“Wanna-be assassins.” He displayed knowledge of Stateside slang with a small, heart-wrenching smile. “Say yes. You know you cannot possibly resist me. Say yes.”
“After you made me drink that disgusting apple juice? You set your wolves on me, Mikhail. I know there’s a long list of sins I should be reciting.” Her eyes were sparkling with mischief.
He pulled her into his arms, against the heavy muscles of his chest, fitting her neatly into the cradle of his hips. “I can see this is going to take some heavy persuasion.” His lips moved over her face like a brand, fastened on her mouth and rocked the very earth.
“No one should be able to kiss like this,” Raven whispered.
He kissed her again, tantalizingly sweet, his tongue sliding over hers sensuously, pure magic, pure promise. “Say yes, Raven. Feel how much I need you.”
Mikhail dragged her closer so the hard evidence of his desire was clearly imprinted against her flat stomach. Taking her hand in his, he brought it down to cover the aching bulge, rubbed her palm slowly back and forth across him, tormenting both of them. He opened his mind so she could feel the sharpness of his hunger, the edge to his passion, the flood of warmth and love enveloping her, them. Say yes, Raven; he whispered it in her head, needing her to want him back, to accept him, good or bad.
You take such unfair advantage. Her reply held a trace of amusement, was warm honey spilling over with love.
The car nosed out of the mist, came to a halt under a canopy of trees. Mikhail turned to face the outsiders, instinctively placing his body protectively between Raven and the three visitors. “Father Hummer, what a pleasant surprise.” Mikhail extended a welcoming hand to the priest, but there was a hard bite to his voice.
“Raven!” Shelly Evans pushed rudely past the priest and rushed toward Raven, although her eyes were devouring Mikhail.
Mikhail saw the ripple of dismay in Raven’s eyes before Shelly reached her, flinging her arms around Raven and hugging her tightly. Shelly had no idea Raven could read her envy and her sexual interest in Mikhail. He could feel Raven’s natural revulsion to physical touch, to the woman’s concern, to her fantasies about Mikhail, but Raven managed a smile and returned the hug.
“What’s this all about? Is something wrong?” Raven asked softly, gently disentangling herself from the taller woman.
“Well, my dear,” Margaret Summers said firmly, glaring at Mikhail and reaching for Raven. “We insisted Father Hummer bring us to check on you.”
The moment the thin, wrinkled hand touched her arm, Raven recognized the push at her mind. At the same time her stomach heaved, rolled, and shards of glass pierced her skull, fragmenting her mind. For a moment she couldn’t breathe. She had touched death. She drew away instantly, wiping her palm on her thigh.
Mikhail! She focused on him entirely. I’m sick.
“Mrs. Galvenstein did not assure you Raven was safe in my care?” Mikhail gently but firmly inserted his body between Raven and the older woman. He had felt the older woman’s clumsy attempt at a probe when she brushed by him. His teeth gleamed whitely. “Please enter my home and make yourselves comfortable. I believe it is growing rather cold out.”
Margaret Summers was twisting this way and that, observing the table with two glasses and plates, the crumbs of pastry on two plates. Her eyes pinned Raven, as if trying to see through the material of her dress to her neck.
Mikhail’s arm curved around Raven’s shoulder, swept her into the healing shelter of his body. He hid his smile as he watched Mrs. Summers hold Shelly back until Father Hummer preceded them into Mikhail’s house. They were so predictable. He bent his head. Are you all right?
I’m going to throw up. The apple juice. She looked up at him accusingly.
Let me help you. They will not know. He turned, blocking her smaller frame with his large one. He spoke a soft command, kissed her gently. Better?
She touched his jaw, her fingers conveying what she felt. Thanks. They turned together to face their visitors.