Dark Predator d-22

by Christine Feehan

  He looked down at Marguarita. All those centuries ago, had she been there, a whisper in his soul keeping him from falling into that dark abyss? He didn’t understand how it could be so, but that rapt look of joy on her face when she observed the horses, echoed in his own heart. Horses. Simple creatures, yet complex at the same time. Each had their own personality. Most had a wild spirit he understood and now, with his spirit connecting with the horses in the stable, he realized they weren’t so far from him after all.

  “Thank you, sívamet. You have given me another gift beyond measure.”

  We are nowhere near finished. There’s so much more. Come with me.

  He didn’t want to ruin this perfect moment. He stood just behind Marguarita, his arm wrapped around her waist from behind, his spirit floating with hers through the stable and mingling with the spirit of the horses. The ride was exhilarating, and yes, because he was so tightly woven into Marguarita’s spirit, even sensual. His every sense was alert and alive. He smelled what the horses smelled. Felt what they felt. The wild freedom of just being, and the affection pouring from them for Marguarita—and now for him. He was tightly entwined with her, the two becoming one and the horses accepted his presence.

  “You have done more for me than I ever thought possible,” he whispered into her ear, nuzzling her, his teeth tugging on her sensitive earlobe. “You are my miracle.”

  Her soft amusement brushed like a caress. I am your lunatic, remember, so I say there is much more. And I want so much more for you. Let me give you this, Zacarias. Trust me. I put myself into your hands, put yourself into mine.

  His arm tightened around her. She was already so much to him he couldn’t imagine what would happen if she gave him more. Being alive was extraordinary. Feeling joy was immeasurable. His world had been a dull gray. The colors of the horses gleamed bright, almost like glittering diamonds. The scent of the hay and stamp of hooves were etched into his soul for all time. He would always have this moment Marguarita had given him. If things went wrong, nothing could mar this perfection.

  He brushed his mouth across her ear, breathed warmth against that perfect little shell. “Then continue. I’ll follow where you lead.”

  He took the time to once again scan the ranch for vampires, that sign of shadows, or even blank spots where the undead tried to cover their tracks, but if Ruslan was close by, or if he’d sent his lesser pawns ahead of him, they weren’t anywhere near the ranch.

  Marguarita opened the door to the stall and stepped right in, close to the mare. Zacarias found he was holding his breath again. She looked quite small beside the horse. She was right, the animal wasn’t particularly tall, but she exuded power and held herself nobly. She nuzzled Marguarita with her nose and, if Zacarias hadn’t stepped in, right behind her, the gentle touch might have pushed her back a step. His arms went around her waist from behind to steady her with his taller, stronger frame.

  Her hands came up to caress that inquisitive nose. He noticed how, with every stroke of her fingers, she did the same in her mind, brushing her spirit against the horse’s spirit just as lovingly.

  Marguarita reached down, took his hand in hers, and brought it to the mare’s arched neck. His body went still as he felt her press his palm against that warm, smooth neck. For the first time ever in his endless existence, he was actually touching a horse. He had steadfastly refused to control the animals down through the centuries. If they refused to give him allegiance, then he would rather not get near them.

  His hand trembled. His belly knotted. A thousand butterflies took wing. He had been all over the world, sailed the seas, raced through meadows and fields of flowers and had resided in enormous, beautiful caves, yet he had never done such a simple thing as touch a horse. The enormity of what Marguarita was giving to him shook him. What had he done for her? He’d scared her nearly to death and he’d put her life in jeopardy by tying them together.

  Stop, silly. Marguarita rubbed the back of her head against his chest while she slowly stroked his hand over the horse’s neck. You said yourself that I don’t obey very well. Do you think I would do something so life-changing if I wasn’t fully committed? That it wasn’t what I wanted? Stay with me, right here. Be in this moment with me and let everything else go.

  He nuzzled her neck and then bit down gently. “Did you just call me silly? I do not think I have ever, in all my existence, been referred to in such a disrespectful manner.”

