Dark Prince (31 page)

Her fingertips traced the hard line of his jaw tenderly. "How do you manage to turn everything to your advantage?"

His hand found the bare skin of her satin-smooth thigh. "I do not know the answer to that, little one. Perhaps it is sheer talent." He turned his head and nuzzled aside the tails of his shirt to burrow against her.

A low sound escaped from deep in Raven's throat as his tongue stroked her. Obligingly she moved her legs to accommodate him, to give him room. She tangled her fingers in his thick, coffee-colored hair.

Mikhail delved deeper, drew a shudder of pleasure from her. He could feel the spreading flames in his blood, swift, savage excitement, joy singing in his veins. His arms circled her hips, dragged her closer to him so that he could burrow deeper. He intended to take his time, to give her pleasure. She was his woman, his lifemate, and no one could give her the kind of ecstasy he could.

Chapter Twelve

The bedchamber, situated below the earth, was as silent and as dark as a tomb. Mikhail and Raven lay together on the huge bed, their bodies entwined. Mikhail's leg was over her thigh, his large frame curved protectively around hers, his arms sheltering her close to his heart. There was utter silence in the chamber, not even the sound of breathing. To all appearances they were devoid of life.

The house itself seemed to be in slumber, silent, as if it were holding its breath and waiting for night to fall. Sunshine burst through the windows and spotlighted the centuries-old artwork and leather-bound books. Mosaic tiles gleamed on the floor at the entrance, the sun on the hardwood floors bringing out a blondish hue in the wood.

Without warning Mikhail's breath began in a long, slow, continuous hiss, like a coiled, venomous snake prepared to strike. His dark eyes snapped open, malevolent, glowing with a predator's hunger, with the fury of a trapped wolf. His body was sluggish, his tremendous strength sapped by the need for deep sleep. Tuned to the cycle of day and night, he knew it was midday and the harsh, unrelenting sun was at its highest and most lethal peak.

Something was wrong. Something had penetrated the deep layers of sleep to wake him from his needed slumber. His fingers curled, nails like claws raking the mattress beneath him. Too many hours to sunset. He scanned his surroundings, meticulous in his search. The house vibrated with sudden tension, the air stirring with unease. The very foundation seemed to flinch in terror at some unseen menace.

Outside the wrought-iron fence. Rudy Romanov paced back and forth, black anger in his heart, in his mind. Every fourth step he pounded at the fence in a fury of frustration, a baseball bat cracking hard against the thick twisted poles of iron. "Evil! Undead!" The words were hurled into the air toward the house.

Mikhail growled low, his body trapped in the layers of fog, his instincts fully aroused. His lips drew back in a silent snarl, exposing fangs. A long slow hiss escaped again.

Accusations beat in his head with the force of Rudy's anger. "I found my father's proof. He's gathered it for years. Everything! It's all there. The list of your servants. You are evil, the head of the monster. Murderer! Unclean! You turned that beautiful woman into your perverted slave! She would have used me to add to your ranks."

The madness of grief and rage blended with a fanatical desire for revenge. Rudy Romanov believed his father's records and had come to kill the head vampire. Mikhail understood the danger; the very air was thick with it. He called to Raven, brushed her mind with his, a loving, gentle caress.
Wake, my love. We are in danger.

Raven's breath began, slow and even. With his warning filling her mind, she automatically scanned the chamber. Her body felt limp and lifeless, the need for sleep intensely strong. Her brain felt sluggish, uncomprehending.

Romanov is outside the walls.

She blinked, tried to clear the fog.
Hans Romanov is dead
.

His son lives. He is outside, and I can feel his rage and hatred. He is dangerous to us. The sun is up; we are weak. He cannot enter, but we cannot go out.

It took great concentration and a supreme effort to rub her face against the tangle of hair on his chest. She cleared her throat experimentally. "I can answer the door, see what he wants. I'll tell him you're at work. He'll feel silly and leave us alone."

