They were in the canopy of a huge tree, vines tangling rapidly beneath them to form a solid deck. The vines continued to twist and climb, adding a solid railing so she could walk around in the treetops and feel as if she were on rooftops in her hometown. He slowly let her out of his arms, watching her turn her face to the sky.
MaryAnn caught her breath as she looked around her. Mist looked like diamonds falling across a midnight sky. Stars scattered and sparkled, tiny crystals glittering everywhere she looked. Up so high, she felt she might touch the moon. It wasn’t close to being full, but it was a magical sight. She crossed to the railing, holding firmly with both hands, and looked beneath her. She saw treetops, leaves shining silver instead of green, branches forming highways for animals; the flutter of wings, the moonbeams catching the colors of feathers as the birds settled in for the night. Tendrils of fog wound in and out of the tree trunks, adding to the mystery and beauty.
She turned back to him, resting against the railing as she drank in the sight of him. He belonged to the night. A lord or a prince. The strong bones gave his face a noble, masculine appearance, and that molded mouth held a hint of both sensuality as well as cruelty. Danger and passion. She pressed her hand to her stomach to quell the butterfly wings.
“It is beautiful, Manolito. Thank you for bringing me here.”
There was no smell of blood or death. No horror in the eyes of young women. There was only the night and Manolito.
She smiled at him. “I feel the mist, yet it isn’t cold and my clothes aren’t wet.”
“I am Carpathian. I can control such things.” He waved his hand, and the leaves began to tangle with flowers, forming a solid bed, thick and soft and inviting.
Her heart jumped in anticipation.
“Why do you wear your hair in such a tight braid? It’s so beautiful, all the curls and waves and the color of it shining in the moonlight. Let it down.” His hand went to the fastener holding her hair in some semblance of control.
She caught his hands to stop him. “I have natural curl, Manolito. In this weather my hair would be huge and kinky, and with no stylist around, I’d be in serious trouble.”
“It’s wild and beautiful.” His fingers were busy stripping the band from her hair.
“You don’t understand. It’s wild all right. I could use tons of products to hold it in place, but the mist would wash them right down my face and into my eyes and that would sting and streak and be a huge mess. So leave it.” She tried to sound tough, but it was impossible with the feel of his fingers tugging her hair out of the braid. She only succeeded in sounding breathless.
“I like the skirt. Thank you for remembering for me.”
She had put it on for him. She was giving too much of herself away, but she wouldn’t be less honest than he was being. The skirt and blouse were not only ultrafeminine, but made her feel sexy and desirable as well. She wanted to feel that way for him. She wanted him to see her that way.
“It’s one of my favorites.” Was that her voice? She sounded more seductive than he did, and she didn’t want that. She wanted to know him. She wanted a chance at—everything.
Her hair was out of the braid now, flowing around her face and shoulders. He reached under it to cup the back of her neck, his thumb sliding over her skin, as if savoring the feel of it. There was an unexpected tenderness in his touch. She could feel heat all the way down to her toes. It was suddenly difficult to breathe.
“Does your leg hurt?”
The memory of his mouth on her leg, the feel of his tongue rasping over her skin, sent another wave of arousal washing through her body. She shook her head, afraid to speak, when his thumb smoothed over her ear and teased a shiver down her spine.
“Come lie down with me, look at the stars while we talk.”
She wasn’t certain she could speak when it came right down to it, not without babbling or, worse, pleading for his touch.
She sank rather gingerly onto the bed of leaves and flowers, trying to hold the image of leeches in her mind, but the flowers gave off a wonderful fragrance and the bed was as soft as the best mattress she’d ever lain on. Because she was afraid, she stayed in a sitting position.
Manolito caught her calf in his hands, drew down the zipper to her boot and pulled it off. “You may as well be comfortable, MaryAnn.”
There was a command in the firm touch of his fingers, but gentleness in his voice. She made no objection, just let him remove the boots and set them aside so she could draw her knees up. He sent her a faint, mocking smile and stretched out, fingers laced behind his head.
“I thought I’d be afraid up here,” she admitted, to break the silence. To find a safe subject.
“You are afraid.”
“This is an unusual situation.” She snuck a peek at him over her shoulder. He lay like an offering, casual and lazy and very deceptive when she could feel heat radiating off his body, when she could see the ripple of muscle and the bulge he didn’t bother to hide. His features were stamped with raw desire, his eyes devouring her.
He brought one arm down to his side, the fingers curling against her thigh, rubbing back and forth through the thin royal blue silk. “I am your lifemate, MaryAnn, your husband. There is no need to fear the things I want from you. Like your hair and your skin and whatever dwells within you, what is between us is as natural as breathing.”
“I don’t know you well enough to give you that kind of trust. A woman like me needs to trust a man completely to give herself to him like you’re asking.”
“I do not ask.” There was a faint smile in his voice.
For a moment she thought he was saying he didn’t want her, but then she realized he meant he would demand what he wanted from her. She rubbed her chin on the top of her knees, contemplating instructing him in human law.
