Dark Prince - Feehan Christine (книга регистрации .txt) 📗
He could feel his body relaxing and peace stole into him, edging out the terrible tension. The beauty of her inner soul washed over him. How could he fault her need to reach out to someone in pain, when it was her very compassion that had drawn him out of the dark shadows and into a world of joy and light? He might feel pain and anger, but at least he was capable of feeling. Intense emotion. Joy. Lust. Sexual hunger. Love.
“You are my life, little one. We will ask Father Hummer to marry us in the way of your people.” His white teeth gleamed at her; his dark eyes were warm with contentment. “I will accept the marriage as binding, and you will erase the word divorceand all of its meanings from your memory. That will please me.” He grinned at her, male amusement taunting her.
Her fingertips traced the hard line of his jaw tenderly. “How do you manage to turn everything to your advantage?”
His hand found the bare skin of her satin-smooth thigh. “I do not know the answer to that, little one. Perhaps it is sheer talent.” He turned his head and nuzzled aside the tails of his shirt to burrow against her.
A low sound escaped from deep in Raven’s throat as his tongue stroked her. Obligingly she moved her legs to accommodate him, to give him room. She tangled her fingers in his thick, coffee-colored hair.
Mikhail delved deeper, drew a shudder of pleasure from her. He could feel the spreading flames in his blood, swift, savage excitement, joy singing in his veins. His arms circled her hips, dragged her closer to him so that he could burrow deeper. He intended to take his time, to give her pleasure. She was his woman, his lifemate, and no one could give her the kind of ecstasy he could.
Chapter Twelve
The bedchamber, situated below the earth, was as silent and as dark as a tomb. Mikhail and Raven lay together on the huge bed, their bodies entwined. Mikhail’s leg was over her thigh, his large frame curved protectively around hers, his arms sheltering her close to his heart. There was utter silence in the chamber, not even the sound of breathing. To all appearances they were devoid of life.
The house itself seemed to be in slumber, silent, as if it were holding its breath and waiting for night to fall. Sunshine burst through the windows and spotlighted the centuries-old artwork and leather-bound books. Mosaic tiles gleamed on the floor at the entrance, the sun on the hardwood floors bringing out a blondish hue in the wood.
Without warning Mikhail’s breath began in a long, slow, continuous hiss, like a coiled, venomous snake prepared to strike. His dark eyes snapped open, malevolent, glowing with a predator’s hunger, with the fury of a trapped wolf. His body was sluggish, his tremendous strength sapped by the need for deep sleep. Tuned to the cycle of day and night, he knew it was midday and the harsh, unrelenting sun was at its highest and most lethal peak.
Something was wrong. Something had penetrated the deep layers of sleep to wake him from his needed slumber. His fingers curled, nails like claws raking the mattress beneath him. Too many hours to sunset. He scanned his surroundings, meticulous in his search. The house vibrated with sudden tension, the air stirring with unease. The very foundation seemed to flinch in terror at some unseen menace.
Outside the wrought-iron fence. Rudy Romanov paced back and forth, black anger in his heart, in his mind. Every fourth step he pounded at the fence in a fury of frustration, a baseball bat cracking hard against the thick twisted poles of iron. “Evil! Undead!” The words were hurled into the air toward the house.
Mikhail growled low, his body trapped in the layers of fog, his instincts fully aroused. His lips drew back in a silent snarl, exposing fangs. A long slow hiss escaped again.
Accusations beat in his head with the force of Rudy’s anger. “I found my father’s proof. He’s gathered it for years. Everything! It’s all there. The list of your servants. You are evil, the head of the monster. Murderer! Unclean! You turned that beautiful woman into your perverted slave! She would have used me to add to your ranks.”
The madness of grief and rage blended with a fanatical desire for revenge. Rudy Romanov believed his father’s records and had come to kill the head vampire. Mikhail understood the danger; the very air was thick with it. He called to Raven, brushed her mind with his, a loving, gentle caress. Wake, my love. We are in danger.
Raven’s breath began, slow and even. With his warning filling her mind, she automatically scanned the chamber. Her body felt limp and lifeless, the need for sleep intensely strong. Her brain felt sluggish, uncomprehending.
Romanov is outside the walls.
She blinked, tried to clear the fog. Hans Romanov is dead.
His son lives. He is outside, and I can feel his rage and hatred. He is dangerous to us. The sun is up; we are weak. He cannot enter, but we cannot go out.
It took great concentration and a supreme effort to rub her face against the tangle of hair on his chest. She cleared her throat experimentally. “I can answer the door, see what he wants. I’ll tell him you’re at work. He’ll feel silly and leave us alone.”
He cradled her head against him. She was still thinking in human terms, unaware of the terrible price of immortality. You are still so groggy, you are not hearing him. He is in a dangerous state of mind.She had no idea of the price she had paid for loving him. The sun would destroy her should she ever find the strength to rise.
Raven curled against him like a cat, her need for sleep overwhelming.
Listen to me, little one. You must stay awake!The command was imperious. Mikhail’s arms surrounded her with the intensity of his love, his need to protect her.
Raven roused herself enough to scan her surroundings. The blackness of Rudy Romanov’s rage was like a living entity, demanding death. The force of it beat in her head. He ‘s crazy, Mikhail.She lifted a hand, a slow, difficult movement, tried to push at the heavy fall of hair. The air was so thick or she was so weak; the simple movement took intense concentration. Last night he was so sweet, grieving for his mother. Now he’s convinced we are his enemy. He’s an educated man, Mikhail. Did I put us in danger? Maybe I did or said something to make him suspicious.Raven’s mind was clouded with guilt.
His chin rubbed the top of her head. No, he found something among his father’s papers. He was not suspicious last night; he grieved. Something convinced him that his father’s accusations were well founded. He believes us to be vampire.
I don’t think anyone will believe him, even if he shows them the evidence he supposedly has. They’ll think he’s in shock.She feared for Rudy’s safety as much as for their own.
Mikhail’s fingers brushed her cheek tenderly. It was so like her to have compassion for a man whose entire being was bent on murdering them. Suddenly his body jerked hard against hers. The house flinched, screamed silently a split second before the first explosion reverberated in their ears. Above them, on the first floor, windows shattered; antique furniture splintered. A heartbeat, two heartbeats. Another explosion rocked the house, fragmenting the wall on the north side.
Mikhail’s fangs gleamed in the darkness; the hiss of his breath was a promise of merciless retaliation. The smell of smoke, acrid and rank, seeped through the ceiling into their bedchamber, where it swirled and gathered into a pungent, eye-burning cloud. Over their heads flames began to crackle and lick greedily at the books and paintings, at Mikhail’s past, at his present. Orange and red tongues eagerly consumed possessions that Mikhail had acquired in the long centuries of his existence. Rudy wanted to destroy it all, little knowing that Mikhail had many houses, many treasures.
