Manolito avoided the seeking tentacles as he studied the fibrous bulb. His body was in the rain forest with MaryAnn. He was intelligent; he could reason it out. If he was trapped in the spirit world, as he was certain now he was, then only a spirit could reside in this place. He had no body here, so the attack was merely a distraction. It must have to do with MaryAnn. Not only had her spirit entered, but her warmth and vitality with her. The vampires had sensed hot blood and the light in her soul. He had to lead the attack away from her, just in case she inadvertently stepped back into the shadow world where he was trapped.
He moved slowly away from her. The shadowy figures who called to him to join them, who threw accusations at him and wanted to sit in judgment of him, didn't seem to be able to look past the veil into the world of the living. Perhaps if he could get far enough away that they couldn't sense her, she might be safe. He could lay a false trail and get back to her and escort her to safety before dawn. He shouldn't have been able to feel sensation, but the farther from MaryAnn he traveled, the more he felt cold.
"Join us. Share her. She has already condemned you to a half life."
The voice shimmered in the air, soft and persuasive, becoming louder as he moved farther away from MaryAnn. "You have always belonged with us, not with sheep, following the speaker of lies."
Maxim Malinov, dead from the battle in the Carpathian Mountains, slain by the prince himself, stepped out of the shadows and approached Manolito. "Why would you give your life for the prince when he cares nothing for you or yours? He knows you are in the meadow or" mists, yet is he watching after your lifemate? Is he protecting your body while you wander in this world? He is selfish and thinks only or" himself, not of his people."
Manolito drew in his breath. It had been long since he'd seen his boyhood friend. He looked young and strong, handsome as always, with intelligence shining in his eyes. As young men growing up, they had enjoyed debates and discussions throughout the nights, talking about the issues they felt best for their people. Following Mikhail, the current reigning prince, hadn't been anyone's idea of what was best.
"We were wrong, Maxim. Mikhail has led our people from the brink of extinction. The Carpathians are beginning to grow powerful again, but more importantly, we have become a society filled with hope instead
of despair."
Another plant erupted from beneath the surface, the long vino reaching like arms toward him. He leapt into the nearest tree, more out of reflex than need. He might feel the piercing cold as ice shards began to rain down, but the stinging wounds as the icicles stabbed through him were no more real than the plant. He gave himself a moment to force his mind to accept it was all illusion. The plant slid back beneath the soil, but the stabbing ice continued to fall.
When he leapt back down, Maxim shook his head. "In the old days you would not have settled for looking at so small a piece of the real picture. We hide from the people who should serve us. We hide in fear, when it is they who should tremble before us."
"And why should they tremble, Maxim?"
"They are nothing but cattle."
"That is why you do not lead and I would not follow if you did. They are people with hopes and dreams. Good, hardworking people who fight every day to do the best they can for their families. They are no different than we are."
Maxim gave a snort of derision. "You have become brainwashed. You have taken a human for a lifemate and she has already corrupted your ability to see sense. We are noble, the better race, the one deserving of this earth. We could rule, Manolito. Our plan is in place. Eventually we will take over and humans will bow before us." His smile was wholly evil, the red flames in his eyes leaping with maniacal fervor.
Manolito shook his head. "I do not want them bowing before us. Like all species, many of them have mixed from ancient ancestors. Most likely, Carpathians, mages, jaguar-men and even the werewolf have integrated into the human society."
The red flames leapt and the vampire hissed out his disbelief. "The jaguar-men have tainted their bloodline, it is true. They threw away their heritage and their greatness because they refused to take care of their women and children. They deserve to be wiped from the earth. You were the one who said it. You and Zacarias."
Manolito held himself still as another large piece of ice stabbed through his shoulder. The sensation was fiery, sickening, but it disappeared when he refused to give it credence. "I was young and stupid, Maxim. And I was wrong. We all were."
"No, we were right."
"The jaguar-men made mistakes, and those mistakes cost them, but they are not Carpathian and their needs were different from ours. You chose not to wait for your lifemate, Maxim. In doing so, you have given up every chance of having a wife and children and helping to create a lasting society. You saw the power of the prince's bloodline. He is the vessel for all of our people."
