Chapter Sixteen
Raven became aware of her surroundings slowly. She was on a bed, her body without clothing. Mikhail was behind her, his hands tangled in her thick, damp hair. She recognized the feel of his sure fingers working to braid her hair, his movements calm and deliberate, very matter-of-fact, putting her at ease despite her shadowy memory. She appeared to be in an old castle that was small and inevitably drafty. The bedchamber was warm, and Mikhail had flooded it with the essence of soothing herbs and the romance of flickering candlelight. He had cleaned them both so that their bodies only smelled of each other and the scent of the herbal soap he used. He took his time braiding the length of hair while she tried to orient herself to her new surroundings. Mikhail touched her mind, found it confused, desperately holding on to sanity. She was afraid of him and even more afraid to trust her own judgment. Raven studied each corner of the room, each wall, every detail, while her heart pounded frantically, the sound loud in her ears. The room was beautiful. A fire glowed in the fireplace; long, tapered candles emitted a light fragrance that mingled with the soothing scent of herbs. A well-worn Bible lay on the small end table beside the bed. She didn’t really recognize anything, yet it was all strangely familiar.
The quilt on the bed was thick and warm, the material soft against her bare skin. She noticed for the first time that she was naked. At once she felt vulnerable and shy; yet again, she felt as if she belonged here with him. Mikhail’s hands slipped from her hair to the nape of her neck, his fingers massaging aching muscles. His touch was familiar, stirring alarming sensations in her body.
“What did you do to Monique and her husband?” Her fingers twisted in the quilt. She tried to ignore the heat of his body as he moved close behind her so that their skin touched, so that the hair on his chest rasped against her back and the hard length of him pressed tight against her bottom. He felt right. He felt a part of her.
Mikhail placed a kiss on a bruise near her throat, then moved to stroke her leaping pulse with his velvet tongue. Her body clenched in anticipation. Her mind seemed confused. “They are safe in their home, loving one another as they should. They remember nothing of Andre and the atrocities he committed against them. They know us as good, close friends.” He kissed another bruise, a feather-light touch that seemed to send a flame licking through her bloodstream. His hands moved to her small waist, slid up her narrow rib cage to cup her full breasts. His mind touched hers, and Raven mentally shied away from him.
“Why do you fear me, Raven? You have seen me at my worst, as a killer, a dispenser of justice for our people.” His thumbs stroked her nipples, a slow, erotic brush that sent liquid heat curling through her. “Do you believe I am evil? Touch my mind, little one. It is impossible for me to hide anything from you. I never concealed my true nature from you. You looked upon me once with the eyes of compassion and love. Of acceptance. Has that all been forgotten?”
Raven closed her eyes, long lashes sweeping down on high cheekbones. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“Kiss me, Raven. Merge your mind with mine. Share your body so that we are completely one being. You trusted me before; do so now. Look at me with the eyes of love, in forgiveness for the things I have been forced to do, for the beast in my nature. Do not look at me through the eyes of one who would wish to destroy our people and us. Give yourself to me.” His voice was seductive, a black magic spell, his hands caressing every beloved inch of her satin skin. He had committed every hollow, every curve to memory. His body burned with need and his hunger was rising. Her hunger, his. Very gently, so as not to alarm her, Mikhail pressed her slender body to the quilt, his muscular frame covering her smaller one like a blanket. She was so petite, so fragile beneath his exploring hands.