Dark 18 - Dark Possession

by Christine Feehan

  "You're still living in the dark ages, my man," she said, patting his knee, trying to feel auntlike and wise. Instead her heart was tripping, her stomach fluttering, and all she could think about was pressing her mouth to his to see if rockets went off again. Because she sure didn't want to think about being alone when the sun came up, and he was going to point that out any minute.

  He brought her hand to his mouth and nibbled on her fingers, his teeth sending little electrical currents zapping through her bloodstream with each nip. "The dark ages? I thought I had adapted to this century quite well."

  She laughed; she couldn't help it when he sounded so shocked. "I suppose for someone as ancient as you, you have adapted." And maybe it was the truth. He was born into a species and time when males protected and dominated women. He lived in a country where the same rules of society still often held. Of course he would feel he had a right to her if he believed she was his lifemate.

  Husband. She tasted the word, aware of the very breath moving through his lungs. He was too gorgeous for her, too wild and far, far too dominating, but she could dream and she could fantasize. She couldn't imagine really belonging to the man, not like Destiny belonged to Nicolae. But if he kept looking at her with those black, black eyes filled with such raw hunger, she might just forget all of her misgivings and try for one glorious night with him.

  "I just know what is right for my woman, how to protect her as well as please her, and she should have faith enough in me to trust that I will see to all her needs as well as every pleasure she—or I—could imagine."

  His teeth nipped at the sensitive pads of her fingers. It shouldn't have been erotic, but it was. He made everything sound that way, even his ridiculous suggestion of punishment. It was the velvet rasp of his voice, the way he could make it slide over her skin like a caress. If' someone else talked the way he did, she would have laughed, if not aloud, at least to herself, but with Manolito, she was tempted to try some of his more outrageous fantasies.

  "I'm reading your mind," he said softly, "and we need to be concentrating on how to get you out of here."

  "Well, they are just fantasies." She was not going to blush. Being stripped naked and tormented until she begged was frankly as sexy as could be, although the reality might not be the same as the imagination.

  "I can promise you that you will enjoy every moment with me," he assured her, and bit lightly on her finger before sucking it into the warmth of his mouth.

  His tongue teased and danced until she wanted to scream surrender. And he was just kissing her finger. She fanned her face. Maybe she was up for the reality of it after all. "Would you consider terms? Like not ordering me around? I might concede to working on being adventurous."

  "To be adventurous, you have to be willing to surrender yourself into my care," he countered.

  There it was again, that slow, sexy smile that burned through her skin and found hidden wild desires she shouldn't be contemplating with a man who was bent on her utter and complete surrender. "Tempting. But no. I'm not a woman who could ever turn over my life to a complete stranger."

  His chin nuzzled the back of her hand. Her breasts ached, as if his shadowed jaw had brushed her soft skin there. "But surrendering in the bedroom is not the same as surrendering out of it."

  "Is that an option with you?"

  "There is no option. There is only what is. You are my lifemate. We will find a way because that is the way of lifemates." The smile faded from his face. He kissed her knuckles and brought her hand once more over his heart. "You cannot stay here with me, MaryAnn; it is much too dangerous. I cannot tell what is real or illusion, and with our bodies in one world and our spirits in another, we are vulnerable in both places."

  "I don't know how to leave, and I wouldn't if I could. Not without you. How about I forgive you for anything you may have done to me." She looked around at the dull gray of the world. It appeared to be the rain forest, but without the vibrant color and sounds. Water ran out of the rocks and down the slope, but instead of clear or white, it ran in dark streaks.

  "I do not think it is that simple. First I have to figure out what I did to bring me to this place of ghosts and shadows."

  Chapter Six

  Ghosts and shadows. She so didn't like the sound of that. MaryAnn rubbed her chin on the top of her knees. There was always an answer; she just had to use her brain.

