Carpathian 01 - Dark Prince

said softly. "Tell me about yourself. How is it that you can hear my thoughts?" His strong fingers found her temples, began a soothing rhythm.
    "I've always been able to do it. When I was little, I just assumed everybody else could do the same thing. But it was terrible to know other people's innermost thoughts, their secrets. I heard and felt things every minute of the day." Raven never talked about her life, her childhood, to anyone, least of all a complete stranger. Yet Mikhail didn't feel like a stranger. He felt like a part of her. A piece missing from her soul. It seemed important to tell him. "My father thought I was a freak, a demon child, and even my mother was a little afraid of me. I learned never to touch people, not to be in crowds. It was better to be alone, in places of solitude. It was the only way I could stay sane."
    Gleaming teeth bared above her head, a predator's menace. He wanted to be alone with her father for a few minutes, to show him what a demon really was. It interested him, yet alarmed him that her words could bring about such rage in him. To know she was alone so long ago, had endured pain and loneliness when he was in the world, angered him. Why hadn't he gone looking for her? Why hadn't her father loved and cherished her as he should have?
    His hands were working magic, slipping to the nape of her neck, his fingers strong, hypnotic. "A few years ago a man was murdering families, small children. I was staying with a friend from high school and when I returned after work, I found them all dead. When I went into the house I could feel his evil, knew his thoughts. It made me sick, the terrible things running around in my head, but I was able to track him and finally led the police to him."
    His hands moved down the length of her thick braid, found the tie and loosened the heavy mass of silk, tunneling his fingers to release the woven strands, still damp from her shower hours before. "How many times did you do this thing?" She was leaving things out. The details of horror and pain, the faces of those she helped as they watched her work, shocked, fascinated, yet repulsed by her ability. He saw those details, sharing her mind, reading her memories to learn her true nature.
    "Four. I went after four killers. The last time I fell apart. He was so sick, so evil. I felt as if I was unclean, as if I could never get him out of my head. I came here hoping to find peace. I decided I would never do anything like that again."
    Mikhail, above her head, closed his eyes for a moment to calm his mind. That she could feel unclean. He could look into her heart and soul, see her every secret, know she was light and compassion, courage and gentleness. The things she had seen in her young life should never have been. He waited until his voice was calm and soothing. "And you get these headaches if you use telepathic communication?" At her solemn nod, he continued, "Yet when you heard me, unguarded, in pain, you reached out to me, 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