Carpathian 09 - Dark Guardian

hand rested on the nape of her neck.
    Jaxon heard herself laugh. The sound surprised her. He was acting, oh, so innocent. Nothing ruffled him, nothing disturbed him. His voice was unchanged, soft and beautiful, not responsible for any mischief-making or wrongdoing. He reached around her to pull open the heavy front door. Very briefly his hand rested on her shoulder; then he dropped it and moved away from her. "You are not ill this time.
    Do you enter my home of your own free will?" He asked the question seriously, his seductive voice melting her heart.
    For some reason she hesitated, standing just outside. She could see the foyer, the marble entrance. It beckoned, drew her, a sanctuary. Why had he asked her so formally? Why didn't he just stay quiet and allow her to enter? Jaxon turned over his words in her mind. There was a formality, almost a ritual feeling, to them. Lucian remained silent, adding to her apprehension that there was something she wasn't comprehending.
    Jaxon turned to face him, tilting her head to look up into his black eyes. Soulless. Lost. Alone. He stood tall and straight in complete stillness, his face in the shadows. "If I enter of my own free will, does that give you some kind of power over me?" She couldn't help sounding nervous.
    He didn't laugh at her as she feared he might. He simply watched, unblinking, steady. Jaxon moistened her suddenly dry lips. "Answer me truthfully. Does it somehow bind us together or make it so I'm a prisoner here?"
    "If you fear me so much, why would you think I would reveal the truth simply because you ask it of me?"
    "I just know you would." She shrugged delicately. "I know things, and you don't lie to me. So tell me."
    "I have already bound us together with the ritual words. You cannot leave me any more than I could leave you."
    She blinked. "Ritual words?" Before he could reply, she shook her head. "Don't go there. I'm not going to get distracted. Will I be a prisoner?"
    "As for being my prisoner here in this house, you are able to come and go as you please." She remained looking up at him. Lucian slowly smiled, his mischievous little-boy smile that would likely get him out of lots of trouble. "Unless, of course, there is danger to you."

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    "I can't wait to hear who determines what constitutes danger. You aren't making this easy for me. I have no idea why I'm allowing you to walk into my life and take it over. And, Lucian"—she smiled sweetly up at him—"I am not the same as you. Whatever you are, and I'm not ready to find out yet, your ritual words can't bind us. I make my own decisions in matters of relationships. Yes, I will enter your home of my own free will."
    She stepped across the threshold and nearly panicked.
    Something deep within her shifted and came alive. It was so strong, she almost turned around to run back outside, unable to identify what it was but certain her body, her heart, and her soul recognized this place, this man. Lucian's larger frame blocked the doorway. He caught at her small waist and simply held her, the strength in his arms enormous, yet he was so gentle he never could have hurt her. "What is it?"
    "I don't know. I feel as if I'm not me anymore. As if somehow you're slowly taking me over. Are you doing that?" She didn't try to get free. She wasn't even certain she really wanted to be free Her large eyes searched his expression seriously.
    "I would never want to take you over. You are exactly who you are supposed to be. We have spent so much time, each of us alone, it is strange, perhaps, to share so much together so soon. But we are lifemates, and we will adjust."
    She leaned into him even as she turned to face the huge room. "I feel as if I belong here, as if I know this place."
    "You do belong here. Go explore. If there is anything you wish to change, feel free to do so." He opened his arms, allowing her to step away from him.
    The house was even more beautiful than Jaxon had remembered. She tried not to stare around her in complete awe. In her job as a police officer, she had certainly been in more than one mansion, but this was extraordinary. In a way it evoked an Old-World elegance, a forgotten time. There was even a ballroom with a parquet dance floor. Her favorite room was a massive library made cozy by a large fireplace with two comfortable chairs placed in front of it, an antique reading table between them. On three walls were