Dark Prince - Feehan Christine (книга регистрации .txt) 📗
“Let me help you. Share this terrible thing with me. Don’t cut yourself off from me.” Just the touch of her hand, the concern in her eyes, the purity and truth in her voice, brought out an unfamiliar softness in him.
He dragged her to him, all too aware of the urgent demands of his body. With a low, animal growl he lifted her, whispered a soft command to her, and moved with all the speed of which he was capable.
Raven blinked and found herself in the warmth of Mikhail’s library, with the fire throwing shadows on the wall, unsure how she had gotten there. She didn’t remember walking there, yet they were within the walls of his home. Mikhail’s shirt was open, exposing the heavy muscles of his chest. His black eyes were steady on her face, watching her with a stillness, a watchfulness reminiscent of a predator. He made no attempt to hide his desire for her.
“I will give you one last chance, little one.” He spoke the words in a harsh, hoarse voice, as if they tore painfully at his throat. “I will find the strength to let you go if you say it. Now. Right now.”
The length of the room separated them. The air stilled. If she lived to be a hundred, that moment would be etched forever in her mind. He stood waiting for her decision to share herself with him or damn him to eternal isolation. His head was held up proudly, his body fiercely hard, aggressively male, his eyes burning with hunger.
He drove every sane thought from her head. If she condemned him, wasn’t she condemning herself to the same fate? Someone needed to love this man, care for him just a little. How could he continue so alone? He waited. No compulsion, no seduction, just his eyes, his need, his total isolation from the rest of the world. Others relied on his strengths, demanded his skills, yet they didn’t show him affection, didn’t thank him for his unceasing vigilance. She could sate his hunger where no other could. She knew it instinctively. There would be no other woman for him. He wanted her. He needed her. She could not walk away from him.
“Take off your sweater.” He said it softly. There was no other path for him now. He had read the decision in her eyes, in the soft trembling of her mouth.
She stepped back, her blue eyes widening. Very slowly, almost reluctantly, she pulled off the sweater, as if somewhere deep inside she knew she was giving him more than her innocence. She knew she was giving him her life.
“The shirt.”
Her tongue touched her lips, moistened the satin finish. The answering jolt in his body was savage, primitive. As she drew off the turtleneck, his hands went to the buttons of his pants. The fabric was stretched taut and confining, hurting him. He was careful to use the human form of disrobing, not wanting to frighten her any further.
Her bare skin gleamed in the firelight. The shadows brushed the contours of her body. Her rib cage was narrow, her waist small, emphasizing the generous fullness of her breasts. The man in him inhaled sharply, raged with need; the beast in him roared for release.
Mikhail dropped his shirt on the floor, no longer able to stand the feel of the material against his ultrasensitive skin. A sound started deep in his throat, animal, feral, a fierce savage claim. Outside the wind began to rise, and dark, ominous clouds roiled across the moon. He kicked aside human garments,-exposing his body, chiseled muscle and burning need.
Her throat worked convulsively as she slid the lacy straps of her bra loose, let the material slide to the floor. Her breasts thrust invitingly, nipples hard and erotic.
He took the length of the room in a single fluid leap, uncaring of later explanations. Age-old instinct was taking over. He ripped the offensive jeans from her body with a single slash and tossed them aside.
Raven cried out, blue eyes going smoky with fear at his intensity. Mikhail calmed her with a touch, stroking his hands over her body, committing every line to memory. “Do not fear my hunger, little one,” he whispered softly. “I would never hurt you. It would be an impossibility for me to do such a thing.” Her bones were small, delicate, her skin hot silk. The mass of hair came loose with his marauding fingers, brushing the hard length of him, sending fiery arrows piercing his groin. His body tightened, raged. God, he needed her so much. So much.
His hand closed over the nape of her neck in an unbreakable grip, his thumb tipping back her head to expose her throat and lift her breasts to him. His hand moved slowly, tracing the swell of her breasts, resting for a moment on his mark on her neck so that it burned and throbbed, returned to cup velvet softness. He traced every line of her ribs, feeding his hunger, soothing her fears. Mikhail trailed his fingers over her flat stomach and the ridge of her hipbones, to rest in the triangle of silky curls at the juncture of her legs.
She had felt his touch before, but this was a thousand times more potent. His hand created desperate need, a sensation of drowning in a world of pure feeling. Mikhail snarled something low in his own language and took her to the floor in front of the fire. His body was so aggressive, trapping hers against the wood floor, that for a moment she had the impression of a wild animal forcing its mate into submission. Mikhail had not realized until that moment just how close to turning he really was. The emotions, the passion and lust, were swirling together until he feared for both of them.
The light from the flames cast a demonic shadow over him. He looked huge, invincible, a dangerous animal as he crouched over her. “Mikhail.” She said his name softly, reaching out to ease the lines in his contorted features, needing him to go slower.
He caught and pinned both her wrists in one hand, stretched her arms above her head and held her there. “I need your trust, little one.” His voice was a combination of hoarse demand and black velvet magic. “Give it to me. Please give it to me.”
She was afraid, so vulnerable, stretched out like a pagan sacrifice, like an offering to a long-dead god. His eyes moved over her, hot, glowing, burning her skin everywhere his gaze touched. Raven lay quiet beneath his merciless strength, sensing his implacable resolve, aware of some terrible inner struggle within him. Her blue gaze drifted over the lines etched in his face; his mouth, so sensual, capable of such cruelty; his eyes, burning with such fierce need. Raven moved her body, testing his strength, knowing it would be impossible to stop him. She feared their joining because she was unsure of herself, of what to expect, but she believed in him.
The feel of her soft, exposed body writhing beneath his only inflamed him more. Mikhail groaned her name, his hand sliding up her thigh, finding her heated core. “Trust me, Raven. I need your trust.” His fingers sought velvet, probed, claimed, produced a rush of hot liquid. He bent his head to taste her skin, the texture, the scent of her.
She cried out softly when his hot mouth found her breast, when his fingers probed deeper in her center. Her body rippled with pleasure. He moved lower, tracing the earlier path of his hands with his tongue. With every stroke his body tightened, his heart opened, and the caged beast became stronger. A mate. His. He inhaled her scent deeply, drawing her into the very essence of his body; his tongue slid across her slowly, a long caress.
She moved again, still uncertain, but subsided when he raised his head and looked at her with stark possession burning in his eyes. Deliberately he pushed her knees apart, exposing her vulnerability to him.
His eyes holding hers in warning, he lowered his head and drank.
Somewhere deep inside, Mikhail recognized that she was too innocent for this particular brand of wild lovemaking, but he was determined that she would know pleasure from their union, pleasure he gave her, not some hypnotic suggestion. He had waited too long for a mate, endless centuries of hunger and darkness and total desolation. He could not be gentle and considerate when his entire being was demanding that she belong to him totally for all time. He knew her trust was everything. Her faith in him would be her safeguard.
