Carpathian 21 - Dark Peril

him—as it did for all Carpathians. They could see into the mind, and what lay there, along with the heart and soul of the women, was what made them beautiful, not that outside package.

    He knew Solange well enough now that if he should tell her the outside package didn’t matter at all to a Carpathian, she would take it wrong. She would feel that was his way of politely saying he saw her body as she did—unattractive—and that was far from the truth. He retraced Etienne’s steps, destroying all evidence of his passing. He found himself in the courtyard. The body had been removed, but the blood remained, staining the flower beds, the slabs of stepping stones and the dark, rich soil. Several plants had withered, the effects of nature coming into contact with the abomination of the undead. Vampires would easily spot that telltale sign from the sky.

    Again, he was meticulous in removing all traces of the undead’s presence and the fight that had taken place here. If it was known that Zacarias had been here, this ranch and everyone in it would be targeted. Things had to appear mundane—as if no one had any idea of the presence of vampires. He was ravenous by the time he had finished. He knew the moment Cesaro approached, coming slowly, almost reluctantly, up behind him.

    Dominic turned. “You have questions?”

    Cesaro shook his head. “ Don Zacarias sent word to me that you may need blood. He asked, as a favor to him, that I supply your needs. I gave him my word. He asked me to follow any instructions you might give.”

    “Did he assure you that I would not harm you?” There was no making it easy with Zacarias’s safeguards on the man. He would know Dominic was taking his blood, and yet, courageously, he had followed orders.
    No, not orders; a request.

    “This has been a traumatic evening for all of you,” Dominic said with a small sigh. “I do not wish to make it worse. Unfortunately the body of the young lady’s father must be incinerated. The undead leave behind small parasites that will call to their masters and draw them to this place. I am removing all evidence of the battle, but you cannot allow anyone to speak of this night, or even mention Marguarita’s injuries. It is for the safety of everyone here.”

    Cesaro inclined his head. “We have been well trained in what to do. We are preparing the body now.”

    “I know you would prefer to burn it yourselves out of respect, but my way will be faster, cleaner and will ensure no parasites escape. It will also not provide a beacon for the undead.”

    “This is a bad night.” Cesaro sighed. “Tell me honestly if Marguarita will live.”

    “She will live. I do not know if she will speak again. We did our best, but her throat was very torn. She will have this place and all Carpathians will honor her for her sacrifice.”

    Cesaro rubbed his temple, as if trying to ease a nagging headache. “Our people have always been De La Cruz. We fight for them, guard them and are honored to die in their service. Marguarita is no different. We will take care of her.” He took a breath, let it out. “It would be an honor to carry out Jefe’s wishes.”

    “You are certain,” Dominic asked, liking the man more and more.

    “I believe so.”

    Dominic didn’t waste time. Every cell in his body was crying out for sustenance. He’d been using so much energy to heal Marguarita and to remove all signs of the battle that he’d grown pale. He moved toward the man rather than force Cesaro to walk to him.

    “My people exist on blood, just as you exist on the meat of animals. We do not kill. Only the vampire does that.”

    Cesaro’s swallow was audible. He nodded his head. “ Don Zacarias has explained this to us. It is . . .
    difficult, but I wish to do this for you.”

    “If you allow me to, I will help you not to feel anything. You will retain the memory without fear.”

    Cesaro frowned, but shook his head. “I want to know what it feels like to serve those who have been so good to our families these long years.”

    Dominic preferred to take the blood from the neck, as did all Carpathians, but he didn’t want this man’s heart to explode. He could hear the trepidation in his brave request, and the strong heart accelerating. It was all he could do to respect the man’s wishes and not calm him.

    He swept his tongue over the offered wrist to numb the skin and then sank his fangs deep into the vein, almost in one continuous movement. Cesaro