She lay gleaming in the moonlight, her skin soft, the color of peaches. Mikhail slid his hand over the contour of her leg. The feel of her jolted his insides. He stroked her hips, traced her small, tucked-in waist. Raven stirred, shifted restlessly. Mikhail stretched out beside her, pulled her into the shelter of his arms, his chin resting on the top of her head.
He wanted her, any way he could get her, but he owed her some semblance of honesty. At least as much as he dared give her. She emerged from the layers of sleep slowly, burrowing against his hard strength as if for comfort from a bad dream. How could a human possibly understand the needs of a Carpathian male in the sexual frenzy of a true mating ritual? Down through the long ages, he had feared few things, yet more than anything he feared to see himself through her innocent eyes.
He knew by her breathing the moment she was fully awake, and by her sudden tension that she realized where she was and with whom. He had taken her innocence brutally, had nearly taken her life. How could she forgive such a thing?
Raven closed her eyes, trying desperately to separate fact from fiction, reality from fantasy. Her body was sore, hurting in places she didn’t know she had. She felt different, more sensitive. Mikhail’s body against hers was like hot marble, immovable and aggressive, unbearably sexy. She could hear the creaks and rustles of the house acutely, the sway of branches outside the window. She pushed at the wall of Mikhail’s chest to try to put space between their bodies.
Mikhail tightened his arms, buried his face in her hair. “If you can touch my mind, Raven, you know what I feel for you.” His voice was husky, vulnerable.
In spite of herself, Raven felt her heart turn over.
“I do not want you to leave me, little one. Have the courage to stay with me. Perhaps I am a monster. I do not know anymore, I truly do not, only that I need you to stay with me.”
“You could have made me forget,” she pointed out, more for herself than for him, more of a question than a statement. He had been wild, but she couldn’t say he’d hurt her. Rather, he had taken her to the very stars.
“I thought about it,” he admitted reluctantly, “but I do not want that between us. I am sorry I was not more careful with your innocence.”
She heard the ache in his voice, felt an answering one in her body. “You know you made sure I felt pleasure.” Ecstasy was more like it. A baptism by fire, an exchange of souls. He was wild, and he had swept her up with him in the firestorm. And she wanted him again, craved his touch, the driving strength of his body. But he was dangerous, really, really, dangerous. She knew that now. She knew he was different, that something lived in him, more animal than man.
“Mikhail.” Raven pushed against the solid wall of his chest. She needed to breathe, to think without feeling the heat of his skin and the urgent demands of his body.
“Do not do this!” His voice was a sharp command. “Do not shut me out.”
“You’re talking about a commitment to something so beyond anything I can imagine...” Raven bit at her lip. “My home is so far from here.”
“You have nothing but sorrow there, Raven.” He refused the simple out for both of them. “You know you will not survive on your own, and although it is in your mind to deny them your talents when they come to you with another hideous crime, you know in your heart you will be unable to say no. It is not in you to allow a killer to go free when you might save his next victim.” His hand bunched in the silken length of her hair, as if that could hold her to him. “They cannot care for you as I can.”
“What of our differences? You have this attitude toward women, as if we’re second-class citizens and not too bright. Unfortunately, you have the capability to force your will on anyone who might oppose you. And I would. All the time. I have to be myself, Mikhail.”
He lifted the weight of her hair from the nape of her neck and brushed a kiss, feather light, on her exposed skin. “You know my attitude toward women reflects my need to protect them, not that I think them less than myself. Oppose me all you wish, little one. I love everything about you.”
His thumb was stroking the soft swell of her breast, heating her blood, sending a shiver of excitement down her spine. Raven wanted him wild and untamed, wanted him needing her. He was so in control; it was a powerful aphrodisiac to realize she could make him lose that control.
Mikhail bent his head to the hardened nipple beckoning him. His tongue touched her gently; he kissed the velvet peak, drew her into the moist, hot cavern of his mouth. Raven made a sound, a soft sigh, closed her eyes. Her body was coming alive, every nerve ending screaming for his touch. She felt boneless, pliant, her body melting into the heat of his.
She didn’t want this. Tears burned in her throat, behind her eyes. She didn’t want this, but she needed it. “Don’t hurt me, Mikhail.” She whispered the words against the heavy muscles of his chest. It was a plea for their future. Raven knew he would never hurt her physically, but their life could be very stormy together.
He lifted his head, shifted so that his weight pinned her beneath him. His dark eyes moved possessively over her small, fragile face. His hand cupped her face, his thumb stroking across her chin, her full lower lip. “Do not fear me, Raven. Can you not feel the strength of my emotions, my tie to you? I would give my life for you.” Because he wanted truth between them, he admitted the inevitable. “It will not be easy, but we will work things out between us.” His hand stroked her flat stomach, moved lower to nestle in her midnight-black curls.
Her hand stilled his. “What happened to me?” She was confused. Had she fainted? Everything was so jumbled. She knew for certain Mikhail had forced her to drink some disgusting medicinal concoction. She had slept. Later there had been nightmares. She was used to nightmares, but this one had been horrible. She had been forced to a naked chest, her mouth clamped to a terrible wound. Blood, running like a river, forced down her throat. She choked, gagged, fought, but somehow, in that nightmare world, she could not pull away. She had tried to call for Mikhail. And then she had looked up and there he was, looking down at her with his dark, mysterious eyes, his hand forcing her head against the wound in his chest. Was it because she was in the heart of Dracula country and Mikhail reminded her of a dark, mysterious prince?
Raven couldn’t help herself; she smoothed gentle fingertips over his unblemished chest. Something had happened to her and she knew she was changed for all time, that she was somehow a part of Mikhail and he was a part of her.
Mikhail’s knee gently pushed her legs apart. He shifted once more above her, blocking out everything with his broad shoulders. He took her breath away with his size and power, his strength and beauty. Very gently, the way he should have the first time, he eased into her.
Raven gasped. She would never get over the way he filled her, stretched her, the way he could turn her body to liquid fire. If he had been wild the first time, he was tender and gentle this time. Every deep stroke built a heavy craving for more, an urgency that had her hands caressing the chiseled muscles of his back, her mouth moving over his neck, his chest.
Mikhail worked at control, called on his extraordinary discipline. Her mouth was driving him mad, the feel of her fingers on his skin. Raven was so tight; hot velvet gripped him, fed the fires. He could feel the beast in him fighting to break free, his hunger raging, his body moving harder, faster, burying itself in her, merging their bodies, their hearts. He opened his mind, sought hers. The need in her drove him on. Her fingernails dug into his back as wave after wave rippled through her body. Mikhail gave in to the fire before the beast could break free. He surged into her, felt her body, tight and hot, grip his. He allowed himself a low growl of total satisfaction.
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?”