Carpathian 18 - Dark Possesion

railing as she drank in the sight of him. He belonged to the night.
    A lord or a prince. The strong bones gave his face a noble, masculine appearance, and that molded mouth held a hint of both sensuality as well as cruelty. Danger and passion. She pressed her hand to her stomach to quell the butterfly wings.
    "It is beautiful, Manolito. Thank you for bringing me here."
    There was no smell of blood or death. No horror in the eyes of young women. There was only the night and Manolito.
    She smiled at him. "I feel the mist, yet it isn't cold and my clothes aren't wet."
    "I am Carpathian. I can control such things." He waved his hand, and the leaves began to tangle with flowers, forming a solid bed, thick and soft and inviting.
    Her heart jumped in anticipation.
    "Why do you wear your hair in such a tight braid? It's so beautiful, all the curls and waves and the color of it shining in the moonlight. Let it down." His hand went to the fastener holding her hair in some semblance of control.
    She caught his hands to stop him. "I have natural curl, Manolito. In this weather my hair would be huge and kinky, and with no stylist around, I'd be in serious trouble."
    "It's wild and beautiful." His fingers were busy stripping the band from her hair.
    "You don't understand. It's wild all right. I could use tons of products to hold it in place, but the mist would wash them right down my face and into my eyes and that would sting and streak and be a huge mess. So leave it." She tried to sound tough, but it was impossible with the feel of his fingers tugging her hair out of the braid. She only succeeded in sounding breathless.
    "I like the skirt. Thank you for remembering for me."
    She had put it on for him. She was giving too much of herself away, hut she wouldn't be less honest than he was being. The skirt and blouse were not only ultrafeminine, but made her feel sexy and desirable as well.
    She wanted to feel that way for him. She wanted him to see her that way.
    "It's one of my favorites." Was that her voice? She sounded more seductive than he did, and she didn't want that. She wanted to know him. She wanted a chance at— everything .
    Her hair was out of the braid now, flowing around her face and shoulders. He reached under it to cup the back of her neck, his thumb sliding over her skin, as if savoring the feel of it. There was an unexpected tenderness in his touch. She could feel heat all the way down to her toes. It was suddenly difficult to breathe.
    "Does your leg hurt?"
    The memory of his mouth on her leg, the feel of his tongue rasping over her skin, sent another wave of arousal washing through her body. She shook her head, afraid to speak, when his thumb smoothed over her ear and teased a shiver down her spine.

    "Come lie down with me, look at the stars while we talk."
    She wasn't certain she could speak when it came right down to it, not without babbling or, worse, pleading for his touch.
    She sank rather gingerly onto the bed of leaves and flowers, trying to hold the image of leeches in her mind, but the flowers gave off a wonderful fragrance and the bed was as soft as the best mattress she'd ever lain on.
    Because she was afraid, she stayed in a sitting position.
    Manolito caught her calf in his hands, drew down the zipper to her boot and pulled it off. "You may as well be comfortable, MaryAnn."
    There was a command in the firm touch of his fingers, but gentleness in his voice. She made no objection, just let him remove the boots and set them aside so she could draw her knees up. He sent her a faint, mocking smile and stretched out, fingers laced behind his head.
    "I thought I'd be afraid up here," she admitted, to break the silence. To find a safe subject.
    "You are afraid."
    "This is an unusual situation." She snuck a peek at him over her shoulder. He lay like an offering, casual and lazy and very deceptive when she could feel heat radiating off his body, when she could see the ripple of muscle and the bulge he didn't bother to hide. His features were stamped with raw desire, his eyes devouring her.
    He brought one arm down to his side, the fingers curling against her thigh, rubbing back and forth through the thin royal blue silk. "I am your lifemate, MaryAnn, your husband. There is no need to fear the things I want from you. Like your hair and your skin and whatever dwells within you, what is between us is as natural as breathing."
    "I don't know you well enough to give you that kind of trust. A woman like me needs