Carpathian 22 - Dark Predator

his woman. Do you have any idea the demands he could make on you? You’re playing with fire, Marguarita. If he’s a wild animal, then he’s the most dangerous one you’ve ever encountered and you aren’t going to tame him. Get out while you can. I’ll help you. We all will. He doesn’t own you. He doesn’t own any of us. We have choices here, and you do as well.”
    My choice is to see him through this. You have no idea of his life, Julio. He came here to end his life with honor and I ruined that for him. He’s lost right now and I need to help him. I want to help him. I know that I can.
    Julio cursed under his breath. “You’ve always been like this, Marguarita, so stubborn no one could make you see reason.” He started to put his shirt back on, but stopped when she shook her head.
    Marguarita slipped back into her room and rummaged around until she found the first-aid kit she’d made up years earlier for the workers. Over time she’d become somewhat of a nurse with all the lacerations and accidents that occurred on the ranch. She smeared antibiotic cream over the deep scratches and handed him some tablets.
    Julio obediently took them and dragged his shirt back over his head, smoothing it over his chest. “I’m telling you, hon, De La Cruz is no ordinary man. You have to let this one go.”
    She unwound the bloody rag and gasped when she saw the wound on his arm. She mimicked sewing, frowning at him. Julio shrugged and shook his head.
    “It’ll heal. Just do whatever you do so it doesn’t get infected.”
    Marguarita had to blink several times. The sun seemed unusually bright and her eyes kept watering. She shook her head and indicated she needed to at least put butterfly strips across the wound to try to close it.
    “Get on with it, then. I’ve got to get back to work. You have to get to the stables tonight and settle the animals down. Someone’s really going to get hurt if you don’t, Marguarita.”
    She nodded as she carefully applied the antibiotic cream and then began to meticulously close the wound.
    “He can’t keep you,” Julio reiterated. “You don’t owe him your life, honey. Seriously, think about leaving this place.”
    He would find me. I want to stay anyway, Julio. I know I can help him.
    She had almost written save him. Zacarias needed saving from himself. Perhaps it couldn’t be done. She wasn’t even certain he wanted saving, but someone had to care about the man. He didn’t seem to care much about himself. He was arrogant and had complete confidence in himself, but he also believed he was tainted with evil.
    I’m sorry about your dog, Julio, but whatever happened, Zacarias had nothing to do with it. You be careful today. I’ll come out this evening.
    She hoped Zacarias would be cooperative. He knew the ranch work had to be done. If it took her going to the stables to calm the animals, she was certain Zacarias would agree to it. She waved to Julio and resolutely closed the window and pulled the drapes. She was tired, but a few hours to herself sounded good, so she decided to stay up.
    In the bathtub, she laid with her eyes closed and allowed herself to think about Zacarias. He was such a mystery—a man who had no real idea of who he was. Her heart went out to him, a man so utterly alone. No one should be so alone. And he had no real idea of his own feelings. He’d buried his memories so deep, never forgiving himself, refusing to acknowledge he even remembered that terrible tragedy in his life.
    Marguarita sighed as she sank down into the hot, scented water, soaking the long, thick rope of hair. She felt exhausted, and it was difficult to keep her mind away from Zacarias. In the short time she’d been around him, she’d mostly been afraid, so it didn’t make sense to her that she was so determined to help him. She hated that he was so alone. No one should be alone, not like he was, not cut off from anything soft and gentle. He had so little humanity left that he no longer believed he could overcome the predator in him.
    She saw inside of him, but every time she tried to show him he was different inside, he rejected her. It was almost as if he was afraid of that softer side of himself. It made him vulnerable and Zacarias De La Cruz had never really been that way—or if he had—he certainly didn’t remember it. Nor did he want to remember it.
    Zacarias had lived so long as a dangerous hunter, always alone and always apart, that he really had no way to fit into