Dark Prince (Dark Series - book 1)

by Christine Feehan

  She half sat, astonished. “That’s impossible.”

  He lifted his hands out of the way to show her the long scars. Her eyes widened in disbelief. Mikhail’s eyes darkened and burned, brushed her bare breasts with heat. Raven’s small teeth tugged at her lower lip and a red flush spread over her entire body. She clutched the sheet, dragged it over her.

  His white teeth gleamed at her in a predator’s smile, pure taunting male. He leaned close so that his mouth brushed across her ear as he spoke. His warm breath beckoned and enticed. “I have kissed every inch of your body. I have been in every secret corner of your mind.” His teeth skimmed her ear-lobe, sent a shiver along her spine. “I will admit, the blush suits you.”

  Raven found herself holding her breath, heat coiling deep within her. She pressed her forehead against the heavy muscles of his chest so that he couldn’t see the answering flare in her eyes. “Mikhail,” she warned, “there is no way you can change what I feel by seducing me. I know I cannot handle this.”

  “I hear your thoughts, little one. You have closed your mind to all possibilities.” He whispered the words like a terrible seduction. “I will give you what you wish. I no longer can bear your unhappiness.” His hand moved up to his chest, right below her chin, hovered over his heart.

  Her stomach clenched at the sudden knowledge of his intention. The sweet odor of hot blood mingled with his wild, masculine scent. Before she could stop him, before she could voice a protest, his life’s blood was streaming freely down his chest. Instinctively she clamped both hands over the wound, applied pressure.

  Eyes wild with fear, Raven cried out frantically. “Stop, Mikhail. Don’t do this.” Tears welled up, spilled over. “Please tell me what to do to save you.” There was desperation in her voice.

  “I can’t, Mikhail. Stop this; you’re scaring me!” She pressed as hard as she was capable, but the blood continued to flow between her fingers.

  “Your tongue has the power to heal; so does the saliva in your mouth.” His voice was dark, hypnotic. He leaned back as if his strength was waning. “But do not counteract my choice unless you live also, because I refuse to go back to a world of darkness.”

  Frantically she bent her head to his chest, swept her tongue over the edges of the wound, sealing the gap as if it had never been. The revulsion was in her brain, but not in her body. Something wild lifted its head; her eyes went slumberous and sensual. Heat coiled, spread. Her body hungered, craved. The call was so strong within her. She wanted more, needed the erotic ecstasy only he could provide.

  Mikhail’s hands were in her hair, bunching, dragging her head back, exposing her throat. His mouth moved over her soft skin, her frantic pulse. “Are you sure, Raven?” He whispered it so sensually her body went liquid in answer. “I want you to be completely sure. You must be certain this is your choice.”

  She circled his neck with her arms, cradled his head. “Yes.” The memory of his mouth moving against her, the white-hot pleasure piercing her very soul made heat pool low and wicked in her abdomen. She wanted this, even needed this.

  “You give yourself to me freely?” His tongue tasted the texture of her skin, flicked across her pulse, and traced down the valley between her breasts.

  “Mikhail.” His name was a plea. She feared that he was waiting too long and might not be able to live, to breathe, to merge completely with her.

  He lifted her easily, cradled her in his arms. His tongue lapped her nipple, once, twice. Raven gasped, arched closer to him, her body scenting the wildness in him rising to match, to conquer the wildness in her. She seemed to float through the air, every nerve ending raw with hunger and need. The sweet scent of blood called to her.

  She smelled fresh air and opened her eyes to discover the night. It whispered to her with the same sensual power as the ebb and flow of Mikhail’s blood. Trees swayed overhead; the wind cooled her body, yet fanned her need.

  “This is our world, little one. Feel its beauty, hear its call.”

  It was all like a dazzling dream, as if they were drifting with the faint mist, a part of the night itself. The stars overhead played hide and seek through the canopy of leaves and branches. The moon was elusive, wandering behind floating clouds. Everywhere Raven heard the sounds of life. It was in the sap of the trees, the rustle of small animals, the beat of wings, the echoing, savage cry of a night hunter as it missed its prey.

