Dark Prince - Feehan Christine - Страница 28

Raven looked up and found unblinking eyes on her. They were dark, fathomless, the eyes of a hunter. A prickle of unease ran down her spine. She felt her hand tremble as she smoothed out her skirt. “What is it?” Sometimes Mikhail looked like a stranger, not the warm man she knew with laughter and tenderness in his heated gaze, but someone calculating and cold, someone more lethal and cunning than any she could imagine. Automatically her mind reached out to his.

Do not!He slammed a block down hard.

Raven’s lashes fluttered against a sudden spurt of tears. Rejection was painful, and coming from Mikhail it hurt like hell. “Why, Mikhail? Why are you shutting me out? You need me. I know you do. You’re so willing to help everybody, be everything for everybody. I’m supposed to be your partner, be all things, everything to you. Let me help you.” She approached him slowly, cautiously.

“You do not know what could happen, Raven.” He stepped backwards away from temptation, away from her pain.

She smiled. “You always help me, Mikhail. You look after me. I’m asking you to trust me enough to let me be what you need.” He was allowing his mind block to fragment, bit by bit. She sensed grief mixed with rage at Noelle’s senseless murder and fear for Raven’s safety. Love, strong and growing, a hunger, sexual and physical. Raw need. Someone definitely needed to love and comfort this man.

“I need you to do as I ask you,” he said in desperation, fighting the beast lifting its head hungrily.

Her laughter was soft, enticing. “No, you don’t. Too many people think your word is law. You need someone to defy you a little bit. I know you won’t hurt me, Mikhail. I can feel your fear of yourself. You think there’s something in you I can’t love, some kind of monster you’re afraid for me to see. I know you better than you know yourself.”

“You are so reckless, Raven, so heedless of danger.” He gripped the back of a chair so hard the wood threatened to disintegrate into dust. As it was, it would hold the imprint of his fingers for all time.

“Danger, Mikhail?” She tipped her head to one side, her hair falling in a slide over one shoulder. Her hands went to the top button of her blouse. “I would never be in danger from you, even if you were furious with me. The only danger right now is to my clothes.” She took a step back, laughing again, letting the sound warm him, ignite the fuse deep inside him.

Heat coiled, spread; need slammed into him, hard and urgent. Hunger tore at him, a blind red haze. “You, little one, are playing with fire, and I am totally out of control.” He made one last attempt to save her. Why couldn’t she see how selfish he really was? How he had taken over her life and would never release her? He was the monster she couldn’t see. Perhaps with the rest of the world cold logic and justice ruled him, but not with her. With Raven he was taken over by emotions with which he was so unfamiliar that he could not control them. He did things he felt were unconscionable. He let her see the violence in his mind, tearing her clothes, taking her body without thought or control.

She answered him in her mind, warmth, love, her body eager for his, receptive, accepting of his violent side. She had total trust and faith in his feelings for her, in his commitment to her.

He swore softly, ripping the clothes from his fettered body, leaping upon her like an attacking jungle cat. “Mikhail, I love this dress,” she whispered against his throat, laughter still spilling into his mind. Laughter. Joy. No fear.

“Get out of the damned thing,” he said hoarsely, not realizing he was confirming her belief in him.

She took her time, teasing him by fumbling at buttons, making him find the hook in her skirt. “You do not know what you are doing,” he objected raggedly, but his hands were gentle on her body, carefully stripping away her clothes until she was all bare satin skin and long silky hair.

Mikhail curled strong fingers around the nape of her neck. She felt so small and fragile, her skin warm. She had a woman’s haunting scent, like wild honey, a breath of fresh air. He backed her into the bookcase, his hands shaping her body, stroking the soft swell of her breast, absorbing the feel of her into his skin, his tissues, his very insides. He lowered his head, found the dark tip of her nipple with his tongue. The demon in him receded at the feel of her soft skin, her acceptance of his nature. He didn’t deserve her.

Raven’s body went weak at the first touch of his mouth, so hot and demanding, fastened on her breast. The shelf behind her held her up, pushing against the bare skin of her bottom. Excitement surged through her, anticipation. His eyes drifted over her with so much hunger, so much possession. With so much tenderness. That melted her heart, made her want to cry that he could have so much feeling for her. Everywhere his gaze traveled, her skin burned for him, her body ached for his touch.

She reached up to loosen his hair, to fill her hands with it, to revel in her ability to smooth her fingertips over his heavy muscles. She could feel him tremble under her caressing hands, feel the wildness in him striving to break free. It touched something wild in her. She wanted to feel him in her arms, trembling for her, his hard muscles against her soft skin, his body surging into hers. She sent him the erotic pictures dancing in her head as she tasted his skin with her soft mouth.

His hands were everywhere, and so were hers. His mouth blazed fire, and so did hers. His heart pounded, and hers matched it. Their blood surged like molten lava. His fingers found her moist and open to him. Mikhail dragged her to the floor, lifting her hips so he could join them. Blood roared in his ears, his every emotion swirling together in a violent storm of need. The harder and deeper he thrust, the more soft and welcoming she became. Her body was hot and tight, taking his, accepting his storm.

Hunger raged dangerously. He craved the sweet taste of her, wanted the ecstasy of the ritual exchange. If he fed... He groaned at the temptation. He would never be able to stop without needing to replenish her. He could not do that. She had to consciously make the decision to become fully a part of his world. It was too big a risk. If she did not survive, he would follow her into the unknown. He knew exactly what the ancients meant when they said one lifemate could not survive the passing of the other. He would not want to live in the world without her. There would be no Mikhail without Raven.

His body, his needs, his battered emotions were taking over again, pushing him to the very edge of control. He had never known such a depth of feeling, such a total, encompassing love for another. She was everything. His air. His breath. His heart. Mikhail’s mouth found hers in long, drugging kisses, moved to her throat, her breast, found his mark. One taste. Only one.

Raven moved in his arms, turned her head to give him better access, her hands entwined in his hair. “I’d better marry you, Mikhail. You need me desperately.” He lifted his head, looked at her face, so beautiful with his lovemaking, so accepting of him and his needs. Her heart wrapped his in love, her mind soothed his, fed his, teased his, matched the wild-ness in him. His hands framed her face, his black eyes staring into her blue-violet ones, drowning in his feelings for her. Then he was smiling.

“Mikhail,” she protested as he very gently eased out of her.

He turned her over, dragging her hips back toward his. When he entered her, his hands pinning her small waist, he felt exultant. She was safe! Joy surged through him and he gave himself up to the sheer pleasure of her body. He moved; she moved. She was incredibly tight, fiery hot, velvet soft. The combination was explosive.

The wolves had said he no longer knew joy, but Raven had brought it back to him. His body sang with it, shone with it. Twice he felt her body ripple, pulse, and still he went on wanting their bodies to be one for all eternity. The dark shadow across his soul was lifting. This small, beautiful woman had given him that. He built the pace of their rhythm, reveling in the way her body followed the lead of his. He felt her body clench, grip, heard her cry out over and over, soft little mewling sounds in her throat that sent him over the edge. His own body burst into flames, carried them both into the sky so that Raven called his name as her anchor.