Zacarias’s focused gaze continued to bore into Julio, demanding an answer.

Julio’s face darkened. “My father and I have had many talks about Charlie and how best to handle his situation. We thought he would make it this time.” He ran a hand through his hair. “No one’s seen him for days.”

“And neither you nor your father thought this might be something I should know?” Zacarias’s voice was very quiet.

Not in front of Lea. Don’t do this, Zacarias, Marguarita pleaded. Julio would be more embarrassed than ever to have his boss take him to task over something he knew was wrong in front of both Lea and Marguarita. Julio is a proud man and very loyal to you . . .

Zacarias never took his predatory gaze from Julio’s face, staring him directly in the eye, locked on, focused and very frightening. Marguarita felt her stomach begin to churn. She hadn’t realized just how tense she was getting.

“Yes, señor, you should have been told. Charlie has a family, children. We hoped drying him out would work this time.”

“He is a liability to everyone on this ranch. Cesaro should have known that.”

Julio’s face flushed nearly crimson. “He’s aware of it.”

“I want this man found and brought to me.”

Lea cleared her throat. “My brother talked about a man named Charlie he met in a bar.”

A chill went down Marguarita’s spine. Her gaze jumped to Julio’s. If Charlie was drinking heavily and he was talking to Lea’s brother in the bar, had Esteban’s friend been there as well—the one so interested in the De La Cruz family?

Connected so deeply with Zacarias, he couldn’t fail to read her concern. His mind slid against hers in a brushing caress that shocked her. He didn’t often show tenderness and the gesture felt just like that—tender and caring.

“Tell me about that conversation,” Zacarias commanded, his voice a low velvet persuasion.

Marguarita recognized the buried compulsion. The Carpathian blood flowing in her veins heightened every sense and she knew immediately that Lea would be unable to resist that gentle push to obey Zacarias. She wasn’t certain how she felt about the manipulation, but above all, she wanted Zacarias safe so she pressed her lips together to keep from protesting.

Lea rubbed her temples as if she had the beginnings of a headache. Marguarita actually felt the pressure slowly exerted on her. Zacarias was trying to be gentle, a concept new to him, she realized. Ordinarily he would have ripped the information from Lea’s head and never looked back. His gentle touch was in deference to Marguarita.

She glanced at him. He looked so incredibly handsome and dangerous. It was no wonder both Julio and Lea were intimidated by him. Even trying to be friendly, Zacarias looked what he was and in total command. No one would ever fail to notice him.

He sent her a wave of reassurance, but kept his gaze on Lea, wanting her to remember details she probably didn’t think were important.

“Esteban came in very late, about three in the morning, and he’d been drinking, more than I’ve ever seen him. He just doesn’t do that. I had to help him into the house. He couldn’t make it up the stairs to the porch. DS had just shoved him out of the car.”

“You were waiting for your brother?” Zacarias asked.

Lea nodded. “I was worried.”

She rubbed her temples again, and then twisted her fingers together anxiously. Julio reached up and covered her hands with his in a gesture of comfort. His eyes met Marguarita’s. He knew exactly what Zacarias was doing and he was ashamed that he’d put Lea in such a position. Cesaro and Julio ran the ranch. The men and their conduct were their responsibility. Charlie had been a liability for a long time, but for his family’s sake, they had kept him on.

“I sat outside on the porch steps waiting for him. Dan—DS—laughed when he pulled up the drive and saw me sitting there. I stood up and started for the car and DS leaned across the seat, pushed open the car door and shoved Esteban out onto the ground. I could hear him laughing and he looked right at me . . .” She trailed off, shivering.

More. Tell it all, Zacarias pushed relentlessly.

Marguarita couldn’t help frowning at him. Lea was obviously scared of Esteban’s friend. Anyone could see that. She started to reach for the notepad, frustrated that she couldn’t find a way to comfort her friend. Very casually, Zacarias’s hand got there before hers. He pocketed the notepad leaving Marguarita feeling cut off from the others in the room and a little hurt. The notepad was her only means of communication and Zacarias had just declared it off limits to her.

