Carpathian 22 - Dark Predator

happy—even grateful to serve him—the arrogant, impossible, dominant royal pain in the neck. Should I curtsey, your majesty?
    His brows drew together. The silence grew until the very walls seemed to expand with the tension. His gaze remained locked on hers, unblinking and menacing. She fought not to look away—not to be totally cowed by him. He appeared enormous. He dominated the entire room, his shoulders blocking out everything behind him, making her aware of his power—and her vulnerability.
    “Perhaps the alliance between our families has come to an end. If that is what you wish, you have only to say you will not honor our agreement.”
    Her breath caught in her throat. He wouldn’t allow her to leave. She could feel the need in him. He couldn’t. He didn’t recognize that he had emotions boiling deep below the surface. She tapped into them through their primitive animal connection, but not only didn’t he recognize his own feelings, he had no idea they were there. Even if she allowed her fear of him to ruin the alliances between the De La Cruz family and her large extended family, it wouldn’t save her.
    She pressed her lips together and shook her head. I wish to serve you.
    “Without question.”
    She gritted her teeth. He wanted his pound of flesh for her sins. Or maybe she was reading him wrong. He didn’t seem to have the least idea how to deal with humans. He probably hadn’t been in polite society for hundreds of years.
    “Nor did I care to do so,” he said, obviously still reading her mind.
    She considered taking great delight in stitching his mouth closed while he slept in his chamber. The moment she began to think there was a remote possibility that he could have excuses for his imperious and crass behavior, he opened his mouth and ruined everything.
    She flashed him a quick look and saw his lips curve into that ridiculously incredible very brief, faint smile. Her stomach reacted with the same earlier slow-rolling somersault.
    “I am getting the distinct impression of someone, who looks suspiciously like you, sewing my mouth closed with a needle and thread. Could I possibly be interpreting your thoughts incorrectly?”
    Marguarita tried her best to look innocent. Perhaps we could communicate more accurately if you gave me back my pen and paper. That way, we wouldn’t have these little misunderstandings. Surely that wasn’t a lie. And if nothing else, it might keep her out of trouble.
    “I doubt a pen and paper has that much power,” he remarked.
    She really wished he’d stay out of her head. I need to sit down, Señor De La Cruz. She hadn’t realized she was swaying. Shock maybe, but suddenly the room was spinning.
    He caught her arm and lowered her onto the sofa. “Would you like a glass of water?”
    Anything for a reprieve from his overwhelming presence. She nodded her head, trying to look like the fainting type. She was fairly sturdy, so maybe he wouldn’t completely believe it, but he was so feudal it was just possible she had a good shot at it.
    His mouth did that slight curving twitch that indicated a faint smile. He shook his head and handed her a glass of water. “You are not very good at censuring your thoughts. Tell me what your normal day is like.”
    She shrugged and ran through her days in her mind. Bath. Brushing hair. Cleaning her room. Breakfast. Cleaning the house. Ordering for the homes on the ranch. Checking horses and cattle for illness or injuries. Making lunch. Taking hot coffee and sandwiches to Julio. Riding with him while they chatted . . .
    The air in the room turned heavy. The walls expanded and the floor rolled. She scowled and grabbed at the sofa. What’s wrong? You asked me to tell you a typical day. I do get free time for lunch and riding.
    “Who is this man you laugh with?”
    Marguarita frowned. You don’t know Cesaro’s son? When he continued to stare until she swore she felt a burning sensation in the region of her forehead she sighed. I need a pen and paper. I can’t send correct impressions.
    “I think I understand your impressions very well. You will not be riding with this man again. Proceed.”
    Marguarita rubbed her head. She had the beginnings of a headache. She was exhausted and too confused to be afraid anymore. One moment she was angry with Zacarias and the next amused. She had absolutely no idea how to handle him. The connection between them seemed to be growing stronger the more she was in his mind. She didn’t want him in