Carpathian 22 - Dark Predator

floor by her open window. A man stood on the other side, his head through the opening, his hand on Marguarita’s arm. Both turned simultaneously toward him at the sound of the door disintegrating. Zacarias was on the man in a split second in a violent explosive action, yanking him through the window with vicious strength and slamming him against the wall. He held him easily with one hand, legs dangling above the floor as he sank his teeth deep into the pulsing vein in the neck.
    No! Stop! You have to stop!
    The man gave no resistance after that first stiff struggle. Zacarias made no attempt to calm him, the offense was far too great. He heard a terrible roar and it took a moment to realize the sound emerged from his own throat. He gulped at the rich blood, even as Marguarita’s frantic plea burst into his mind.
    She caught at his arm and tugged, tried to reach up to insert her hand between Zacarias and his prey. He could see her, far off, through the red haze in his mind, through the need to kill, through the strange animalistic roaring that crashed through his head, but nothing mattered to him but destroying this man who had dared to put his hands on Marguarita.
    Zacarias felt Marguarita’s warm spirit moving through the ice in his mind and instantly saw himself through her eyes. She was close to panic. He had exploded into violence much like a large jungle cat bringing down prey and was completely and utterly a killer in that moment. On some vague level she realized she was the cause. She was terrified of him, reading his intent, knowing he was acting on instincts rather than intellect.
    She flooded his mind with frantic impressions of a wolf pack, and then with dozens of babies as if he was the dim-witted one and couldn’t understand the concept of family. Finally she resorted to pushing an image of Cesaro into his mind in a frantic attempt to tell him this man was Julio, Cesaro’s son. As if he wouldn’t know that. The woman was a menace to herself and to everyone she knew. He swept his tongue across the puncture wounds to close them and dropped the man to the floor, holding him easily with his mind.
    Very slowly he turned on the nuisance of a woman. She took two steps back and then made herself stop. She looked small and vulnerable and very, very afraid as she glanced toward Julio.
    Is he dead? She took a step toward the unconscious man.
    “Do not dare to touch him.”
    She halted instantly, her face going completely white.
    “No, Carpathians do not kill when they feed. You should know that. Are you uneducated as well as disobedient?”
    She shook her head and looked around the room, her gaze settling on the pen and paper she’d been using to communicate with her lover. When she stepped toward it, he held out his hand and both items flew to him. He pushed them into his pocket for closer inspection later.
    “You disobeyed again. Is there anyone you do obey? Or do you simply do whatever you want when you want to do it?” He kept his voice very low, afraid she might faint or fall down. She was so rattled he could see her shaking.
    I did not disobey. She was adamant, thrusting her denial into his mind. I stayed in the house just like you ordered. I didn’t do anything wrong.
    Was it possible she didn’t understand the enormity of her error? How was that possible? “Having a man in your room is absolutely forbidden. How could you not know that? Do you wish to be taken for a whore?”
    She blinked her long lashes at him, her body suddenly quite still. A slow blush infused the pale white of her skin. He could clearly see the color sweeping up her neck into her face and the beauty of it captured his attention so that he almost missed that she stepped into him and swung her hand at his face.
    He caught her wrist inches from his head only because of his preternatural speed. They stood toe-to-toe, gazes locked. She was furious. He could feel the rage in her, yet was hyperaware of the smallness of her bones, of the soft skin and lush curves. She was wearing a skirt and blouse, the skirt long, covering her slender legs and emphasizing her rounded hips and narrow waist. He found her pleasing in feminine clothes.
    Her eyes sparkled at him, glittering like champagne diamonds. She no longer appeared gray or shadowed, but her every feature was beginning to emerge in color and detail. He had never encountered anything more beautiful in all his centuries of existence.
    “I believe we covered the issue of you touching