“He was in pain,” she said quietly.
Mikhail made a sound of annoyance. “He wanted you.”
Her eyelashes fluttered, blue eyes meeting his, startled and unsure. “But… no, Mikhail, you’re mistaken; you must be. I was only trying to comfort him. He lost both of his parents.” She looked close to tears.
He held up his hand to silence her. “And you wanted to be in his company. Not sexually, but still, his human company; do not deny it. I could feel the need in you.”
Her tongue touched her lips nervously. She couldn’t deny it. It had been entirely subconscious on her part, but now that he had spoken the words aloud, she knew it was true. She had felt the need for human companionship. Mikhail was so intense, everything in his world so unfamiliar. Raven hated that she hurt him, hated that she had been the one to push him to the edge of his control. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to do anything but go for a short walk. When I heard him, I felt the need to make certain he was all right. I didn’t know, Mikhail, that I was seeking human company.”
“I do not blame you, little one, never that.” His voice was so gentle, it turned her heart over. “I can easily read your memories. I know of your intent. And I would never blame you for your compassionate nature.”
“I guess we both have difficulties to contend with,” she said softly. “I can’t be what you want me to be, Mikhail. You use the word ‘human’ like a curse, something less than what you are. Did it ever occur to you that you’re prejudiced against my race? Carpathian blood may flow in my veins, but in my heart and my mind I’m human. I didn’t set out to betray you. I went for a walk. That’s all I did. I’m sorry, Mikhail, but all my life I’ve known freedom. Changing my blood is not going to change who I am.”
He paced across the floor with quick, fluid energy, all power and coordination. “I am not prejudiced,” he denied.
“Of course you are. You view my race with a measure of contempt. Would you have been happy if I had fed, using Romanov’s blood? Is that acceptable? To use him for food, but not for a few friendly words?”
“I do not like this picture you paint of me, Raven.” Mikhail crossed the room to hold out his hand for the cape. The bedchamber was warm and smelled of nature—wood and meadow.
Reluctantly Raven slipped the cape from her shoulders. Mikhail frowned when he saw she was clad only in his crisp white shirt. Although the tails reached her knees and covered her bottom, a generous portion of her thighs was exposed, right up to her hips. The effect was incredibly sexy, with her long, wild mane of hair cascading in waves down to the bed, framing her slender form. Mikhail swore softly, a few choice words in his own language, thankful he hadn’t realized she was wearing nothing but his shirt beneath his cape. He probably would have torn out Romanov’s throat. The thought of Raven approaching the young man, smiling at him, mesmerizing him with her siren’s eyes, bending her head to his throat, touching him with her mouth, her tongue, her teeth… His gut clenched in total rebellion at the picture.
He raked a hand through his hair, hung the cape in his closet, and filled the old-fashioned pitcher and basin with warm water. Once he had his imagination under firm control he could answer her with his usual gentleness. “No, little one, after giving it thought, I cannot say I would have been happy had you been feeding.”
“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? A Carpathian woman preys on unsuspecting humans.” There was an edge of unshed tears in her voice.
Mikhail earned the water over to the side of the bed, knelt down in front of her. “I am trying to understand my feelings, Raven, and they do not make sense.” Very gently he began to bathe her feet. “More than anything I want your happiness. But I feel the need to protect you.” His hands were gentle, his touch tender as he removed every speck of earth.