Carpathian 22 - Dark Predator

she felt as if he was the very air she breathed. How had it happened without her realizing he was slowly creeping into her head—and into her heart? She had been so afraid at first, mixing him up with her memories of the vampire. His behavior hadn’t helped—until she’d taken that plunge and allowed her mind to connect fully with his. He’d melt the hardest heart if they could see inside of him. He was noble, loyal, a man of honor. He deserved love.
    “Sívamet.” He whispered the Carpathian endearment aloud and pushed the word deep into her mind. “You see someone who does not exist. I wish he did. I would give anything to be that man you have given such a gift to. I am a warrior. Nothing more.”
    Marguarita slipped on the black lace panties, as provocatively as she was capable of being. The protest welling in her mind spilled into his. You are more than worthy—to me you are worth everything.
    He shook his head, but clearly the sight of that scrap of lace sliding between her firm, shapely cheeks distracted him. He cleared his throat and she smiled as she reached for a pair of her favorite jeans. They were worn and faded to a vintage light blue, the material soft and distressed on her thighs and over one knee, but they fit like a glove and when she rode, they were the most comfortable pair of jeans she owned.
    She felt his reaction more than saw it. His face was as expressionless as ever, although his eyes were alive with heat and desire. Very casually she clipped the bra on, allowing it to cup her breasts. The marks from his mouth and hands were visible through the peekaboo lace. He stepped close to her and bent his head to brush first her left breast and then her right with a soft kiss.
    “Did I hurt you?”
    You know you didn’t. You made everything perfect for me. He had. He had been rough, yes, but he had more than ensured she felt nothing but pleasure.
    Marguarita sank down onto the edge of the bed and pulled on thin socks and then her riding boots. She lifted each foot into the air to pull on the tanned leather boots, taking her time, enjoying the hunger in his gaze. Truthfully, the very act of dressing in front of him, having his focus so completely on her, was sexy beyond her imagining.
    She smiled up at him, noting his eyes were midnight black. He looked so larger than life, his body hard and scarred, well muscled. He flowed across the room, his shoulders filling the space, his eyes penetrating, his mouth sensual.
    I like looking at you. She admitted it shyly. She wanted him to know she was in his world, however he wanted her—that he wasn’t alone and that she had chosen of her own free will to be with him.
    “That’s a good thing, my beautiful lunatic, because you will be doing so for a very long time.”
    She noticed the indentations around his mouth. At first she thought them lines, but they were far more and she smiled to herself. Her tough man had a softer side after all. She didn’t mind being his lunatic. Quite possibly, she was one. She hadn’t looked at every aspect of her decision before making it. She’d jumped in with both feet and damned the consequences, but right now, as she pulled a thin tank over her head, her stomach cramped.
    She actually bent over to ease the pain. Instantly Zacarias’s hand went to the small of her back and she felt him moving through her. He did it so quickly, so easily, Marguarita was a little shocked. She lifted an eyebrow at him in inquiry.
    He rubbed her back gently. “We have had two blood exchanges, Marguarita. As a rule, it wouldn’t matter how much blood I gave you, such as I gave Ricco, but if we make an exchange, that will begin to work on your organs and the inside of your body, reshaping you in the way of the Carpathian people.”
    She slowly straightened up and looked him in the eye. You knew this?
    He shrugged. “Of course. It is the way of lifemates.”
    She heard her own heartbeat, its pounding rhythm. The hum of voices outside the house. The stamp of horses and low murmur of the cattle. Insects drowned out everything, the volume of noise horrendous. Marguarita pressed her hands to her ears, her gaze jumping to his for an explanation.
    “I have been careful to keep the volume turned down for you, because we were otherwise occupied, but you can do this yourself. Think about it. Think how soft you want the background noises. Humans do this automatically. Your refrigerators run and you no longer hear them, but the noise is