"Mikhail paced beside her, studied her averted face. "You are going in the wrong direction, Raven." He put his hand at the small of her back to guide her. Raven stiffened, and then twisted away from him. "Maybe I don't want to go back, Mikhail. Maybe I don't really know who you are at all." There was more hurt than anger in her voice. Mikhail sighed heavily and reached for her, his grip unbreakable iron. "We will talk in the warmth and comfort of our home, not here where your body is like ice." Without waiting for her consent, he lifted her easily and moved with a burst of speed. Raven clung to him, her face buried against his shoulder, her slender body shaking with cold and more than a little fear of him, of her future, or what she herself had become. Mikhail took her directly to the bedchamber, lit the fire with a lift of his hand, and placed her on the bed. "You could at least have worn shoes." Raven drew his cloak around her protectively, looking up at him from under long lashes. "Why? And I'm not asking about shoes." He lit candles and crushed a variety of herbs to fill their chamber with soothing, healing sweetness. "I am a Carpathian male. I have the blood of the earth flowing in my veins. I have waited centuries for my lifemate. Carpathian men do not like other men near their women. I am struggling with unfamiliar emotions, Raven. They are not easy to control. You do not behave as a Carpathian woman would."