  Mikhail raised his head and called, a wild sound of joy. It was answered. Raven could feel the rapture in the wolves’ rejoinders. It filled her heart and in her, the wildness grew.

  He carried her through a maze of paths, deep into the mountains until they were at the entrance of a downward sloping cave. “Hear it,” he ordered as he passed into the murky shadows. “Hear the earth sing to you.”

  Impossibly she could see rich veins of minerals curving on either side of the narrow walls just as if the sunlight were pouring into the tunnel. She could hear the rush of water echoing through the many chambers. Bats called to one another and the earth welcomed it all.

  Mikhail was sure-footed, striding through the maze of tunnels without hesitation, every step taking them deeper underground until they were in a huge steam-filled grotto. Water ran in a frothy fall down to pour into a series of pools. Crystals gleamed like jewels all around them.

  He took them into the farthest pool from the fall, where the water bubbled up like soda and was warm and fizzy against their skin. He sank into the water, with Raven cradled in his arms and steam rising around them.

  The bubbles nibbled at sensitive skin, danced and teased like so many fingers, foamed and caressed like the lapping of tongues. With lazy, languid movements, Mikhail began to wash her slender body, her small feet, her calves, her thighs. Raven moved against his hands, closed her eyes to give herself up to pure sensation. Carpathian blood flowed hotly in her veins. Carpathian needs and desire warred with the human limitations and taboos her brain insisted on.

  His hands slid in a tender, loving caress over her flat stomach, his fingertips reverently tracing each scar, wiping away the last traces of the poultices and blood. He paid careful attention to each rib, her back, and finally, her face and hair. Mikhail was so gentle, he made her want to cry. He had not touched her anywhere intimately, yet he had begun a slow fire in her blood, a melting in her body. She ached for him. Needed him.

  Raven opened her blue eyes; they were slumberous, sexy, darkened with desire. She tilted her head to look up at him and then moved to rinse his body. She had no intention of being so kind. Her every stroke was designed to tease, to inflame. Fingertips delved into the dark tangled hair veeing toward his flat belly, slid tantalizingly over the heavy muscles of his chest, rinsing every drop of blood from his skin. So much. It worried her, and she wanted him to feed, to replace what was lost.

  Some small part of Raven recognized that the thought should be appalling to her, yet with her body needing his so desperately, she craved his mouth on her, felt hunger herself. Her hands wandered lower, moved across his flat belly, dipped over the ridge of his hipbones.

  Raven felt his swift intake of breath, the tensing of every muscle. A low growl rumbled deep in his throat, sent darts of fire leaping in her blood. Her fingers sought the hard evidence of his arousal, teased and enticed, her fingertips dancing intriguingly, her palm sliding and gripping, testing the weight of him.

  He groaned at the effort it took to control himself. This time she was going to participate in the ritual. There would be no way she could argue that she had not known what she was doing. He spread his legs wider to support his trembling body as she touched his shoulder with her tongue, followed a droplet of water that ran in a bead from his neck to his chest.

  Raven’s body clenched, grew heavy, ached, and burned. Her tongue slid over his heart in a lazy, sensual pattern. Her blood leaped and sang to match his. All the time her hands caressed, teased, promised. Her long hair, masses of silk, brushed his body as she followed little beads of water, lower, lower still.
She felt him shudder as she tasted him, his body thrusting to meet her silken mouth. The feeling of power was incredible. His hands bunched in her hair; low, aggressive growls escaped from deep in his throat. She found his thighs with her nails, raking lightly, driving him wild, wanting him crazy for her, wanting him mindless with passion.

  Mikhail dragged her up, closer. His hands found the firm muscles of her bottom, cupped, massaged. “I claim you as my lifemate.” He whispered the words, a black magic incantation, centuries old. His hand moved up her spine, around to the fullness of her breast, down satin skin to find the thatch of midnight black curls.

