Dark Possession
Chapter Twelve

The conversion was the most frightening thing she could imagine, a dark, painful death and rebirth. She
knew she was facing it and that Manolito, watching what Luiz had gone through, was not as certain as he had been that he wanted to risk her. Strangely, for the first time she did consider risking everything, because what she had learned here today was that Manolito De La Cruz was far more than a gorgeous man with a too-arrogant attitude, and she was already more than halfway in love with him.
She French-braided her hair in the tub, her hands adept at the familiar task, giving her comfort when she wanted to weep a little for what Manolito, not Luiz, had gone through. His brothers thought him insane. He even believed he might be, but he had handled the jaguar-man with great care and respect and had suffered greatly for it. He had known she was there, helping Luiz and soothing him as best she could, and he would have done anything to spare her that, but it only made her feel closer to him.
She pulled on lacy thong underwear in midnight blue, the ones with the tiny gold chain on either hip that made her feel sexy and courageous in the worst of circumstances. Her skirt was calf length and fell in ripples of material, a fall of royal blue that looked dynamite with her butter-soft matching blue knee-high boots with the cuffed tops. They molded to her feet like slippers and whispered when she walked. The skirt showed off her nicely rounded butt to the best advantage and she was going to need every advantage she could get with Manolito when she discussed with him the dos and don'ts of their relationship. Because she'd made up her mind they were going to give it a try.
Her demi push-up bra matched the thong, dark and exotic, giving her curves a nice allure and enhancing the fit of her short, royal blue sleeveless blouse with the little pearl buttons up the front. Accessories were everything, and she had plenty. As she pushed bangles onto her wrist, she conjured up his image.
The way he smiled. His thick, jet black hair, even more shiny and luxurious than she had realized the previous evening. His eyes. Oh, lord, he had those hot, demanding eyes and that wickedly sensual mouth, and what the hell was she dressing to seduce him for? She was trying to get a handle on her emotions, and she was definitely dressed to get him to sit up and take notice. She was playing with fire, and she knew enough about life to know that if she did that, she couldn't cry when she got burned.
The tension in the house was gone, and she let her breath out slowly and sank down onto the bed to wait for him. She could hear the clock ticking. Endlessly and loudly ticking. He was coming. Soon. Immediately. She waited, but as the minutes passed, the smiled faded from her face. Her teeth clicked together as she-dare she use the word-gnashed them. He wouldn't leave her locked in her room like an unruly teen. He had better come. Now. Before she lost her sweet forgiving nature for all time.
She stalked across the room and gave the door a thump with her fist. "Come on, jungle man. Enough is enough. Get me out of here."
Silence met her demand. She was going to kill him with her bare hands. Her nonviolent beliefs were wasted in the rain forest and definitely obsolete with jungle man. "I take back every good thing I ever thought about you," she yelled at the door, and smacked it with her open palm for good measure. Right where his face should be. "You need someone to slap you upside that hard head."
And a good hard slap wouldn't be enough. She might have to think up other, much more savage punishments, although she didn't have that kind of imagination. Whips and chains. But that conjured up black leather boots with stiletto heels, fishnet stockings and a leather bustier. And that was so not happening, because he didn't deserve it to happen. What he needed was the smackdown of a lifetime. Those horrible shows on television with men fighting in cages and one of them pummeling the other, that would be the way to go, not leather and boots.
The door swung open, and Manolito's broad shoulders filled the frame. He stood there blinking down at her, rubbing his jaw ruefully, a quizzical look on his face. "I believe it best if you only think nice thoughts about me."
She opened her mouth to slay him with words, then snapped it shut abruptly. He looked exhausted. Totally exhausted, weary from his flight to save two lives, heal her and keep the two worlds he existed in separate. She felt the weariness like a great weight on his shoulders-on hers. She knew what he'd been through, and she knew why he had tried to spare her.
MaryAnn put her hands on her hips and regarded him from head to toe. "You managed to exhaust yourself. Did your brother give you more blood?" She felt courageous asking the question, forcing herself to face who and what he was without flinching away from his needs.
A faint smile softened the hard edge of his mouth and pushed the deep shadows from his eyes. "I did exhaust myself. You look beautiful, MaryAnn. One look at you and everything else fades away." He held out his hand. "Come with me."
She wanted to be alone with him so badly she actually took a step back instead. "Where?"
"I have a surprise for you." He kept his arm extended toward her, gaze steady on hers.
Letting her breath out, she put her hand in his. At once his closed over hers and he drew her close to the warmth of his body. She could feel the heat and the pull of their connection wash over and into her.
"Luiz?"