He cradled her head against him. She was still thinking in human terms, unaware of the terrible price of immortality.
You are still so groggy, you are not hearing him. He is in a dangerous state of mind.
She had no idea of the price she had paid for loving him. The sun would destroy her should she ever find the strength to rise.

Raven curled against him like a cat, her need for sleep overwhelming.

Listen to me, little one. You must stay awake!
The command was imperious. Mikhail's arms surrounded her with the intensity of his love, his need to protect her.

Raven roused herself enough to scan her surroundings. The blackness of Rudy Romanov's rage was like a living entity, demanding death. The force of it beat in her head.
He's crazy, Mikhail.
She lifted a hand, a slow, difficult movement, tried to push at the heavy fall of hair. The air was so thick or she was so weak; the simple movement took intense concentration.
Last night he was so sweet, grieving for his mother. Now he's convinced we are his enemy. He's an educated man, Mikhail. Did I put us in danger? Maybe I did or said something to make him suspicious.
Raven's mind was clouded with guilt.

His chin rubbed the top of her head.
No, he found something among his father's papers. He was not suspicious last night; he grieved. Something convinced him that his father's accusations were well founded. He believes us to be vampire.

I don't think anyone will believe him, even if he shows them the evidence he supposedly has. They'll think he's in shock.
She feared for Rudy's safety as much as for their own.

Mikhail's fingers brushed her cheek tenderly. It was so like her to have compassion for a man whose entire being was bent on murdering them. Suddenly his body jerked hard against hers. The house flinched, screamed silently a split second before the first explosion reverberated in their ears. Above them, on the first floor, windows shattered; antique furniture splintered. A heartbeat, two heartbeats. Another explosion rocked the house, fragmenting the wall on the north side.

Mikhail's fangs gleamed in the darkness; the hiss of his breath was a promise of merciless retaliation. The smell of smoke, acrid and rank, seeped through the ceiling into their bedchamber, where it swirled and gathered into a pungent, eye-burning cloud. Over their heads flames began to crackle and lick greedily at the books and paintings, at Mikhail's past, at his present. Orange and red tongues eagerly consumed possessions that Mikhail had acquired in the long centuries of his existence. Rudy wanted to destroy it all, little knowing that Mikhail had many houses, many treasures.

Mikhail!
She felt his anguish at the death of his favorite home burning above them. The putrid smell of hatred, fear, and smoke mixed.

We must go below. The house will eventually fall.
In her mind the grimness he felt echoed sharply.

Raven attempted to drag herself into a sitting position, her movements painfully sluggish.
We have to get out of the house. Going below will only trap us between the ground and the flames.

The sun is too high. We must go underground.
His arms tightened perceptibly, as if he could give her the courage to face what had to be done.
We have no choice.

You go, Mikhail,
she said. Fear clawed at her. She was helpless in her present state. Even if she managed to move herself below to the cellar, she could never burrow into the soil, bury herself alive. She would be insane when the time came to return to the surface. She absolutely could not commit herself to such an act, but it was necessary to encourage Mikhail to do so. He was the important one, the one his people needed.

We go together, my love.
He interjected strength into his voice, a strength his muscular body did not echo. His limbs were like lead. It took tremendous effort to drag himself off the bed, and his body landed heavily on the floor.
Come on; we can do this.

The smoke was thicker now, the room beginning to heat like an oven. Overhead, the ceiling began to blacken ominously. The smoke hurt her eyes, stung enough to burn.

Raven
! It was an imperious command.

She rolled off the bed, landing heavily enough to knock the wind out of her.
It's going up so fast.
Alarm bells were shrieking in her head. There was so much smoke; the house was groaning above them.

Raven dragged herself, inch by slow inch, following Mikhail's painfully sluggish movements across the floor. They could not even crawl; they were so weak, it was impossible to get on their hands and knees. They slid full length on their stomachs, using their arms to propel themselves forward until they were at the hidden entrance to the cellar. Raven would have done anything to get Mikhail to a safe sanctuary.

