Carpathian 22 - Dark Predator

modern society, with humans or even with his own people. He had supreme confidence in himself as a hunter—a killer—but not as a man. And he was wrong. As arrogant and as dangerous as he was—there was someone gentle and loving deep inside him. His tremendous loyalty and sense of duty were admirable. He didn’t see it that way. Everything was so black and white to him.
    She dried herself off slowly, taking her time, enjoying the feeling that she had her home to herself and she could feel as if it belonged to her. She’d been mistress of the hacienda a long time and now, with Zacarias home, dictating to her what she could or couldn’t do, where she could go and what she should wear, she had forgotten how peaceful she found the house. It was her sole domain. She kept it clean, decorated it the way she wanted and was in total charge of her own life. She had suitors courting her, which was a nice boost to her ego, but she knew she wouldn’t want any of them for a husband.
    Zacarias. Thinking of him made her feel alive. She loved riding horses, the freedom of flying over the ground, one with her horses. Zacarias gave her that same thrill only more so. He wasn’t peaceful by any means, but being in his company was exhilarating. She sat at her vanity and brushed her long hair into a semblance of submission while she thought about him.
    He was handsome in a rough, brutal sort of way. His body was fit, that of a warrior. Physically there was no doubt she was attracted to him, but that wasn’t the draw. She imagined most women would be unable to resist his looks. He was mesmerizing and had an animal attraction as well. But still . . . There was so much more to him, right there under the surface, and quite frankly, he intrigued her.
    She pulled on her usual house clothes, a blouse and long skirt, frowning a little that she was conforming to what Zacarias liked. It would have been childish to wear jeans just because he’d stated she should wear feminine clothes. She liked her skirts. She wasn’t going to change for him—one way or the other. No one had dictated to her, not even her father, and having Zacarias speak in such commanding tones all the time was a little humorous.
    Someone walked up onto the porch and knocked on the front door. It was a timid knock, not at all like Julio or one of the other boys would make. Her stomach jumped and she glanced toward the master bedroom. She took a loaded gun from the trunk in the hallway and pushed it into her skirt pocket. They didn’t get many visitors, and with Zacarias vulnerable during the day, she was determined to protect him.
    She peered out and was a little shocked to see Lea Eldridge, waiting for her alone on the porch. Lea had never once come to the ranch without her brother. She was a tall, blond woman, very chic. Her hair was never out of place, her makeup perfect and her clothes obviously designer. Where Esteban talked down to the workers, Lea always seemed open and friendly. She was a beautiful woman, and Marguarita liked her more than she did the women she’d grown up with. Lea seemed a genuine, giving person. She always had time to speak to the older workers and children, not just the handsome single men. Marguarita liked that about her.
    She opened the door and frowned when she saw Lea’s face. There was a faint bruise on her cheekbone and obvious signs of tears. Lea’s skin was flawless, as porcelain as peaches and cream, and even with her careful application of makeup, it was impossible to hide the purple. She stepped back to allow Lea entrance.
    Lea glanced around behind her, a covert, stealthy perusal of the surrounding area and roads before she ducked inside and hastily closed the door. “My brother doesn’t know I’m here. No one does.”
    I’ll make tea. I’m glad you came to visit me.
    Marguarita handed her the note and led the way into the kitchen, gesturing for Lea to sit at the table while she prepared tea. It was obvious Lea was very upset. It was times like this that Marguarita was especially frustrated that she couldn’t speak. Writing things down took forever. While the kettle was heating, she sank down into the chair opposite Lea, touched her hand and slid a paper across to her.
    What happened? You’re safe here, Lea.
    Lea blinked back tears and shook her head. “You don’t understand. My brother’s friend, Dan, we call him DS, has found us here. He’s . . . awful. Everywhere we go, he finds us, and Esteban does whatever he