  Really? She sent him a smoldering look over her shoulder, one eyebrow arched and mischief sparkling in her eyes. Perhaps others don’t know you in quite the same way I do.

  He bit her again, this time with a little sting so he could bathe her pulse with his tongue.

  Do you want to go for a ride?

  His heart leaped. “On a horse? Do you think one will tolerate me?”

  Do you feel fear from any of them now? They know you the way I know you, spirit to spirit, and they accept you as they do me.

  He was more worried about Marguarita now, not about ruining the moment—Marguarita on the back of a horse, flying over fences at night. A small hole in the ground could cause a misstep and break the horse’s leg, sending her tumbling to the ground. A thousand possibilities crowded into his mind. She had become as essential to him as the rich earth he rejuvenated himself in.

  She leaned her head back against his chest, snuggling into him. I need to ride.

  His first thought was that he didn’t care. Need was a word she didn’t truly understand; he knew what it meant and it wasn’t the dream of riding a horse. Need was elemental. Need was the ability to feel emotion and to feel alive. It was Marguarita forever in his mind, lighting up every shadow, connecting those broken paths so he could feel life running through his body, feel it with every breath he took. He’d forever been damned to a kind of living hell. She’d dragged him out and, by all that was holy, he wouldn’t—couldn’t—go back there. That was need. True need.

  Zacarias felt her grow still. She didn’t pull away—or protest. He heard her heart accelerate. She had put herself into his keeping, under the rule of a dictator. He knew better than she just how much of a dictator he would be. She made no move to influence him; she simply waited for his decision. A part of him wanted to see her reaction if he denied her. Would she sulk? Argue? Be angry with him and try to retaliate.

  Look into my mind, Zacarias, she offered. I do not go back on my word. I knew this wouldn’t be easy for either of us. I asked a great sacrifice of you. Would I expect less of myself?

  Sun scorch the woman, she was definitely bringing him to his knees. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, threatening to crush her fragile, feminine, human bones. “You are impossible. And you make no sense. If you wish to ride, then you will ride. But Marguarita, if your life is threatened in any way, I will kill whatever threatens you. You will not hold that against me. Do we have an understanding?”

  Her lashes fluttered. She knew what he meant; he could see it in her eyes. She turned to face him, her fingers brushing over his face with the lightest of caresses, but he felt that touch all the way to his very bones, as if she branded him with her name, with her spirit. She nodded slowly. There will be no need, Zacarias.

  He shrugged. If one of her beloved horses threatened her, there would be no question as to what he would do. Just as if one of her beloved workers threatened her. Man or beast, he would destroy every enemy. It was what he was good at. This—finding a balance with a woman was an altogether different proposition.

  But enjoyable, she pointed out.

  “Enjoyable,” he echoed. “More than I can express.” Although another woman might have made it a mindfield for a man such as Zacarias, a throwback to medieval days.

  Further, my man, much further. Try caveman, she teased as she opened the stall beside the mare. This is Thunder. He moves as if he has wings. There is no better horse on the ranch to ride.

  He could feel the pride in her. She was offering him one of her greatest pleasures. Her eyes shone again
like the sparkling champagne. If he’d never wanted to ride a horse, he would have done it, just for that look. He pushed his worries for her safety to the back of his mind. He was powerful and he could watch carefully, a small price to give them both this special moment.

  You use your connection with Thunder to guide him into doing what you wish. There’s no need of a saddle or bridle. I just ride bareback and think where I want to go and they take me. If I’m just riding for the beauty of riding, I let them go to their favorite places on the ranch. They like sharing the control.

  Zacarias didn’t like sharing control with anyone or anything. He nodded his head and laid his hand on Thunder’s neck. Instantly he felt the horse’s spirit brush against his. He knew he could do nothing to hide his nature from the animal. He was born to lead, and if the horse didn’t accept the dominance in him, there would be disappointment for Marguarita.

