Carpathian 18 - Dark Possesion

she had noticed it was quieter than she had thought it would be, but as she walked, she began to hear the cicadas and other insects, the cries of the birds, and wind and rain in the canopy. After a time, the forest seemed loud and filled with occupants, so that she didn't feel quite so alone. Now it seemed less vivid, drabber and dark, not so alive, and ominously quiet.
    Snakes slithered along the forest floor and coiled over twisted branches. Worms, leeches and ticks made the vegetation writhe and move as if alive. The beetles were large, with thick, hard shells, and the mosquitoes were ever present, searching endlessly for blood. The flowers gave off a rotten fragrance, and the scent of death seemed to cling to everything. But sometimes, when she blinked rapidly, or she thought about Manolito and how gorgeous he was, the rain forest was all vibrant color again. It made no sense, but it gave her hope that if she just took a little time, she-could unlock the secret to getting them both out of the shadows.
    "Take me back to the house. Can you find your way?"
    "I do not want to lead danger back to the others."
    "If a vampire is hanging around the neighborhood, my guess is he knows all about the others. We're safer in numbers, especially if you aren't going to be with us." The idea of him leaving her alone caused instant panic.
    Her throat swelled until air could barely get through to her lungs, but she refused to give in to fear. He was Carpathian and she was human…
    MaryAnn went rigid. "Wait a minute. Wait a minute." She held up both hands, palms out as if she could block the information flowing into her. "Did you take my blood?"
    "Of course."
    There was that puzzlement again, as if she was maybe not quite as bright as he'd expected. "And you think I'm the other half to your soul. Destiny told me that in your society the man can marry the woman without her consent and bind them together. Is that true? Did you do that to us?"
    "Of course."
    MaryAnn scrubbed a hand over her face. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "How many times does it take to convert a person to Carpathian?"
    "It takes three blood exchanges if they are not already Carpathian."

    She bit down hard on the end of her thumb, memory flooding her. She looked down at her fingernail—the one she had broken earlier in the forest. It had grown to the length of the others and then some. All of her fingernails had grown. Sometimes that was a problem. She had to cut them often, but not daily. Maybe it was the Carpathian blood accelerating the growth. "How many times have you exchanged blood with me?"
    Her palm slid over the mark on her breast. It still throbbed and burned as if his mouth was on it. Why could she imagine that all of a sudden? Why was she so certain his mouth had been there? Why could she feel his mouth, burning like a brand, against her skin when his lips should never have been there? Not skin to skin.
    He had kissed her, slid his mouth over her; she still had a warm, wet spot on the nearly nonexistent lace of her bra. As sexy as it had been, it wasn't his mouth on her skin, so why was the memory suddenly so strong?
    "I would imagine many times."
    She inhaled sharply. "You don't really know, do you? Manolito, if you don't know, and I don't know, we could be in real trouble.! am not Carpathian. I was born in Seattle. I went to school there and then to Berkeley, in California. If it's true that you've exchanged blood with me, I know I haven't gone through the conversion. I would know if I had to sleep in the ground. I'm still just me."
    "That cannot be so. I remember taking your blood, binding us together. You are a part of me. I cannot be mistaken."
    She opened her mind and memories to him. "I'm telling the truth when I say I haven't met you before. It's the truth that I saw you at a party in the Carpathian Mountains, but we were never formally introduced. I am physically attracted, but I don't know you at all." Okay, wildly physically attracted, but this was serious and she could overlook it—she hoped. Everything was falling into place. The things Riordan and Juliette had told her were beginning to make sense. Her heart thudded hard.
    He was silent, assessing her memories of him, dwelling a little too long over the one he found of a man coming into her house and attacking her. He felt the lengthening of his sharp teeth and the demon within roaring for release. Very carefully, he hid his reaction. She was coping with