Dark Prince (Dark Series - book 1)

by Christine Feehan

  Jacques cleared his throat, a cocky grin dispelling the ruthless set of his dark features. “I do not suppose this woman you are hiding has anything to do with your sudden desire to rise with the night.”

  The toe of Mikhail’s boot nearly pushed Jacques from his perch in retaliation for his audacity.

  Byron caught at the branch with a tight grip. “Eleanor and Vlad can stay with me. It will be double protection for her and her unborn child.”

  Mikhail nodded. Though he was uncomfortable with the decision, he could see that they would continue their protests if he insisted on taking the personal risk. “For a couple of days, until we find a safer solution.”

  “Take great care, Mikhail,” Jacques warned.

  “Sleep deep tomorrow,” he responded. “They hunt us.”

  Byron paused, suddenly alarmed. “How can you go to ground if the human woman is with you?”

  “I will not leave her.” Mikhail’s voice was implacable.

  “The deeper we are in the earth, the harder to hear your call if you are in trouble,” Jacques reminded quietly.

  Mikhail sighed. “You two are as relentless as two old maiden aunts. I am certainly capable of protecting my lair.” His body shimmered, bent, and became that of an owl. He spread giant wings and soared into the sky, making his way back to Raven.

  He inhaled deeply, filling himself with the pure, clean scent of her, wiping out the ugliness of the night’s discoveries. Her scent was in the library, mingled with his own. He took their combined scents deep within his lungs, bent to pick up their scattered clothing. He wanted to be inside her, to touch her, to fasten his mouth to hers, their blood one, to recite the ritual words so that they would be tied for eternity the way they were meant to be. The thought of her offering him that gift, accepting his offering, was so arousing that Mikhail had to stand still until the urgent demands of his body eased somewhat.

  He took a long shower, washing away the wolf from his body, the dust and dirt, the odor of a traitor. All Carpathians took great care to acquire the habits of mortals. Food in the cupboards and clothes in the closets. Lamps throughout the house. All of them took showers when there was no real need, and most of them found they enjoyed it. He left his coffee-colored hair hanging free and went to Raven. For the first time he took pride in his body, the way he hardened, thrusting aggressively at the sight of her.

  She was asleep, her hair spilling like a curtain of silk across the pillow. The blanket had slipped and her long hair was the only covering across her breast. The picture was erotic. She lay waiting for him, needing him even in her sleep. He gently murmured the command to release her from her trance-induced sleep.

  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 admit
ted 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?”

  “How will I ever find the strength to leave you?” she murmured softly, painfully.

  His eyes darkened dangerously. Mikhail rolled over, felt how uncomfortable she was with her nudity, and dragged a blanket around her. Raven sat up, pushed the heavy fall of hair from her face with that curiously innocent, sexy gesture of hers that he loved. Her blue eyes were frankly wary.

  “You will not leave me, Raven.” His voice was much harsher than he intended. With great effort, he forced himself to gentle it. She was young and vulnerable; he had to remember that above all else. She had no idea what the cost of separation would be to either of them. “How can you share what we have and just walk away?”

  “You know why. Don’t pretend you don’t. I feel things, sense them. This is all too bizarre for me. I don’t know the laws in this country, but when someone is murdered, the law and the press are notified. That’s just one thing, Mikhail; we won’t even get into the things you’re capable of doing—nearly strangling’ Jacob, for heaven’s sake. You’re way out of my league and we both know it.” She pulled the blanket closer around her shoulders. “I want you, I can’t even think about being without you, but I’m not certain what is going on here.”

  His hand stroked down the length of her hair in a disturbing caress, his fingers moving through silken strands to wisp down her back to the base of her bare spine. His touch melted her insides, curled her toes. Raven closed her eyes, laid her head on her knees. She was no match for him in any way.

  Mikhail shifted his hand to her nape, his fingers soothing. “We are already committed to one another. Can you not feel it, Raven?” He whispered the words, a husky blend of warmth and sensuality. He knew he was fighting her instincts, her innate sense of self-preservation. He chose his words carefully. “You know who I am, what is inside me. If distance separated us, you would still need to feel my hands on you, my mouth on yours, my body in yours, a part of yours.”

