Dark Prince (5 page)

Mikhail whispered something in his native tongue and lifted his head slightly, breaking the contact. Raven felt warm liquid run down her throat to her breast. Mikhail's tongue followed the path, sweeping across the creamy swell of her breast. Mikhail caught at her small waist, aware suddenly of the way his body raged at him for release. He had to claim her for his mate. His body demanded, burned.

Raven caught at his shirt to keep from falling. He swore softly, eloquently, a mixture of two languages, furious with himself as he cradled her in his arms protectively.

"I'm sorry, Mikhail." Raven was appalled, frightened at her weakness. The room was spinning; it was difficult to focus. Her neck throbbed and burned.

He bent his dark head to kiss her gently. "No, little one, I am moving us too fast." Everything in his nature, beast and centuries-old man raged at him to take, keep her, but he wanted her to come to him willingly.

"I feel funny, dizzy."

He had been that little bit out of control, the beast in him hungry to put his mark on her, hungry for the sweet taste of her. His body was on fire, demanding release. Discipline and control fought with his instinctual predatory nature and won. He breathed deeply, carried her to the chair beside the fire. She deserved a courtship, deserved to know him, to come to feel affection if not love for him before he bound her to him. A human. A mortal. It was wrong. It was dangerous. As he gently placed her on the cushions, he caught the first warning of disturbance.

He swung around, his handsome features dark and menacing. His body lost its protective posture, all at once threatening and powerful. "Stay," he ordered softly. He moved so fast that he blurred, closing the doors to his library, turning to face the front door. Mikhail sent a silent call to his sentries.

Outside, a lone wolf howled, a second answered, a third, until there was a united chorus. When the noise subsided he waited, his face an implacable, granite mask. Mist drifted through the forest, tendrils of fog, collecting, moving, massing outside his home.

Mikhail lifted his arm and his front door opened. The fog and mist seeped in, collected in pools until his foyer was thick with it. Slowly the mists connected; bodies shimmered and became solid. "Why do you disturb me this night?" he challenged softly, his dark eyes glittering dangerously.

A man stepped forward, his fingers clasped solidly in his wife's. She looked pale and drawn, was obviously pregnant. "We seek your council, Mikhail, and bring you news."

Inside the library, Raven felt fear slam into her, the emotion beating in her head, swamping her, driving out the heavy, trancelike cobwebs. Someone was distraught, crying, feeling pain as sharp as a knife. She staggered to her feet, clutched at the back of a chair. Images pushed in. A young woman with pale, white skin, a large stake protruding from her chest, blood running in rivers, her head detached from her body, something sickening placed in her mouth. A ritual killing, symbolic, a warning of others to come. A serial killer, here, in this land of peace.

Raven gagged, both hands going to cover her ears, as if that could somehow stop the images pouring into her mind. For a moment she couldn't breathe, didn't want to breathe; she just wanted it to end. Wildly, she looked around her, saw a door to her right leading in the opposite direction from the overwhelming emotions. Blindly she stumbled to her feet, weak, disoriented, and dizzy. She staggered out of the library, needing to get some fresh air. Away from the details of death and horror that were so vivid in the minds of the newcomers.

Their fear and anger was a living thing. They were animals wounded and ready to tear and rend in retaliation. Why were people so ugly? So violent? She had no answer, no longer wanted one. She had taken several steps down a long hall when a figure loomed up. A man a little younger than Mikhail, thinner, with glittering eyes and chestnut, wavy hair. His smile was taunting and held menace as he reached for her.

An unseen force hit the man square in the chest, knocking him backward, and slamming him into the wall. Mikhail loomed up, a dark, malevolent shadow. He towered over Raven, protectively thrust her behind him. This time the throaty growl was a beast's roar of challenge.

Raven could feel the terrible rage in Mikhail, rage mixed with grief, his emotions so intense they beat at the air itself. She touched his arm, her fingers curling halfway around the thickness of his wrist, a tiny deterrent to the violence swirling within him. She felt the tension running through him as if it was alive.

