Dark Prince - Feehan Christine (книга регистрации .txt) 📗
His thumb stroked across her full lower lip, a sensuous caress. Raven closed her eyes against the inevitable. She wanted to cry. Her feelings for him were so strong, her throat was aching and burning. Mikhail brushed her eyes with his lips, tasted a tear, sought refuge in the sweetness of her mouth. “Why would you cry for me, Raven?” He murmured the words against her throat. “Is it that you still want to run from me? Am I really so terrible? I would never allow any living creature, man or beast, to harm you, not if it was in my power to prevent it. I thought our hearts and minds were in the same place. Am I wrong? Is it that you no longer want me?”
His words tore at her heart. “It isn’t that, Mikhail, never that,” she denied quickly, afraid she had hurt him. “You defeat my every good intention.” She caressed his face with her fingertips, reverence in her touch. “You are the most fascinating man I’ve ever known. I feel as if I belong here with you, as though I know you completely. It’s impossible in the short time we’ve been together. I know if I could put some distance between us, I could think more clearly. Everything happened so fast. It’s as though I’m obsessed with you. I don’t want to make a mistake that will cause both of us pain.”
His hand cupped her cheek. “It would cause me great pain if you were to desert me, to leave me alone again after I have found you.”
“I just want some time, Mikhail, to think things through. It’s frightening, the way I am about you. I think about you every minute; I want to touch you, just to know I can, to feel you beneath my fingers. It’s as if you crawled into my head and my heart, even my body, and I can’t get you out.” She said it like a confession, her head bent, ashamed.
Mikhail took her hand, tugged at her to get her walking with him. “This is the way of my people, the way we feel about a mate. It is not always comfortable, is it? We are passionate by nature, highly sexual, and very possessive. The things that you are feeling, I feel, too.”
Her fingers tightened around his, and she sent him a small, tentative smile. “Am I right in thinking you’re deliberately keeping me here?”
Mikhail shrugged his broad shoulders. “Yes and no. I do not want to force you against your will, but as to my wanting you to stay, I believe us to be lifemates, bound more irrevocably than by your marriage ceremony. I would be extremely uncomfortable without you here, both in body and mind. I do not know how I would react to your contact with another man and, quite frankly, I fear it.”
“We really are from two different worlds, aren’t we?” she asked sadly.
He brought her hand to the warmth of his mouth. “There is such a thing as compromise, little one. We can move between the two worlds or create our own.”
Her blue eyes slid over him, a faint smile touching her mouth. “That sounds so good, Mikhail, so twentieth century, but somehow I think it’s more likely I would be the one compromising.”
With his strange old-world courtesy, Mikhail held up a branch for her to pass beneath. The path was a large oval leading back to his home. “Perhaps you are right”—male amusement again—”but then, it has always been my nature to control and protect. I have no doubt you are more than a match for me.”
“Then why are we back at your house instead of at the inn?” she asked, one hand on her hip and a smile dancing in her blue eyes.
“What would you do there so late at night anyway?” His voice was pure velvet, more enticing than ever. “Stay with me tonight. You can read while I work, and I will teach you how to build better shields to protect yourself from the unwanted emotions of those around you.”
“How about for my hearing? Your little medicinal concoctions have increased my hearing to the point of absurdity.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Do you have any idea what else is going to happen to me?”
His teeth grazed the back of her neck, his fingers brushed across her breast possessively. “I have all kinds of ideas, little one.”
“I’ll just bet you do. I think you’re a sex maniac, Mikhail.” Raven slipped out of his grasp. “I think you put something in that concoction to make me a sex maniac, too.” She seated herself at the table, calmly picked up her glass of juice, and looked up at him steadily. “Did you?”
“Drink that slowly,” he ordered absently. “Where do you come up with your ideas? I have been so careful with you. Have you felt me giving you suggestions?”
She found herself reluctant to drink. “You’re always making me sleep.” Raven took a cautious sniff of the juice. Pure apple, nothing else. She hadn’t had a thing to eat or drink in nearly twenty-four hours, so why was she reluctant?
“You needed to sleep,” he said without remorse. Mikhail watched her with his brooding, hawklike eyes. “Is something wrong with your juice?”
“No, no, of course not.” Raven put the glass to her lips, felt her stomach clench in protest. She replaced the glass on the table, the contents untouched.
Mikhail sighed softly. “You know you must take nourishment.” He leaned close. “How simple it would be if you allowed me to help you, but you have said I should not. Does this make sense?”
Her gaze slid from his; her fingers nervously fiddled with the glass. “Maybe I’m just coming down with the flu. I’ve been feeling funny for a few days, dizzy and weak.” She pushed the glass away.
Mikhail pushed it back. “You need it, little one.” He touched her slender arm. “You already are too small. I do not think losing weight is a good idea. Take a sip.”
She speared a hand through her hair, wanting to please him, knowing he was right. Her stomach insisted on rebelling. “I don’t think I can, Mikhail.” She raised a troubled gaze to his. “I’m really not trying to be difficult; I think I’m sick.”
His face, dark and sensual, had a slightly ruthless set to it. He loomed over her, his fingers curling around the glass of juice. You will drink.His voice was pitched low and intense, brooking no argument, making it impossible to disobey. “The juice will stay down; your body will accept it.” He spoke gently aloud, his arms protective as he circled her shoulders.
Raven blinked up at him, then looked at the empty glass on the table. She shook her head slowly. “I can’t believe you’re capable of doing that. I don’t remember drinking it and I’m not sick now.” She turned her face from him, staring out into the dark mystery of the forest. The fog caught the light from the moon, glistened and gleamed.
“Raven.” His hand caressed the nape of her neck.
She leaned into him. “You don’t even know how really special you are, do you? The things you can do are beyond anything I’ve ever seen. You scare me, you really do.”
Mikhail leaned his weight against the post, genuine puzzlement on his face. “It is my duty and my right to take care of you. If you need the healing of sleep, then I must provide it. If your body needs to drink, then why should I not aid you? Why should this frighten you?”
“You really don’t understand, do you?” Raven fixed her gaze on a particularly intriguing wisp of fog. “You are a leader here. Obviously your skills are far superior to mine. I don’t think I could ever fit into your life. I’m a loner, not the first lady.”
“I have great responsibilities, yes. My people count on me to keep our businesses running smoothly, to hunt down the assassins murdering our people. They even think I should single-handedly find out why we lose so many of our children in their first year of life. There is nothing special about me, Raven, except that I have a will of iron and I am willing to shoulder these burdens. But I have nothing for myself; I never have had. You give me a reason to go on. You are my heart, my soul, the very air I breathe. Without you, I have nothing but darkness, emptiness. Just because I have power, because I am strong, that does not mean I cannot feel utterly alone. It is cold and ugly to exist alone.”