The fingers along her thigh bunched in her skirt, continuing to slide up and down in mesmerizing strokes. “I am not human, sivamet, and more than anything else, I wish to bring pleasure to my woman. What is wrong with that?” He sounded genuinely puzzled.
“Maybe I don’t want that.”
His laughter was low and sexy, playing over her body with the same mesmerizing stroke as his fingers. “But you do. It is what you fear most, but it is also what you want most. As I know you are safe in my keeping, there is no reason to deny you what you want—or need.”
“I’m afraid that may take some time.” His touch was light, but the heated silk against her skin made her muscles bunch in reaction.
“I do not think so, MaryAnn. When you lie beneath me, when my body is in yours, you trust me more than when we are apart.”
Color swept up her neck and into her face before she could control it. She couldn’t deny it. She would have done anything he asked of her. She had and more. But it was too much, too soon. She moistened her dry lips with her tongue. “I’m not ready yet.”
“Fair enough.”
His answer was so unexpected she turned to look at him. It was a mistake. His black eyes glittered with possession, with raw lust.
He patted the mattress of flowers. “Lie down beside me. We’ll talk.”
There was no hint of compulsion in his voice, at least she didn’t think so, but she still found herself lying down beside him. Thigh to thigh. Hip to hip. She stared up at the sky and watched the mist sparkling above them and searched for a topic that would lead to a real discussion, one that might reveal more of who and what he was.
“Do you like living here?”
“I have grown to call this land home. I love everything about it. The rain forest, the cattle ranch, the people, even the horses. I was not the best of riders when we first began ranching.” He laughed softly at the memory. “I have not thought of that time in years. We knew nothing at all, but wanted to appear human. Fortunately, we had the Chavez family to aid us. We had the money and they had the knowledge. We have worked closely ever since.”
“I would have liked to see your first ride on a horse.”
; “I did not spend a lot of time in the saddle. I wished to be macho like the Chavez brothers so I didn’t use my mind to control the horse.”
She relaxed a little, laughter bubbling up. “I wish I’d been there.”
The pads of his fingers traced the shape of her thigh. “I am very glad you weren’t. Unless you had controlled the animal for me.”
“That would have been interesting, and very tempting, although I have no idea why you think I have psychic ability.”
“Because you do.”
“If I do, how can I not be aware of it, yet everyone else is? What exactly do I do psychically?”
His fingers once again began that steady caressing through the silk of her skirt. “You are actually quite powerful. You gather energy and use it when you need it. I think you have been doing so all of your life, probably since you were a child, so it is normal to you. Completely natural. Like your hair.” His hand slid up to the intriguing curls. He tugged gently, just enough to bite at her scalp.
She felt the pull through her body, a flash of heat she couldn’t deny or control. “I don’t do that.” She didn’t think she did. “How would I even use something I don’t know about? How would it work?”
His hand slid from her hair down her arm to her wrist. He circled it lightly as if his fingers were a living bracelet. “If I knew that, päläfertiil, I would never be concerned about you knocking me on my rear.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.” He brought her hand to his mouth to scrape his teeth over her palm. “It was a good jolt, too. I was proud of you—once I got over the fact that my woman had slapped me down.” His tongue swirled over the exact center of her palm, easing the tiny sting of his nipping teeth.
“You’re very oral, aren’t you,” she said, tugging at her hand. He didn’t let go, and the sensation of his mouth, hot and moist, closing tightly over her finger sent flames dancing across her skin straight to the junction between her legs.
“Very,” he admitted, his voice dropping low, his black gaze burning through the thin material of her blouse to her full breasts as they rose and fell with the fast tempo of her breathing.
She licked her lips again and stifled a groan when his gaze jumped to her mouth. “Stay on track here, Manolito. I really want to figure out how I could be psychic.” Because she was fast losing her ability to think with her brain.
“Of course you’re psychic. You can read people, and you know exactly what to say to them to help them find their way.”
She laughed. “I was hoping for a real revelation, not fantasy. I went to school a very long time to become a counselor. Whether or not I’m any good has nothing to do with being psychic. I’m trained and I have a lot of experience.”
“You are able to get inside their heads. You think it is instinct, and maybe that is another word for your talent. You act a lot on intuition.” He turned her hand over and bit gently at her knuckles. “We could use a little instinct right now.”
“I don’t think psychic ability is much good if you don’t know how you’re using it,” she protested. If she really did have some talent, it would be kind of cool, but not if she couldn’t wield it properly. “I can connect with you because of the blood thing, but can’t really do much else.”
“You do plenty well with your power. You throw people out of your mind at will. Very few people can do that, MaryAnn. It is a very intriguing ability.” His hand dropped to his side between them once again, fingers bunching in her skirt.
“Where does it come from?”
“Many sources. I think all societies had a few who possessed some ability to manipulate energy. Some species were stronger than others, but once they began to mix, over the years, you find both amazing talent and none at all.”
It made sense. She felt the caressing pads of his fingers as he bunched her skirt higher to expose the long expanse of skin along the leg closest to him. He remained lying beside her, staring up at the stars, but his hand slid under the silky material to move along her thigh and hip, shaping her curves.
