Dark Predator

11

There was no going back. Marguarita had known that when she’d offered herself to him and she didn’t want to take back her offer. He’d taken her to paradise, but still, she could have used a brief respite from his overwhelming, intense personality. Zacarias seemed to love the scent of her bath. He’d insisted on pouring her fragrant oil into the water, and now he sat on the edge of the sink, watching her with that unnerving, focused stare of his. He knew he was making her uncomfortable, but he made no apologies, nor did he stop staring so possessively at her.

Are you going to stare at me forever? She touched her hair self-consciously. It was piled on top of her head to keep it out of the oily water, and she knew she looked a mess. The room was lit with candles, so the light was soft and flickering, but still, she didn’t look her best.

He suddenly smiled, robbing her of all breath. “You will have to get used to me staring. Watching you take a bath brings me pleasure.” He folded his arms across his chest, never taking his gaze from her. “And you look sexy with your hair messy. It is my favorite, when it’s down and all over the place, but this look is a close second. I like when you have all those curls falling around your face and down your back when you’re trying to look very severe, putting it up. It is wild, like you. Very sensual and pleasing.”

She felt color creeping up her neck into her face. You’re easy to please.

His eyebrow shot up. “I assure you, I am anything but easy to please. And you are covering yourself again. Please take your hands away from your breasts. I enjoy looking at you. Your body is beautiful and I am certain it will be an everlasting source of pleasure.”

She hadn’t realized she was covering her body for the second time. He had already asked her to stop once. She felt her color deepen. Really, she was trying to do what he wished, but his stare was so possessive and intense, she felt a little as if she were under a microscope. Reluctantly she put her hands under the water, grateful for the steam rising. It didn’t exactly provide protection, but at least there was the illusion of it.

Marks of his possession covered her body, and between her legs, she was definitely sore, but the water was soothing, and he had been incredibly gentle, carrying her into the bathroom and filling the tub for her before placing her in the hot water. Her heart was pounding so hard she had to fight not to press her hand over her chest. The enormity of what she’d done hit her hard after she’d floated down from subspace.

She had thought long and hard about what she was going to do to save Zacarias De La Cruz. He was so far on the other side, already with one foot out of the world she knew. If she didn’t do something drastic, she would lose him. Wherever one went after death, she didn’t want him alone for one more moment. She’d made up her mind to seduce him into staying with her—but now it was clearly a case of beware of what you wish for.

“You have every right to fear your new life, Marguarita.”

She closed her eyes. His voice was so mesmerizing, so sensual she felt it like fingers brushing over her body.

“But do not try to hide your fears from me. I will not always do the things you will need and I will make many mistakes, I am certain, but you have to talk to me. Tell me when you are hurt by things I say or do. I will only make the mistake once. I am not asking this of you, so do not make the mistake of treating what I say lightly. I am commanding this. It will take great courage to confront me, and even more to live with me, but I expect nothing less from you.”

She went back and forth from being annoyed to amused with his commands. He had spent centuries giving orders and expecting—and receiving—obedience that of course she knew he would continue to do so. Sometimes it made her want to laugh. He truly expected her to do every little thing he said. As if that was even possible. It isn’t necessary to make everything an order, Zacarias.

“Perhaps with others, but you defy logic and reason. I have never known any other who disobeys direct orders the way you do. Even today you were sitting on your windowsill bandaging your friend Julio. Did you think I would not know exactly what you were doing?”

Her lashes lifted and she stared him straight in the eye. She would not be intimated by him. She saw inside of him—better even than he did—and she was safe. She just had to have the courage to stand up to him when he was being unreasonable.

I know you don’t mean to make me feel like a prisoner, Zacarias, but it does feel that way just a little bit when you say things like that. I have a duty to those on this ranch . . .

He held up his hand. “Not anymore. Your sole duty is to see to my needs. I think I made myself very clear on that.”

Yes, well, I still had to see to Julio’s wounds. It wouldn’t do to have them get infected. Did you do something to his dog? His dog suddenly went crazy, attacking the horses and then attacking Julio.

“I stopped the animal from snarling at me, but that would not explain his behavior. Where is the dog now?”

