Carpathian 22 - Dark Predator

you do. Even today you were sitting on your windowsill bandaging your friend Julio. Did you think I would not know exactly what you were doing?”
    Her lashes lifted and she stared him straight in the eye. She would not be intimated by him. She saw inside of him—better even than he did—and she was safe. She just had to have the courage to stand up to him when he was being unreasonable.
    I know you don’t mean to make me feel like a prisoner, Zacarias, but it does feel that way just a little bit when you say things like that. I have a duty to those on this ranch . . .
    He held up his hand. “Not anymore. Your sole duty is to see to my needs. I think I made myself very clear on that.”
    Yes, well, I still had to see to Julio’s wounds. It wouldn’t do to have them get infected. Did you do something to his dog? His dog suddenly went crazy, attacking the horses and then attacking Julio.
    “I stopped the animal from snarling at me, but that would not explain his behavior. Where is the dog now?”
    They had no choice but to shoot it. Julio asked me to see to the horses and cattle. Something’s wrong. She rubbed the little dent in her chin, frowning a little, hating that everyone on the ranch believed the dog’s behavior had something to do with Zacarias’s presence.
    “Your eyes are sad. Do not feel sorrow for me, my beautiful lunatic.” He shrugged. “You believe they all think I am causing this reaction in the animals. It is probably the truth. Animals sense the shadows in me. Even my own people call me köd, varolind, hän ku piwtä , which means dark, dangerous predator, and even the most experienced hunters call me hän ku tappa —which means violent, but more. I am used to others fearing me. It does not bother me. I expect it.”
    It bothers me, Marguarita admitted, shivering. The water is growing cold and I need to get out. It wasn’t the cold water, but more the realization of the enormity of her decision. She had made up her mind to save this man—to love this man—without fully understanding just how different and dangerous he truly was. She didn’t regret the decision, but she was feeling her way through a minefield.
    He reached almost lazily for a towel and held it, clearly expecting her to step out of the bath in front of him. She had asked for this, she reminded herself. She had wanted to belong to him and she’d told him she would do whatever it took to make him happy. Standing naked for him didn’t seem too much, not after the way they’d had wild, abandoned sex, yet she felt herself blush from head to toe as she stepped from the tub and allowed him to envelope her in the large towel.
    “Why does it bother you, Marguarita?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave. “These people are nothing to me. What does it matter if they think I am the devil?”
    These are my people, Zacarias, she explained carefully. She stood very still as he gently wiped the beads of water from her body. I love them and I don’t want them thinking untrue things of you. I want them to accept you as my choice.
    His hands stilled. “Why do you presume they think untrue things about me? Animals are restless in my presence. No horse has ever tolerated me near them. I am certain what they say is true—the cattle and horses are all edgy with my continued presence. I rarely stay near humans or animals. Long ago I noticed the reaction.”
    His voice was expressionless. Even. Factual. But she felt the little catch in his heart when he specifically mentioned horses wouldn’t tolerate his presence. He didn’t mind humans shunning him, but it bothered him that horses did. She drew in her breath. Another secret buried deep in his subconscious, one he didn’t acknowledge, but she saw it so clearly. She loved horses. Only another horse person would understand the deep need in her to spend time with the proud, beautiful animals. And she understood that unsaid, unacknowledged hunger in Zacarias.
    She wanted to put her arms around him and comfort him—but the irony was—he didn’t know he needed comforting. He was Zacarias De La Cruz. He felt no pain. No emotion. He was the ultimate killing machine, shadowed and tainted with evil and he accepted that with no self-pity in his heart. He simply was.
    How did one stay annoyed with such a man? It wasn’t in her to do so, no matter how many silly orders he threw out or how skewed his thinking was. She turned to face him and circled his neck with her arms, linking her