He bent his dark head to her slowly, giving her every opportunity to stop him. His body continued to bury itself in hers, his dark eyes holding her blue ones captive. Mesmerizing, pleading, so in need. Raven arched her body toward him, thrusting her breasts invitingly, offering to assuage his burning hunger.

Mikhail’s soft growl of satisfaction rumbled in his throat, sent a thrill of excitement leaping in her blood. His body was aggressive now, his hands lifting her small hips for better access. She felt the brush of his lips so gently over her breast, her heart. His tongue slid over her skin, over his mark on her, erotic and warm. He surged into her powerfully, filling her, stretching her. He sank his teeth into soft flesh.

Raven cried out as white-hot heat seared her breast. She cradled Mikhail’s head to her, feeling the whirlwind of emotions storming through him as the fire in him built and built, higher and higher, until she thought they would both go up in flames. His mouth moved over her skin, devouring her as he took her, consuming them both. The feeling was like nothing she had ever experienced, erotic and burning.

She could hear herself screaming his name in joy, in wild abandon, her nails digging into his back. She had a primitive desire to find the heavy muscle over his breast with her mouth. They were exploding together, disintegrating, flying to the sun. Mikhail lifted his head to give a throaty growl, dipped his head to feed more.

He was careful this time, just taking enough for an exchange. His body was still locked with hers. He gave one last flick of his tongue to close the wound, heal even the smallest of pinpricks. Mikhail studied her face. Pale. Drowsy. He uttered his command, his body hard and eager at the idea of what he was doing.

Her body was still rippling with life, accepting his long, possessive strokes. He made the slash across his chest, pressed her soft mouth to his burning skin. It was ecstasy, his body convulsing almost painfully. The beast in him threw back its head and roared with pleasure, contentment, the terrible hunger temporarily assuaged.

He cupped the back of her head in his large hand, held her to him, stroking her throat, savoring the feel of her feeding. It was pure eroticism, pure beauty. He spoke softly, reluctantly, when he was certain she had taken enough for an exchange, enough to replenish what he had taken. He caressed the length of her hair, allowed her to surface.

She blinked up at him, a frown creasing her forehead. “You did it again.” She rested her head tiredly against the quilt. “Either that, or every time we get carried away I’m going to faint.” She tasted a faint coppery taste in her mouth.

Before she had a chance to identify what it was, Mikhail kissed her, his tongue licking along her teeth, the roof of her mouth, probing, exploring, dancing with hers. Very slowly he eased from her body, his hands caressing her soft skin.

“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.

Women do not belong in men’s clothing.He was unruffled.

Raven stepped into the shower, released the thick braid so she could shampoo her hair. You don’t like the way I look in a pair of jeans?

His laughter held deep, genuine amusement. That is a loaded question .

Where are you?Without realizing it, Raven was communicating a sultry invitation. She touched his mark over her breast with light fingertips. The contact caused her blood to heat, the mark to throb.

Your body needs rest, little one. I have not exactly been the gentlest of lovers, have I?There was self-mockery in his tone, guilt in his mind.

She laughed softly. I don’t have very much to judge you by, do I? There hasn’t been a parade of men in my life.Her soft laughter wrapped him in loving arms. If you like, I could always find someone to compare you with.She offered it sweetly.