  Manolito leaned in close—close enough to envelope her in his pure male scent, to warm her body and make her feel feminine and protected. She sent him a faint irritated glare. She was trying to think and didn't need her brain shorting out. His smile sent every electrical pulse sizzling and snapping throughout her body.

  "Tell me what wrong I have done you. I would not hurt you for the world. I know I was never unfaithful. Tell me, päläfertiil, and I will do whatever it takes to make this wrong up to you, not to get out of here myself, but because I would never want to wrong my lifemate in any way."

  There was enough hurt in his voice, and concern, to turn her heart over. "Manolito, I honestly don't know what's going on, but you haven't had a chance to wrong me. I barely know you. I am not Carpathian. I live in Seattle and counsel battered women. That's how I met Destiny. We became friends, and through her, I ended up traveling to the Carpathian Mountains."

  He frowned. "That cannot be so. You say you are human, yet you can do things only a Carpathian can do. You have much power, MaryAnn. I feel it surging within you even when you talk to me. You are reaching out to soothe me, to make me feel better."

  She shook her head. "I'm human. My family is human. Everything about me is. I really, honestly just met you today. I saw you." And thought you were so beautiful it hurt. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against his shoulder. "You scared the hell out of me. Everything about you is frightening, some of it, most of it, in a good way."

  His kiss was the merest whisper of his lips over her cheekbone, but she felt it lodge right in her heart. "Why would I be frightening to you? You are the other half of my soul." He looked puzzled.

  She had a mad desire to rub away the frown lines between his brows, but she resisted, curling her fingers together. "You wouldn't understand." Because she wasn't all that attracted to men, not like this. Not so that she wanted to do anything and everything he asked. Nor so she couldn't breathe or think with wanting him. She liked her calm, controlled life. She wasn't in the least adventurous, in bed or out. Definitely not in. He was exotic and mysterious and oh, so dangerous. She was—well—just plain MaryAnn with her feet firmly on the ground. She didn't indulge in wild fantasies. Or obsessions, and Manolito could certainly be characterized as an obsession.

  Manolito swept his arm around her. "You have only to talk to me about your fears, ainaak sivamet jutta, and I will find a way to reassure you. I will get you out of here. We need to do so quickly, as the sun will be rising. When our bodies are in the realm of the living and our souls are in the meadow of mists, it is difficult to protect ourselves out in the open in the rain forest."

  "Then take us to your home. If we're there, we won't have to worry so much about something big attacking our bodies."

  "We must go to ground. The richest soil is the terra preta. Better to stay where the soil has a chance to rejuvenate us."

  Her heart slammed hard in her chest. "I'm not Carpathian. I don't go to ground. I'd die if the earth covered me. My heart doesn't stop like yours does. Please, believe me when I tell you, I'm not Carpathian."

  Manolito rubbed the bridge of his nose and regarded her through long lashes. "I know you feel our connection. I can read your thoughts much of the time, not because I'm invading your privacy, but because you're projecting them to me." He sent her a small half smile. "You try to comfort me. I can feel your energy wrapping me up in warm arms and stroking me, reassuring me all will be well."

  He was so close, all she had to do was lean in and kiss his sinfully sensual mouth. He was temptation sitting there, in the midst of danger and mystery. Wicked, shocking temp
tation. And she couldn't resist. MaryAnn pressed into him, crossing the scant inches that separated them until her lips brushed his. Just once. A slow savoring. Because if she was going to die, or stay in hell, she might as well get a taste of heaven while she was at it.

  His arms slid around her, and the earth dropped away along with her stomach. His mouth simply took her over. She hadn't known anyone could kiss like that. She tasted addiction and need. She tasted hunger and the biting edge of raw, carnal sex. For one terrible moment, either terrible or sheer ecstasy, she thought she might have an orgasm just from his kiss.

