Carpathian 01 - Dark Prince

"Mikhail, you can't put me in a box and keep me on a shelf." She spoke as gently as she could.
    "I will not argue over your safety. Earlier, you were alone with a man who thought of forcibly taking you.
    Any wild animal could have attacked you, and if you had not been under my protection, in his present state, Rand might have harmed you."
    "None of those things happened, Mikhail." She touched his jaw with gentle, placating fingers, a tender caress. "You have enough to worry about, enough responsibilities, without adding me to them. I can help you. You know I'm capable."
    He tugged at her wrist so that she lost her balance and fell against his hard strength. "You are going to make me crazy, Raven." His arms came up, pinning her soft slenderness against him. His voice dropped to a drawling caress, mesmerizing, pure black magic. "You are the one person I long to protect, yet you will not obey. You insist on independence. All others lean on my strength, yet you seek to help me, to shoulder my duties." He lowered his mouth to hers.

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    There was that curious shifting of the ground beneath her feet, the crackle of electricity in the air around them. Flames licked over her skin, heated her blood. Colors whirled and danced in her head. His mouth claimed hers, aggressive, male, totally dominating, sweeping all thoughts of resistance aside. She opened her mouth to him, allowed his probing exploration, his sweet, hot assault.
    Her hands found the broadness of his shoulders, crept up to circle his neck. Her body felt pliant, boneless, like hot silk. Mikhail wanted to press her to the soft ground, tear the offending clothes from her body, and make her irrevocably his. There was far too much innocence in the taste of her. No one had asked to share the weight of his countless burdens. No one, until this little slender slip of a mortal, had even thought of the price he continually paid. A human. She had the courage to stand up to him and he could do no other than respect her for it.
    His eyes were closed, savoring the feel of her body against his, the fact that he could want her with such intensity. He held her, wanting her, needing her, burning for her, not even understanding how such a firestorm could consume him. Reluctantly he lifted his head, his body raging at him. "Let us go home, Raven." His voice was pure seduction.
    A slow smile curved her soft mouth. "I don't think it's safe. You're the kind of man my mother warned me about."
    He kept his arm possessively around her shoulders, shackling her to him. Mikhail had no intention of allowing her to leave his side again. His body urged her in the direction he wanted. They walked together in companionable silence.
    "Jacob wasn't going to hurt me," she denied suddenly. "I would have known."
    "You were not touching him, little one, and it was lucky for him."
    "He's certainly capable of violence. It's always hard to miss violence." She flashed him her mischievous smile. "It clings to you like a second skin."
    He tugged at her thick braid in retaliation for her teasing. "I want you to come stay in my home. At least until we find and dispose of the assassins."
    Raven walked several steps in silence. He had said we, as if they were a team. That pleased her. "You know, Mikhail, it was the strangest thing today. Not one person at the inn or in the village seemed to know of the murder."
    His finger flicked along her delicate cheekbone. "And you said nothing."
    She flashed him a quelling glance from under long lashes. "Of course. Gossiping is not my form of entertainment."
    "Noelle died cruelly, senselessly. She was Rand's lifemate…"
    "You used that term before. What does it mean?"
    "It is like a wife or husband," he explained. "Noelle had given birth to a child only two months ago. She was my responsibility. Noelle is not food for gossip. We will find her killers ourselves."
    "Don't you think if there's a serial killer loose in so small a village, the people have a right to know?"

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    Mikhail chose his words carefully. "The Romanians are not in any danger. And this is not the work of one individual. The assassins wish to stamp out our race. True Carpathians are almost extinct. We have bitter enemies who would see us all dead."
    "Why?"
    Mikhail shrugged. "We are different; we have certain gifts, talents. People are afraid of what is