They had no choice but to shoot it. Julio asked me to see to the horses and cattle. Something’s wrong. She rubbed the little dent in her chin, frowning a little, hating that everyone on the ranch believed the dog’s behavior had something to do with Zacarias’s presence.

“Your eyes are sad. Do not feel sorrow for me, my beautiful lunatic.” He shrugged. “You believe they all think I am causing this reaction in the animals. It is probably the truth. Animals sense the shadows in me. Even my own people call me köd, varolind, hän ku piwtä, which means dark, dangerous predator, and even the most experienced hunters call me hän ku tappa—which means violent, but more. I am used to others fearing me. It does not bother me. I expect it.”

It bothers me, Marguarita admitted, shivering. The water is growing cold and I need to get out. It wasn’t the cold water, but more the realization of the enormity of her decision. She had made up her mind to save this man—to love this man—without fully understanding just how different and dangerous he truly was. She didn’t regret the decision, but she was feeling her way through a minefield.

He reached almost lazily for a towel and held it, clearly expecting her to step out of the bath in front of him. She had asked for this, she reminded herself. She had wanted to belong to him and she’d told him she would do whatever it took to make him happy. Standing naked for him didn’t seem too much, not after the way they’d had wild, abandoned sex, yet she felt herself blush from head to toe as she stepped from the tub and allowed him to envelope her in the large towel.

“Why does it bother you, Marguarita?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave. “These people are nothing to me. What does it matter if they think I am the devil?”

These are my people, Zacarias, she explained carefully. She stood very still as he gently wiped the beads of water from her body. I love them and I don’t want them thinking untrue things of you. I want them to accept you as my choice.

His hands stilled. “Why do you presume they think untrue things about me? Animals are restless in my presence. No horse has ever tolerated me near them. I am certain what they say is true—the cattle and horses are all edgy with my continued presence. I rarely stay near humans or animals. Long ago I noticed the reaction.”

His voice was expressionless. Even. Factual. But she felt the little catch in his heart when he specifically mentioned horses wouldn’t tolerate his presence. He didn’t mind humans shunning him, but it bothered him that horses did. She drew in her breath. Another secret buried deep in his subconscious, one he didn’t acknowledge, but she saw it so clearly. She loved horses. Only another horse person would understand the deep need in her to spend time with the proud, beautiful animals. And she understood that unsaid, unacknowledged hunger in Zacarias.

She wanted to put her arms around him and comfort him—but the irony was—he didn’t know he needed comforting. He was Zacarias De La Cruz. He felt no pain. No emotion. He was the ultimate killing machine, shadowed and tainted with evil and he accepted that with no self-pity in his heart. He simply was.

How did one stay annoyed with such a man? It wasn’t in her to do so, no matter how many silly orders he threw out or how skewed his thinking was. She turned to face him and circled his neck with her arms, linking her fingers behind his head. She leaned her body against his, her breasts rubbing tightly against the towel as she turned her face up to his throat and kissed him. Her heart felt as though it was melting in her body when he simply stood there for a long moment as though shocked by her action. Then his arms came around her, locking her against him and it felt like—home.

I know I did not ask permission to touch you, but I couldn’t help myself. She deliberately pushed a teasing note of mischief into his mind. I know how important these rules are to you, but that particular one is very difficult for me and may take some time for me to fully obey it. I ask for your patience.

His hands immediately swept down her back to her bare bottom, shaping and kneading her firm muscles there. He lifted her a little, tilting her hips so that she rubbed against his thick groin. “Perhaps I will have to overlook your need to touch me.”

Butterflies took wing in her stomach at the small note of happiness edging his voice. Thank you, Zacarias. I have a great need to touch you often. I know I would always forget to ask first. I appreciate you relaxing your rule.

“Just the one,” he pointed out, a hint of laughter creeping into his eyes.

Her heart stuttered. For one brief moment, there in the steamy room, with the soft light of the candles, his eyes, always so black, appeared a dark sapphire. As his smile faded, so did the deep, true color from his eyes. She had been looking at the real Zacarias as he should have been before the world shaped him into a killing machine.

