He had to fight a battle to control himself. He needed to plunge into her, bury himself deep, and had he not been in her mind, feeling what she felt, he had no doubts that he would have selfishly done so, but the burning was bordering on pain for her. He forced his body to go slow, whispering to her in his native language, soft words of encouragement. He found himself calling her sívamet—my love, or more literally, of my heart.
He hadn’t known until that moment of pure revelation that she was of his heart. She had given him so much, this small slip of a human woman with more courage than good sense and she had somehow slipped inside of him and wound herself tightly around his heart. He was more careful than ever, slipping into her inch by slow inch until he felt that thin barrier.
“Take a breath, kislány kuηenak minan.” Deliberately he leaned closer to her, pressing on the spot that brought her the most pleasure and translating what had become an endearment, “My little lunatic, you have given yourself to me, and I accept you into my keeping.”
He took her then, making her fully his, burying himself inside that tight cauldron of heat, claiming his home, his sanctuary. The ice was gone from body and mind to be replaced with Marguarita. He had found home and he never wanted to leave.
He took his time, careful to allow her to catch up to him, at first setting a slow, excruciating rhythm, and then, as her body became more receptive to his invasion, as pleasure sizzled through her, he picked up the pace and drove into her as he needed to do, hard and fast, his hands biting into her hips, his body plunging home again and again, burning light into him.
He threw back his head in a kind of ecstasy, fire burning him through the inside out, driving him higher and higher. All the while, he was aware of her, every caress, her fingers in his hair, her soft little gasps, her hips bucking under his, that exquisite tight sheath, grasping and milking, just as needy for him as he was for her.
He could hear her soft gasp in his mind and knew the exact moment the building tension in her body hit that shocking point where she was stretched on a rack of intense pleasure that touched pain. He pushed her over the edge, her body taking his with it, her muscles massaging, milking and grasping so tight he burned for her.
He lay a long time over her—in her, mind to mind, connected, forever wanting to live there—knowing the moment he withdrew, he would be that köd, varolind hän ku piwtä—dark, dangerous predator, filled with shadows and tainted with evil. The brilliant colors would fade and his vivid, intense emotions would fade. He hoped to hell his care of her wouldn’t do the same. They were tied now, for good or bad. He couldn’t undo what he’d done and she could not survive without him—or he without her.
11
There was no going back. Marguarita had known that when she’d offered herself to him and she didn’t want to take back her offer. He’d taken her to paradise, but still, she could have used a brief respite from his overwhelming, intense personality. Zacarias seemed to love the scent of her bath. He’d insisted on pouring her fragrant oil into the water, and now he sat on the edge of the sink, watching her with that unnerving, focused stare of his. He knew he was making her uncomfortable, but he made no apologies, nor did he stop staring so possessively at her.
Are you going to stare at me forever? She touched her hair self-consciously. It was piled on top of her head to keep it out of the oily water, and she knew she looked a mess. The room was lit with candles, so the light was soft and flickering, but still, she didn’t look her best.
He suddenly smiled, robbing her of all breath. “You will have to get used to me staring. Watching you take a bath brings me pleasure.” He folded his arms across his chest, never taking his gaze from her. “And you look sexy with your hair messy. It is my favorite, when it’s down and all over the place, but this look is a close second. I like when you have all those curls falling around your face and down your back when you’re trying to look very severe, putting it up. It is wild, like you. Very sensual and pleasing.”
She felt color creeping up her neck into her face. You’re easy to please.
His eyebrow shot up. “I assure you, I am anything but easy to please. And you are covering yourself again. Please take your hands away from your breasts. I enjoy looking at you. Your body is beautiful and I am certain it will be an everlasting source of pleasure.”
She hadn’t realized she was covering her body for the second time. He had already asked her to stop once. She felt her color deepen. Really, she was trying to do what he wished, but his stare was so possessive and intense, she felt a little as if she were under a microscope. Reluctantly she put her hands under the water, grateful for the steam rising. It didn’t exactly provide protection, but at least there was the illusion of it.
Marks of his possession covered her body, and between her legs, she was definitely sore, but the water was soothing, and he had been incredibly gentle, carrying her into the bathroom and filling the tub for her before placing her in the hot water. Her heart was pounding so hard she had to fight not to press her hand over her chest. The enormity of what she’d done hit her hard after she’d floated down from subspace.
She had thought long and hard about what she was going to do to save Zacarias De La Cruz. He was so far on the other side, already with one foot out of the world she knew. If she didn’t do something drastic, she would lose him. Wherever one went after death, she didn’t want him alone for one more moment. She’d made up her mind to seduce him into staying with her—but now it was clearly a case of beware of what you wish for.
“You have every right to fear your new life, Marguarita.”
She closed her eyes. His voice was so mesmerizing, so sensual she felt it like fingers brushing over her body.
“But do not try to hide your fears from me. I will not always do the things you will need and I will make many mistakes, I am certain, but you have to talk to me. Tell me when you are hurt by things I say or do. I will only make the mistake once. I am not asking this of you, so do not make the mistake of treating what I say lightly. I am commanding this. It will take great courage to confront me, and even more to live with me, but I expect nothing less from you.”
She went back and forth from being annoyed to amused with his commands. He had spent centuries giving orders and expecting—and receiving—obedience that of course she knew he would continue to do so. Sometimes it made her want to laugh. He truly expected her to do every little thing he said. As if that was even possible. It isn’t necessary to make everything an order, Zacarias.
“Perhaps with others, but you defy logic and reason. I have never known any other who disobeys direct orders the way you do. Even today you were sitting on your windowsill bandaging your friend Julio. Did you think I would not know exactly what you were doing?”
Her lashes lifted and she stared him straight in the eye. She would not be intimated by him. She saw inside of him—better even than he did—and she was safe. She just had to have the courage to stand up to him when he was being unreasonable.
I know you don’t mean to make me feel like a prisoner, Zacarias, but it does feel that way just a little bit when you say things like that. I have a duty to those on this ranch . . .
He held up his hand. “Not anymore. Your sole duty is to see to my needs. I think I made myself very clear on that.”