knowing the price you would pay."
How could she explain? He was like a wounded animal, radiating so much pain that she had found tears streaming unchecked down her face. His loneliness was hers. His isolation, hers. And she had sensed his resolve to end his pain, his existence. She could not let that happen, no matter what the cost to herself.
Mikhail let out his breath slowly, astonished and shocked by her nature, so giving. She was hesitant to put into words why she had reached out to him, but he knew it was her nature to give. He also knew the call had been so strong because that something in him that reached for her had found whatever it needed.
He inhaled her scent, taking her into his body, enjoying the sight and smell of her in his home, the feel of her silky hair in his hands, her soft skin under his fingertips. The flames from the fire put blue lights in her hair. Need slammed into him, hard and urgent and, as painful as the ache was, he reveled in the fact that Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
he could feel it.
Mikhail seated himself across the small table from her, his eyes drifting lazily, possessively over her alluring curves. "Why do you dress in men's clothes?" he asked.
She laughed, soft and melodious, and her eyes lit with mischief. "Because I knew it would annoy you."
He threw back his head and laughed. Real, genuine, incredible laughter. There was happiness in him and the stirrings of affection. He couldn't remember what those feelings were like, but the emotions were sharp and clear and a sweet ache in his body.
"Is it necessary to annoy me?"
She arched an eyebrow at him, realizing that her headache was completely gone. "So easy," Raven teased.
He leaned closer. "Disrespectful woman. So dangerous, you mean."
"Mmm, maybe that, too." She slid her hand through her hair, pushed it away from her face. The action was an innocent habit, incredibly sexy, drawing his gaze to the perfection of her face, the fullness of her breasts, the smooth line of her throat.
"So just how good a chess player are you?" she challenged impudently.
An hour later Mikhail leaned back in his chair to watch her face as she studied the board. She was frowning in concentration, trying to puzzle out his unfamiliar strategy. She could sense that he was leading her into a trap, but she couldn't find it. Raven leaned her chin on the heel of her hand, relaxed, in no hurry. She was patient and thorough and twice had gotten him into trouble simply because he was too sure of himself.
Suddenly her eyes widened, a slow smile curving her soft mouth. "You are a cunning devil, aren't you, Mikhail? But I think your cleverness may have gotten you into a bit of trouble."
He watched her with hooded eyes. His teeth gleamed white in the firelight. "Did I happen to mention, Miss Whitney, that the last person impertinent enough to beat me at chess was thrown in the dungeon and tortured for thirty years?"
"I believe that would have made you about two at the time," she teased, her eyes glued to the chessboard.
He sucked in his breath sharply. He had been comfortable in her presence, felt totally accepted. She obviously believed he was mortal, with superior telepathic powers. Mikhail lazily reached across the board to make his move, saw the dawning comprehension in her eyes. "I believe what we have is checkmate," he said silkily.
"I should have known a man who walks in the forest surrounded by wolves would be devious." She smiled up at him. "Great game, Mikhail. I really enjoyed it." Raven sank back into the cushions of the chair. "Can you talk to animals?" she asked curiously.
He liked her in his home, liked the way the fire burned blue in her hair and the way the shadows clung so lovingly to her face. He had memorized every inch of it, knew that if he closed his eyes, the picture would Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
still be there, the high, delicate
How could she explain? He was like a wounded animal, radiating so much pain that she had found tears streaming unchecked down her face. His loneliness was hers. His isolation, hers. And she had sensed his resolve to end his pain, his existence. She could not let that happen, no matter what the cost to herself.
Mikhail let out his breath slowly, astonished and shocked by her nature, so giving. She was hesitant to put into words why she had reached out to him, but he knew it was her nature to give. He also knew the call had been so strong because that something in him that reached for her had found whatever it needed.
He inhaled her scent, taking her into his body, enjoying the sight and smell of her in his home, the feel of her silky hair in his hands, her soft skin under his fingertips. The flames from the fire put blue lights in her hair. Need slammed into him, hard and urgent and, as painful as the ache was, he reveled in the fact that Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
he could feel it.
Mikhail seated himself across the small table from her, his eyes drifting lazily, possessively over her alluring curves. "Why do you dress in men's clothes?" he asked.
She laughed, soft and melodious, and her eyes lit with mischief. "Because I knew it would annoy you."
He threw back his head and laughed. Real, genuine, incredible laughter. There was happiness in him and the stirrings of affection. He couldn't remember what those feelings were like, but the emotions were sharp and clear and a sweet ache in his body.
"Is it necessary to annoy me?"
She arched an eyebrow at him, realizing that her headache was completely gone. "So easy," Raven teased.
He leaned closer. "Disrespectful woman. So dangerous, you mean."
"Mmm, maybe that, too." She slid her hand through her hair, pushed it away from her face. The action was an innocent habit, incredibly sexy, drawing his gaze to the perfection of her face, the fullness of her breasts, the smooth line of her throat.
"So just how good a chess player are you?" she challenged impudently.
An hour later Mikhail leaned back in his chair to watch her face as she studied the board. She was frowning in concentration, trying to puzzle out his unfamiliar strategy. She could sense that he was leading her into a trap, but she couldn't find it. Raven leaned her chin on the heel of her hand, relaxed, in no hurry. She was patient and thorough and twice had gotten him into trouble simply because he was too sure of himself.
Suddenly her eyes widened, a slow smile curving her soft mouth. "You are a cunning devil, aren't you, Mikhail? But I think your cleverness may have gotten you into a bit of trouble."
He watched her with hooded eyes. His teeth gleamed white in the firelight. "Did I happen to mention, Miss Whitney, that the last person impertinent enough to beat me at chess was thrown in the dungeon and tortured for thirty years?"
"I believe that would have made you about two at the time," she teased, her eyes glued to the chessboard.
He sucked in his breath sharply. He had been comfortable in her presence, felt totally accepted. She obviously believed he was mortal, with superior telepathic powers. Mikhail lazily reached across the board to make his move, saw the dawning comprehension in her eyes. "I believe what we have is checkmate," he said silkily.
"I should have known a man who walks in the forest surrounded by wolves would be devious." She smiled up at him. "Great game, Mikhail. I really enjoyed it." Raven sank back into the cushions of the chair. "Can you talk to animals?" she asked curiously.
He liked her in his home, liked the way the fire burned blue in her hair and the way the shadows clung so lovingly to her face. He had memorized every inch of it, knew that if he closed his eyes, the picture would Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
still be there, the high, delicate
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