perfume. One is older."

"There are only eight guests besides myself staying at the inn." Raven was finding it hard to breathe. "They came in on a tour together. An older couple from the States, Harry and Margaret Summers. Jacob and Shelly Evans are a brother and sister from Belgium. There were four men from different places, somewhere on the Continent. I really haven't spoken much to them."

"Any of them could be with the assassins," he said grimly. He was secretly pleased that she hadn't paid much attention to the other men. He didn't want her looking at other men, not ever.

"I think I would have known, don't you?" she asked. "I deal with killers more than I would like to admit. Only one of these people has telepathic abilities, and certainly no stronger than mine."

She could hear the car easily now, but the dense fog prevented them from seeing it. Mikhail tipped up her chin with two fingers. "We are already bound together in the way of my people. Will you speak vows in the way of yours?"

Her blue eyes widened with shock, eyes a man could drown in. Eyes a man could spend eternity staring into. A small, very male smile tugged at his mouth. He had succeeded in shocking her.

"Mikhail, are you asking me to marry you?"

"I am not really certain I know how it is done. Should I be on my knee?" He was grinning openly at her.

"You're proposing to me with a carload of assassins approaching?"

"Wanna-be assassins." He displayed knowledge of Stateside slang with a small, heart-wrenching smile. "Say yes. You know you cannot possibly resist me. Say yes."

"After you made me drink that disgusting apple juice? You set your wolves on me, Mikhail. I know there's a long list of sins I should be reciting." Her eyes were sparkling with mischief.

He pulled her into his arms, against the heavy muscles of his chest, fitting her neatly into the cradle of his hips. "I can see this is going to take some heavy persuasion." His lips moved over her face like a brand, fastened on her mouth and rocked the very earth.

"No one should be able to kiss like this," Raven whispered.

He kissed her again, tantalizingly sweet, his tongue sliding over hers sensuously, pure magic, pure promise. "Say yes, Raven. Feel how much I need you."

Mikhail dragged her closer so the hard evidence of his desire was clearly imprinted against her flat stomach. Taking her hand in his, he brought it down to cover the aching bulge, rubbed her palm slowly back and forth across him, tormenting both of them. He opened his mind so she could feel the sharpness of his hunger, the edge to his passion, the flood of warmth and love enveloping her, them.
Say yes, Raven;
he whispered it in her head, needing her to want him back, to accept him, good or bad.

You take such unfair advantage.
Her reply held a trace of amusement, was warm honey spilling over with love.

The car nosed out of the mist, came to a halt under a canopy of trees. Mikhail turned to face the outsiders, instinctively placing his body protectively between Raven and the three visitors. "Father Hummer, what a pleasant surprise." Mikhail extended a welcoming hand to the priest, but there was a hard bite to his voice.

"Raven!" Shelly Evans pushed rudely past the priest and rushed toward Raven, although her eyes were devouring Mikhail.

Mikhail saw the ripple of dismay in Raven's eyes before Shelly reached her, flinging her arms around Raven and hugging her tightly. Shelly had no idea Raven could read her envy and her sexual interest in Mikhail. He could feel Raven's natural revulsion to physical touch, to the woman's concern, to her fantasies about Mikhail, but Raven managed a smile and returned the hug.