Everything in her went still. Every muscle clenched in response to that light touch. “What are you doing?”
“Memorizing you. You have such soft skin. It is hard not to touch you.”
He wasn’t trying that hard, not that she could see. She moistened her lips again and tried to concentrate on conversation. “Did you know the jaguar people when there were still quite a few of them?”
“The shifters, especially the jaguar and werewolves, were always secretive societies. They kept to themselves. We all had a ‘live and let live’ philosophy, so we didn’t mix unless someone committed crimes in our territories. Karpatii, mage and humans were close. The others stayed away from us and from each other. The other shifters disappeared so fast they are barely a memory. It was obvious that if the society did not take care of its women and children, that it was impossible for that species to continue, but the jaguar refused to acknowledge or learn from the mistakes other species had made. They wanted to keep their animal instincts and live free.”
She was silent a long moment, watching the shimmering mist and the wheeling and dancing of bats as they hunted insects in the night sky. There was a kind of beauty and peace in the strange ballet they performed. Lying there, she could understand why some people preferred the rain forest to the city, especially if they were with a Carpathian who could keep insects and rain from ever touching them.
“Has it been difficult living through so many changes?” He must have seen so much. Learned so much. Suffered so much.
“Longevity is both a curse and a blessing. You see people you care about coming and going while you endlessly remain. War is the same. Poverty. Ambition and greed. But there are such wonders, MaryAnn, wonders worth all the rest.” He turned his head, his dark gaze liquid black in the moonlight. That was what she was to him. Wonder. A miracle. She had no idea. He caught glimpses of her thoughts when she opened her mind to him. She didn’t understand how a man like him would ever look at her, let alone want to spend eternity with her. She had no idea of her own appeal. The light in her shone like a beacon.
Everything about her appealed to him. She was courageous, yet didn’t see herself that way. She had more compassion in her than any other person he had ever encountered. Often, at great risk to herself, she went to the aid of others. There was an innocence about her, yet her eyes were old. She’d seen life at its worst, but refused to give up hope.
“What are you looking for?” She tilted her chin a little at him.
“Acceptance.” He didn’t think to hide himself from her. One never did, not from one’s lifemate. He needed that from her. That she could see him, all of him. He wanted to stand before her with all his flaws and know that she could still accept who he was. It had never mattered before. Now acceptance was everything.
He rubbed the pad of his fingers along her glowing skin. Nothing had ever felt so soft and inviting. It seemed a miracle—another wonder in life—to be able to touch her like he was. To lie beside her with the stars above them and talk quietly together.
“Tell me your worst trait.”
His teeth flashed white in the moonlight. “I think we should start with something good.”
“If we go with the worst, then we get it out of the way fast. We know what it is and whether we can handle it. I’m stubborn. Not just a little bit, either. I’m really stubborn. I don’t like being pushed around.”
“I am always right.”
Her soft laughter teased at his groin like caressing fingers. He had forgotten, or maybe he had just never experienced, perfect enjoyment like being with a woman who could arouse him the way she did. He could listen to that laugh for all time and never get tired of it.
“So you think.”
“So I know.”
“And you expect everyone to do what you say because you’re right.”
“Of course.”
She wrapped his hair around her finger. “Since we’re telling secrets, do
es it bother you to be called Manolito instead of Manuel? I know that ‘little man’ is often used for boys instead of men in some countries.”
“It is a term of affection to my brothers. I do not care, and have never cared, what others think, only that those I love accept me. Does it bother you?”
“Manolito in other countries is a more commonly used name, with nothing else attached to it. I grew up thinking it was a great name with a beautiful sound to it. It’s nice to know your brothers tease you with affection.”
Shadows moved in the depths of his eyes. “Nicolas and Zacarias have not found their lifemates. They only have the memory of emotion, and it is more difficult to maintain with every passing night.”
“I’m sorry, Manolito.” She could feel his worry.
“They will endure because they must.” His hand brushed down her face. “Tell me what’s wrong, MaryAnn. I can see how upset you are.”
She hesitated, pressed her lips together, then sighed. “Whatever is inside of me scares the hell out of me.”
Overhead, the branches swayed with more than birds. She could see small, furry bodies gathering for the night in the trees. Most congregated to one side of the tree, just across from her, while a few of the monkeys settled in branches on Manolito’s side.
“You cannot be anything but who you are, ainaak enyem. Never be afraid of what is inside of you. I’m not.”
Her eyes met his. “You should be.”
13
Manolito felt the sudden tension in her. He touched her chin with gentle fingers. “Why would I ever fear what is inside of you? I can see your light shining so bright, there is never a need to fear any part of you.”
She ducked her head so that the mass of curly hair fell around her face. “Maybe you don’t see me as well as you think you do.”
“Then tell me.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. How to tell you. I can’t see it. I only feel it, and it scares me to death.”
He was silent a moment, trying to find a way to help her confide in him. She wanted to. It wasn’t that she intentionally was hiding anything, but she was struggling to come to terms with something she knew or suspected and she wasn’t quite ready.