  Just his words alone warmed her blood, fed the ache deep inside. Raven covered her face, ashamed that she had such need of what amounted to a total stranger. “I’m going home, Mikhail. I’m so wrapped up in you, I’m doing things I never thought possible.” It wasn’t only physical: She wished it were. She didn’t want to feel his loneliness, his greatness, his incredible will and drive to keep those he led safe from harm. But she did feel it. She could feel his heart, his soul, his mind. She had talked to him without speaking aloud, she had shared his mind. She knew he was in her.

  His arm curved around her shoulders, drew her huddled form beside him. To comfort or to restrain? Raven swallowed the burning tears. There were sounds pouring into her head, rustlings, creaks. She put her hands over her ears to shut them out. “What’s happening to me, Mikhail? What did we do that’s changed me like this?”

  “You are my life, my mate, the half of myself that was missing.” His hand returned to stroking her hair with infinite gentleness. “My people mate for life. I am a true Carpathian; I am of the earth. We have special gifts.”

  She turned her head, regarding him with enormous blue eyes. “Telepathic ability. Yours is very strong, much stronger than mine. And so developed. It amazes me, the things you can do.”

  “The price for these gifts is high, little one. We are cursed with the need for one mate, a sharing of souls. Once this occurs—and the ritual can be brutal to an innocent woman—we cannot live apart from our mates. Our children are few; we lose many in the first year and most of those born are male. We are both blessed and cursed with longevity. For those of us who are happy, a long life is a blessing; for someone alone and tormented, it is a curse. It is one long eternity of darkness, a barren, stark existence.”

  Mikhail cupped her chin in the palm of his hand, tipped her chin up so that she could not escape his dark, hungry eyes. He took a deep breath, let it out. “We did not have sex, little one; we did not make love. Ours was as close to a true Carpathian mating ritual as is possible without your, being of our blood. If you leave me... “ His voice trailed off, and he shook his head. He needed to bind her to him irrevocably. The words were in his mind, his heart. The beast raged to say them. She would never escape, yet he could not do that to her, say the words to a mortal. He had no idea what would happen to her.

  The spot over her left breast ached, throbbed, even burned. Raven looked down, saw the dark evidence of his brand, touched it with her fingertips. She remembered the feel of his teeth pinning her to the floor, his strength, the warning growl rumbling in his throat like that of an animal. He had taken her body as if it belonged to him, wildly, a little brutally, yet something in her had responded to the ferocious hunger and need in him. At the same time, he had been tender, insuring her pleasure before his own, so careful of her size and the frailty of her small bones. The mixture of his tenderness and wild nature was so impossible to resist, Raven knew no other man could ever touch her as he had. There would only be Mikhail for her.

  “Are you telling me you’re of another race, Mikhail?” She was striving to put it all together.

  “We believe that we are of another species. We are different. We hide it well—we have to—but we can hear things humans cannot. We speak to the animals, share our minds as well as our bodies and hearts. Understand, this information in the wrong hands would doom us all. My life is literally in your hands.”

  Inmore ways than one.

  She caught the echo of his thought before he could censor it. “Would you have stopped if I had panicked
?”

  He closed his eyes, ashamed. “I would like to lie to you, but I will not. I would have soothed you, made certain you could accept me.”

  “Commanded me?”

  “No!” He denied that vehemently. He would not have gone that far. He was certain of that. He believed absolutely that he could have persuaded her to accept him.

  “These gifts.” She rubbed her chin across her knees. “You are stronger physically than any human I’ve ever met. And that leap in the library—you reminded me of a great jungle cat—is that part of your heritage, too?”

  “Yes.” His hand tangled in her hair again, brought a fistful up to bury his face in it, breathing her in. His scent lingered on her, would remain in her. A trace of satisfaction touched his fathomless eyes.

  “You bit me.” She touched first her neck, then her breast. A sweet, hot ache filled her at the memory of him wild in her arms, his body frenzied with need, his mind a turbulent, red desire, his mouth working eagerly, hungrily at her.

  What was wrong with her that she wanted more?