Do you enter my home of your own free will?" He asked it formally, his eyes burning on her face, over it, dwelling on her soft mouth before returning to her large blue eyes.
She was frightened, he could read it easily, a captive wild thing wanting to trust him yet unable to, run to the ground, cornered, but still willing to fight with her last breath. She needed him almost as much as he needed her. She touched the door frame with a fingertip. "If I say no, will you take me back to the inn?"
Why did she want to be with him when she knew he was so dangerous? He wasn't pushing her; she had too much talent of her own not to know. He looked so alone, so proud, yet his eyes burned over her with hungry need. He didn't answer her, didn't try to persuade her, simply stood in silence, waiting.
Raven sighed softly, knowing she was defeated. She had never known another human being she could just sit and talk with, even touch, without the bombardment of thoughts and emotions. That in itself was a type of seduction.
She started across the threshold. Mikhail caught her arm.
"Your own free will; say it."
"My own free will." She stepped into his home, her lashes sweeping down. Raven missed the look of savage joy that lit his dark, chiseled features, but she felt the floor shift beneath her feet. An old, obscure myth rose up to haunt her. Shivering, she turned as if she might step back across that ancient threshold. The heavy door swung closed behind Raven with a thud of finality. She shivered again, and rubbed her arms nervously. What was she thinking? That he was a legend, a myth? Some creature stepping out of the pages of a novel?
She was frightened, he could read it easily, a captive wild thing wanting to trust him yet unable to, run to the ground, cornered, but still willing to fight with her last breath. She needed him almost as much as he needed her. She touched the door frame with a fingertip. "If I say no, will you take me back to the inn?"
Why did she want to be with him when she knew he was so dangerous? He wasn't pushing her; she had too much talent of her own not to know. He looked so alone, so proud, yet his eyes burned over her with hungry need. He didn't answer her, didn't try to persuade her, simply stood in silence, waiting.
Raven sighed softly, knowing she was defeated. She had never known another human being she could just sit and talk with, even touch, without the bombardment of thoughts and emotions. That in itself was a type of seduction.
She started across the threshold. Mikhail caught her arm.
"Your own free will; say it."
"My own free will." She stepped into his home, her lashes sweeping down. Raven missed the look of savage joy that lit his dark, chiseled features, but she felt the floor shift beneath her feet. An old, obscure myth rose up to haunt her. Shivering, she turned as if she might step back across that ancient threshold. The heavy door swung closed behind Raven with a thud of finality. She shivered again, and rubbed her arms nervously. What was she thinking? That he was a legend, a myth? Some creature stepping out of the pages of a novel?
( Christine Feehan )
[ Dark Prince ]
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