Dark Predator

18

Marguarita stared at Zacarias with enormous, terrified, accusing eyes. She looked very pale, her dark, silken hair spread out all around them.

What have you done?

Zacarias shifted his weight. It was starting then. Her conversion. His blood was working to change her body, reshape her organs, and bring her fully into his world. Satisfaction etched itself into the lines of his face.

“Never again will I be forced by my own lifemate to lie helpless beneath the ground while she endangers herself deliberately. You have disobeyed me for the last time, Marguarita.”

His white teeth snapped at her, still slightly lengthened. The flames in his eyes flickered, and still that hot lethal mass of volcanic rage boiled in his gut. Hours, he’d lain beneath the surface, stripped of all power, while she risked her life and his soul. For what? There could be no reason good enough for such a decision on her part.

He would be forever dishonored. She even knew the truth about him. She had seen his darkest secret, the one he’d protected for centuries—his legacy of darkness. His own father turning vampire moments after his mother’s death. That would have happened to him. If DS had succeeded in killing her, Zacarias would have risen vampire and wiped out the entire ranch.

“Sun scorch you, woman.” He spat the curse at her, as fury pounded through his veins, breaking through the ice, a volcanic explosion. He couldn’t bear to touch her. Couldn’t stay close to inhale her fragrance. His woman. His lifemate. Betrayer. Risking everything for the childish whim to prove that she was his equal in strength and power. Risking him. Risking them. Risking his brothers and her family.

He pushed himself off the bed and stalked across the room, a prowling jungle cat, lethal and still very much raging. The tension in the room stretched, but he couldn’t find a way to recapture his icy control. His anger had burned its way through the massive glacier and his emotions were a firestorm raging out of control.

He had always known he wouldn’t understand a modern woman. He had accepted that his lifemate would never come to him—never accept him as he was. He had been more than prepared to go honorably to the next life. She had changed all of that, destroyed his every plan and she should have realized the enormity of what she’d done. She had no right to risk his soul—ever. Not ever. Not in this year and not a hundred years from now.

Marguarita writhed, her eyes going wide with shock, hands flying to her stomach. A ripple of unease slid down his spine. His gaze jumped to her. All attention focused on her. Clearly, she was in pain. In all his centuries, he’d never seen a human turned. He simply didn’t associate that closely with them. His brothers had done it, but he’d never bothered to inquire about just what happened. Three blood exchanges were necessary and that should take care of it—as long as she was psychic, which Marguarita clearly was.

Apprehension became knots in the pit of his stomach. Surely nothing could go wrong. He had powerful blood, but the darkness ran deep in him. Shadows crept into the dark room, into his mind, disturbing, haunting possibilities he hadn’t considered. Had he made a mistake?

“What is wrong?” he demanded.

She drew her legs up, rolling to her side in the fetal position, her face contorting with pain. She closed her eyes, as if the sight of him was unbearable. Unexpectedly, a pain knifed through his heart. He tasted fear in his mouth.

“What is wrong? When I ask you I want an answer.”

He couldn’t wait, not when she began writhing in pain, tears streaming down her face and her body contorting wildly. For the very first time in his life, panic welled up, a frightening feeling. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He reached for her mind, needing to feel what she was feeling, needing to share her same skin, to know what was happening to her. He reached, but came up against a wall.

She refused him. Refused him. His lifemate. His woman. She not only disobeyed him, paving the way for total disaster, but now, she was refusing their most intimate, private path. She’d blocked him out, and judging by the strength of that door, it would take a battering ram to open it.

She had a natural barrier, he knew that, but she had always allowed him through. Now, with his blood flowing in her veins, that shield was even stronger than it had been. He’d been afraid of damaging her before; now, if he destroyed that barrier, he had no idea what would happen to her. And the only way she was going to let him in was if he tore it down.

“Let me in.”

She made no reply, stubbornly drawing up her knees to her chest, rocking her body, her hair spilling around her face, shutting him out. She was in pain—that much was more than apparent. He was across the room instantly, reaching down to put his hand on her stomach. There was more than one way to get the information he sought.

She took a deep shuddering breath, as if the pain was receding, and turned her head, her dark eyes glaring at him. Strands of hair fell across her cheek, damp now from sweating. Her body was coated in a fine sheen. When his palm and fingers made contact with her skin, she shuddered and tried to slap at his arm.

Get away from me. I mean it. I don’t want you here.

