Carpathian 01 - Dark Prince

but his hands were gentle as they pulled her to her feet. His hands slid up her arms, rested lightly on her shoulders, thumbs stroking the pulse in her neck. His touch sent warmth curling in her abdomen. She was so small beside him, so fragile and vulnerable. "Do not try to leave me, little one. We need one another." His dark head bent lower, his mouth brushing her eyelids, sending little darts of fire licking along her skin. "You make me remember what living is," he whispered in his mesmerizing voice.
    His mouth found the corner of hers, and a jolt of electricity sizzled through her body.
    Raven reached up to touch the shadowed line of his jaw, to place a hand on the heavy muscles of his chest in an attempt to put space between them. "Listen to me, Mikhail." Her voice was husky. "We both know what loneliness is, isolation. It's beyond my imagination that I can be this close to you, physically touch you, and not be swamped with unwanted burdens. But we can't do this."
    Amusement crept into the dark fire of his eyes, a hint of tenderness. His fingers curled around the nape of her neck. "Oh, I think we can." His black velvet voice was pure seduction, his smile frankly sensual.
    Raven felt his power right down to her toes. Her body was boneless, liquid, aching. She was so close to him that she felt a part of him, surrounded by him, enveloped by him. "I'm not going to sleep with Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    someone I don't know because I'm lonely."
    He laughed softly, low and amused. "Is that what you think? That you would be sleeping with me because you are lonely?" His hand was at her throat again, stroking, caressing, heating her blood. "This is why you will make love with me. This!" His mouth fastened on hers.
    White heat. Blue lightning. The ground shifted and rolled.
    Mikhail dragged her slender form against his male length, his body aggressive, his mouth dominating, sweeping her into a world of pure feeling.
    Raven could only cling to him, a safe anchor in a storm of turbulent emotions. A growl rumbled deep in his throat, animal, feral, like that of an aroused wolf. His mouth moved to the soft, vulnerable line of her throat, down to rest on the pulse beating so frantically beneath her satin skin.
    Mikhail's arms tightened, pinning her to his body, possessive, certain, his hold unbreakable. Raven was on fire, needing, burning, hot silk in his arms, her body pliant, liquid heat. She was moving against him restlessly, her breasts aching, nipples pushing erotically against the thin yarn of her sweater.
    His thumb brushed her nipple through the crocheted lace, sending waves of heat curling through her body, making her knees go weak so that only the hard strength of his arms held her up. His mouth moved again, his tongue like a flame licking over her pulse.
    And then there was white-hot heat, searing pain, her body coiling with need, burning for him, craving him. Waves of desire beat at her. His mouth on her neck was producing a combination of pleasure and pain so intense that she didn't know where one started and the other left off. His thumb tipped her head back, exposing her throat, his mouth clamped to her skin, his throat working as if he were devouring her, feeding on her, drinking her in. It burned, yet fed her own craving.
    Mikhail whispered something in his native tongue and lifted his head slightly, breaking the contact. Raven felt warm liquid run down her throat to her breast. Mikhail's tongue followed the path, sweeping across the creamy swell of her breast. Mikhail caught at her small waist, aware suddenly of the way his body raged at him for release. He had to claim her for his mate. His body demanded, burned.
    Raven caught at his shirt to keep from falling. He swore softly, eloquently, a mixture of two languages, furious with himself as he cradled her in his arms protectively.
    "I'm sorry, Mikhail." Raven was appalled, frightened at her weakness. The room was spinning; it was difficult to focus. Her neck throbbed and burned.
    He bent his dark head to kiss her gently. "No, little one, I am moving us too fast." Everything in his nature, beast and centuries-old man raged at him to take, keep her, but he wanted her to come to him willingly.
    "I feel funny, dizzy."
    He had been that little bit out of control, the beast in him hungry to put his mark on her, hungry for the sweet taste of her. His body was on fire, demanding release. Discipline and control fought