Carpathian 22 - Dark Predator

time.
    He was tempted to bite that sweet spot between her neck and shoulder as punishment for her continued defiance. “When a De La Cruz is in residence, you are on duty from sunset to dawn. Or whenever I tell you. O jelä peje terád, emni —sun scorch you, woman. Do not argue with me. Have you learned nothing in the last few hours? You will not go unescorted, anywhere. You are a woman. A single woman. And you will have a chaperone at all times.”
    She made no sound, but he felt her absolute rejection of his decree. Deep inside, it came again, that strange sound that started in his belly and welled up like champagne bubbles. By all that was holy, she made him laugh. He felt amusement. This slight woman brought laughter into his life. Until he figured out why she had such power over him, he wasn’t about to leave her side. She could deny his authority all she wanted, but she was about to learn what and who was the dominant in her life.
    He inhaled her scent and found himself fighting the call of her blood. He tasted her in his mouth. That exquisite, rare taste beyond anything he’d ever known bursting in his mouth, trickling down his throat to seep into his veins, pouring through his body like molten gold. Her skin was so warm and soft, her pulse calling to him. He closed his eyes and simply listened to the rhythm of her heart. He wasn’t hungry, yet he craved her, like an addiction, wanting to bite down, to feel her soft flesh . . .
    His hands slid up over her wrists, stroking, his palms brushing her breasts. Her nipples were peaked with cold—or excitement. He couldn’t make his mind stop long enough to find out which. His every sense, his entire being focused on her body. The shape of her. The feel of her. Time slowed. Tunneled. There was only his hands sliding over her, cupping her breasts, his thumbs brushing those hard nipples. His heart hammering. Hers answering.
    Heat rushed into him. Filled him. Blood pounded through his center, rushed into his cock, until he was hard and thick and aching—and shocked. His body burned from the inside out. There was a strange roaring in his head. He felt on fire, flames scorching his skin, racing through his veins. Erotic images filled his mind, her body writhing beneath his, a million things he’d seen in his existence, a million ways to make her his. He had seen such things, but never once thought of them. Never once in all his existence had he ever entertained the idea of taking a woman without consent. Never considered burying his body deep in a woman and doing whatever he wanted with her—until that moment. The images and his terrible, brutal need overwhelmed him. Tiny beads of blood dotted his skin, sweat as he’d never known it. He felt edgy, out of control, insane with the terrible craving that had spread from his need of her blood to his body’s need of hers.
    He shoved her away from him, breathing deep, taking in great gulps of air to stop the madness burning through him. He had known his soul was in pieces, no more than a sieve held together with tiny, fragile threads, but this—this would destroy him—destroy his honor. He wiped the sweat from his face and stared at the blood smears on his hands. “What are you, woman? You have bewitched me.”
    She shook her head mutely, so pale she nearly glowed there in the darkness. I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. I don’t know why this is happening to you.
    She’d felt him all right, felt the rising demand of his cock pushing against her body with urgent demand.
    “You will not control me.”
    I’m not trying to.
    She took two steps away from him, staring at the large bulge in the front of his trousers. He saw the exact moment when her fear got the better of her and she turned and ran from him.
    Zacarias took another deep slow breath and spread out his arms, welcoming another shape, needing the relief from his male human form. Feathers burst along his skin as he shifted. This time the harpy eagle was enormous. He took flight, staying low as he gave chase. The eagle twisted and turned, easily making his way through the trees, hunting his prey. He loomed over her. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes wide with terror as he dove, his talons reaching for her, snagging her as she ran, and lifting her into the air, Zacarias’s enormous strength aiding the large harpy eagle.
    Marguarita struggled, but as he took her higher, his giant wingspan beating to gain height, and the ground dropped away, she went