Marguarita couldn’t believe he would do this to her. Everyone, everything had known—even the horses—what a monster he was, everyone but her. He was uncaring, a dark, dangerous predator with no real feeling. Everything she’d believed about him had been a fantasy. He’d shattered her heart, and she had nothing left but pride. She couldn’t bear to look at him and she wasn’t about to let him inside her mind—never again would she willingly share herself with him. He would have to take what he wanted from her. The pain of her shattered heart was far worse than the physical pain he thrust on her.

Zacarias was shocked. He hadn’t expected absolute rejection, but she kept him from her mind, and now she thought she could keep him from her body. Before he could say anything else, he saw the next wave building, a sweep of her body, every muscle going rigid, the breath slamming out of her lungs. Her eyes went wide, glazed with pain. Her back bowed, then arched, her body convulsing, nearly thrown from the bed.

He caught her, held her firm, afraid she’d hurt herself more. His hands slid over her skin, now burning with fever. Every organ twisted and threatened to burst inside of her. Her skin was so hot he nearly pulled his hand away. He tried to send healing warmth through her skin, but it seemed to make things worse. Her body jerked nearly into a sitting position, teeth set almost as if in rigor mortis before she was slammed back against the mattress.

Her breath rushed out in silent protest, even as he felt the wave receding. The moment her gaze focused on him, she threw herself away from him, off the bed, putting it between them. She tried to crawl away from him, her body gleaming with sweat, her hair matted to the back of her neck and down her back. Weak, she fell on her stomach.

Zacarias was on her in an instant, his heart pounding as fast as hers, really afraid for her now. He had to figure out what was wrong and how to help her.

“Let me help, Marguarita.” In spite of his fear for her, he kept his voice gentle.

His hand settled around her ankle. Marguarita kicked him hard with her other foot and pushed herself up to her hands and knees to escape.

“Stop it. I do not want to have to force your obedience.” His fear mounted with the thought of losing her. Something was terribly wrong and he had to fix it.

Why not? She rolled over, her face damp with sweat and beaded with tiny red dots. Her eyes showed both accusation and hurt. I was so wrong about you. You’re exactly what you told me—a monster. And your binding words are a lie. You lied. They mean nothing.

Marguarita could barely breathe, caught between pain and dissolution. She’d loved those words he’d whispered to her, binding words, he’d said. He’d married her in the way of his people with words like cherish, heart and soul. Things said like always in my care. He’d stolen her heart with those glimpses of a man who desperately needed saving, and those tender, amazing words that somehow had bound them together.

There is no care. Certainly nothing like cherish. Take your empty words and keep them. I don’t want them.

Zacarias caught his breath, her accusation tearing at him along with the sight of her tears, streaked with pink. Right now nothing could matter to him but her physical condition. He had to find a way to help her. He focused on finding a way through the barrier in her mind.

“Marguarita,” he pitched his voice low, velvet soft, bordering on hypnotic. “You could be in trouble, sívamet. You have to let me in to see what is happening.”

Go away and leave me alone with this. I can get through it myself. I don’t want anything to do with . . .

She broke off abruptly. Her eyes went wide and her mouth gaped open in a silent scream. Horror spread across her face. Her stomach seemed alive, rippling, contracting, her muscles knotting in her arms and legs.

Zacarias reached for her again, the need in him bordering now on total insanity. What was wrong? What was going wrong? This made no sense to him. Clearly she was in agony. She had no control, her body struggling to expel toxins, fighting to reshape organs and change her body from human to Carpathian. He was certain if he could share her mind, he would shoulder the pain, but even in the height of the wave, her barrier against him never wavered. He needed another way in without harming her.

Waiting for the surge of pain to pass was agony for him. He breathed through it, trying to take in enough air for both of them. He noticed each bout lasted longer and seemed harder. He waited until he could see recognition in her eyes before he tried again.

“Marguarita. You cannot continue this way. It is getting worse. Let me in. I can take away the pain.”

Temper smoldered in her eyes. I don’t want your help. I’d rather suffer. I want to never forget, never ever forget this lesson of yours.

He needed her to keep talking. Telepathic communication went directly from her mind to his. He found her thread and used a very delicate touch, weaving his thread to hers.

“This was not meant as a lesson, Marguarita. You knew I would bring you into my world. This was consequence. To protect both of us. To protect my brothers from having to hunt me. To protect your family here from a monster unlike any other.”