"His power is false, a sham. Look at the scar on your throat, Manolito. How many times are you willing to die for him? You have taken the knife twice for him and once for his brother's lifemate. You are here, in this world of shadows, to be judged for your 'dark' deeds. What dark deeds? You lived with honor and you served your people, yet you are here." The voice became hauntingly beautiful, filled with truth and mesmerizing zeal. "All the ancient races are myths now, forgotten by the world. The jaguar race, once powerful, is found only in books. They clothe themselves with shame. They brutalize their women. Would you have that happen to our species?"
"If you really believe what you're saying, Maxim, then you would have chosen another path. Why turn vampire? Why make kills for power? Why not gather your army and march against Mikhail right out in the open?"
"That was not the plan."
"Becoming the undead was never part of the plan either. Our families lived with honor, Maxim. We hunted the vampire, not embraced him."
Maxim ignored him. "My brothers and I studied how to take over. If we approach the prince directly, we would be defeated. You know the majority of Carpathians believe in the old ways. They are cattle.'"
Manolito curled his lip. "Humans and jaguar are cattle to you. Now Carpathians. You certainly have risen high in your own opinion, Maxim. You have contradicted yourself repeatedly."
Maxim folded his arms. "You seek to anger me, Manolito, but you cannot. You were once a great Carpathian, from a powerful family, but you have given your loyalty to the wrong person. You should have joined us. You still can join us. You are already lost to the next world."
For the first time Manolito's pulse jumped in response to the vampire's twisted logic. Vampires were deceivers, but they often wove truth in. What had he done to his lifemate? Why couldn't he remember his crime? MaryAnn didn't seem to be angry with him. In fact she had protected him, or at least tried to.
The thought of his lifemate warmed him, driving out the ice shards that had pierced his body and frozen his blood. He blinked and looked down at his hands. They had been almost transparent, but now were gathering a deeper shade as if his body was regaining substance and form.
"I see there is danger here after all," he said. "Maxim, you were always clever, but you have never believed in lifemates or the concept of them. You were wrong then, and more so now. I am not lost as long as I have my lifemate."
"And what do you think your lifemate is doing now, while you dwell in the shadow world? Do you think she lives without a man's touch? She craves the jaguar-man and she will lie with him."
Manolito felt the knots twist in his belly. He hadn't known jealousy was such a dark and ugly thing until he had found his lifemate. "She will not betray me. She holds the other half of my soul. You cannot pull me wholly into this world, because she will always anchor me in the other one."
This time Maxim did snarl, his eyes glowing fiercely, his teeth sharp spikes as he hissed his annoyance. "She does indeed hold the other half of your soul. We have only to acquire it and you belong to us. You are a traitor, Manolito, to our family, to our cause. The plan was your idea, yours and Zacarias's, but at the first test you failed us."
"We all agreed it was silly, boyish talk, taking over and ruling the world. Your brothers, my brothers, we said many foolish things that have taken shape and grown into a path of destruction for too many species. There are lifemates waiting for us among the humans, Maxim. Think beyond your hatred and know that humans are the salvation of our people."
"Mixed blood," Maxim sneered. "That's your salvation?"
Manolito sighed his regret. He remembered Maxim as a friend-more than a friend-a beloved brother, and now lost beyond saving. "I have my emotions, Maxim, honor and a future. You have death and disgrace and
nothing to sustain you in the afterlife. Any mistakes I have made I will answer for willingly, but I will not help you bring down our prince. Aside from my own honor, I would never dishonor my lifemate by making us traitors to our people."
"We will kill her. Your precious lifemate. Not only will we see her dead, but it will be brutal. She'll suffer a long time before we give her death. That is the wrong you have done your lifemate. You have already betrayed her by trading her life for that of your prince."