She held him tight to her, resting her head against the steady rhythm of his heart. He didn’t seem in the least impatient, he simply held her close. She waited until the silly emotions choking her were firmly under control before she lifted her head.

I’d better get dressed. I need to check the animals and see what’s going on.

He buried his face in her hair, nuzzling the top of her scalp. “I suppose I did agree the other evening when I spoke to Cesaro. I do not like you endangering yourself. If the animals are as vicious as the workers claim, letting you around them is inconceivable.”

I love my horses, Zacarias. I need to ride every day. It clears my head and makes me feel so free. You’ll have to try it so you can understand.

His hand rubbed her buttocks, lingered, so that her body began to heat. She hugged him tighter and then stepped back.

“No horse has ever tolerated me that close and I refuse to use mind control on them.”

You won’t have to, she assured with confidence. I know you like skirts, but when I ride, I prefer jeans. It’s safer.

His smile was a small quirk of his lips, but the action sent her pulse tripping. It also gave his eyes that dark sapphire glint that robbed her of her breath. His eyes were beautiful in their true color. She couldn’t stop herself from tracing that small smile.

You really are beautiful, Zacarias.

He caught her wrist and pressed her fingers to his mouth. “Men are not beautiful. And you are simply trying to distract me from the fact that you are trying to break another rule.”

She sent the impression of laughter into his mind. I wish that were true. I wish I wasn’t so enamored with you that I could think so quickly on my feet. Was dressing in a skirt really one of your rules?

“I prefer feminine clothing. You are to please me in all that you do. So dressing in skirts is naturally preferable to men’s clothing.”

She went up on her toes and brushed a kiss across his mouth. She loved his sensual mouth. She was afraid she could stare at it for hours and just fantasize. She didn’t even care that he was in her mind reading her thoughts. I could you know, just make up fantasies for hours. But I think men’s clothing can be quite sexy as well. Let me try.

“I will not have access to you.”

She smiled at him, rubbing his shadowed jaw. Fortunately you can do that thing with your mind.

“What thing?”

Make my clothes vanish. I rather like that little perk.

“This is seduction, Marguarita. Pure seduction to get your way.” Once again his hand shaped her bottom. “I suppose I will have to get used to you occasionally getting your way. Men’s pants are more practical for riding, although a divided skirt would work.”

She stepped away from him and deliberately walked to her dresser, her hips swaying. Just reserve judgment.

She took a pair of lacy thong underwear, the sexiest she had, from her drawer. The sachet of lavender scented the panties.

Zacarias followed close behind her and he held out his hand to inspect the little scrap of black lace. The thin strip would barely cover her crotch, the lacy strap would disappear between her cheeks and four black cords hugged the curve of her cheeks.

“This is underwear?”

She nodded.

“I will see you in these men’s clothes and know this is what you wear beneath them?”

She nodded again. The building lust in his eyes sent heat rushing through her body. His gaze settled on her high, rounded breasts and then swept lower to the triangle of black curls guarding his personal treasure.

“And what will you wear to cover your breasts from the eyes of other men?”

His voice rasped over her and instantly her nipples grew hard. Her breath turned ragged, but she obediently pulled a matching black bra from the drawer. She had nothing quite as daring as this particular set she’d bought on a whim. Sheer black lace stretched over her full breasts, edged with black satin. Her nipples would show right through all that lace, peeking at him through the thin material. The underwire gave support and at the same time pushed her breasts up and out.

He accepted the bra and turned the fragile material over and over in his hand before raising his gaze to her breasts.

“Come here.”

The command in his voice nearly brought her to her knees. She loved the way he sounded so male. She loved that husky note that told her he belonged to her in that moment. There was no one else in his world. Everything and everyone else disappeared for her when his voice took on that note. There was only Zacarias and the growing hunger in his gaze. She loved the idea that he could want her after just taking her so thoroughly earlier.

“It pleases me when you are aroused,” Zacarias said as she approached him.

His hands went to her breasts, rolling and tugging on her nipples. He leaned down and the mass of his long hair slid over her bare skin, sending electric currents straight to her core. She could feel her body dampen, growing moist for him. She was aroused, just looking at him, thinking of him, hearing his sexy voice. It didn’t matter with him that she had no voice, he was in her mind, reading her thoughts, and the intimacy of that communication was every bit as sensual as the way his fingers teased her nipples. The edge of roughness only added to her desire, his hard body such a contrast to her soft one.