I can do this myself. You can say it isn’t a punishment, but you meant it that way.

He shoved both hands through his hair. “You knew I would bring you into my world and you consented,” he reiterated, keeping his voice very low, nearly holding his breath as he carefully and very gently wrapped more of himself around that tiny thread she used to access his mind.

I thought you would introduce me with love and care, not in such a cold, unfeeling manner. Not with such pain. She gasped again, her hands flying to her stomach. I don’t want you. Go away.

Once again she rolled over, struggling to her hands and knees. The vomiting was explosive, horribly wrenching as she expelled all the toxins in her body. Her body convulsed again, contorting, driving her forward until she hit the wall, and rolled over again, drawing her legs up to her belly.

Horrified at her lack of control she buried her face in her hands when she became aware of the mess everywhere. Please go away.

His tenacious hold on the thread between them was growing stronger with every contact. It was only a matter of time before he could ease into her mind and seize control without her consent.

“Did you forget what would happen if you were killed, Marguarita?” He asked the question in that same low voice. “You knew my legacy. You uncovered a secret few have knowledge of, my darkest secret, and yet still you persisted in your disobedience.”

He couldn’t keep the hurt of betrayal from rising. He made every effort not to feel it, to distance himself once again from all overwhelming emotion, but now that the dam had been punctured, he was unable to stem the tide. He cared nothing for the rest of the world. To him, everything and everyone was still separate from him, lost to him, unless he could feel through her. But Marguarita was different. He saw her in full, vivid color. He felt her and through her, his emotions, everything lost to him all those centuries—both good and bad.

She had become his world and he had believed in her. He believed in himself because of her—for the first time thinking he could actually live a life with another. He had spent centuries living only on honor and yet, with a single decision, she could have destroyed and nullified everything he’d ever done—everything he’d ever been.

He didn’t remember his father as the man who had raised and shaped his life. He remembered him only as the undead, that rotting, soulless vampire who would have killed his own sons. Marguarita would have made him that same memory for his brothers—the ones who would have had to hunt and kill him. It was more than possible that he would have murdered his own brothers.

A single sound of despair escaped from the back of his throat. He brushed one hand over his face as if he could remove the knowledge of her betrayal so easily.

Just leave me to this.

There was weariness in her voice. She was weakening, the fight between human and Carpathian taking its toll. But even with his reminder, she didn’t seem to understand what a terrible betrayal it had been. He couldn’t afford to think of himself right now. She was in trouble and he wanted—no, needed—to ease her through the change. This terrible, traumatic episode could not continue.

“You know I cannot.” Silently he willed her to answer him. Each time she did, she opened her mind just a little more, giving him a stronger hold on the thread that would allow him to seize control without harming her.

I’m too tired to argue. Do what you want. What I want obviously doesn’t matter to you.

The weariness in her voice alarmed him. If he knew anything about her with certainty, it was that she was a fighter. In that moment, he sensed she gave up, her life, him, all of it. She was willing to allow it all to slip away.

He was so focused on her that he saw the wave approaching almost before she did. This time was even more intense. Unseen hands picked her up and threw her down like a rag doll. She fell on her back, her hands flying to her throat. Zacarias had to grip her writhing body and turn her over to keep her from choking.

Zacarias couldn’t coax her, or plead anymore. He needed this to stop almost more than she did. Waving his hands, he removed all traces of vomit and expelled toxins from her body and the floor. A breeze cleared the room of all scent. Candles sprang up, bringing the soft fragrance of lavender through the entire house.

In desperation, he took control, following those threads straight back into her mind. Complete chaos reigned. Fear uppermost. Hurt. Her sense of betrayal was every bit as strong as his. Her motivation for disobeying him had nothing to do with equality, or asserting her independence. In part it had been a vow imprinted from birth, the lifemate bond and her own character refusing to allow her to take a chance of putting his life in danger.

She had disobeyed out of love for him.

Zacarias groaned aloud, trying to grasp the enormity of what that meant. He still didn’t truly understand that emotion. He had felt it long ago—so long ago—but the emotion was so far removed from him that he no longer recognized it for what it was. Marguarita knew how to love. She had given herself into his care, trusting him to do the best thing for her.

Her love enveloped him. Swamped him. Lifted him. Once again, warmth poured through the ice of his mind and body, finding the shadows, bridging the gaps where connections should have been. He felt her inside him—where she belonged—cementing them together with her love. With the essence that was her.