Fear nearly blindsided him. Terror of what a monster could do to MaryAnn. She was light and compassion, and she would never understand what something as evil and hideous as Maxim could do to her. His breath left his lungs in a long rush of apprehension, of panic. He had never known panic before, but it nearly consumed him with the thought of MaryAnn in the hands of his enemies.
Had he fallen into a trap after all? Had Maxim led him away from MaryAnn so one of his brothers could kill her? She was alone in the rain forest. How much time had passed? Was time the same in the realm of shadows? Was it possible for someone to pierce the veil and help plot murder, or was Maxim deliberately goading him into fear? Fear led to mistakes. And mistakes led to death. He simply would not accept the death of his lifemate.
Manolito kept his features expressionless, his gaze filled with contempt. "You do your worst, Maxim, but you will not prevail. Evil will not drive good from this earth, not while one hunter still lives." He dissolved into mist and streamed through the tortured, twisted trees.
Once out of Maxim's sight, he blasted through the air, racing back to the place where he'd left MaryAnn. He could feel blood pounding in his temples and thundering in his ears as he shifted shape almost before he hit the ground. She was gone. Time stopped. His heart stuttered. The beast within roared and clawed for release. Teeth lengthened and sharpened in his mouth and razor-sharp talons tipped his nails.
She betrays you with the cat-man. Voices filled his head. Anger and jealousy pushed aside reason.
Manolito lifted his head and scented the air. His woman had been there and she hadn't been alone. He knew that scent. He had taken the jaguar's blood.
She lies beneath him, moaning and writhing and calling his name. His name. Not yours. He has stolen her from you and she thinks only of his touch.
A snarl shaped his mouth in cruel lines and his eyes glittered with menace. He studied the tracks, saw the dead snake and the pattern of footprints. Luiz had approached her in jaguar form, but had shifted to his human form. That meant he had stood without clothes in front of MaryAnn. Fury nearly blinded him. He should have killed the treacherous devil while he had the chance. Jaguar-men were notorious for their escapades with women.
Luiz had crooked his little finger and she had followed, like a mesmerized puppet. Both male and female jaguars were very sexual beings. MaryAnn claimed she wasn't jaguar, but if even a small amount of their blood ran in her veins, would Luiz's presence set her off? She might go into her cycle, and then she would need a man to attend her.
She has gone off with him, needing him to give her a child. He will spill his seed in her. Fill her. Take her over and over until he is certain she is with child.
He let loose a roar of anger at the thought. The idea of another man touching her soft skin set the beast raging. No one touched his woman and lived. No one lured her away from him. Luiz was either after
MaryAnn for personal reasons, or he had been sent by the vampire to kill her. Either way, the jaguar-man was dead.
Kill him. Kill her.
Manolito shook his head. Even if MaryAnn had betrayed him with another, he could never harm her.
He moved fast, rushing through the rain forest, avoiding hitting the trees by scant inches. If Luiz dared to lay a hand on her, harm one hair on her head, he would tear the man limb from limb. He spotted them, MaryAnn on the ground, tears running down her face, Luiz standing over her. She looked disheveled and angry and afraid, so much so that he ached inside, his heart contracting when he saw her distress. He put on a rush of speed, his body a blur, bursting out of the shrubbery just as Luiz turned.
Manolito hit the jaguar-man hard, driving him backward, then picked him up, slamming him so hard to the ground it drove an indentation in the soft soil. Somewhere in the distance, he heard MaryAnn scream. He pounded Luiz's face, giving him no time to shift into the form of a cat. His arm reared back, and he drove his fist toward the chest wall to penetrate and rip out the black heart of a monster.
"Stop." MaryAnn screamed the command. Then again, with a silent shocking fury that sent Manolito flying backward through the air. I said stop!
He found himself sprawled on the ground, ears ringing, from the force of the psychic command. She'd thrown him back, away from the jaguar-man, who lay motionless in the muck. The telepathic punch was harder than any physical one he'd ever received. He blinked up at her, anger at her mixing with awe.
"Are you crazy?" MaryAnn demanded, standing over him, hands on her hips, face furious, eyes glittering dangerously at him.