Zacarias didn’t allow her to hide from him, not in her mind and not sexually. She hadn’t known she was capable of such lustful thoughts, but everything she’d ever read, or heard, or imagined, went through her head when she was with him. She wanted his body to belong to her alone, as she knew hers did to him. The idea of another man touching her in the way Zacarias had was repugnant to her.

“I cannot believe these scraps are undergarments, but I will enjoy knowing you wear them for me.”

He had definitely picked up on the fact she’d never worn the black lace before.

You want me again. There was an invitation in her mind.

“Yes. I will always want you, Marguarita, but before my needs and wants, I must put your health. You are very sore.”

Can’t you do something about that? She infused the idea with blatant temptation.

“Until I know more about how your body reacts, I wish to see how you respond naturally. You are very small and tight. I realize it was your first time and there was stretching along with taking your virginity. You bled.”

She fought the blush stealing up her body. That’s normal when a woman is a virgin. He didn’t mind discussing sex with her, or her body’s response, which she was grateful for. It allowed open communication, but still, she’d never done that before with anyone, let alone a man she was fast becoming obsessed with. Still, she went warm knowing he would deny himself just to make certain she was fully healed.

“I can ease the soreness if it is too much,” he offered.

She shook her head. She liked the feeling of his possession, but wasn’t certain how to give him that impression.

He seemed to understand. He touched the dent in her chin with a gentle finger. “Dress in your male clothes and let me see how seductive such clothes can be.”

The teasing note in his voice played havoc with her senses. Every nerve ending was already raw and on alert, totally tuned to him, completely aware of him. When she inhaled, she felt as if he was the very air she breathed. How had it happened without her realizing he was slowly creeping into her head—and into her heart? She had been so afraid at first, mixing him up with her memories of the vampire. His behavior hadn’t helped—until she’d taken that plunge and allowed her mind to connect fully with his. He’d melt the hardest heart if they could see inside of him. He was noble, loyal, a man of honor. He deserved love.

“Sívamet.” He whispered the Carpathian endearment aloud and pushed the word deep into her mind. “You see someone who does not exist. I wish he did. I would give anything to be that man you have given such a gift to. I am a warrior. Nothing more.”

Marguarita slipped on the black lace panties, as provocatively as she was capable of being. The protest welling in her mind spilled into his. You are more than worthy—to me you are worth everything.

He shook his head, but clearly the sight of that scrap of lace sliding between her firm, shapely cheeks distracted him. He cleared his throat and she smiled as she reached for a pair of her favorite jeans. They were worn and faded to a vintage light blue, the material soft and distressed on her thighs and over one knee, but they fit like a glove and when she rode, they were the most comfortable pair of jeans she owned.

She felt his reaction more than saw it. His face was as expressionless as ever, although his eyes were alive with heat and desire. Very casually she clipped the bra on, allowing it to cup her breasts. The marks from his mouth and hands were visible through the peekaboo lace. He stepped close to her and bent his head to brush first her left breast and then her right with a soft kiss.

“Did I hurt you?”

You know you didn’t. You made everything perfect for me. He had. He had been rough, yes, but he had more than ensured she felt nothing but pleasure.

Marguarita sank down onto the edge of the bed and pulled on thin socks and then her riding boots. She lifted each foot into the air to pull on the tanned leather boots, taking her time, enjoying the hunger in his gaze. Truthfully, the very act of dressing in front of him, having his focus so completely on her, was sexy beyond her imagining.

She smiled up at him, noting his eyes were midnight black. He looked so larger than life, his body hard and scarred, well muscled. He flowed across the room, his shoulders filling the space, his eyes penetrating, his mouth sensual.

I like looking at you. She admitted it shyly. She wanted him to know she was in his world, however he wanted her—that he wasn’t alone and that she had chosen of her own free will to be with him.

“That’s a good thing, my beautiful lunatic, because you will be doing so for a very long time.”