She had made a bad decision in refusing to obey him, yes, but she didn’t understand the enormity of the repercussions. He could tell her, but her knowledge wasn’t the same as his. He knew evil walked in the world, knew what it could and would do, he had battled it for centuries. She had been raised in a loving environment where vampires were the thing of legends. Yes, she’d faced one, and she had the courage to defy it, but she had never really seen the destruction they could cause on a massive scale.

Zacarias had no time to examine the revelations in her mind. The terrible toll on her body had to be stopped. He pushed away all thoughts of himself and his own reactions to the way her mind worked, the depth of her ability to give and feel. That couldn’t matter. Only stopping the crushing pain. He shed his body, flowing as pure spirit into hers, using that delicate thread to find his way.

Just as in her mind, chaos reigned in her body. He could see clearly what was happening, the reformation of her body, the changes taking place in order for her to become Carpathian. He should have realized it would be a near-death experience; she would have to die as a human to be reborn as a Carpathian. And she was fighting it. Refusing. That, too, was unexpected.

He hadn’t come to comfort her when she needed it. He’d added to the trauma instead of gathering her into his arms and holding her. She rejected him and his ways as adamantly now as he clung to them. She had closed off access to her mind deliberately, knowing she would suffer, yet not wanting his help to aid her passage. No longer wanting his comfort or him.

He had thought her a lunatic for seeing him as anything but a dangerous predator, too long in the shadows, his soul already blackened, pierced through with a million tiny holes until it was impossible to repair. And yet, she had seen past the dark shadows to the man clinging to life somewhere on the edges. Lost. He’d been so lost. He didn’t know anything other than to hunt and kill. She had been the one to give herself freely to him, trusting that he would honor his ritual binding vow.

Zacarias summoned his energy until he was all power and healing light. The reshaping of organs could be speeded up, but the only way to stop the pain was for him to shoulder as much as he could. Share it with her. Feel it with her. She resisted. He knew she would, but she was weak, he was strong and his blood heeded his call.

“Rest as much as possible in between the waves,” he said gently as the pain receded from her body. He kept that thread, his one link to her.

She sighed and turned her head away from him as he lifted her into his arms off the floor. The room felt and smelled clean, the scent of lavender and chamomile drifting around them. The bed had cool sheets with the scent woven into them lightly. He placed her in the exact center and lay down beside her, his arms trapping her body to give her an anchor.

“I know you do not want me to help you through this, Marguarita,” he said gently, brushing the damp hair from her face. Her lashes lay in two thick crescents, a stark black against the white, almost translucent skin. She shivered continually, uncontrollably. Even her teeth chattered. “But I have to. I know right at this moment you cannot understand, but I have no choice.”

The thought was barely out of his mouth before the revelation followed. Was it possible? Maybe Marguarita had no choice, either. That love she felt, so strong, so deep, sharing parts of him he couldn’t even see or touch without her could have made their bond much deeper than he realized. She was in him. His mind, yes, but she tapped into his soul. She saw things in him that he didn’t. And those traits she’d relied on had to be there or she couldn’t have felt such strong emotion for him.

She turned her head toward him. Her lashes fluttered and she looked directly into his eyes. The impact of her gaze hit him like a punch. He could see the change in her eyes already, the color deeper and richer. Before she could speak, her eyes went wide. He felt the wave as it consumed her, faster and harder, a shock to his body when it had been centuries since he’d acknowledged actual pain.

The sensation of a thousand knives stabbing at the insides of his body, slashing and cutting all at once burned through him. His insides felt shredded and tangled, tied into thick, hard knots. The breath left his body and the punch came, a tidal wave like a battering ram, slamming through him. His skull was suddenly too small for his brain, an explosion of shrapnel bursting in his head sending shock waves through his body.

Beside him, Marguarita’s body convulsed. He held her to him, skin to skin, sharing the agony, riding on top of it with her, his body sweating tiny beads of blood that smeared over the matching ones dotting her body.

He hadn’t known. How could he not have even asked his brothers? Had each of them shared information, told one another just how bad conversion could be?

“It is fading, sívamet,” he whispered. By sharing the pain with her, at least he had lessened the violence of the seizures. “Try to breathe evenly. Your heart is beating too fast. Let your body follow the rhythm of mine.”