  "I can't breathe." She didn't care if he knew how much she wanted him. Everything ached. Everywhere ached. There wasn't a single cell in her body that wasn't aware of him; aware of wanting—no—needing him. In that moment she knew no one else would ever satisfy her. She would crave this man's taste, his touch, his face and body, even his wicked smile. She would dream of him and lie awake at night needing him. It was a terrifying realization that her life was no longer her own and that with him, she had very little control.

  "Easy, sivamet, you are in good hands."

  His voice was mesmerizing, every bit as sexy as his mouth. Strangely, he wasn't taking advantage; rather, he gathered her closer and held her protectively as if he knew her uninhibited and all-encompassing reaction to him scared her.

  "I'm out of my depth with you," MaryAnn admitted. She tried to breathe, tried not to hyperventilate, but she couldn't get her lungs to work. If it was possible, she thought she might actually be experiencing a panic attack over a kiss. Cool, unflappable MaryAnn was losing control over a man, and there wasn't even a sister close by to talk to. She was so out of her world here.

  "No, you are not," he said, the gentleness in his voice whispering over her skin. He kissed her again, breathing air into her lungs. "We are both in an unfamiliar situation."

  She wanted to laugh at the understatement, but she was too close to tears. Not because of the danger, but because this man who needed to be with some glamorous movie star or model was looking as if he had eyes only for her. She didn't dare talk about it anymore.

  Lifting her chin, she brushed his sensual mouth one last time and took a deep breath. "Let's try for the house. I should be safe there. Riordan and Juliette have to go to ground like you, but Juliette told me that her sister and cousin use the house during the day when no one is there. With three of us there, we should be safe. Vampires can't walk around during the day, can they?"

  "No, but they often have puppets who do their dirty work for them. The jaguar-men have been tainted by their evil."

  "How do you know?" MaryAnn took a cautious look around, aware that all the while Manolito had been kissing her, holding and comforting her, driving her wild, he had been scanning for enemies. She wasn't going to be able to resist his lovemaking if he ever got serious about it, but she really, really wanted the opportunity to try.

  "I met one of them, Luiz, not too far from here. He attacked me. When I reached for his mind to calm him, I knew the vampire had been influencing him. He actually was not a bad man at all. In other circumstances, perhaps we could have been friends."

  "I felt his attack on you. I tried to stop it," she admitted. "How bad did he get you?" She frowned. "He wanted to kill you."

  "It was brave of you to try to intervene, although you must never place yourself in harm's way. Trust me to take care of us." He had felt her, for that one moment, standing between the leaping cat and him, and he had slammed his mind closed to prevent any injury to her, but he had felt proud of her and, most importantly, part of her. "A few scratches is all he managed."

  He lifted his shirt to show his very muscular stomach. MaryAnn licked her lips. "I didn't think men were really built like you," she blurted out and then covered her face with one hand. He was holding the other one or she would have used that one, too.

  She was so shallow. That was it. Shallow. Because she was fixating on his six-pack, his ripped muscles, and how could she not notice the impressive bulge in the front of his jeans? He wasn't even trying to hide it. She should be thinking wounds and oh no and are you all right? But no, she was thinking about stripping him naked and having her way with him. She hadn't always been shallow, so maybe it was the strange shadow land they seemed to be in. But while she was at it, she might as well go all the way. She glanced down at her once beautiful boots. Maybe she needed some thigh-highs and a good long whip to be in control of herself—or of him.

  "I'm reading your mind again." There was male amusement in his voice.

  "Well good. Try to make some sense of it, because I'm not doing so well myself. Are you all right?" There. That was certainly appropriate. A little slow in coming, but she got it out there.

  The rain forest surrounded them, the water still pouring out of rocks and flowing into rivers. Everything appeared the same, yet different. Fouler. Much more frightening and strangely still. Before, when she'd first entered the forest, she had noticed it was quieter than she had thought it would be, but as she walked, she began to hear the cicadas and other insects, the cries of the birds, and wind and rain in the canopy. After a time, the forest seemed loud and filled with occupants, so that she didn't feel quite so alone. Now it seemed less vivid, drabber and dark, not so alive, and ominously quiet.

