Carpathian 22 - Dark Predator

for heaven’s sake, she knew they crawled across her all night and thought they probably made nests in her hair.
    She jumped when arms slid around her and she heard Zacarias laugh softly in her ear.
    “I doubt very much that spiders make nests in your hair, my beautiful little lunatic.”
    Her heart thudded, and for a moment she froze, afraid to believe it was him. Afraid she’d made him up out of sheer desperation. Very slowly she turned and looked up at him. His eyes, always midnight black, had that fantastic sapphire blue sheen to them, the one he got when he looked at her and was particularly aroused. Just the sight of him made her weak.
    “I dreamed that you gave me a lecture on spiders and perhaps actually struck me once or twice in retaliation. Could there be truth to that?”
    She smiled. Perhaps. If so, you certainly deserved it. Her hand went to his flat, hard stomach. Scars crisscrossed where before his skin had been smooth. I thought this would be gone.
    It was the only thing she could think to say when all she wanted to do was kiss him forever, hold him so tight neither of them could breathe and take him as deep as possible into her body so he would never find his way out.
    He touched her throat. “I had hoped you would be able to speak as you wished to so much. I suppose we were both too injured for even powerful Carpathian blood to heal us completely.”
    He filled the room. Filled her every sense, so that her entire body reached for his, so aware of him. He came into her mind, a soft, gentle flow that surprised her. She almost didn’t recognize that light touch. The icy feeling was there, but instead of the familiar glacier, the ice seemed to float through her mind, warming slowly.
    She watched his eyes change, desire and hunger slipping through the joy of seeing her. He bent his head to hers and she turned up her mouth. His was hot and dominating, everything and more than she remembered. Her body belonged to him instantly, melting against him, pliant and soft, making its own demands. He took his time kissing her, over and over.
    Zacarias lifted his head slowly, reluctantly, his hands framing her face, looking into her eyes as though searching for something. Satisfaction crept into his gaze; evidently he found whatever he had been looking for.
    He waved his hand toward the bathroom. At once the scent of her favorite oils drifted into the room along with a floating steam cloud. “Let’s get you in the bath.”
    You know you don’t have to do that. It’s a silly ritual when we can just clean ourselves with a thought. That didn’t make her feel clean, nor did it overcome her irrational fear of spiders crawling through her hair.
    “Your bath is a beautiful ritual and one I hope you keep for many centuries.” He corrected gently, “One important to you, and at the same time, it brings me much pleasure.” He took her hand and kissed her palm. “I did not see your fear of spiders. It was buried too deep in your childhood memories. I should have taken more care, as I will now. I have every intention of inspecting every inch of you each evening to make certain these pesky creatures do not bother you ever again.”
    She shuddered, feeling the brush of thousands of hairy legs, rubbing her arms to rid herself of the sensation. Zacarias tipped her chin up so that she had no choice but to drown in his eyes, in those dark, black pools of deep liquid ice—so cold sometimes they burned with a deep midnight blue. He could take her breath away with just one smoldering look. The idea of him inspecting her body so closely every evening sent a million butterflies winging through her stomach.
    He took her hand and tugged until she followed him into her now steamy bathroom. Very gently he lifted her, settling her in the deep water of the clawfoot tub. He tipped her head back against the raised, sloped side.
    “Close your eyes and let me do this. I want you to know that not a single spider is anywhere near you when I am finished. Do not think about anything, sívamet. ”
    She sank into the depths, noting the water was a lagoon green, and felt like heaven. She closed her eyes and went all the way under at the urging of his hands, soaking her long mass of hair. She let the hot perfumed water and the mesmerizing sound of his voice allow her to drift on a tide of happiness. Zacarias was alive and he was with her. Whatever else happened, she knew now she wanted the man he was—primitive and always alert for