Carpathian 22 - Dark Predator

caressing note in her voice sent a rush of heat speeding through his veins. He looked at her over his shoulder.
    Perhaps you would be so kind as to fix my door on your way out.
    There it was, that now familiar need to smile. The amusement tamped down his need to destroy every male who had ever come near her. He needed her to use his more intimate first name. “Zacarias,” he corrected. “And no problem.”
    He went out before the urge to heave the offending male through the window so he could yank Marguarita to him and taste her exquisite unique flavor overcame him.
    Marguarita watched as he paused to casually wave his hand, weaving the splintered door back into a solid mass before striding out. She took a deep breath and allowed herself to sag onto her bed. Her hand shook as she pressed her fingers to her trembling mouth. She had never seen anything—including the rain forest predators—exploding into violence so fast.
    Being in the same room with Zacarias De La Cruz was overwhelming, much like being with a tiger. He took up the entire space, the very air, with his power and energy. He always gave the impression with his focused stare of being alert and ready to strike instantly. When he did erupt into action, it was too fast to even follow and so violent the act was numbing to the senses.
    She had done this. Made a terrible mistake. Zacarias had known he had grown too dangerous to be in the company of others and he had taken steps to protect them all. He had made an honorable decision, but she’d inadvertently interfered and placed all of them—including his eternal soul—in jeopardy.
    The puncture wounds on her waist were healed, but she would never forget that painful, terrifying ride through the air as the eagle had taken her into the night sky, huge wings beating loud enough for her to hear the whomp , whomp as they cut through the air. She’d been sick and dizzy, staring at the ground below as it dropped away. She didn’t even have the release of screaming. Sadly, and strangely, the only comfort she had was in touching his mind, the mind of a man more feral beast than human.
    She touched the mark on her neck and for a moment she couldn’t breathe, remembering the way his teeth had burned as they drove through her skin. It had hurt so bad, and she’d been terrified that he would finish the job the vampire had started, or worse, not kill her and make her his living puppet, the very embodiment of evil. She stroked the throbbing mark with the pads of her fingers. She had already made up her mind to serve him as long as necessary—and she knew that included allowing him to take her blood for sustenance.
    This evening changed nothing, in fact, it only reinforced her belief that she owed Zacarias her aid, no matter how terrifying it was to her. She covered her face for a moment, rocking back and forth, gathering her courage. She had to find a way to keep him from the workers on the ranch—especially Julio. When Julio awakened and remembered what happened, he would be desperate to make certain she was all right and that was a potential problem.
    Resolutely, Marguarita scrubbed her hands down her face, wiping away fear and straightening her shoulders. This was her mess. She’d created it. She could feel the intense sadness, the heavy sorrow weighing Zacarias down. She felt his emotions—and they were strong to the point of crushing—but she knew he didn’t feel them in the same way she did.
    He had wanted her to go about her daily routine, so that was what she was going to do, just as if he wasn’t in the house. When it came time for him to take her blood she would find a pleasant place in her mind and go there. It was the duty of her entire family to provide whatever a De La Cruz needed—or wanted—and she wouldn’t fail her family or herself.
    She stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was in the usual thick braid, but her neck was clearly exposed. Her heart jumped wildly. Perhaps that was too much of a temptation. Quickly she loosened the weave and allowed her hair to spill to her waist. She wrapped a loose tie around the middle just to hold it back from her face so she could work without the huge mass getting in her way. Her hands smoothed the flowing skirt and she took another breath before heading for the kitchen.
    Filling the teapot, she turned and nearly dropped it when he was standing there, quite close to her, his hand reaching for the abundance of hair, staring at it as though