  Her soft amusement slid into his mind. There you go again. You disregard your own feelings. The disappointment will be yours. You want to do this. Thunder knows and he’ll do as you wish. I want this for you, because you want it, not for myself. It’s all right if you’d rather just watch me ride.

  “Not a chance. I will be at your side every moment you are outside and exposed to danger.” He couldn’t help the hard edge in his voice—the one that should have told her there was no give to that side of him.

  Marguarita smiled at him, caught the horse’s neck and leaped on in one smooth, practiced movement. He could see how her male jeans were an asset. The moment the thought entered his head, so did the memory of her body encased in nothing but black lace. A thick erection was not going to be an asset on the back of a horse and he willed the erotic picture of her out of his mind.

  It was easy enough to slip onto Thunder’s back—after all, he was Carpathian and could levitate—but it wasn’t quite as easy ridding himself of the picture of Marguarita’s body, bare but for those small wisps of lace, her cloud of blue-black hair tumbling like a waterfall down to her waist. He raised his head and looked at her. Her eyes met his, full of mischief, sexy, dark desire flickering in their depths.

  She was temptation. And she was fun. Her soft amusement stroked him like fingers, and the flow of her spirit into his was suggestive, sensual, erotic, her mind circling his thickening cock like a fist and stroking. Her eyes transformed to dark, melting chocolate, filled with lust—for him.

  Her horse turned abruptly and exited the stables. Horse and rider flowed over the ground, not at a particularly fast pace, but a ground-eating four-beat gait that was breathtaking. He urged Thunder to follow, and the horse immediately responded, taking them from the stable. Zacarias felt almost as if he were floating through the air. He felt every muscle of the powerful animal beneath him, felt the joy in the horse as it trotted over the ground, gathered itself and sailed over the fence right behind the mare.

  As connected as he was, spirit to spirit with Thunder, he felt the way the earth seemed to rise up to meet the dancing hooves, he felt the wildness as the wind blew the mane across the horse’s face as he trotted. They flew across the field and then the next one, riding the edge of the rain forest where the tangle of fern, trees and wildflowers winding up trunks added to the beauty of the moment.

  He urged Thunder to Sparkle’s side so that the horses moved in perfect unison. Marguarita sent him a smile and his cock stirred again. The moon spilled down a silver glow over her, pushing moonbeams into her hair. Her skin was gorgeous, and her spirit was alive in his, all that hot flowing magma, slowing working its way through his mind and deeper, into his soul. She filled those empty, jagged holes with her brightness.

  He looked for her smile. He watched carefully for the desire rising in her eyes. He waited for the moonlight to shine through the silken strands of her hair. Moments of beauty. Of pure delight. He’d never known such things and now, in her, everything he needed was there, in this strange human woman. He was beginning to realize life with another was lived in moments. Heartbeats of time, and this was one of them. A perfect moment. It would last centuries, stored in his mind to be pulled out again and again as if it were brand-new.

  She reached out to him and he linked his hand with hers. They walked the horses along the fence line and he found he was at complete peace. The sound of the hooves hitting rock and ground added to the rhythmic beauty of the horses’ easy gait. The wind blew gently and the stars vied for space in the sky.

  “You keep giving me incomparable gifts, Marguarita. What have I given you?”

  She was silent a moment, her dark eyes moving over his face. You. Your life. You stayed with me against everything in you telling you it was time to go. You stayed when I asked. You know better than I the future we face together. You were weary of fighting, and yet, when I asked, you stayed. Thank you.

  “I meant every word of the ritual binding vows. I will cherish you and place you above all others. I am a dominant being, I cannot change what is fundamental in me, Marguarita, no matter how much either of us would wish it, but I will see to your happiness.”

  I see into your heart, Zacarias. I know you will.

  “The things I demand of you will not always be easy,” he warned.