He wanted her. That was all he could think in that split second. He wanted all that passion and fury under him, fighting him, submitting to him. She was amazing, with her lush curves and incredible face. She usually looked so calm on the outside, presented such an elegant picture, but underneath she was all fury and claws, as wild as their surroundings.
He got up slowly, his eyes steady on her, unblinking and focused. Saying nothing, he stalked toward her across the uneven ground. She had the good sense to back up a couple of steps, wariness and defiance mixing with the fury. He walked right up to her, forcing her to look up at him through her long lashes. One hand fisted in the thick mane of hair, tilting her head further, while the other caught her around the hips and drove her forward into him, crushing her breasts against his broad chest.
She opened her mouth to protest and he took possession. The kiss was rough, the edge of his fear and anger still riding him hard. His tongue drove deep, sliding into her mouth and taking her over, using her own passionate nature against her. She had done what no man had ever done, knocked him on his butt with a thought. A thought.
Need burned deep and hot in him. Lust rose sharp, consuming him with the desire to dominate her, to bring her so much pleasure she would never think to leave him, never think to deny him anything. He bit gently at her lower lip, caught it between his teeth and tugged, licked at her pulse and kissed his way down her neck and over to her throat. She breathed in, a harsh sound of need that sent his body into a hard, knotted ache. The rush of hot blood filled him, and he closed his eyes to better absorb the feel and texture of her. Soft and pliable, moving against him like so much silk. Filling every empty place in his heart and soul. He kissed her again, the miracle called woman.
Heat and his scent surrounded her. His erection pressed hot and thick against her stomach. His lips were firm and warm, his kiss rough and arousing. She'd always pictured sex with the man of her dreams as being gentle and slow, but heated passion flared hot and bright inside of her, arousal building into something frightening. Her heart hammered loud and hard, storming against his chest. Her muscles contracted and clenched. Her body turned to liquid, fiery heat.
She ached for him. The need so strong she slid her hand under his shirt to touch his bare skin, to feel his heart beat. Her heart picked up the rhythm of his. Blood pounded and tiny flames licked over her skin.
He pulled away, black eyes glittering down at her. "Do not interfere again."
She blinked up at him, shocked at how easily he controlled her. "Damn you for that." She wiped at her mouth, trying to remove the desperate aching need, the brand he'd put on her, but the taste and feel of him remained. She stepped back, slapped at his hand when she stumbled and he steadied her. "You owe that man an apology. A huge apology. He saved my life twice and sure doesn't deserve to get beat to a bloody pulp because he was escorting me back to the house."
It amazed her that she could talk. Her body burned from the inside out. She stole a look at him. His eyes were heavy-lidded, dark with hunger and arousal. He looked every inch the predator. Dangerous and hungry¨C starved for the taste and feel of her.
"Do I?" His gaze flicked to where Luiz was beginning to sit up. "He knew you belonged to me."
"I don't belong to anyone but me. And he saved my life. You weren't here to play hero." She was appalled at the accusation in her voice.
His gaze softened. "You were afraid without me."
She was afraid for him, and that made it worse. She swallowed hard and spread her hands out. "Look. I'm used to a semblance of control in my life. I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't know what's happening. I'm feeling things I've never felt before."
She was dependent when she'd never been. She needed time to think, to just be quiet, yet she couldn't bear the idea of being away from him. And that was more frightening than anything else, because she wasn't a woman to give up her independence.
Manolito stopped the words burning to be said. She did belong to him-as he belonged to her. But the confusion and weariness on her face turned his heart to mush. She stood there, looking soft and kissable and thinking she was tough, and all he wanted to do was hold anil comfort her.
Instead, he stalked across the ground and reached down to yank Luiz to his feet. The man swayed unsteadily and managed a half grin.
"You pack a punch."
"You are lucky I did not kill you."
Luiz nodded. "Yeah, I got that." He looked past Manolito to MaryAnn. "Are you all right?"
A soft warning rumbled in Manolito's throat. "It is not necessary for you to inquire after her state of being when I am here."
"I think it is," Luiz said.
