Dark Prince - Feehan Christine - Страница 18
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“It is not safe for Eleanor or Celeste to be in their homes. No more trips to the midwife. Take Celeste to my home above the lake. Eric will be able to study the ancient arts, which he has neglected. It is an easy place to defend. Eleanor cannot travel as far.”
“They can use my home,” Byron offered. “They will be close if they need help.” Eleanor was his sister, and he had always loved her dearly. Despite the fact that his emotions were long gone, he remembered what it felt like.
“It is risky. If your relationship is known and she is under suspicion, or if you were seen assisting Rand...” Mikhail shook his head, not liking the idea. “Maybe they should take over my home.”
“No!” The simultaneous protests were instant and sharp.
“No, Mikhail, we cannot afford the risk to you.” Jacques sounded alarmed.
“Our women come first before any of us, Jacques,” Mikhail reminded him gently. “Without them, our race will die. We can have sex with humans, but we cannot procreate with them. Our women are our greatest treasures. Each of you must eventually mate and father children. But be certain the one you choose is your true lifemate. All of you know the signs: colors, emotions, the burning for her. The bond is strong. When one dies, the other usually chooses to die also. It is death or vampire. We all know that.”
“But Rand...” Byron trailed off.
“Rand became impatient with the waiting. Noelle was obsessed with him, but they were not true lifemates. I think they ended up hating each other, trapped in the sickness of their relationship. He will survive her passing.” Mikhail worked to keep the disgust from his voice. True lifemates could not survive long without each other. That fact and the high mortality rate of their children, had taken a huge toll on their dwindling race. Mikhail was not certain his people would survive into the next century. No matter how hard he tried, he could not find the hope necessary to keep the males from turning vampire.
“Mikhail—” Jacques chose his words carefully—”only you and Gregori know the secrets of our race. You know Gregori will choose his solitary existence. Only you can teach the rest of us, lead us, help us to grow. If we are to survive, grow strong again, it cannot be done without you. Your blood is the life of our people.”
“Why do you say this to me?” Mikhail snapped, not wanting to hear the truth.
Jacques and Byron exchanged a long, uneasy glance. “We have been concerned for some time about your continued withdrawal.”
“My withdrawal was inevitable and is hardly your business.”
“You have chosen to remain completely alone, even among those of us you call blood kin,” Jacques went on.
“What is it you are trying to say?” Mikhail snapped impatiently. He had been away from Raven for too long. He needed to see her, hold her, touch her mind with his.
“We cannot afford to lose you. And if you do not wish to continue your life, you will begin to take greater risks, become careless,” Jacques drawled slowly.
Mikhail’s dark, brooding eyes slowly warmed, and a smile tugged at the hard corners of his mouth, softening the lines in his beautifully chiseled features. “You young devils. How have you managed to watch me without my knowledge?”
“The alpha pair fear for you also,” Jacques admitted. “As I am of your blood and under your protection, they accept and speak with me. They watch over you when you take your solitary walks and when you run with the pack. They say there is no joy in you.”
Mikhail laughed softly. “I need a good wolf hide for this winter. Whatever my feelings, Noelle was our sister, one of my people. I will not rest until her murderers are brought to justice.”
Jacques cleared his throat, a cocky grin dispelling the ruthless set of his dark features. “I do not suppose this woman you are hiding has anything to do with your sudden desire to rise with the night.”
The toe of Mikhail’s boot nearly pushed Jacques from his perch in retaliation for his audacity.
Byron caught at the branch with a tight grip. “Eleanor and Vlad can stay with me. It will be double protection for her and her unborn child.”
Mikhail nodded. Though he was 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.
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