  I was aware of that the moment I realized you were not vampire and I had condemned you once again to this world. I took the time to see who you are. I know you are not a modern man and it worries you that I will one day rebel against the chains you put on me. Her fingers tightened around his and they locked gazes. If it is what you need—truly need—my obedience to your will in that moment, it will be the most important thing in the world to me. No matter how hard. I meant what I said when I asked you to stay. I serve you out of choice. I want your happiness.

  He knew the truth of her words. She was prepared for his dominance, but she also realized things he did not. She had taken into account his feelings for her. He didn’t recognize those emotions ninety percent of the time, or acknowledge them, yet she knew they were there and that the feelings were growing each moment in her company.

  He tried one more time to let her know what it would be like with him. “I will rarely leave your mind, Marguarita. You will never be alone, never have a thought I do not know. Every breath in your body, I will feel. I will know where you are, who you talk with. There will be nowhere that you can go that I will not be with you.”

  She smiled at him and let go of his hand to lean forward and pat the neck of her horse. I am growing used to feeling your eyes on me and it’s becoming lonely when I am without you in my mind. I had not realized how truly alone one can be until I felt you inside me.

  Zacarias took control of both horses, turning them back toward the stables. He wanted to be inside more than her mind. He wanted to see her body without the denim hugging her skin so lovingly. He needed the feel of her hands on him, the hot velvet of her mouth fitting tightly over him. He looked at her, knowing she could see the hunger in his smoldering gaze.

  Her answer was that small, mysterious, all too sensual smile that teased his cock into hardness. He urged Thunder forward, needing Marguarita. She’d given him this night, a gift, and he wanted more. Maybe he would always want more.

  Marguarita contemplated Zacarias’s thoughts as she quickly rubbed down the horses and led them into their stalls with a small mixture of hay and feed for thanks before turning to face her man. Excitement had been building in her from the moment she’d slipped the lacy underwear on right in front of him. It had been a daring thing to do and made her damp just thinking about it.

  The erotic images in Zacarias’s head made that dampness grow into distinct wetness. He couldn’t fail to scent her welcoming call to him, but she took her time, letting the sexual tension stretch out right there in the stable while she washed her hands and dried them carefully before she turned to him.

  How can I please you? She loved the sound of inquiry, that soft submissive questioning. She didn’t need a voice or words to indicate she wanted her hands and mouth on him, that she wanted his e
very desire met—by her.

  “I want you to touch me. Explore my body as I explored yours.”

  His voice was mesmerizing, the command in his tone so masculine. She didn’t understand why she felt the need to ease his burdens the way she did, but there was a drive in her to meet his every need. This man had battled alone for centuries. Entirely, utterly alone. He was wounded in places no one could see and in all his lonely life, he had only let one person close enough to see inside of him—her.

  Her heart stuttered with pleasure, knowing he found solace in her body, that he found peace. She would do anything to bring him that and she would find her own enjoyment in every act, every compliance.

  Just like that his clothes were gone and she was gasping at the size and shape of his heavy erection. He was so thick and long, much more so than she believed possible in a man. She found it impossible not to touch him. Her hands had a life of their own and really, after all, he’d given his permission.

  Amusement slid into her mind. “More than permission, my beautiful lunatic, a command. Please me.”

  She couldn’t have refused that teasing note, or the edge of hunger she felt pushing against her mind. Her fingers slid up his thigh, all the while she watched his face and kept her mind firmly planted in his. She wanted to feel his every reaction. She needed to observe him as well. The breath leaving his lungs in a rush was an aphrodisiac. She touched the fiery head, a thick round knob with a single pearl leaking. She used the tip of her finger to spread that lubrication over the head until it was glistening. His eyes burned with heat.

  I trust that no one will come near. Even as she expressed her fear, she obeyed the pressure of his hands on her shoulders, sliding down to her knees.

  She could feel his pleasure at the mere sight of her kneeling in front of him, hair spilling wildly down her back, her eyes bright, her lips slightly parted. “You are beautiful, Marguarita. I wish to see those wisps of lace covering your body. I thought about them on our ride together and how your body would look covered in those little scraps of lace.”