Dark Prince by Christine Feehan Page A

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