"That's because he has manners," MaryAnn snapped. "Thank you so much for your help, Luiz. Especially for saving my life." She turned and walked away. The cave man could keep up or not, but she was close enough to the house that she recognized the Jeep trail. She could just follow that.
Manolito shrugged when Luiz's eyebrow shot up. "She's very good at reprimanding me." For a moment, amusement flickered in his eyes.
"I have a feeling she'll need to be," Luiz said, rubbing his jaw. "She's amazing."
Manolito's face darkened, the brief flash of humor fading away. "You do not need to find her amazing. And keep your clothes on, jaguar."
Luiz's grin widened. "Women can't help but be impressed."
"I doubt it feels good to have one's heart ripped out of one's chest, but if you like I can arrange for you to find out."
Luiz laughed at him. "She may just rip your heart out, Carpathian. Take care."
Manolito looked down at the blurred shadow of his hand. He was still in both worlds, but he was seeing much more clearly and his form was more substantial than it had ever been. Luiz hadn't noticed, and jaguar people were not only observant, but they could read things in the forest few others could. And they'd spot another of their kind instantly...
He caught up with MaryAnn. "He did not call you jaguar and if you had even a small trace of blood, he would know."
Her dark eyes went stormy. So she still hadn't forgiven him. Deep inside, lust uncurled claws and raked him sharply.
"I'm not jaguar. I told you that."
He dropped behind her to take a good look at her bottom encased so snugly in denim. His heart nearly stopped. The woman was built like a woman should be, all curves and temptation.
"Stop it," she hissed and sent him another smoldering look over her shoulder. "I'm so mad at you right now, nothing you do is charming." Because she knew it wasn't about his lack of manners or his arrogant, ridiculous behavior, it was about her behavior. Whether she liked it or not, she was different inside. Whether she liked it or not-whether she even admitted it or not-she was burning and aching for this man, only this man, to touch her, to be inside of her. His obnoxious dominating ways should have repelled her, but instead she found him fascinating, mesmerizing even. And that shouldn't have been acceptable.
"I cannot help it if I find you attractive," Manolito protested. "Looking at you puts ideas in my head. I am more than happy to share them with you."
"Well don't. Sex isn't the same thing as love, Manolito, and couples, husband and wife and lifemates, are supposed to be in love. That's how it works."
"You will learn to love me," he said, confidence stamped on his too-handsome face. "It will come with time."
"Don't count on it," she muttered, stomping up the walkway on her wobbly heel. Yeah. Because it was all about him. She was supposed to learn to love him. That's how things worked in his world, but not so much in hers. When she had raw, passionate sex with this man, she wanted him to love her.
She was halfway to the door when she really looked at the towering palace he and his brothers called a vacation home. A retreat. Yeah. Who retreated to a place the size of an apartment building? She stopped abruptly at the door. It was a freaking palace. She sighed and rubbed her temples. Man, she needed to be home, back in the real world.
Manolito reached past her to open the solid double doors and gesture for her to go in. "Please enter my home."
MaryAnn drew a deep breath and took a step back, shaking her head. Nobody, but nobody, lived this way. She stood in the middle of the huge double doorway, staring at the gleaming marble entryway. She had forgotten what the house was like, or maybe she hadn't noticed when she'd first arrived because she'd been too grief stricken. Set in the middle of nowhere, it was like a palace of days gone by.
"I'm so not setting a foot on that floor," she said, backing away from the door. And she had great shoes, too, shoes meant for walking on a floor like that. Great shoes-well, she used to. Her beautiful boots were ruined and muddy, the left heel loose and wobbly. She wasn't going to take a chance on scratching the gleaming marble floor that stretched for miles. Her entire house in Seattle could fit into the entryway.
Behind her, Manolito pressed a hand into the small of her back and gave her a little push forward. "Get inside."
Okay, the shoving thing was not working for her any more than his penchant for issuing orders. Besides underscoring the fact that he was the biggest jerk on the planet, every time his fingers brushed her body, every nerve in her system simply went haywire. Her body refused to listen to her brain screeching macho jerk alert.
