Carpathian 22 - Dark Predator

up. It was only a few more hours. She could trick him that long. The bats were very receptive and wouldn’t raise an alarm, not when she wasn’t running or trying to hide from them.
    She tapped into the bats for her own warning system, hoping she would recognize their alert when a predator was close. A fallen emergent with a giant trunk lay in her path, years old, saplings already filling in the void it left. The rotting trunk was covered in insects, fungus and creepers. She studied it carefully, aware of the dangerous snakes and poisonous frogs she could easily touch when climbing over it.
    There was nothing else she could do, not without veering from her path, something she didn’t want to do at night in a rain forest. She stepped forward and reached up, determined to climb, pushing at the poisonous insects and frogs with her mind in hopes they would move away from her.
    Hands caught her waist and jerked her back against a hard body. “Are you dim-witted, woman, or do you simply enjoy placing yourself in danger?” Zacarias’s voice purred in her ear, a soft menace that chilled her to her very core.

5
    M arguarita went very still. What if she’d been wrong? What if he was truly vampire? The mark Zacarias had left at the side of her throat throbbed and burned. His breath stirred the hair at the back of her neck . . . She stiffened. His fingers brushed her skin, moving aside the heavy rope of her hair. His body was tight against hers so that she could feel every breath he took. He smelled feral, a wild, dangerous creature trapping her far from all aid. His every muscle imprinted on her, every beat of his heart.
    His question penetrated her mind. Dim-witted? Had he really just asked if she was dim-witted? Fury burned through her, mixing with fear.
    Warmth poured into her mind, heralding Zacarias. Earlier when he’d struck, he had penetrated deep, invaded and conquered. This was different. This time he used a slow assault, a heat spreading like molasses, filling her mind with—him. Her breath caught in her throat and she bit down hard on her lower lip. The warmth didn’t just stay in her mind, it spread through her body, a thick lava that took her veins an inch at a time, moving lower and lower. Her breasts felt heavy and aching. Her nipples peaked. Her core grew hotter.
    Her physical reaction to his invasion was more than disturbing—it was every bit as horrifying as his biting her neck. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but she didn’t even struggle, horror and fury holding her in place. His hands caged her, settling on her waist, large hands, shaping her hips, feeling too possessive. Flames licked her skin right through her clothes where he touched her.
    She had never had such a female reaction to a male in her life. She’d been told how danger could mask itself in seduction and now she could bear witness to those rumors. Zacarias was as sensual as a male could be, igniting a slow-burning fire inside of her. Marguarita shivered, fearing for her very soul. She made the sign of the cross in a silent attempt to save herself.
    “I know you can hear me—whether I speak aloud or inside your mind. Your blood calls to mine. Mine answers. Do not pretend you cannot hear me.”
    She moistened her lips. I am not dim-witted. A little thunderstruck maybe, but she understood him. She just didn’t understand herself or what was happening to her body.
    She trembled, wanting to wrench herself from his hand, yet she burned for him. She could hear his heartbeat, the sound echoing in her own veins.
    He leaned closer until his lips touched her ear. “If you are not dim-witted . . .” One hand slipped from her hip back to her waist, burning through her clothes until her skin was branded with his palm imprint. The other hand slowly wrapped around her throat, one finger at a time. He forced her head back until she rested against his chest, until she had no choice but to stare into his dark, merciless eyes. They stared at each other, locked together in some strange combat she didn’t understand.
    “Then do you have a death wish?”
    His voice didn’t just whisper in her ear, but over her skin, touching nerve endings, the trail of fingers brushing gently, shaping her body. The sensation was so real she shivered, fear choking her. She swallowed hard against his hand. Mutely she shook her head. It was impossible to look away from him. His eyes were compelling, so dark and fathomless, heat and fire where he’d looked