Carpathian 22 - Dark Predator

experience real feelings, the warmth and brightness of her filling every broken, jagged, shadowed , space, thrown back into that ugly, stark, bleak existence, made it utterly unbearable.
    He realized what his father had lived with. His mother had filled up those broken spaces with her warmth and bright light. Without her always residing within, the color and emotion within his father had faded just as it had done with Zacarias. The contrast was sharp and ugly and impossible to bear—not after so much joy. He stepped toward her, unable to resist that bright beacon when his world had gone so cold. His soul actually shuddered.
    “Do not seek to leave me.” He said it sharply, much harsher than he intended. His fingers bit down like a vise on her wrist, shackling her to him. He jerked her body close to his. The scent of a predator prowling for prey permeated the room. She tensed, looking as if he’d struck her.
    I don’t know why you would doubt me. I am adjusting to the things you’re revealing to me and I’ll admit they frighten me, but I am a woman of my word. I gave myself to you freely and I meant it. Whatever the future holds for me, I will find a way to deal with it and be happy.
    He felt her determination, but still, he was alone. Sun scorch the woman, she didn’t get it. He wasn’t about to plead with her, or take what she refused him. Would he stoop that low? He jerked her even closer, forcing her chin up so that her eyes met his.
    “You will not leave me again.” He gave her a little shake. He let her see the killer in him, that dark force that was more of his soul than any other part of him. “Do you understand me?”
    Marguarita looked confused. He had to give her credit; she was courageous when most men would have gone to their knees. She met his gaze without flinching. He felt that first, almost tentative reach for him and the relief was overwhelming, almost driving him to his knees. Her warmth slipped into his mind, seeking answers. He felt that hot flow filling him up, bridging those broken circuits, restoring vivid color. Emotions poured in. Fear amounting to terror. Hers? It had to be her fear of him. He didn’t know fear.
    The taste of terror was in his mouth. The horrifying emotion beat at his heart, and invaded his lungs so that his breath was trapped there.
    “You are all right. Take a breath.” He could barely get the words out.
    Marguarita shook her head, never taking her gaze from his. I am not afraid of you, Zacarias. I fear letting you down, but never that you will harm me. Her eyes never wavered, locked on his, forcing the truth into his mind. He feared losing her. He feared turning vampire. He— feared.
    Zacarias groaned out loud. Sun scorch her. She really was going to have him on his knees. She had reduced him to this. He hadn’t known fear, and now it consumed him. He’d never had anything worthwhile to lose. Certainly not his own life. But Marguarita with her soft body and her bright light and her mind filling his with life was worth everything to him. A treasure he wouldn’t— couldn’t —lose.
    He knew he would hold her too tight. He would smother her. He didn’t belong in a world where women made decisions for themselves, wore male clothing and dared to look at a predator such as he with such terrifying courage.
    A slow smile lit her amazing eyes. That sparkling champagne turned to a warm, inviting chocolate. You are not prehistoric, silly. Just as I have to learn about your world, you have to learn about mine. It’s an adventure we’re going on together and I’m looking forward to it.
    She made everything so simple when he knew it wasn’t. He knew what he was and even if she found a gentle side to him, he would rule her with an iron hand. A human woman could have no idea of the dangers in the world he lived in. Every vampire around the world would seek to target her at Ruslan’s insistence. Ruslan knew the shadows in him. He might not know how it worked, but he would know that Marguarita made Zacarias incredibly vulnerable.
    His hand slipped to the nape of her neck, his fingers curling around that fragile stem. He could hear her heartbeat. The air in her lungs. He inhaled her feminine fragrance, and she his. He bent his head slowly toward hers. She didn’t look away. She didn’t flinch. His woman, with more heart and courage than good sense. His fingers slipped around to the front of her throat. He could feel her pulse beating into the palm of his