She noticed the indentations around his mouth. At first she thought them lines, but they were far more and she smiled to herself. Her tough man had a softer side after all. She didn’t mind being his lunatic. Quite possibly, she was one. She hadn’t looked at every aspect of her decision before making it. She’d jumped in with both feet and damned the consequences, but right now, as she pulled a thin tank over her head, her stomach cramped.

She actually bent over to ease the pain. Instantly Zacarias’s hand went to the small of her back and she felt him moving through her. He did it so quickly, so easily, Marguarita was a little shocked. She lifted an eyebrow at him in inquiry.

He rubbed her back gently. “We have had two blood exchanges, Marguarita. As a rule, it wouldn’t matter how much blood I gave you, such as I gave Ricco, but if we make an exchange, that will begin to work on your organs and the inside of your body, reshaping you in the way of the Carpathian people.”

She slowly straightened up and looked him in the eye. You knew this?

He shrugged. “Of course. It is the way of lifemates.”

She heard her own heartbeat, its pounding rhythm. The hum of voices outside the house. The stamp of horses and low murmur of the cattle. Insects drowned out everything, the volume of noise horrendous. Marguarita pressed her hands to her ears, her gaze jumping to his for an explanation.

“I have been careful to keep the volume turned down for you, because we were otherwise occupied, but you can do this yourself. Think about it. Think how soft you want the background noises. Humans do this automatically. Your refrigerators run and you no longer hear them, but the noise is present. Your vision and hearing will be far more acute. You have to control it consciously and eventually it will become subconscious.”

Marguarita reached behind her to find something to hold on to. It had not occurred to her that her world would change so drastically. She’d given herself into Zacarias’s keeping, but her physical body was human.

Zacarias wrapped his arm around her waist. Solid. An anchor. “Breathe, sívamet, as frightening as this all sounds, I am with you always. I will not allow anything to harm you.”

She took a deep breath. Tell me what this means to me. She would not regret her decision. She had known all along it would take sacrifices. Physical sacrifices hadn’t occurred to her, but she could deal with it.

“You will need to drink water and juice, Marguarita,” he instructed.

Her stomach lurched at the idea of putting anything into it. She pushed her hand against her belly and shook her head. I cannot. The thought makes me feel sick.

“Nevertheless, it will be necessary. No meat, of course. The thought of eating meat is repugnant to us.”

And yet you own a cattle ranch. She sent him a faint smile, desperately trying to find a balance. She accepted the responsibility of what she’d done, and had known there would be consequences. She could live without meat. Millions of people did so every day, but the thought of taking blood as sustenance was disturbing to her.

“I will help you when you need to eat or drink something.”

She couldn’t imagine doing either at that moment so she simply nodded her head. She moistened her lips, rubbing her arms a little. What else did having his blood mean to her? She had to be able to go out into the sun, but her skin felt strange at the thought. She was certain it was her imagination, but earlier, with Julio, her skin had been sensitive and her eyes really hurt. With a second blood exchange, would that grow worse? What had he meant when he said she was becoming like him? Panic began to edge her thoughts.

I’m changing inside my body? Becoming like you? She rubbed her hands up and down her arms more vigorously as if she could change her skin’s composition. If I am like you, will the sun harm me?

He nodded his head slowly. “The sun will burn you. Not in the way it does me, but you cannot go out in it without great peril. You would blister, and the burn would be severe. It will not kill you as it would me. You will need to cover your skin and eyes all the time.”

Her heart nearly stopped beating. She actually felt faint. She loved horses. Loved the Peruvian Paso breed. They’d been her obsession before Zacarias and she couldn’t imagine never flying over the ground, jumping fences and feeling one with the horses. She enjoyed their personalities, their quirks and the gentle temperaments. She loved every single thing about them. Just watching them filled her with joy. She couldn’t imagine not caring for them, riding them, spending her time with them.

The Paso retained its natural, inherited gait, when so many other breeds had been diluted. It had been kept true to its lineage. In her experience, her horses had passed their gait to one hundred percent of their offspring. The breed’s center of gravity remained nearly immobile. Paso Ilano, a broken gait that was a rhythmic and harmonic tapping, was very gentle, pleasing and extremely comfortable. She could ride her horse for hours, moving in harmony across the land never tiring or getting sore.