"He is in the ground, well guarded. This time we used safeguards no mage should be able to penetrate. It is long since we have had dealings with that species, and over the centuries we have grown careless. The recent battle with them should have taught us we must always factor them in when guarding our homes and sleeping chambers. Such a mistake will not happen again."
"Thank you for what you did for him."
He leaned down to brush his lips against hers, a soft, lingering touch, nonaggressive, as if he simply was savoring her. "You are welcome. We will see how Luiz feels about it all when he rises."
Manolito would have to control Luiz's natural instincts to feed. Luiz already had years of jaguar instincts and he would awaken ravenous. If he gave in to the need to kill his prey, Manolito would have to dispatch him fast and efficiently, but he didn't want to think about that now. He wanted to fill his mind with nothing but his lifemate, MaryAnn. He didn't want to think anymore about the shadow world, or the real world, or the mess he had gotten himself into just to see a look of gratitude on a woman's face.
"He can't feel pain, can he?"
Manolito tucked her hand beneath his chin, his thumb sliding over her skin in a slow caress. "No. He is safe. He will stay for two or three nights before he rises, and I will be there to help him as much as possible when the time comes."
"And Solange?"
"Juliette and Riordan are with her." He rubbed her knuckles back and forth against his jaw. "The house is clean and protected. Everything is quiet. I want to take you away from here and have you to myself for a little while."
Her heart gave a funny little jump. More than anything she wanted to be with him. She had dressed with care and made certain she looked her best so that she would have the courage to face him and whatever was
between them, but now that he stood in front of her, looking better than any man had a right to look, she wasn't certain being alone with him was the smartest idea. He was just too sexy and appealing. She didn't want to relate to him just physically, and her newfound feelings made her feel more vulnerable than ever.
"I find my lifemate absolutely fascinating and would very much like to get to know you," he added. There was no push to see it his way. There was no order, or demand. His simple statement held the ring of truth and cut through every defense she had.
"You're certain I shouldn't check in on Jasmine and Solange? I came here to try to help them, not that I've done much good."
"You helped saved their lives," he said, drawing her gently beneath his shoulder. "Solange is resting and Juliette is with her sister," He took a breath, drew her scent deep into his lungs. "I need you." His voice roughened with hunger. His black eyes smoldered with smoky lust.
She nodded, her heart pounding hard. Her pulse seemed to hammer right through her entire body, bunching muscles and tightening her nipples, making her ache. Her mouth went dry, and she touched her tongue to her lips, gasping as his watchful gaze followed the action.
"I'm not certain it's safe."
"No harm will come to you," he promised. The pad of his thumb traced the path her tongue had taken, outlining her lips with a brush of heat. "Not as long as I am with you."
"You." She could barely breathe, let alone get the word out. "You're not safe. I have this crazy reaction to you." It was best to be honest and let him know. "The thing is, I set rules for myself a long time ago."
"Rules?" His eyebrow arched in question, but his gaze was still on her mouth.
"For me. For men. I don't just sleep with anyone." This so wasn't coming out right because she honestly couldn't think with him looking at her like that.
"I am grateful for your rules."
There was a faint quirk to his mouth that only added to his allure. How could she explain she felt her self-respect and years of restraint were about to go flying out the window? If she was alone with him, she'd be doing her best to seduce him, or just plain beg for him to slam her up against the nearest wall and have his way with her.
She had never wanted a relationship with a man that was comfortable. She had wanted all-consuming passion or nothing at all. She'd settled for nothing at all. She had fantasized about a relationship with a man who could inspire hot erotic licks of electricity running up and down her spine, where she met him in a grocery store wearing absolutely nothing beneath a coat, or danced with him in a sensual haze at a party, his hands moving on her skin, knowing, needing, that they wouldn't make it home before they succumbed to their desire for each other. Now here it was, every fantasy she had ever dreamt of.
MaryAnn was fairly certain Manolito De La Cruz was the hottest man alive. He dripped sensuality. From every look and mannerism to the set of his shoulders, the thickness of his chest, the way his hips narrowed and the all-too-impressive bulge in the front or his jeans. His eyes were heavy-lidded and smoky with lust for her. While that stark hunger made her heart pound and her body go into serious meltdown, the truth was, in every single fantasy, the man had been wild about her, deeply in love. One without the other wasn't acceptable to her.
"If I go off alone with you again now, Manolito, I'm not certain I could live with myself afterward."
"I will do nothing you cannot live with."
From the sound of his voice, he hoped to do things she couldn't live without, and that was exactly what she feared. Because she so wanted those things. She wanted him to teach her all the things she dreamt about, she wanted to belong to him, to have him love her, show her that the things in her mind could be real, not just imagined.
"You are not letting me into your mind."
