looking to kill her. It is far safer for her to be inside the dwelling until I can remove the immediate danger to her.”
Julio shook his head. “You can’t just come here and decide that Marguarita is your woman. She may work for you, but she has rights. What does she say about this?”
“Julio,” Cesaro hissed in warning.
“She has no say in the matter,” Zacarias said, pitching his voice low—a velvet warning. “In our world, the man claims his woman and she is bound to him. There is no going back for either of them.”
“It’s a mistake.”
“It is impossible to make a mistake,” Zacarias said. “She is mine.”
“You don’t sound happy about it,
There was a short silence while Zacarias turned the idea over and over in his mind. All along, he had been thinking that exact thought—he didn’t want to be saddled with a human woman—any woman—but especially one who didn’t know the first thing about obedience. He had considered walking away from her, just leaving her without a word. He’d thought to stay a few days just to see color and feel just a little before ending his days. Hearing Cesaro give voice to his own thoughts changed everything.
He felt his gut tighten, his body react physically to the thought of losing her. His mouth went dry, something viselike squeezed his heart hard in his chest. Everything he was rebelled against the idea of breaking the ties between them. Marguarita was
So there it was. He had a lifemate, as crazy as the woman was, she belonged to him and he was keeping her. He flashed his teeth at Cesaro, allowing a flare of absolute predator to show in his eyes as a warning.
“I will not give her up. There is no discussion. If you both care for her as you say you do, this will stay between us. No one else can know, not even other members of your family. It is the only way to keep her safe.”
“Is she a prisoner?” Julio dared to ask.
Zacarias touched his mind. The man’s barrier was intact, but Zacarias had taken his blood and pushed harder to gain entry. Julio pressed his fingers to his temples, shaking his head.
“Just tell me what you want to know.”
Zacarias was already getting the impressions he needed. Julio did love Marguarita as a sister. It was a relief to know he wouldn’t have to kill Cesaro’s son. “Who is this man you do not like that keeps coming around to visit Marguarita?”
Julio looked startled. “Was I thinking about him?”
“You do not like the idea of Marguarita being my lifemate, but you like the idea of her being with this strange man even less,” Zacarias said. “Tell me about him.”
They were approaching the vine and Zacarias waved both men to a halt, not wanting them too close to the treacherous sap. “Just in the time I have spent with you, the vines have been busy.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Cesaro said. “The plant looks alive, eating everything in its path.”
Zacarias nodded. “The vampire bends everything to his evil purpose. He knows I am in residence and he will be nipping at my heels in the hopes of weakening me before he shows himself. Do not try to kill this plant yourselves. If anyone spots it, let me know immediately.”
Both men stepped well back when Zacarias waved them away from the destructive vines. Above their heads, clouds gathered, churned and boiled, silver veins flickered inside the turbulent patches. Lightning leaped along the ground, forks of white-hot energy traced the path of the thick vines, incinerating the wood, leaves and thick sap everywhere it touched. A foul smell much like rotting eggs permeated the air.
“Do not breathe it in,” Zacarias cautioned.
The trail of burning ash grew long and wide, racing over the ground and under it, following the path of the vines back to the original source—the edge of the rain forest. It was clear, seeing the blackened ash, the vine had been traveling toward the hacienda, searching for Zacarias’s resting place.
“Tell me about this man you do not like, the one you believe is courting my woman,” Zacarias commanded as they turned back toward the hacienda.
Light was just beginning to streak across the night sky, fading the stars and moon. Zacarias quickened his pace. Safeguards would be necessary throughout the ranch now.
“Esteban and his sister, Lea, moved here a few months ago,” Cesaro said, glancing at his son for confirmation. Julio nodded with a small frown. “Very wealthy and very arrogant. This is not the kind of man who settles here. He has no real interest in ranching or raising horses. I ask myself, why would this type of man come here to this remote part of the country when he is so obviously a city man?”
“That is a good question,” Zacarias affirmed. “Have you an answer?”
Julio sighed and shook his head. “We’ve talked it over several times. Either they’re hiding here, on the run from something or . . .” He trailed off and looked at his father.
“Or they’re hoping to get to a De La Cruz,” Cesaro admitted. “It is no secret who owns this land. It is far larger than any other holding here in our country, and although on record it looks as if each of your brothers has bought land to put together, one family having so much acreage is unusual. Your family has a certain reputation and many men would wish it to be known that you are friends. And the man, Esteban, often brings up the De La Cruz name, asking questions we do not answer.”
“It is possible they have knowledge they shouldn’t,” Julio added reluctantly.
“Did you express your concerns to Marguarita?” Zacarias asked.
“Marguarita is completely loyal to the De La Cruz family,” Julio snapped. “She would never betray you, certainly not to an outsider.”
“That is not what I asked,” Zacarias said.
Julio hung his head when his father sent him a dark scowl.
“No. Marguarita regarded Esteban and his sister as friends, no more than that,” Cesaro said. “She knew he was courting her, but then so were a lot of men. She showed no real interest so we thought it best to just tell her that he was an outsider and didn’t belong here. That is as far as it went.”
Zacarias nodded. “Do you really need her for the animals—the horses?”
Cesaro nodded. “Especially now. They are . . . disturbed.”
Zacarias broke away from the two men, heading back to the main ranch house. “Tomorrow evening then, she will help you.”
He didn’t wait for their response. It mattered little to him what they had to say. Marguarita was his woman, and for as long as he chose to remain on earth, no one else would direct her but him. He safeguarded the house, paying special attention to the foundation and the ground beneath the house before he added protection to the doors and windows. Only when he was completely certain Ruslan’s spies couldn’t penetrate his guards did he allow his mind to seek Marguarita’s.
She hadn’t moved from the floor in the kitchen. He found her sitting with her knees drawn up and her chin resting on top of them. She looked small and forlorn. His heart stuttered when her eyes met his. There was no condemnation in her expression or her mind. She simply looked at him with her dark chocolate eyes, her gaze drifting over his face, as if trying to read his mood.
He found her warmth filling his mind. She didn’t pour into him as she had before, but drifted in just as her gaze moved slowly over his face. His heart found the rhythm of hers, slowed her frantic pace so that they beat in sync. There were tear tracks on her face and the sight offended him. He crossed to her side and reached down to lift her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. She made no protest, but curled into him, resting her head against his shoulder. Her hair spilled around her face, hiding her expression, but she couldn’t hide her mind from his.
She was worried for him. She wasn’t thinking of herself or his reaction, the things he’d said and done to her,