There was a collective, audible gasp. Raven realized she was the center of the group's attention. There was one woman and four men. All eyes were on her fingers circling his wrist as if she had committed some terrible, criminal act. Mikhail's larger body moved to shield her completely from their scrutiny. He made no attempt to shake off her hand. If anything, he moved his body protectively, backing her farther into the wall so that he was pressing against her, obscuring their vision of her.

"She is under my protection." A declaration. A challenge. A promise of quick, savage retribution.

"As we all are, Mikhail," the woman said softly, appeasingly.

Raven swayed; only the walls were holding her up. Vibrations of rage and grief were beating at her until she wanted to scream. She made a sound, a single, threadlike sound of objection. Mikhail turned to her at once, his arms sweeping around her, enveloping her. "Guard your thoughts and emotions," he hissed at the others. "She is very sensitive. I will escort her to the inn and return to discuss this disturbing news."

Raven had no real chance to see the others before he was striding past them, taking her with him to the small car waiting in the garage. She smiled tiredly, her head resting against his shoulder. "You don't seem like you belong in this car, Mikhail. Your views on women are so archaic, in a former life you must have been 'lord of the castle’."

He glanced at her quickly. His gaze slid over the paleness of her face, dwelt on his mark on her neck, visible through the long mane of her hair. In truth, he hadn't meant to leave a mark, but now it was there, his brand of ownership. "I am going to help you sleep tonight." He made it a statement.

"Who were those people?" She asked because she knew he didn't want her to ask. She was so tired, even dizzy. She rubbed at her head and wished that for once in her life she was normal. He probably thought she was the fainting type.

There was a short silence. He sighed heavily. "My family."

She knew he spoke the truth, yet he didn't. "Why would someone do such a terrible thing?" She turned her face up to his. "Do they expect you to track this killer, to stop him?" There was raw pain in her voice, pain for him. Worry. His grief was sharp, edged with guilt and the need for violence.

He turned her question over in his mind. She knew then, knew one of his people had been killed. She probably had picked the details out of someone's head. The worry and pain was for him. There was no condemnation. Simply worry. Mikhail felt the tension ease from his body, felt warmth curl in his stomach. "I will try to keep you as far from this mess as possible, little one." No one worried about him, about his state of mind or his health. No one thought to feel for him. Something inside him seemed to soften and melt. She was wrapping herself inside him, deep, somewhere he needed her.

"Perhaps we shouldn't see each other for a few days. I've never been so tired in my life." She tried to give him a gracious way out. Raven looked down at her hands. She wanted to give herself an out, too. She had never felt so close to anyone, so comfortable, as if she had known him forever, yet was terrified that he would take her over. "And I don't think your family was thrilled to see an American with you. We're too… explosive together," she finished ruefully.

"Do not try to leave me, Raven." The car drew up in front of the inn. "I hold what is mine, and make no mistake, you are mine." It was both a warning and a plea. He had no time for soft words. He wanted to give them to her—God knew she deserved them—but the others were waiting and his responsibilities weighed heavily on him.

She raised her hand to the line of his jaw, rubbing gently. "You're so used (o having your own way." There was a smile in her voice. "I can go to sleep all by myself, Mikhail. I've been doing it for years."

"You need to sleep untroubled, undisturbed, deeply. What you saw' tonight will haunt you if I do not help you." His thumb stroked across her lower lip. "I could remove the memory if you wished."

Raven could see he wanted to do it, believed that it would be best for her. She could see it was difficult to ask her to make a decision. "No, thank you, Mikhail," she said demurely. "I think I'll keep all my memories, good and bad." She kissed his chin, slid across the seat to the door. "You know, I'm not a porcelain doll. I won't break because I see something I shouldn't. I've chased serial killers before." She smiled at him, her eyes sad.

He shackled her wrist in an unbreakable grip. "And it almost destroyed you. Not this time."

Her lashes swept down, hiding her expression. "That's not your decision." If others persuaded him to use his talents to chase the insane, evil killers in the world, she would not leave him alone. How could she?

"You are not nearly as afraid of me as you should be," he growled.

She flashed him another smile, tugging at her wrist to remind him to release her. "I think you know what's between us would be worth nothing if you forced me to do your will in everything."