Deliberately he matched the frantic, accelerated pounding of her heart, the gasping, ragged breathing of her body, and very slowly, holding her to him, began to slow both their rates. Her gaze clung to his. His heart stuttered for a moment. She looked defeated, not at all like the Marguarita who went alone into a rain forest at night with a predator stalking her. Marguarita who would smile at him when he was at his worst.

Marguarita. He breathed her name, holding her close to him, inside his mind.

She didn’t fight him this time, far too weak to make much sense of what was happening to her. He lay there beside her and listened to the rain falling on the roof, amplifying the sound enough that she could hear the soothing sound through the roaring in her head. Deliberately he added small bursts of a breeze to change the pattern of sound against the windows and walls.

Beside him, Marguarita slowly relaxed, the tension easing from sore, knotted muscles enough to allow her to breathe in the soothing mixture of lavender and chamomile scents. She didn’t fight him again and Zacarias found the terrible knot in his own gut easing.

He stroked her hair in a gentle caress and murmured nonsense in his own language. Or maybe it wasn’t nonsense, maybe he tapped into those feelings of that stranger dwelling deep inside of him, the one who knew he couldn’t lose her, not for the burden of his soul, but for the overwhelming emotion that welled like a tsunami he couldn’t stop.

She couldn’t possibly know what he was saying, he hardly knew. But when the next wave hit, she turned her head and looked at him, focusing on him, rather than turning away. Her eyes went wide, glazed, as the pain hit. This time, Zacarias was prepared and knew exactly how to take most of it from her. Her body was cleansed of all toxins and well on its way to becoming fully Carpathian. As the pain receded, he sensed it would be safe to put her in the healing earth.

“I can send you to sleep, Marguarita. When you awaken you will feel hunger and the need for blood, but you will not be in such pain.”

Her gaze jumped to his as his palm wiped those tiny dots of blood from her forehead.

“You will awaken fully Carpathian.”

Her tongue touched her dry lower lip in an attempt to moisten it. It doesn’t matter. I just want this over with.

He detested the defeat in her. Marguarita was all fire to his ice, not outwardly, not in the sense of temper and picking fights, in fact, just the opposite. But she was passionate about what she believed in and who and what she loved. She poured herself completely into everything she did, just as she had wholly given herself to him.

She was worn out, her body and mind exhausted. He couldn’t blame her. He felt wrung out and he hadn’t suffered as she had.

“I do not want you to think I am doing anything else without your knowledge.” He waited, but she didn’t respond. “I will command your first sleep, and after that, your body will take over and sleep on its own when you command. You have my blood running in your veins. It is ancient blood, very powerful, and you will learn quickly to wield that power.” He had to hurry before the next swelling pain came.

“You know the earth will rejuvenate you.” He made it a statement.

Her lashes fluttered and fear crept into her eyes, but she nodded. What do I do if I find myself trapped beneath the earth?

He brushed another caress through her hair more because he needed to touch her than because it was in her face. “You will it to move. Command it. Picture the soil in your mind, doing what you wish. It may take a few times, but if you do not panic and think as a human, that you are buried alive, then you will be fine.”

Her heart accelerated when he used that phrase, buried alive, but she nodded.

“I will be with you to ease your way,” he assured.

It’s coming. She didn’t plead with him to take her away. There was no asking, no pleading. Marguarita made it clear, even in her exhausted state, that she would not be asking anything of him.

He felt the swell just as she did and he took command instantly, demanding she sleep deeply, the healing, rejuvenating sleep of his people. Carpathians shut down their hearts and lungs and lay as if dead while Mother Earth used her rich nutrients and minerals to aid them to full recovery and strength. He stopped Marguarita’s heart and lungs as gently as possible.

He lifted her into his arms, cradling her gently against his chest, his eyes burning and his heart shredded. She lay limp, her long hair sweeping to one side, revealing the curve of her cheek and her long lashes. She looked so young and innocent, a beautiful woman, ravaged by the conversion, disillusioned by the man sworn to cherish and protect her.

Zacarias carried her through the house to the master bedroom, waving his hand to move the bed out of the way. The hand-woven rug followed and the floor opened to the sleeping chamber deep beneath the structure. Another wave of his hand opened the beckoning soil, almost a black loam rich with minerals. He felt the earth reaching for her as he floated them both down into that warm cocoon of an environment.