Even though she couldn't stop the shiver of excitement and the slow burn that spread through her veins like a drug each time he touched her, he wasn't getting away with ordering her around the way he obviously thought he could.
"I know you didn't just shove me," she snapped, tossing her long, thick braid as she glared at him over her shoulder.
It was a mistake to look at him. His gaze burned over her-into her. No one had eyes like that or such a sinfully sensual mouth-or a house like this. She wasn't into opulence and decadence. She wasn't impressed by it or comfortable with it. And she certainly wasn't into hot, arrogant men who gave orders as naturally as other people breathed.
"It was a gentle aid to assist you into my home, as you seemed to be having trouble entering."
His voice slid under her skin and filled up every empty place inside of her. The deep-timbered rasp was wrapped in velvet and seemed to stroke over her skin. She set her teeth against the dark lure of pure sex.
"I'm not going in there. You must have another house. A little one. Anything else." Because he was planning on leaving her-again. He got her all hot and bothered, ordered her around, acted like a jerk, brought her to this-this-palace-and he was going to dump her. She could read it on his face. So screw him. She wasn't going in. Being alone in the middle of the rain forest on an island, palace or no palace, was not happening again.
She pushed back against Manolito's hand. Maybe if she found Luiz again, he could help her find the airstrip and she could sweet-talk the pilot into flying her back to civilization. Provided there was a pilot. And a plane. She didn't even know that, but Luiz might.
A flicker of fury bloomed in Manolito's black eyes, and he caught her up and tossed her over his shoulder, striding into the cool of the house, right past the entryway and double sweeping staircases and into an enormous room of marble and glass.
Shock stunned her into silence, and then pure anger blasted through her veins. MaryAnn, who never resorted to violence, who didn't believe in violence, who actually counseled against violence, wanted to beat the man into a bloody spot on the floor.
It was utterly humiliating to be carried over his shoulder, her arms and legs dangling like spaghetti. She pounded on his broad back only to be further infuriated when he didn't even flinch. "Put me down, right now," she hissed, clutching the back of his shirt. "I mean it, Manolito. If someone saw me like this, I'd be so upset." The thought was completely mortifying.
"No one is in the house," he assured her, not liking the distress in her voice. Anger was one thing, but not distress. "Riordan and Juliette must be with her sister and cousin in the rain forest. And since you asked so politely." Manolito set her on her feet and stepped back, a smooth, fluid glide, just in case she took a swipe at him.
MaryAnn straightened her jacket and blouse with great dignity. "Was that display of machismo really necessary?" Sarcasm dripped. If she couldn't smack him like he deserved, she could take him down with words. She was very good at crossing verbal swords.
Manolito stared down at her furious face. She was so achingly beautiful with her perfect coffee-and-cream skin, so soft he found himself brushing his fingers over her whenever he could get the chance. His. He tasted the word. Let it sink into his mind. She belonged to him. Had been made for him. She was his alone, and he would have her for all time.
She'd given him back colors and emotions after hundreds of years without. And she had no clue what she was to him. She stood there in front of him, a small spitfire of a woman with her shiny midnight black curls and chocolate doe eyes, innocent and vulnerable. Need crawled through his body with savage, raking claws, merciless and dangerous, but something else was creeping into his heart. Something soft and gentle when he had long forgotten tender things.
"It seemed an expedient way to get out of the early morning sun."
"Your mama sure didn't teach you a thing about manners, did she?" She tried to maintain her anger, but it was nearly impossible when he was looking at her in that strange way-as if she was-everything. And fear was beginning to swamp her, the need to cry, because she could feel the resolution in his mind to leave, to go to ground. She couldn't go with him, and that meant she'd be left alone.
He took a step toward her, obviously reading her dismay.
MaryAnn held up a hand to stop him, because if he touched her, she didn't know how she'd react. She'd never, never even contemplated turning her body over to a man and allowing him to do anything he wanted, but Manolito could so easily make her want to do just that. He could make her want things she'd never dreamt of, and that scared her almost as much as the idea of being left there alone. ''
"Look at my boots," she said, to keep from crying, and sank down onto the chair to pull them off. "I loved
these boots. They've always been my favorite."
