Dark Prince - Feehan Christine - Страница 30

She tilted her head to look at him, her blue eyes dark with emotion. “You court me just fine. Go eat now and leave me be.”

Mikhail touched her hair just once before he left.

He moved among the townspeople, breathing in the night. The stars seemed brighter, the moon a gleaming silver light. Colors were sharp and clear, smells drifting on the breeze. Wisps of fog trailed here and there in the street. He felt like singing. He had found her after so long and she made the earth move and his blood heat. She brought laughter back into his life and taught him what love was.

The hour was growing late, the couples drifting toward their homes. Mikhail chose a trio of young men. He was hungry and needed strength. The night would be long. He had every intention of confirming or eliminating Mrs. Romanov as one of the assassins. The women needed a midwife and a sorrowing, bereaved one was better than one who might betray them at the first opportunity.

He drew the trio to him with a single silent command, marveling, as he had so many times, at how easy it was to control his prey. He joined their conversation, laughing with them, confiding a couple of hot business opportunities. In their early twenties, they were thinking more about women than making money. It always amazed him how disrespectful human men were toward their women. Perhaps they could not understand what their lives would be like without them.

He led them to the safety of the darkened trees and drank his fill, making certain not to take too much from any of them. He finished as he did everything, carefully, completely. That was why he was the oldest and the most formidable. He paid attention to the smallest of details. He walked with them for a few more minutes, ensuring that they were all fine before leaving them with a casual wave and a feeling of friendship.

Mikhail turned away from them, the smile fading from his lips. The night concealed the hunter in him, the dark, terrible purpose in his eyes, the cruel edge to his sensuous mouth. His muscles rippled with raw power, flexed and contracted with his enormous strength. He moved around the corner and simply disappeared. His speed was incredible, without compare.

His mind reached out for Raven’s, craving the contact. What are you doing all alone in that spooky old house?

Her soft laughter filled his utter coldness with warmth. Waiting for my big bad wolf to come home.

Do you have your clothes on?

This time her response sent fingers playing over his skin, touching him intimately, heating his body. Warmth, laughter, purity. He hated being away from her, hated the distance separating them. Of course I have my clothes on! What if more unexpected visitors arrive? I can’t very well greet them naked, can I?

She was teasing, but the thought of anyone approaching his home with her alone and unprotected made a sliver of fear slice through him. It was an unfamiliar emotion and he almost couldn’t identify it.

Mikhail? Are you all right? Do you need me? I’ll come to you.

Stay there. Listen for the wolves. If they sing to you, call me right away.

There was that brief hesitation that meant she was annoyed with his tone. Idon’t want you to worry about me, Mikhail. You have enough people who make demands on you.

Perhaps that is so, little one, but you are the only one I truly give a damn about. And drink another glass of juice. You will find some in the refrigerator.He broke the contact, found he was smiling at their brief exchange. She would have argued over the order for nourishment if he had waited long enough. He rather liked to irritate her sometimes. He liked the way her blue eyes deepened into sapphire, and how she got that little edge in her carefully controlled voice.

Mikhail?Her voice startled him, low and warm and filled with feminine amusement. Try making suggestions next time, or just plain asking. You go do whatever it is you’re doing, and I’ll go search your extensive library for a book on manners.

He nearly forgot he was crouched at the base of a tree only a few hundred feet from the shack belonging to Hans and Heidi Romanov. Mikhail managed to suppress his urge to laugh. You will not find one.

Why am I not surprised?This time Raven broke contact.

For a brief moment he allowed himself the luxury of wrapping himself in her warmth, her laughter, her love. Why God had chosen this time, when Mikhail was in his darkest hour, to send him such a gift, he had no idea. What he had to do was inevitable; the continuation of his race demanded it. The brutal ugliness of it filled him with revulsion. He would have to return to her with death on his hands, the deaths of more than one human. He could not walk away from it, could not hand the job over to someone else. His regret was not in taking the life of Noelle’s murderers, so much as in having to ask Raven to live with his deed. It would not be the first time he’d taken a life.

With a sigh, he shape-shifted. The small rodent scurried easily through the leaves on the ground to cross the open space to the shack. The beat of wings came to his ears and the rodent froze. Mikhail hissed a warning, and the owl gliding in for the attack veered off. The rodent gained the safety of the wooden stairs, flicked its tail, and began to search for a crack or hole in the wall to gain entry.

Mikhail had already picked up two familiar scents. Hans was entertaining. The rodent squeezed through a chink between two rotting boards and found its way into a bedroom. Silently the creature raced across the floor to the doorway. Mikhail allowed the odors of the household to be processed by the rodent’s body. He moved carefully in little stops and starts until he managed to gain a position in a darkened corner of the room.

Heidi Ramanov sat in a wooden chair directly across from him, weeping softly, a rosary clutched in her hand.

Hans faced three men, a map spread between them on a table.

“You’re wrong, Hans. You were wrong about Noelle,” Mrs. Romanov sobbed. “You’ve gone crazy and you’ve brought in these killers. My God, you have murdered an innocent girl, a new mother. Your soul is lost.”

“Shut up, old woman,” Hans shouted rudely, his face a mask of fanaticism. He blazed with it, a crusader fighting a holy war. “I know what I saw.” He crossed himself, his eyes darting left and right as a curious shadow like that of a winged creature seemed to pass over the shack.

For a moment everyone in the room went quiet. Mikhail could taste their fear, hear the sudden frantic pounding of their hearts. Inside the house, Hans had hung wreaths of garlic at every window and over the doors. He stood up slowly, licking suddenly dry lips, grabbing at the cross hanging around his neck and moving to a window to assure himself the wreath was in place. “What about that? That shadow just now? You all still think I made a mistake because we found her in a bed and not sleeping in the ground?”

“There was nothing, no dirt, no protections,” a dark-haired foreigner said reluctantly. Mikhail recognized the man’s spoor. Assassin. One from the inn. Inside the rodent, the beast unsheathed its claws and flexed. They had murdered Noelle without even being certain she was what they sought.

“I know what I saw, Eugene,” Hans declared. “After Heidi left, the woman began to lose blood. I had arrived to walk Heidi home because the woods are dangerous. I was going to tell the husband I would bring Heidi back to help. He was very agitated and did not see me as I looked in. I saw it with my own eyes. She drank so much, he was weak and pale. I got out of there and contacted you immediately.”

Eugene nodded his head. “You did the right thing. I came as soon as I could and brought the others. If they’ve learned a way to whelp, we’ll be overrun with the devils.”