was so tired, even dizzy. She rubbed at her head and wished that for once in her life she was normal. He probably thought she was the fainting type.
There was a short silence. He sighed heavily. "My family."
She knew he spoke the truth, yet he didn't. "Why would someone do such a terrible thing?" She turned her face up to his. "Do they expect you to track this killer, to stop him?" There was raw pain in her voice, pain for him. Worry. His grief was sharp, edged with guilt and the need for violence.
He turned her question over in his mind. She knew then, knew one of his people had been killed. She probably had picked the details out of someone's head. The worry and pain was for him. There was no condemnation. Simply worry. Mikhail felt the tension ease from his body, felt warmth curl in his stomach.
"I will try to keep you as far from this mess as possible, little one." No one worried about him, about his state of mind or his health. No one thought to feel for him. Something inside him seemed to soften and melt. She was wrapping herself inside him, deep, somewhere he needed her.
"Perhaps we shouldn't see each other for a few days. I've never been so tired in my life." She tried to give him a gracious way out. Raven looked down at her hands. She wanted to give herself an out, too.
She had never felt so close to anyone, so comfortable, as if she had known him forever, yet was terrified that he would take her over. "And I don't think your family was thrilled to see an American with you.
We're too… explosive together," she finished ruefully.
"Do not try to leave me, Raven." The car drew up in front of the inn. "I hold what is mine, and make no mistake, you are mine." It was both a warning and a plea. He had no time for soft words. He wanted to give them to her—God knew she deserved them—but the others were waiting and his responsibilities weighed heavily on him.
She raised her hand to the line of his jaw, rubbing gently. "You're so used (o having your own way."
There was a smile in her voice. "I can go to sleep all by myself, Mikhail. I've been doing it for years."
"You need to sleep untroubled, undisturbed, deeply. What you saw' tonight will haunt you if I do not help you." His thumb stroked across her lower lip. "I could remove the memory if you wished."
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Raven could see he wanted to do it, believed that it would be best for her. She could see it was difficult to ask her to make a decision. "No, thank you, Mikhail," she said demurely. "I think I'll keep all my memories, good and bad." She kissed his chin, slid across the seat to the door. "You know, I'm not a porcelain doll. I won't break because I see something I shouldn't. I've chased serial killers before." She smiled at him, her eyes sad.
He shackled her wrist in an unbreakable grip. "And it almost destroyed you. Not this time."
Her lashes swept down, hiding her expression. "That's not your decision." If others persuaded him to use his talents to chase the insane, evil killers in the world, she would not leave him alone. How could she?
"You are not nearly as afraid of me as you should be," he growled.
She flashed him another smile, tugging at her wrist to remind him to release her. "I think you know what's between us would be worth nothing if you forced me to do your will in everything."
He held her captive a heartbeat longer, his dark, dangerous eyes moving possessively over her fragile face. She was so strong-willed. She was afraid, but she looked him in the eyes and stood up to him. It made her ill, brought her to the brink of madness to chase evil, but she did it time and time again. He was still a shadow in her mind. He read her determination to help him, her fear of him and his incredible powers, but she would not leave him to face this horrible killer alone. He wanted to keep her with him safe in his lair. Almost reverently, Mikhail trailed his fingers down her cheek.