He knelt down in front of her, gently pushing her hands away to remove the boots himself. She looked down at the top of his head, his hair silky midnight black and falling in disarray around his face and shoulders. She couldn't stop herself from touching it as his fingers slid down her calf and sent shivers of awareness up her leg.
He was only helping her remove her boots, yet somehow that small gesture seemed sexual. She tried to pull her foot away, but he circled her ankle with strong fingers and held her still. "Don't, MaryAnn. I have no choice but to go to ground. I do not want to leave you alone. It is the last thing that I want. If you continue to be so upset, you will leave me no other option than to convert you now and take you with me."
He raised his head, his dark gaze meeting hers. Her heart jumped as his tongue touched his lips and his gaze dropped to her mouth.
"Don't even think about it." Because she was thinking about it, and that just plain scared her to death.
"Go take a shower. I will look after these boots for you," he instructed. "The hot water will relax you and help you to sleep."
MaryAnn swallowed a protest and left him kneeling there on the floor, her boots in his hand. She didn't look back, wouldn't allow herself to look back, even though she was certain he would be gone when she came out.
She turned the water on as hot as she could stand it, letting it pour over her sore, tired muscles while she cried. It was silly, really, but she couldn't help herself after everything that had happened. A relief valve, but still her heart felt heavy. The shampoo took the poof out of her hair, and the conditioner smoothed it once again. She emerged feeling-tired and lost and wanting Manolito more than she ever had, but she was determined not to cry anymore.
She wrapped a towel around her and went into the bedroom to find something to sleep in. Manolito sat in the chair by the window holding up her boots. They were clean and shiny and looked new. For a moment, she could only stare in shock, clutching the towel to her as joy burst through her. Fresh tears burned, happy tears this time, but she swallowed them and managed to nod casually toward the boots.
"You fixed them."
"Of course. You love them." He set the boots down and held up a pair of high-heel sparkling red shoes that went with a little slip of a dress that clung like a second skin to her every curve. "I love these."
"You have good taste."
"Put them on for me."
Her eyebrow shot up. "Now? I'm in a towel and my hair is soaking wet." She had the mass of curls wrapped up turban-style, and she was suddenly self-conscious. "They look great with a dress I have, but I'm not so certain what effect they'll have in a towel."
"Right now." His voice was low, compelling, that hypnotic, sexy rasp that tightened her nipples and made her ache with need.
She put her hand on his shoulder and slipped one heel on her foot, all the while watching his face. He looked mesmerized. Hungry. She slid the other red heel onto her foot and stepped away from him with confidence.
The heels made her legs look great. How could they not? Towel or not, she had a good figure, and he was definitely appreciating it. He made her feel like the sexiest woman alive.
He stood up, an easy casual ripple of muscles, his walk catlike as he advanced on her, nearly stopping her heart. His hand cupped her face, thumb sliding over her cheekbone. "You are so beautiful. I have no idea what I did to deserve you, but you take my breath away."
He bent his head and kissed her. It was a gentle, lingering kiss, his breath warm and his mouth coaxing. He trailed kisses down the side of her face to her neck, nuzzling her, nipping with his teeth and teasing with his tongue. Her blood thundered in her ears as his hot, seductive mouth roamed down her throat to the curve of her breast. Liquid heat pulsed between her thighs.
Manolito tugged on the towel, and it dropped away from her body, leaving every inch of her bare to his hungry gaze. He stepped back to take in the sight of her, the expanse of satin skin and full, lush curves, achingly soft and inviting. His thumb brushed her sensitive nipple and she gasped in response. He drew a line from her chin to her navel. "I swear, MaryAnn, I have never seen a sight more beautiful in all my centuries of living." Lust roughened his voice, but honesty turned it to velvet. He stepped back, his hand sliding down her arm until his fingers tangled with hers. He tugged so that she would take a step toward him.