Very gently he laid her down, careful of her hair, bending to brush his mouth over hers. She wouldn’t feel him—wouldn’t know how silly he was acting when she was in a deep sleep, but he felt free to stroke his fingers down her arm to her hand. He threaded his fingers through hers, tenderness welling up unexpectedly.

Could he have lost her? She had pulled away from him. Rebuffed him. It hurt. Plain and simple, her rejection had been so complete, when she’d needed him the most. She would rather have suffered than allowed him into her mind, melding their spirits. His refusal to enter into the modern world could have cost him everything.

He sank down beside her, his eyes burning, his chest aching. He kept possession of her hand, his fingers caressing hers. He’d had everything in Marguarita. She’d offered him a world he could barely conceive of, let alone long for. He hadn’t known how much he wanted it. Not the people, not the friends; he knew himself. He was a loner, but he could tolerate others for her sake. He should have paid attention to what those ritual binding words meant. Her happiness. Her care.

He was a man who was confident for a reason. He couldn’t shove his responsibility off on Marguarita. If he expected her to follow where he led, he needed to place blame where it belonged. None of this would have happened if he had taken Solange’s blood when it had been offered. He didn’t want anything to do with the new world and its modern ways. He wanted to stay where he was comfortable. There would have been no question of taking command of the situation and protecting his lifemate. He didn’t have the tools available to him because of sheer stubbornness.

He groaned and shook his head. He had the means right in front of him to provide his woman with protection and happiness, but he’d been too arrogant, too filled with his pride and honor to take advantage of the gifts handed to him. No more.

He was a fighter. That was who he was and Marguarita Fernandez was a woman worth fighting for. He was the one who was meant to walk beside her. Zacarias brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed her hand, little butterfly kisses, his heart aching for both of them.

Stay with me, mića emni kuηenak minan—my beautiful lunatic. I promise you, I will be a better man, a better lifemate to you. You gave yourself to me once. Do it again. I have learned what cherish means. And I cherish you.

He kissed her hand again and took a deep breath, closed the earth over her and left the chamber to go out into the night. His world. He belonged there. For the first time he felt his affinity for it, the strong kinship of his kind for the night itself. Clouds dimmed the half-moon. The rain was a soft melody, steady and gentle, music to him. The insects and frogs provided a chorus to the symphony. He would make this Marguarita’s world, as well. But he needed to at least—for her—take a few steps into the world she loved.

In his lifetime he had never once called for aid from any other. Not his brothers, not those brave enough to call him friend. Asking for help went against his code, yet for Marguarita, for his woman, he knew it had to be done. He stepped off the porch into the night rain, listening to the familiar comfort of the night creatures. Without Marguarita in his mind, bridging all those broken connections and filling all the dark shadows, he no longer saw in color, but the memory of emotion was strong in him. How could it not be? She was on his mind, in his heart, connected to his soul, and he felt his love for her, if not anything else.

Zacarias sent his call into the night. I have great need, Dominic. Come to me. It is of utmost urgency.

Part of him was shamed to call to the one Carpathian he loosely thought of as a friend. Men like Dominic and him didn’t exactly have friends. Zacarias wasn’t altogether certain what that word actually encompassed. He would die to protect Dominic, but that was his way of life, not friendship.

I must get to the Carpathian Mountains as soon as possible. We have news we must carry to the prince.

The reply was faint, as if over a great distance. But at least he had been heard and it meant Dominic was within range that he might meet him and yet he might stay within the night’s distance of Marguarita.

I will meet you. Give me a range. I have need of a blood exchange.

Are you injured?

There was a part of him that didn’t want to share that he had a lifemate. Marguarita was too important and he feared that every enemy would come after her if word got out. And he had many enemies. He closed his eyes briefly and forced himself to trust. My lifemate will awaken in need in a few days and it will be necessary to protect her at all times. Already she has been endangered from my refusal of Solange’s gift.

He felt Dominic’s shock even over the great distance and it almost made him smile. In that moment, although he accepted that he would always be different, that without Marguarita’s presence, he would never feel as others did, he nearly felt true amusement at Dominic’s reaction.

This news is—unexpected—but welcomed.

Give me your coordinates. I will meet you and hopefully can make it back before this night ends. She cannot be left unprotected. We have already had a confrontation with human vampire hunters. If one came, there is the possibility of more.

