Carpathian 01 - Dark Prince by authors_sort Page B

try to find the answer to the question at a later date. Right now she needed blood, and she needed it fast.
    "Stay with me, little one. I remained in this world because of you. You will have to be strong for both of us. Can you hear me, Raven? Do not leave me. I can make you happy. I know I can."
    He slashed a burning wound across his chest. He pressed her mouth to the dark crimson stain pouring freely from the slash. You will drink; obey me in this. He knew better than to have her drink directly Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    from his flesh, but he needed to hold her, needed the feel of her soft mouth against his skin taking his very essence, his life's blood, into her starving body.
    Her obedience was reluctant, her body threatening to reject his life-giving fluid. She gagged, tried to turn her head away. Ruthlessly he clamped her to him. "You will live, little one." Drink deeply.
    Her will was incredibly strong. Even his own people did not require so much effort to force obedience.
    Of course, his people trusted in him, wanted to obey. Although Raven was unaware of what he was forcing on her, some deep sense of self-preservation fought his commands. It didn't matter. His will would prevail. It always prevailed.
    Mikhail carried her to his sleeping chamber. He crushed sweet, healing herbs around the bed, covered her small, still form. He placed her in a deep sleep. In an hour he would make her drink again. He stood for a moment staring down at her, feeling the need to cry. She looked so beautiful, a rare, precious treasure he had treated cruelly, when he should have guarded her against the beast in him. Carpathians were not human. Their lovemaking was intensely wild. Raven was young, inexperienced, a human. He had not been able to keep his newly acquired emotions under control in the heat of passion.
    With trembling fingers he touched her face, a light caress, then bent to kiss her soft mouth. With an oath, he spun around and left the room. The safeguards were the strongest he knew, locking her in, everyone and everything out.
    The storm raged outside, as furious and turbulent as his soul. He took three running steps and launched himself into the sky, hurtling toward the" village. The winds whirled and screamed around him. The house he sought was no more than a small shack. He stood at the door, his face a mask of torment.
    Edgar Hummer opened the door silently, stood aside to allow him entrance. "Mikhail." The voice was gentle. Edgar Hummer was eighty-three years old. Most of his years had been spent in the service of the Lord. He considered himself deeply privileged to be counted among Mikhail Dubrinsky's few real friends.
    Mikhail filled the small room with his presence, his power. He was agitated, deeply disturbed. He paced restlessly, the storm outside increasing in fury, in strength.
    Edgar settled himself in his chair, lit his pipe, and waited. He had never seen Mikhail anything but completely calm, without emotion. This was a dangerous man, a man Edgar had never even glimpsed.
    Mikhail slammed a fist against the rock fireplace, creating a fine network of lines across the stones. "I nearly killed a woman tonight." He confessed it harshly, his dark eyes wounded. "You told me God made us for a purpose, that we were created by him. I am more beast than man, Edgar, and I cannot continue to delude myself. I would seek eternal rest, but even that is denied to me. Assassins stalk my people. I have no right to leave them until I know they are protected. Now my woman is in danger, not only from me but from my enemies."
    Edgar puffed at his pipe calmly. "You said 'my woman.' You love this woman?"
    Mikhail waved a dismissing hand. "She is mine." It was a statement, a decree. How could he say love? It was an insipid word for what he felt. She was purity. Goodness. Compassion. Everything that he was not.
    Edgar nodded. "You're in love with her."

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