He held her captive a heartbeat longer, his dark, dangerous eyes moving possessively over her fragile face. She was so strong-willed. She was afraid, but she looked him in the eyes and stood up to him. It made her ill, brought her to the brink of madness to chase evil, but she did it time and time again. He was still a shadow in her mind. He read her determination to help him, her fear of him and his incredible powers, but she would not leave him to face this horrible killer alone. He wanted to keep her with him safe in his lair. Almost reverently, Mikhail trailed his fingers down her cheek. "Go, before I change my mind," he ordered, abruptly releasing her.

Raven walked away from him slowly, trying to overcome the dizziness that had taken hold of her. She was careful to walk straight, not wanting him to know she felt as if her body was lead, that every movement was difficult. She walked with her head up and kept her mind purposely blank.

Mikhail watched her enter the inn. He saw her hand go up to her head, rub at her temple, the nape of her neck. She was still dizzy from his taking her blood. That had been selfish, beneath him, yet he couldn't stop himself. Now she was paying for it. Her head ached from the bombardment of emotions. His included. All of his people would have to be more careful to shield their minds.

Mikhail unfolded his large frame from the vehicle, moved to the shadows, his senses flaring out to tell him he was alone. He took the form of mist. In the heavy fog it was unnoticeable, and he could easily seep beneath her unsecured window. He watched her as she sank onto the bed. Her face was pale, her eyes haunted.Shw swept her mane of hair back, touching his mark as if it ached. It took her a few minutes to kick off her shoes, as if the task was too great.

Mikhail waited until she had flung herself face down, fully clothed on the bed.
You will sleep.
He gave the order forcefully, expected her compliance.

Mikhail.
His name echoed in his head, soft, drowsy, with a hint of amusement.
Somehow I knew you would just have to have your way.
She didn't fight it, but went under willingly, a smile curving her soft mouth.

Mikhail undressed her, slid her slender body beneath the covers. He safeguarded the door, a powerful spell guaranteed to keep even the strongest of his own people out, let alone pathetic mortal assassins. He secured the windows and provided the same guards at every possible entry point. Very gently he brushed his lips across her forehead, then reached down to touch his brand on her neck before leaving her.

The others fell silent when he entered his home. Celeste smiled tentatively, pressed a protective hand to the child lying in her womb. "Is she all right, Mikhail?"

He nodded abruptly, curiously grateful for her concern. No one would question him, yet his behavior was completely out of character for him. He got right to the point. "How did the assassins find Noelle unprotected?"

The others looked at one another. Mikhail drilled it into them never to forget the smallest details guarding their safety, but over the years it was so easy to forget, to slip up.

"Noelle had her baby only two months ago. She was so tired all the time." Celeste tried to excuse the slip.

"And Rand? Where was he? Why did he leave his exhausted wife unprotected while she slept?" Mikhail asked softly, dangerously.

Byron, the man who had been in such trouble earlier, stirred uncomfortably. "You know how Rand is. Always after the women. He took the child to Celeste and went out hunting."

"And forgot to provide Noelle with the proper safeguards." Mikhail's disgust was all too evident. "Where is he?"

Celeste's lifemate, Eric, answered grimly. "He was crazy, Mikhail. It took all of us to subdue him, but he sleeps now. The child is with him deep in the ground. The healing will do them good."

"We could not afford to lose Noelle." Mikhail pushed grief away; it was not the time to feel it. "Eric, can you keep Rand under control?"

"I think you should talk to him," Eric answered honestly. "The guilt is making him crazy. He nearly turned on us."

"Vlad, where is Eleanor? She is at risk, heavy with child. We must protect her as we will Celeste," Mikhail said. "We cannot afford the loss of any of our women and certainly not their children."

"She is so close to term, I was worried about her traveling." Vlad sighed heavily. "She is safe and well-guarded for the moment, but I think this war is starting again."

Mikhail tapped a finger on the small table near the chessboard. "Perhaps it is significant that we have three of our women giving birth for the first time in a decade. Our children are few and far between. If the assassins somehow have gained knowledge of our women's condition, they will be afraid we are multiplying, growing strong again."