She hadn’t considered that she might become sensitive to the sun. Her breath felt trapped in her lungs. Her throat clogged with tears. Never to ride again. Never to feel that amazing experience, the sharing between horse and rider. The Paso also possessed a unique pace aptly named termino. To Marguarita, nothing was more graceful. The movement was flowing, the forelegs rolling from the shoulder toward the outside as the horse strode forward. She was part of the horses and they were a huge part of her.

Zacarias studied her averted face. Deep inside her mind she’d gone suddenly quiet and then she’d completely withdrawn from him. The world around him instantly dulled to barely-there color, pale and drab. Ice poured into his veins, into his heart. Her sudden exit left him more alone than he’d ever been—ever conceived. She filled his body with warmth and light, with color and emotions and the moment she was gone, so was her radiant heat. Once able to see vivid colors and experience real feelings, the warmth and brightness of her filling every broken, jagged, shadowed, space, thrown back into that ugly, stark, bleak existence, made it utterly unbearable.

He realized what his father had lived with. His mother had filled up those broken spaces with her warmth and bright light. Without her always residing within, the color and emotion within his father had faded just as it had done with Zacarias. The contrast was sharp and ugly and impossible to bear—not after so much joy. He stepped toward her, unable to resist that bright beacon when his world had gone so cold. His soul actually shuddered.

“Do not seek to leave me.” He said it sharply, much harsher than he intended. His fingers bit down like a vise on her wrist, shackling her to him. He jerked her body close to his. The scent of a predator prowling for prey permeated the room. She tensed, looking as if he’d struck her.

I don’t know why you would doubt me. I am adjusting to the things you’re revealing to me and I’ll admit they frighten me, but I am a woman of my word. I gave myself to you freely and I meant it. Whatever the future holds for me, I will find a way to deal with it and be happy.

He felt her determination, but still, he was alone. Sun scorch the woman, she didn’t get it. He wasn’t about to plead with her, or take what she refused him. Would he stoop that low? He jerked her even closer, forcing her chin up so that her eyes met his.

“You will not leave me again.” He gave her a little shake. He let her see the killer in him, that dark force that was more of his soul than any other part of him. “Do you understand me?”

Marguarita looked confused. He had to give her credit; she was courageous when most men would have gone to their knees. She met his gaze without flinching. He felt that first, almost tentative reach for him and the relief was overwhelming, almost driving him to his knees. Her warmth slipped into his mind, seeking answers. He felt that hot flow filling him up, bridging those broken circuits, restoring vivid color. Emotions poured in. Fear amounting to terror. Hers? It had to be her fear of him. He didn’t know fear.

The taste of terror was in his mouth. The horrifying emotion beat at his heart, and invaded his lungs so that his breath was trapped there.

“You are all right. Take a breath.” He could barely get the words out.

Marguarita shook her head, never taking her gaze from his. I am not afraid of you, Zacarias. I fear letting you down, but never that you will harm me. Her eyes never wavered, locked on his, forcing the truth into his mind. He feared losing her. He feared turning vampire. He—feared.

Zacarias groaned out loud. Sun scorch her. She really was going to have him on his knees. She had reduced him to this. He hadn’t known fear, and now it consumed him. He’d never had anything worthwhile to lose. Certainly not his own life. But Marguarita with her soft body and her bright light and her mind filling his with life was worth everything to him. A treasure he wouldn’t—couldn’t—lose.

He knew he would hold her too tight. He would smother her. He didn’t belong in a world where women made decisions for themselves, wore male clothing and dared to look at a predator such as he with such terrifying courage.

A slow smile lit her amazing eyes. That sparkling champagne turned to a warm, inviting chocolate. You are not prehistoric, silly. Just as I have to learn about your world, you have to learn about mine. It’s an adventure we’re going on together and I’m looking forward to it.

She made everything so simple when he knew it wasn’t. He knew what he was and even if she found a gentle side to him, he would rule her with an iron hand. A human woman could have no idea of the dangers in the world he lived in. Every vampire around the world would seek to target her at Ruslan’s insistence. Ruslan knew the shadows in him. He might not know how it worked, but he would know that Marguarita made Zacarias incredibly vulnerable.

