Carpathian 22 - Dark Predator

never feel for others as they did. His world would be Marguarita, just as his father’s world had been his mother.
    I will be careful and learn my limitations, Dominic. Are my brothers well?
    Worried about you. Perhaps you should consider bringing your woman to see them. They have waited long for this day.
    Zacarias knew he must do so. Part of him even wanted that reunion, but he knew it wouldn’t be what his brothers expected and he really didn’t want to let them down. He had lost too much in the long centuries of being alone. Marguarita filled him, allowing him to tap into his feelings, allowing him to see color, but even now, as he flew over the rain forest, it was all gray and dull. Colors and emotions wouldn’t stay long without her close.
    His father had been unable to stand the absence after a time, so he had taken his mother into battle. Now, Zacarias knew somewhat how difficult it must have been, especially after having children and not feeling for them unless his lifemate was near enough to connect with him. Zacarias sent up a silent prayer to any higher power who might be listening, that he had the strength to resist ever taking Marguarita into danger, that he would always keep her safety above his own needs. Never let me make the mistake of risking her for my own weakness.
    He made the long trip with Dominic flying toward him, in under two hours, which meant he would barely make it back to Marguarita by dawn. They greeted each other in the formal way of the Carpathian warrior, grasping each other’s forearms.
    “Bur tule ekämet kuntamak —well met, brother-kin,” Zacarias greeted.
    “Eläsz jeläbam ainaak —long may you live in the light,” Dominic responded, those piercing eyes scrutinizing Zacarias carefully.
    Zacarias shook his head. “You will not see what you wish to see. Marguarita enables me to see in color and to feel emotion. Without her in me, I am utterly alone in a stark, gray world.” He knew somewhere close, Dominic’s warrior woman, Solange, stood ready to defend her chosen lifemate. She was a force to be reckoned with, and he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck alerting him to danger.
    Dominic sighed as he dropped his arms and stepped back. “I am sorry, my friend.”
    Zacarias shrugged. “She has become the center of my universe and I accept and am grateful for a chance I never envisioned. For her, I do this thing.”
    Dominic kept his eyes on Zacarias. “You are willing to exchange blood with me?”
    Hunters gave blood when needed, but an exchange meant a hunter could track another easily. The idea was repulsive to Zacarias. He was a loner. A man apart and safety was paramount. Reclusive, elusive, he took great care to leave no trail when he didn’t want to be followed.
    For Marguarita he would have to extend that trust. He nodded his head.
    Dominic smiled. “It is not necessary.” He turned and beckoned to his lifemate. She came out from under cover, a lethal woman who would not hesitate to kill if necessary. She looked happy to see Zacarias.
    Already he was feeling a strange crawling sensation in his gut. He needed to get back—to be with her—Marguarita. Being completely alone was no longer something he could bear. He took the extended wrist and once again drank from the powerful woman. Dominic, too, provided for him, giving him the mixture of powerful blood he would pass on to his woman.
    “I have fed from your woman before, Dominic, yet still the sun burned me. Do you think this will work for me even as I am?”
    Dominic shrugged. “The effect grows stronger each time the blood is taken, but there are limits and the only way to know is to try. Zacarias, have a safety net available to you. Be cautious.”
    Zacarias nodded. “I cannot be long from her. I thank you both. May the wind grant you fast journey.” He gripped Dominic’s forearms hard and saluted Solange before taking to the sky once more. His heart soared. Marguarita. He would soon be with her.

19
    H e was uneasy. When a hunter such as Zacarias De La Cruz was uneasy, it was a good time to go looking for trouble because it had to be near—or approaching.
    Three nights. It had to be enough time for Marguarita to fully heal. For three long nights he had lain beside her, holding her in his arms, and yet even then, the world was grim without her filling the empty spaces in him. He was numb. Starkly alone. When one was used to such a thing, when emotions and color faded slowly, it was