Carpathian 18 - Dark Possesion

and appreciation.
    MaryAnn was exhausted by the time Manolito left her, but the sun was high. She did recognize that it was dangerous for him to be out at such a time. Her own body was so worn, she couldn't do more than return his kiss and wave a weak hand as he pulled the covers over her and left her alone. She barely registered his whispered command to sleep, already closing her eyes.
    Chapter Nine

    MaryAnn woke to the feel of tears on her face and the soft sound of feminine voices on the other side of her door. She groaned and turned over, her body sore in places she hadn't known she had.
    "It was just sex," she said aloud. "He doesn't love you. Love matters, and he doesn't love you."
    He might not love her, but he owned her body. She would have done anything he asked, and she hadn't known that was possible. There were whisker burns between her thighs and on her chin. She throbbed and pulsed with need the moment she thought of him. Her breasts ached and felt heavy. There wasn't an inch of her body he hadn't claimed or that she hadn't given him freely.
    Her loss of control was terrifying. How could she crave his body to the point of letting him push her beyond every boundary, real or imagined, she thought she had? The only safe thing to do was leave, and it was far too late for that. She was practical, a woman who reasoned things out, and there was no reasoning this.
    She sat up and wiped more tears away. She hadn't cried this much since she was a child. A shower only added to the sensations whispering over her skin. Memories of his fingers tracing every shadow and hollow, every curve and dimple. His mouth driving her mad with cravings. "This isn't normal," she said to her reflection in the mirror. "It isn't normal to want him like this and be afraid he'll come to me and more afraid he won't."
    Could she leave? Was it possible to go back to her life in Seattle? Manolito was still trapped between worlds; could she leave him knowing he might never make it back if she didn't help him?
    MaryAnn dressed with care, using clothes as armor, as she often did when she needed confidence and to feel in control. Manolito had told her to wear a dress, so she put on slacks and a silky top. She stood trembling, staring at herself, wanting to wear a dress because it would please him. Because he'd look at her with that look of dark hunger she'd never be able to resist. For a moment her hands went to the small shell buttons on her blouse, but she forced her hands down. She wouldn't give in—not to herself and not to him. If she couldn't leave him, she could at least stand up to him.
    Lifting her chin, she walked out into the common room. A young-woman sat curled up on a window seat, her long hair cascading down her back like a waterfall. She looked up with a hesitant smile that was not at all real, her emerald eyes watching carefully.
    "You must be Jasmine. I'm MaryAnn Delaney. Did Juliette tell you I was coming?" She approached the girl slowly, her movements gentle and nonthreatening. This was why she had come in the first place, this young woman with the too-old eyes and the sorrow already etched into her face.
    Jasmine smiled and held out her hand. "It's such a pleasure to meet you at last. Juliette speaks so highly of you."
    "You reek of Carpathian male," another voice said, the tone filled with disdain.
    MaryAnn turned to face Solange. It could be no one else. She was beautiful in a wild, untamed way. She had cat's eyes, amber, focused and wary. She prowled instead of walked, her quick restless movements graceful and agile. MaryAnn could see the anger in her, deep and held in tight. She had seen too many horrors to ever go back to innocence.
    Solange wore loose-fitting drawstring pants and a belt around her hips. Where MaryAnn relied on pepper spray, Solange wore knives and guns with familiar ease. She had weapons MaryAnn had never seen before, many small and sharp and very efficient-looking. Her hair was shaggy but suited the shape of her face.
    Where Jasmine was ethereally beautiful, thin and shapely, with gentle curves and flowing hair, Solange was earthy, with full curves, temper in her eyes and passion stamped on her mouth.
    "Do I? I took a shower." MaryAnn smiled at the woman, wanting to soothe her, to help her relax.
    Solange halted in mid stride, her nose wrinkling. "I'm sorry. That was rude. I have a very acute sense of smell. I shouldn't have said that. We've been roaming in jaguar form and it makes me