His hand slipped to the nape of her neck, his fingers curling around that fragile stem. He could hear her heartbeat. The air in her lungs. He inhaled her feminine fragrance, and she his. He bent his head slowly toward hers. She didn’t look away. She didn’t flinch. His woman, with more heart and courage than good sense. His fingers slipped around to the front of her throat. He could feel her pulse beating into the palm of his hand.

He could crush her by simply tightening his fingers, but she leaned into him, trusting him in that disarming way she had that sent his heart melting into a puddle at her feet. His breath hissed out in annoyance and still she didn’t recoil from him. He bent his head to hers. She stared directly into his eyes and it was him falling into her, not the other way around. He could feel that now-familiar heat grow scorching hot, burning through his veins, spreading like a wildfire, roaring in his belly and settling into a fireball in his groin.

His mouth took hers. There was no gentleness, he was too far gone for that, caught up in the tangle of emotions he needed to sort out. He fed his addiction to her, craving the taste of her, needing her submission, her surrender, needing her to give herself to him without reservation. She had turned his world upside down. Brought memories best buried deep to the surface. She had placed him in an intolerable position as a hunter.

I wish I could say I was sorry for wanting you to stay with me, for stopping you from seeking the dawn. I should be sorry and I’m ashamed that I can’t let you go. I need you to stay with me.

Her voice was soft and a little sorrowful, turning his heart over. Her slender arms crept around his neck and she leaned her entire body into the shelter of his. It was a form of paradise to a man who had never known happiness. Or joy. There was joy just in holding her. His tongue danced with hers, probed and explored and claimed her. His teeth tugged on her full lower lip, biting down gently, just enough to feel her breath catch before kissing her again and again. He took his time devouring her. He kissed his way down her neck, leaving dozens of little bite marks, tiny stings he eased with his tongue and half a dozen strawberries he left just because he could.

He raised his head and waited for her lashes to lift so he could look into her eyes. So she would know he meant what he said. “I would not have missed being with you for the world. Whatever happens in the nights to come, Marguarita, never think that I will ever regret any moment spent with you. Hopefully it will be hundreds of years, but if not, I will not regret that you kept me alive.”

Thank you for that.

She smiled at him, her lips swollen from his kisses, her neck and throat red with his marks of possession, and happiness shining in her eyes. She took his hand. Come meet the horses.

He didn’t have the heart to tell her there would be no meeting her beloved animals. He scanned the ranch to ensure no vampire was near and went out into the night with her. Stars glittered overhead and the moon spilled her silvery light across the grass.

Zacarias reluctantly followed her toward the stable. It was a long, well-built building. As he approached, he could hear the horses stamping and blowing, dancing in their stalls, aware that a predator was near. At the entrance, there was no doubt that he was wreaking havoc with the even-tempered animals. Several reared and plunged, raked the air with their front hooves and tossed their heads, eyes rolling.

Zacarias caught her arm. “No farther. You will not go in there with those animals.”

He felt her mind expand, reach out and connect with the horses. It was a strange sensation, not unlike what he experienced when he took the form of another creature but even more so, as if they were joined not only in mind, but in spirit.

You smell like a predator to them. You are not evil to them. Or tainted.

She had found his fears once again and he tried not to react with anger. He didn’t ever look that closely at the why of the animals not accepting him. They didn’t. It was a fact. Anything else he simply pushed away. What did it matter—the why? He didn’t know if it was true that he feared they found him evil and tainted, but if she saw that in him—it was most likely there. She was uncovering secrets he kept even from himself. The more she found, the more reluctant he was for her to find more, yet he couldn’t live without her mind connecting completely with his and that gave her access to everything he was—everything he had been.

“It does not matter why they will not accept me, only that they will not,” he pointed out.

She tightened her fingers in his. They will accept you just as they do me. After all, we’re one, aren’t we?

His heart jumped and inwardly he cursed himself for being such a fool. It was impossible. He knew the horses wouldn’t let him near and yet somewhere inside of himself—he believed in her.