“I can’t move,” Raven admitted with a smile.
“We will catch a nap and face the world later,” he suggested, his voice pure black magic. Very gently he cradled her in his arms, placed her properly in the bed, and pulled up the blanket. Her long lashes caught and held his fascinated gaze. His fingertip stroked her throat, traced the valley between her breasts. She was still so sensitive, he could feel her shiver beneath his touch, and it flooded him with warmth.
“If I really wanted you to love me, I should have presented more of a challenge.” She burrowed deeper into a pillow. “My hair is a mess.”
Mikhail sat on the edge of the bed, took the mass of silk in his hands, and gently began to weave the thick strands into a long, loose braid. “If you presented much more of a challenge, little one, my heart would never be able to take it.” He sounded amused.
Her fingertips brushed the bare skin of his thigh, but she didn’t lift her long lashes. Mikhail sat for a long time on the edge of the bed, just watching her drift off to sleep. She was so small, a human, yet she had changed his life overnight. And he had taken hers. Taken her life. He had not wanted to say the ritual words; he had been as much under compulsion as his own prey when they exposed their throats to him.
She might say he was a stranger, but they had been in one another’s minds, shared the same body and offered their lives for each other. The exchange of blood as they made love was the ultimate in confirmation of their commitment. Each literally offered his life, vowed to give up his own life to safeguard the other. It was a beautiful, erotic ritual. It was a oneness of mind, heart, soul, body… blood.
Carpathians safeguarded their sleeping quarters from one another. They were vulnerable in sleep and while they were in the throes of sexual passion. The decision to take a lifemate was not a conscious act; it was instinct, a hunger and need. They knew. They recognized their other half. Mikhail recognized Raven as his. He had fought the binding ritual, yet his animal instinct had overcome his civilized trappings. He had dragged her halfway into his world and he was totally responsible for the consequences.
Light was beginning to filter in from upstairs. Mikhail completed the task of making his home safe against intruders. The next night would be long. Work had piled up, and he needed to go hunting. But he had this moment for peace and contentment.
Mikhail slid into bed beside Raven, dragged her hard against his body, wanting to feel every inch of her. She murmured his name sleepily, snuggled into him with the innocent trust of a small child. Instantly his heart somersaulted, and a curious warmth and contentment spread through him. Peace. He touched her because he could. His hand cupped the fullness of her breast, his mouth brushed her nipple, feather light, just once. After pressing a kiss to the vulnerable line of her throat, he sent the command for deep sleep, regulating his breathing to join her.
Chapter Five
Raven surfaced through layer after layer of sleep, felt as though she were wading through quicksand. You did it again! It was sheer outrage that brought her awake, had her sitting up quickly. She was alone in the bedroom. His bedroom.
His mocking, masculine laughter echoed in her mind. Raven threw the pillow against the wall, wishing she could hit him with it. She had lost another day. What was she becoming? His sex slave?
The idea has possibilities, he mused.
Get out of my head! she snapped indignantly, then stretched languidly, a lazy, feline quality to her movements. Her body was deliciously sore, aching everywhere, an intimate reminder of his possession. She couldn’t be angry with him; he made her laugh at his outrageous behavior. How could she mind when her body felt the way it did?
When she rose to take her shower, she saw clothes laid out for her at the end of the bed. Mikhail had already been out shopping. Raven found herself smiling, absurdly pleased that he had remembered. She fingered the skirt, the soft, full midnight-blue material, the matching blouse. You didn’t buy me jeans. She couldn’t resist teasing him.