  Raven cried out when his fingers found her beneath the bubbling water, found her and began a slow, torturous exploration. Her mouth was open against his chest, her breath short and coming in little gasps. The craving grew, the fire built; something wild and abandoned in her fought for freedom. She could hear their hearts beating as one, hear his blood, hers. She felt her body pulsing with life, with need, with such hunger that she needed all of him to fill her and make her complete. She needed him in her mind, his erotic, insatiable appetite, the incredible lust he had that made him burn and ache for her. She needed his body possessing hers, taking hers wildly, without reservation. And she needed his

  ...blood.

  His hand cradled the back of her head; he was moving her to the waters’ edge. “I belong to you; I offer my life for you. Take what it is you need, what it is you want.” His whispered words opened up the door to a terrible craving. His fingers were moving aggressively, his body pressing hers to the earth, half in and half out of the water.

  Raven felt the soft dirt beneath her, his hard body imprisoning hers. There was a ruthless stamp to his dark features, a merciless slash to his mouth, and burning hunger in the depths of his eyes. When she touched his mind there was savage, primitive arousal, the animal drive to claim, a Carpathian male’s ruthless, implacable resolve to possess his mate. There was also a love so intense, she could barely conceive of it. Tenderness. A male’s adoration for the only one he could ever want.

  Mikhail tugged her knees apart, saw the sudden admission of commitment to him deep within her eyes. She was hot, pulsating with need, with her body’s invitation. He thrust hard, driving deep, burying himself in her hot core. Her spicy feminine scent mixed with his masculine one, drifted up to become part of their desire. His tongue and teeth glided over her throat, down to capture one aching breast. His hands moved over every inch of her, inciting, exploring, claiming. He was rough, his teeth finding her soft skin, his tongue easing every ache. He could not seem to get close enough. Her tight heat coiled around him, clenching and burning, feeding his wildness.

  His body moved in hers. Long, deep, filling every part of her, building the friction, then deliberately easing the rhythm. She was making little keening noises, her body begging for release, velvet muscles gripping him hotly.

  Frustrated, Raven, moved frantically against him, urging him closer, deeper, faster, harder. Her blood was like molten lava and she needed more of him. All of him. She hungered for a deeper mating, hungered for his mouth feeding at her, burning her, branding her, welding them together for all eternity.

  “Mikhail,” she was pleading.

  He lifted his head, dark eyes burning with hunger. “I belong to you, Raven. Take what you need from me as I will take it from you.” He pressed her head to his chest, his gut clenching hotly as her tongue slid over his muscles. There was a moment, heart-stopping, intimate, as he felt the tentative scrape of her teeth. White-hot pain, blue lightning erotic pleasure. He swelled even more, huge and hard and inflamed as her teeth sank deep.

  Mikhail threw back his head in ecstasy, and a growl of pure pleasure escaped. His body pinned hers to the ground, surging powerfully, building, building while her body spiraled around his, gripping and clenching, climaxing again and again. Mikhail held on to his control. The ritual would be completed and the exchange made voluntarily. Bunching her hair in his hand, he repeated the words that would bind them together. “I give you my protection, my allegiance, my mind, my heart, soul, and body. I take into my keeping the same that is yours. Your life, happiness, and welfare will be cherished and placed above my own for all time. You are my lifemate, bound to me for eternity, and always in my care.”

  He tugged at her hair, forced her head away from him, observed through half-closed eyes, hungry and watchful while she closed the pinpricks, her tongue sending flames dancing over his heated body. Mikhail kissed her with every ounce of male dominance he possessed. His mouth burned over her throat, rested on her frantic pulse. His hands tightened on her small hips. His body rested in the hot feminine mystery of hers. He waited.

  She turned her head, offered her throat. “Take what is yours, Mikhail. Take what you require.” She murmured the words breathlessly in an agony of anticipation and need. She was trembling with suspense, with the craving of Carpathian erotic hunger.