Was there hurt in his voice? The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. "I don't know how to let you in or out of my mind. I honestly have no idea why you all think I'm psychic. Jasmine thought I saved her from the mage. The wind was horrendous; a branch broke off and fell on him. I didn't do that. How could I have?"
In a way she was very grateful he couldn't get into her mind. He would never get in if she had anything to do with it. All she needed was for him to read her fantasies and she would be in more trouble than she could imagine-and she had far too vivid an imagination when it came to sex.
Manolito's dark eyes drifted possessively over her face. "Come with me, MaryAnn. Let me show you my world."
She shouldn't go. She was asking for trouble if she went. She sighed. Of course she was going with him. She was going because she'd lost her mind, because she could still taste him in her mouth and feel his hands on her body and she ached inside and out for him. "I'm bringing the pepper spray."
His faint smile sent tiny, flickering flames of arousal licking over her breasts and down her belly, dancing along her inner thighs until she felt searing heat scorch her most feminine core. She let her breath out, feeling as if she'd just leapt off a cliff.
"I would expect nothing less than pepper spray," he answered, his voice tinged with amusement.
That small note of humor, one she suspected was rare in him, just added to his allure. She lifted her gaze to his and was lost in the absolute focus and intensity she saw there-for her. Nothing-no one-existed for him but her in that moment.
With exquisite gentleness, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her slowly up against his body. His skin was hot and hard and smelled masculine. His midnight hair brushed across her face as he lifted her, sliding her body up his so that she felt the thickness and length of his erection pressed deep into her softer body. "Put your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist. If you still fear flying, press your face into my neck so you cannot see. Trust me to take care of you, MaryAnn."
There was a terribly intimate note in the velvet rasp of his voice husky and promising and altogether shocking, as if sin lived and breathed in him and reached to wrap her in nothing but passion. The double meaning sent a shiver of desire spiraling through her body. MaryAnn was all about control, and this man was all about taking it away. Her pulse followed the rhythm of his. Her heart hammered out the same beat. Temptation to taste the forbidden was so strong she let her hands bunch for a moment in his silky hair, absorbing the texture, feeling shaken inside.
She closed her eyes when her feet left the floor. He took her breath so easily, shaking her up until she forgot about being MaryAnn the counselor and became, wholly and completely, MaryAnn the woman. The hollow of his neck was warm and inviting, and she nuzzled his shirt aside so her face could rest against his skin. Her
lips moved against him, tasting him, because she could. Because when she did, a shudder of pleasure shook his strong body.
The night was surprisingly warm. As he whisked her through the forest, she could hear all sound cease, as animals, birds and insects became aware of their presence. A shiver went down her spine as she realized they were sensing a predator. It was impossible not to feel alive with him. He created energy, both sensual and exciting, most of all dangerous, and wrapped her in his voracious sexual appetite for her, his need for her elevating her own needs and desires.
For all of that, his looks and his sensuality, it wasn't her virtue in the most jeopardy, because he was a good man and her heart responded with the same passion as her body. The biggest risk was letting him into her heart. He gave of himself so quickly to others, without thought of consequences to himself, and no other trait in a man could appeal to her quite so much. He was starkly honest about everything, and that appealed to her as well. He showed her vulnerability when he told her about seeing and hearing things from another world. He let her inside of him without reservation.
And just like that you open your mind to me.
She felt warm, as if he'd enfolded her in a velvet wrap. "Did I?"
If she did, she hadn't thought about the danger of opening her mind. Only her heart. She kept her face buried in the hollow of his neck, feeling safe as they moved through the sky.
Look now, MaryAnn.
"I'm afraid of heights."
She was afraid of loving what he showed her. Afraid of loving this man and changing her life-one she'd worked so hard for-forever. She just really enjoyed her little niche. She knew she helped others; she was good at it, and she liked her independence. And there was that very frightening thing inside of her, something that terrified her, one she kept locked away, but it was drawn to this man. In the city, surrounded by people and the hustle and bustle of life, it stayed quiet and under her control. Here, with this man, she could feel it stretching and reaching inside of her, anxious for freedom. And she didn't dare let it free.
His lips brushed the top of her head. You will not be afraid, I promise you. You will see my world the way I see it.
She closed her eyes briefly and pressed tighter into him. That was exactly what she feared. She didn't want to see beauty in the rain forest. She wanted to see the insects. Lots of nasty, biting insects. And leeches. They had leeches, she just knew it. When she looked, she'd dwell on that. It was the only way she could think of to stay safe. Armed with a picture of big, fat, blood-sucking bugs, she cautiously raised her head and looked around her.
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, hut 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 sale 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, palafertul, 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. Karpatu, 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 hail 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, does 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."