Carpathian 01 - Dark Prince

curling her fingers around the solid wood. The familiar feel of wood helped to lessen her trembling.
    "Thank you, Mikhail, for my blue jeans." She gave him a faint smile over her shoulder. Mysterious, sexy, innocent, and so very fragile. In the depths of her blue eyes he could find no anger, no blame, only love for him shining there.
    "I am happy you like them, although I still say they are garb for men, not a beautiful woman. I was hoping they would make you smile."
    "Only because you get that pained look on your face." She stood at the window, her eyes easily piercing the darkness. "I never want to do that again." She said it starkly, meaning it. Wanting him to know she meant it.
    Mikhail inhaled sharply, cutting off his first response. He chose his words carefully. "Our blood and, ultimately, our bodies, welcome the soil. Overnight the wound on my leg was gone. Your wounds, so deep, all mortal, were healed in six days."
    Raven watched the wind tug at leaves on the ground. "I'm very intelligent, Mikhail. I can see for myself that what you're telling me is true. Intellectually, I may even accept it, marvel at it. But I never want to do that again. I cannot. I will not, and I ask that you accept this failing in me."

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    He crossed the distance separating them. His hand curled around the nape of her neck to drag her into his arms. He held her, there in the old cabin, deep within his mountains and forest. He grieved for the loss of his home, his books, grieved for his past, but most of all, he grieved over his inability to spare Raven.
    He could command the earth, the animals, the sky, yet he could not bring himself to remove her memories because she had asked him not to do so. Such an innocent, small request.
    Raven lifted her head, studying his shadowed features with serious eyes.. Very gently she smoothed the deep lines of worry from his forehead. "Don't be sad for me, Mikhail, and stop taking so much on yourself. Memories are useful things. When I am stronger, I can take this out and examine it, look at it from all angles and perhaps grow more comfortable with the things we have to do to protect ourselves."
    There was a trace of humor and a good amount of skepticism at the thought.
    Raven took his hand. "You know, my love, you are not responsible for my happiness, or even for my health. I've had a choice every step of the way, from our very first meeting. I chose you. Clearly, in my heart, and in my head, I chose you. If I had it to do over again, even knowing what I would have to go through, I would choose you without hesitation."
    His smile could melt her heart. Mikhail cupped her face in his hands, lowered his head to capture her mouth with his. Instantly electricity crackled between them. She could taste his love in the moist darkness of his mouth. Hunger rose, sharp and gnawing. The sound of blood surging hotly, the beating of hearts, the instant explosive chemistry was nearly overwhelming for both of them. Although his arms slipped around her, dragged her close against his hard frame, his tender mouth carried the unmistakable flavor of intense love. Mikhail's fingers tangled in her silky hair as if he would hold her for all eternity.
    Raven melted into him; for a heartbeat of time she was boneless, pliant, honeyed heat warming him. She pulled away first. It was easy to read the clawing hunger in him; it was growing in her. Her body needed nourishment after its grueling ordeal. She lifted long lashes to his beloved, masculine features, took in the sensual stamp of his mouth, the slumbering, sensual invitation in his black gaze.
    Raven kissed his throat, her hands going to the buttons of his shirt. Her body clenched, pulsing with heat and hunger. Her mouth moved over his skin. She inhaled his scent, the wild mystery of the night. Inside, the terrible craving grew and spread like wildfire. Her tongue tasted the texture of his skin, traced the line of his muscle, moved back to stroke across the pulse beating so strongly in his throat. "I love you, Mikhail." The words were whispered against his throat. A siren's whisper. Silk and candlelight. Satin and hot, steamy sex.
    Every muscle in his body tightened. Need swept through him, anticipation. She was a miracle of beauty, a mix of human frailties, courage, and compassion. Mikhail's fist, bunched in her hair, held her head to him. Her mouth was a silken flame moving over his chest, building