Carpathian 22 - Dark Predator

many generations of her family having served the De La Cruz family. That barrier in her mind had been reinforced, so controlling her was difficult at best. And he didn’t want control. He wanted her to be willing.
    I am willing, she whispered in his mind. I’m just a little nervous, but I’ve never been with a man, so all of this is new to me.
    He knew that, he was locked in her mind with her. He knew her every insecurity, and right now, she was holding herself together for him. Because he needed, and she provided. It was the Carpathian way, but she was human and yet instinctively, she knew what he needed.
    He pressed his forehead against the soft temptation of her breasts. He had walked the earth for well over a thousand years, had a vast wealth of knowledge, yet knew nothing of humans—or of women. And this woman was everything—would be his everything from this moment forward.
    She didn’t see him the way the rest of the world did. She didn’t even see him the way he saw himself.
    I see what and who you are. I see your heart and soul.
    She terrified him. Her courage matched that of every warrior he knew. He was no normal man. The hard edges inside of him, the driving need to hunt and kill should have sent her gentle nature running, screaming from him. Those dark shadows, the one tainting him from birth, the terrible legacy handed down from his father scarred his very soul. The light in her shining so bright should have diminished, should have shunned him and yet she faced him, faced her own fears—to save him. To offer him life. She knew what she was doing. She knew he planned to allow the sun to take him—but she stood in front of him, deliberately seducing him with her soft, giving body and her amazing courage.
    “It would take a miracle to save me, Marguarita.”
    She was a miracle to him. He was long gone from this world. He’d never belonged, and now modern society had passed a man such as him up centuries ago. Miracle or not, courage or not, how could she possibly live with such a throwback to ancient times? His world was kill or be killed. Survival of the fittest. Women weren’t a part of such things, and if they were, they were used and forgotten quickly, or held captive, close where a warrior could always protect her.
    “Do you see who I really am, or who you want me to be?” Because, God help them both, he would rule her. He would hold her too close. He would destroy both of them. He would damn them both to hell, but it didn’t seem to matter. He couldn’t break free from her, not even to save his honor. He burned like fire. He needed. Desire ruled him. Craving. Aching. Pure need. Pure hunger. He was predator, and she was prey. He was locked on, focused his entire attention on her. She would forever bear the cross of his shame, his inability to resist taking what he now had to have.
    I want to be yours, Zacarias. I need you to stay with me. Please stay. Please choose me. Whatever this is—it isn’t shameful. I’m giving myself to you freely.
    He heard his own groan. There would be no escape for her. How could he refuse her plea? Her gift? He couldn’t resist her soft breasts, her dusky nipples teasing his lips. He closed his mouth over temptation and suckled. He wanted this to be real. More than anything, he wanted what she was offering to be real. By all that was holy, let him have a miracle.
    Her body arched into him. Her arms crept around his head, cradling him to her.
    I see you. All of you.
    He couldn’t give up the amazing sensations streaking through both of them. The characteristics she saw in him, he wasn’t certain they were really there, but he wasn’t going to stop what he was doing to use his voice to tell her that. He tugged on her nipple with his teeth, heard her gasp, but fire streaked through her—through him, the blood rushing to both their centers, as if she had a pathway to both leading straight from her nipples.
    You know what I am. Yet you are not afraid?
    He tugged again, a little rougher, his hands kneading soft flesh, rolling that taut peak, using tongue and teeth mercilessly. He needed her to understand he was a rough, dangerous man, all hard edges and steel. It didn’t seem to matter how he touched her, she tightened her arms around his head, her breath ragged, her arousal permeating the air between them.
    I’m giving myself to you, Zacarias. Freely. Without restrictions. I don’t know what your women do, but I can only be me. I know of no other way.