  As his hips thrust powerfully forward, his teeth sank deep. She cried out, wound her arms around him, arching up as he drank his fill, as his body drove wildly into hers, staking his claim, his right, taking them beyond the boundaries of the earth. Her body gripped his tightly, insistently. Mikhail abandoned any pretense of control and took her as he wanted, driving on and on until she was so wild and hot and crying for him, until her little keening whimpers and the sweet spice of her blood took his raging body over the edge. He emptied himself into her, for the first time in his life feeling totally sated, totally content. They lay joined, their hearts pounding, their lungs laboring, little aftershocks rippling and rocking them. Mikhail rolled them over so his hard length was cushioning her slender body. Her breasts were soft and warm nestled in the tangle of hair veeing down to his stomach. Her head was pillowed on his chest.

  Mikhail stroked her hair, letting his overwhelming love for her spill out and surround her. He sensed how fragile the moment was and didn’t trust the inadequacy of words. His mind was a warm, safe haven of love and he shared it willingly.

  The intense pleasure blocked out reality for a long while. Raven could only revel in her body’s powerful reaction. Every tiny cell was alive and shrieking in joy. It didn’t seem possible that she could experience such rapture.

  She moved a slow hand to push her hair aside. The small movement sent her muscles clenching around him. Mikhail. Who was this man who had so easily taken over her life and her body? Raven lifted her head and studied his face. So handsome. So dark and mysterious. His eyes held so many secrets; his mouth was so sensual, it took her breath away.

  “Tell me what I’ve done, Mikhail.”

  His eyes were fathomless, watchful. “You have given your life into my care. Rest assured, little one, you are safe in my hands.”

  She touched the tip of her tongue to her suddenly dry lips. Her heart pounded in alarm at the enormity of her decision. She had the taste of him in her mouth, the smell of him on her body, his seed trickling along her leg, and they were still locked together, her body clenching sensuously, hotly, around his.

  “What do I taste like?” His voice was low, compelling. It whispered against her skin like the brush of fingers. The brush of fantasy.

  She closed her eyes tightly, like a child wanting to shut him out. “Mikhail.” Her body rippled, tightened at the sound of his voice, at the erotic question he whispered.

  He eased out of her, retained his hold so he could cradle her close as he slid back into the foaming pool. “Tell me, Raven.” He kissed her throat, tiny little kisses, each as potent as wine.

  Her arm wound around his neck, her fingers finding his thick mane of hair. “You taste like the forest, wild and untamed and so erotic you make me crazy.” The admission broke from her like the confession of a grave sin.

  The bubbles fizzed and burst against their sensitized skin, foamed on their most intimate parts. Mikhail leaned back, taking their weight, securing her on his lap. Her rounded bottom brushed against him, sent sweet fire streaking through their blood.
“You taste like sweet, hot spice, addictive and so sensual.” His teeth grazed the nape of her neck, sent a shiver of excitement down her spine.

  Raven lay quietly in his arms, her mind reeling under the impact of what she had done. She would never get enough of Mikhail. There was a wildness between them that could never be sated. Raven was unable to piece it all together; her brain simply refused to acknowledge what she might have become. She had no idea what he meant when he said they “fed.” The impressions were there, but she only had knowledge of what Mikhail shared with her. Was sex always involved? He had said no, but she couldn’t imagine taking blood deliberately. She closed her eyes tightly. She couldn’t do this with anyone else. She couldn’t imagine taking blood from a human.

  Mikhail pressed her head to him, his fingers soothing in her hair. He murmured softly, his voice pitched low and compelling. She needed time to adjust to her Carpathian blood, the intense emotions and urgent needs. She had willingly participated in the mating ritual. She had made the blood exchange without his silent compulsion. They were irrevocably bound and there was no reason for her to suffer needless human recriminations and fear of the future. Let her mind accept this new reality slowly.