Zacarias was certain that Ruslan was in the area, but he hadn’t showed himself, and the small attacks on the ranch had been just probes. It was possible Ruslan had planned to attack the prince even with his army diminished and the attacks on the ranch were merely a diversion, but he was taking no chances.

Dominic sent the necessary information, and Zacarias took to the air.

I will meet you, Dominic said. My time is very limited as my message is very urgent, but it shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours out of our way. Know that we have experimented, Zacarias, and although we can walk in early morning sunlight and evening sunlight, it all depends on the position of the sun. We are not without our Carpathian needs. Your body will still go leaden when the sun is reaching its highest peak. It will stay that way for several hours. We are still vulnerable and there is a great danger of being caught out in the sun when experimenting. I think the closer we are to turning when we take the blood, the less it will work.

Dominic was warning him, but Zacarias was willing to take the risk. He didn’t have a desire to face daylight. That would be Marguarita, and he would be at her side as long as possible, hopefully enjoying her happiness. The moment he knew it was necessary to return to the earth, she would accompany him. He would never be as other Carpathians, comfortable in the world of humans or Carpathians. He would never feel for others as they did. His world would be Marguarita, just as his father’s world had been his mother.

I will be careful and learn my limitations, Dominic. Are my brothers well?

Worried about you. Perhaps you should consider bringing your woman to see them. They have waited long for this day.

Zacarias knew he must do so. Part of him even wanted that reunion, but he knew it wouldn’t be what his brothers expected and he really didn’t want to let them down. He had lost too much in the long centuries of being alone. Marguarita filled him, allowing him to tap into his feelings, allowing him to see color, but even now, as he flew over the rain forest, it was all gray and dull. Colors and emotions wouldn’t stay long without her close.

His father had been unable to stand the absence after a time, so he had taken his mother into battle. Now, Zacarias knew somewhat how difficult it must have been, especially after having children and not feeling for them unless his lifemate was near enough to connect with him. Zacarias sent up a silent prayer to any higher power who might be listening, that he had the strength to resist ever taking Marguarita into danger, that he would always keep her safety above his own needs. Never let me make the mistake of risking her for my own weakness.

He made the long trip with Dominic flying toward him, in under two hours, which meant he would barely make it back to Marguarita by dawn. They greeted each other in the formal way of the Carpathian warrior, grasping each other’s forearms.

“Bur tule ekämet kuntamak—well met, brother-kin,” Zacarias greeted.

“Eläsz jeläbam ainaak—long may you live in the light,” Dominic responded, those piercing eyes scrutinizing Zacarias carefully.

Zacarias shook his head. “You will not see what you wish to see. Marguarita enables me to see in color and to feel emotion. Without her in me, I am utterly alone in a stark, gray world.” He knew somewhere close, Dominic’s warrior woman, Solange, stood ready to defend her chosen lifemate. She was a force to be reckoned with, and he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck alerting him to danger.

Dominic sighed as he dropped his arms and stepped back. “I am sorry, my friend.”

Zacarias shrugged. “She has become the center of my universe and I accept and am grateful for a chance I never envisioned. For her, I do this thing.”

Dominic kept his eyes on Zacarias. “You are willing to exchange blood with me?”

Hunters gave blood when needed, but an exchange meant a hunter could track another easily. The idea was repulsive to Zacarias. He was a loner. A man apart and safety was paramount. Reclusive, elusive, he took great care to leave no trail when he didn’t want to be followed.

For Marguarita he would have to extend that trust. He nodded his head.

Dominic smiled. “It is not necessary.” He turned and beckoned to his lifemate. She came out from under cover, a lethal woman who would not hesitate to kill if necessary. She looked happy to see Zacarias.

Already he was feeling a strange crawling sensation in his gut. He needed to get back—to be with her—Marguarita. Being completely alone was no longer something he could bear. He took the extended wrist and once again drank from the powerful woman. Dominic, too, provided for him, giving him the mixture of powerful blood he would pass on to his woman.

“I have fed from your woman before, Dominic, yet still the sun burned me. Do you think this will work for me even as I am?”

Dominic shrugged. “The effect grows stronger each time the blood is taken, but there are limits and the only way to know is to try. Zacarias, have a safety net available to you. Be cautious.”

Zacarias nodded. “I cannot be long from her. I thank you both. May the wind grant you fast journey.” He gripped Dominic’s forearms hard and saluted Solange before taking to the sky once more. His heart soared. Marguarita. He would soon be with her.