Very slowly he turned on the nuisance of a woman. She took two steps back and then made herself stop. She looked small and vulnerable and very, very afraid as she glanced toward Julio.
“Do not
She halted instantly, her face going completely white.
“No, Carpathians do not kill when they feed. You should know that. Are you uneducated as well as disobedient?”
She shook her head and looked around the room, her gaze settling on the pen and paper she’d been using to communicate with her lover. When she stepped toward it, he held out his hand and both items flew to him. He pushed them into his pocket for closer inspection later.
“You disobeyed again. Is there anyone you do obey? Or do you simply do whatever you want when you want to do it?” He kept his voice very low, afraid she might faint or fall down. She was so rattled he could see her shaking.
Was it possible she didn’t understand the enormity of her error? How was that possible? “Having a man in your room is absolutely forbidden. How could you not know that? Do you wish to be taken for a whore?”
She blinked her long lashes at him, her body suddenly quite still. A slow blush infused the pale white of her skin. He could clearly see the color sweeping up her neck into her face and the beauty of it captured his attention so that he almost missed that she stepped into him and swung her hand at his face.
He caught her wrist inches from his head only because of his preternatural speed. They stood toe-to-toe, gazes locked. She was furious. He could feel the rage in her, yet was hyperaware of the smallness of her bones, of the soft skin and lush curves. She was wearing a skirt and blouse, the skirt long, covering her slender legs and emphasizing her rounded hips and narrow waist. He found her pleasing in feminine clothes.
Her eyes sparkled at him, glittering like champagne diamonds. She no longer appeared gray or shadowed, but her every feature was beginning to emerge in color and detail. He had never encountered anything more beautiful in all his centuries of existence.
“I believe we covered the issue of you touching me without permission.”
He had never seen true sparkling champagne diamond with such pure chocolate and it was an amazing color, especially sparkling as her eyes were now. “I believe I asked if you wished to be taken for a whore. I did not call you one.”
He spoke very slowly and distinctly in case she didn’t quite grasp the difference. He also noted that along with her anger, she was much more adept at communicating telepathically. He could see her words in the impressions she sent and realized then what it must be like not to have an actual voice to express herself.
His thumb slid over her pulse in a small caress. He felt her shiver in response. “You look quite lovely in your feminine clothes. You will wear them at all times.”
She frowned. He thought she would like the compliment, but truly, she was difficult. Her eyes flashed with glinting fire, which was spectacular, but he had wished to please her. Females were difficult to understand.
He studied her defiant little face for a long time. She never once looked away from him. Never in his life had anyone defied him the way she did. He was beginning to think there was nothing dim-witted about her after all. “You really are
“My disobedient lunatic,” he answered honestly, expecting fireworks. He even took a firmer grip on her wrist.
Her lips twitched, curved into a smile so that her white teeth flashed at him for a moment. He got the impression of amusement in his mind and the feeling warmed him. “You are getting very good at communicating through our blood bond. It will increase in strength when we exchange blood again.”
A shadow crossed her face. She swallowed hard and nodded, refusing to look away. She was very afraid but she faced him with courage.
“It will not hurt, Marguarita,” he assured. “You will enjoy the experience.”
She didn’t look convinced but she nodded at him and then glanced again toward Julio. A roaring protest ripped through his body and he felt his teeth lengthen, exploding in his mouth before he could stop the reaction. She gasped, and he looked down at her wrist, still captured in his hand. His fingernails had lengthened into deadly talons.
He could smell the man, until the stench of him nearly overpowered the subtle fragrance that was Marguarita. He didn’t want a male close to her, let alone in her bedroom. He recognized he was at his most deadly.
“It is not safe for your friend to be here,” he admitted. Evidently some emotions were returning. Rage. The need to kill. Jealousy. Things he hadn’t experienced before and therefore had no way of anticipating or understanding what he was feeling, let alone the necessary knowledge to deal with such things.
Marguarita slowly nodded her head.
His body rebelled, his heightened senses already in battle mode. “That is not a good idea. I will take him to his house and leave him to rest.” He didn’t want another man around her while he was adjusting to the new, emerging and uncomfortable emotions. He counted himself lucky that he didn’t have the same reaction to his lifemate that his brothers had had.
She nodded her head, biting her lower lip a little anxiously.
“Is the word of a De La Cruz no longer good here? I have said I will leave him to rest, yet you are still anxious. Is this man someone important to you?”
He felt her struggle to make him understand. She looked around for a pen and paper but he shook his head. She was his lifemate and they needed to learn to communicate. She sent him one emotion-laden look, and then pushed the image of Riordan, his youngest brother, into his head. She pointed to Julio and then to herself.
“This man is your brother? Cesaro’s son?”
She nodded, frowning the entire time.
He didn’t want the man anywhere near her. “It is not safe for him. You understand me?”
Marguarita nodded her head. Zacarias couldn’t stand the presence of the other male close to her, or the worried look in her eyes. He scooped Julio up and draped him over his shoulder. He took a step away from her.
That soft caressing note in her voice sent a rush of heat speeding through his veins. He looked at her over his shoulder.
There it was, that now familiar need to smile. The amusement tamped down his need to destroy every male who had ever come near her. He needed her to use his more intimate first name. “Zacarias,” he corrected. “And no problem.”
He went out before the urge to heave the offending male through the window so he could yank Marguarita to him and taste her exquisite unique flavor overcame him.
Marguarita watched as he paused to casually wave his hand, weaving the splintered door back into a solid mass before striding out. She took a deep breath and allowed herself to sag onto her bed. Her hand shook as she pressed her fingers to her trembling mouth. She had never seen anything—including the rain forest predators— exploding into violence so fast.
Being in the same room with Zacarias De La Cruz was overwhelming, much like being with a tiger. He took up the entire space, the very air, with his power and energy. He always gave the impression with his focused stare of being alert and ready to strike instantly. When he did erupt into action, it was too fast to even follow and so violent the act was numbing to the senses.
She had done this. Made a terrible mistake. Zacarias had known he had grown too dangerous to be in the company of others and he had taken steps to protect them all. He had made an honorable decision, but she’d