Heat sucked the air from the room so that their bodies were bathed in perspiration; their lungs labored and burned. Even with their combined strength, it seemed impossible to lift the trap door.
Concentrate,
Mikhail instructed.
Do it with your will.

She blocked out everything: her fear, the smoke, the fire, Mikhail's agony and rage at his burning home, the predatory beast rising in him. She narrowed her thoughts to the heavy door, focused, aimed. With infinite slowness it began to move, a groaning creak of wood and metal protesting movement but obeying reluctantly. Mikhail fed her power with his own. When the door lay open to them, revealing the yawning chasm below, they slumped exhausted against each other, clinging for a moment, their hearts laboring, their lungs burning with the clouds of smoke whirling around them.

Debris rained down from the roof to the ceiling above their heads. The fire roared like a giant monster, a stormy conflagration, loud and fearsome. Raven slipped her hand into Mikhail's. He locked his fingers around hers.
The roof went; the ceiling above us is going to go up fast.

You go, Mikhail; I'll wait here as long as I can.
The hole below was as terrifying as the fire itself.

We go together.
Mikhail's orders were law. Raven could sense the change in him. No longer man, but full Carpathian, a beast gathering its strength, waiting. An enemy was destroying his home, his belongings, threatening the life of his mate. A slow, deadly hiss escaped from Mikhail. The sound made her heart pound. Always with Raven, he was gentle and kind, tender and loving. This was the predator unleashed.

Raven swallowed her fear, closed her eyes, and cleared her mind. For Mikhail, she had to find a way to go down into that dark earth beneath the cellar below them. Mikhail swirled in her as strong as ever.
You can do this, my love. You are light, like a feather, so light you float.
He built the feeling for her. Her body seemed insubstantial, as light as the air itself. Raven kept her eyes closed even when she felt the air stirring gently around her, felt it fanning her skin. She could feel Mikhail in her mind, yet her body was no more than a fleeting wisp, tangled with his.

Darkness enveloped them, caressed them, carried them down to the fertile soil. Raven opened her eyes, astonished and pleased to find herself in the cellar. She had floated like a feather through the air. It was exhilarating. For a moment her pleasure drove out the fear and horror of the fire. She had moved a heavy object using only her mind, and now she had gone through the air, floating like the breeze itself. Almost like flying. Raven leaned against Mikhail, wearily.
I can't believe we did that. We really just floated.
For the blink of an eye, she put aside the destruction happening all around them and reveled in the wonder of what she had become.

Mikhail's answer was to pull her closer, his arms surrounding her, her slender body enclosed and protected by his large frame. Exhilaration faded. She was as much inside him as he was in her, and she felt the ice cold of his bitter, merciless resolve. It was nothing like the white heat of his black rage; this was far, far worse. This Mikhail was all Carpathian, as dangerously lethal as any mythical vampire. The utter lack of emotion, the entire strength of his iron will and total determination was frightening. He would retaliate swiftly and mercilessly. There was no middle ground. Romanov had become his enemy and he would be destroyed.

Mikhail.
Compassion and a gentle calm filled his mind.
Losing your home this way
—
the things that have surrounded and comforted you for so long
—
it must be like losing a part of yourself.
She rubbed her face against his chest, a small consoling gesture.
I love you, Mikhail. We'll build another home together. The two of us. This is a terrible moment in our lives, but we can rebuild stronger than ever.

His chin rested on the top of her head, his mind sending hers waves of love, of warmth. But inside that utter coldness remained, unmoved by her words. Only with Raven did he feel tenderness; with the rest of the world it was equal force, kill or be killed.

Raven tried again.
Grief does strange things to people. Rudy Romanov lost both his parents. His mother was brutally murdered by his own father. Whatever he found has made him blame you. He probably feels guilty for thinking his father was crazy. What he's doing is a terrible thing, but no worse than what you did to those who murdered your sister.

I had no thought for my sister when I struck at the assassins.
There was a grimness in Mikhail's thoughts.
The two cases cannot be compared. The assassins attacked us first. I would have left them alone had they not come after my people. I failed you once, little one. I will not fail to protect you this day.