  Snakes slithered along the forest floor and coiled over twisted branches. Worms, leeches and ticks made the vegetation writhe and move as if alive. The beetles were large, with thick, hard shells, and the mosquitoes were ever present, searching endlessly for blood. The flowers gave off a rotten fragrance, and the scent of death seemed to cling to everything. But sometimes, when she blinked rapidly, or she thought about Manolito and how gorgeous he was, the rain forest was all vibrant color again. It made no sense, but it gave her hope that if she just took a little time, she could unlock the secret to getting them both out of the shadows.

  "Take me back to the house. Can you find your way?"

  "I do not want to lead danger back to the others."

  "If a vampire is hanging around the neighborhood, my guess is he knows all about the others. We're safer in numbers, especially if you aren't going to be with us." The idea of him leaving her alone caused instant panic. Her throat swelled until air could barely get through to her lungs, but she refused to give in to fear. He was Carpathian and she was human…

  MaryAnn went rigid. "Wait a minute. Wait a minute." She held up both hands, palms out as if she could block the information flowing into her. "Did you take my blood?"

  "Of course."

  There was that puzzlement again, as if she was maybe not quite as bright as he'd expected. "And you think I'm the other half to your soul. Destiny told me that in your society the man can marry the woman without her consent and bind them together. Is that true? Did you do that to us?"

  "Of course."

  MaryAnn scrubbed a hand over her face. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "How many times does it take to convert a person to Carpathian?"

  "It takes three blood exchanges if they are not already Carpathian."

  She bit down hard on the end of her thumb, memory flooding her. She looked down at her fingernail—the one she had broken earlier in the forest. It had grown to the length of the others and then some. All of her fingernails had grown. Sometimes that was a problem. She had to cut them often, but not daily. Maybe it was the Carpathian blood accelerating the growth. "How many times have you exchanged blood with me?"

  Her palm slid over the mark on her breast. It still throbbed and burned as if his mouth was on it. Why could she imagine that all of a sudden? Why was she so certain his mouth had been there? Why could she feel his mouth, burning like a brand, against her skin when his lips should never have been there? Not skin to skin. He had kissed her, slid his mouth over her; she still had a warm, wet spot on the nearly nonexistent lace of her bra. As sexy as it had been, it wasn't his mouth on her skin, so why was the memory suddenly so strong?

  "I would imagine many t
imes."

  She inhaled sharply. "You don't really know, do you? Manolito, if you don't know, and I don't know, we could be in real trouble. I am not Carpathian. I was born in Seattle. I went to school there and then to Berkeley, in California. If it's true that you've exchanged blood with me, I know I haven't gone through the conversion. I would know if I had to sleep in the ground. I'm still just me."

  "That cannot be so. I remember taking your blood, binding us together. You are a part of me. I cannot be mistaken."

  She opened her mind and memories to him. "I'm telling the truth when I say I haven't met you before. It's the truth that I saw you at a party in the Carpathian Mountains, but we were never formally introduced. I am physically attracted, but I don't know you at all." Okay, wildly physically attracted, but this was serious and she could overlook it—she hoped. Everything was falling into place. The things Riordan and Juliette had told her were beginning to make sense. Her heart thudded hard.

  He was silent, assessing her memories of him, dwelling a little too long over the one he found of a man coming into her house and attacking her. He felt the lengthening of his sharp teeth and the demon within roaring for release. Very carefully, he hid his reaction. She was coping with enough, and if he had somehow brought her into his life without her knowledge—or his—raging like he wanted to because she hadn't been safe would only make things worse.

  "If what you say is true, MaryAnn, then how is it we are lifemates? Speaking the ritual words cannot connect two people who are not one. I could say them to every woman I met, but it would do me no good."

  "Maybe you made a mistake," she ventured. "Maybe we aren't really connected."