Lea cleared her throat and twisted her fingers to meet Julio’s as if for strength. “DS sort of grabbed his crotch and yelled ‘later’ to me. He pushed out his tongue and made several suggestive gestures. I hesitated, not wanting to get too far from the house in case I had to run, but he drove off laughing.”

Zacarias shot her a warning glance. His eyes focused for a moment on her. There was no ruby red indication that the predator was riding him hard. There was no midnight sapphire their lovemaking brought out, there were only hard black diamonds glittering at her. A chill went down her spine. She didn’t understand the driving need in him to interrogate Lea, but nothing was going to stop him, certainly not Marguarita.

She tried not to feel hurt. She didn’t understand him yet. He had never answered to anyone and he believed she should trust him and follow him in all things, but he didn’t understand the rules of polite society and how what he was doing could hurt Lea and Julio. She feared they would never be comfortable looking at one another again if he continued to force things from Lea. In the end, Julio would forever be upset and distrusting of Zacarias and it would color her relationship with him.

Marguarita looked into her teacup. She didn’t really feel like drinking tea when she’d always loved it. Nothing tempted her, other than water the last few days. She was losing her world and going into his, little by little. She had made that choice, but she wasn’t quite prepared to give up everything she loved so fast.

“My brother was on the ground, facedown in the dirt. I could hear him laughing and it really upset me. I’m pretty certain he didn’t see DS, and he probably didn’t hear him, but I didn’t like him laughing, not when I’d been so scared,” Lea admitted.

Julio shifted his body toward her. “Of course you were scared. Who is this man, DS?”

Lea shook her head. “Don’t go near him, Julio. He’s bad news. Ever since my brother met him, we’ve had nothing but trouble. He persuades Esteban to do things that are wrong.” She ducked her head, avoiding eye contact. “I’ve barely managed to keep Esteban out of jail more than once.”

“That night,” Zacarias prompted, keeping her on track. His voice was pitched very low, a velvet persuasion no one could resist.

“I helped Esteban into the house. He was really drunk and he kept talking about Charlie and how DS had recruited him. He bought him drinks all night. Esteban bragged how he kept up with Charlie who was knocking them back. He kept talking crazy, making no sense at all. They played some crazy game. A shot for truth or a dare.”

“What do you mean, he talked crazy?”

Marguarita’s mouth went dry. Suddenly her heart began to pound. She was very, very afraid. It was the purr of Zacarias’s voice, a stirring of a dangerous predator, one who clearly had caught the scent of prey and was locked on.

Drink your tea, mića emni kuηenak minan—my beautiful lunatic. Allow your heart to follow the rhythm of mine. Zacarias shifted slightly, the movement subtle and probably impossible for any other to track, but his body was closer to hers, his heat seeping into the cold of her skin. There is no need to be afraid. Your friend is safe from me. There is no evil in her.

“Crazy things.” Lea rubbed her temples again. “Staking vampires. He kept calling himself Van Helsing. It’s a name from the book Dracula. He said he was going on a hunt. That he needed a stake and garlic. And then he’d laugh like a maniac and tell me to make necklaces of garlic.” She covered her face with her hands, shaking her head. “The next morning he acted like he didn’t remember anything at all, but then he told me not to tell DS that he’d said anything about vampires and garlic and stakes, so I knew he was lying to me again.” She looked at Julio a little pleadingly. “Honestly, insanity doesn’t run in our family. He was drunk. I have no idea what he’s into, but Esteban likes the idea of secret societies and gangsters. He’s very susceptible to bad influences.”

“What did Charlie tell them?” Zacarias persisted.

Marguarita felt tears burning in her eyes. The penalty for betrayal was death. Everyone knew that. You could ask to leave and memories could be removed, but if you were part of the families serving the De La Cruz for generations, the barrier in the mind, the shield protecting the brain from invasion was present at birth and removal was a difficult thing to endure. Charlie had talked in his drunken state to Esteban and his friend DS.

Lea frowned and this time rubbed at the little lines on her forehead as if that would help her remember. Power stirred in the room. It was so strong, Marguarita was shocked that neither Julio nor Lea seemed to notice the crackle of energy in the air.

“Esteban said Charlie drew maps to the sleeping chambers and it would be easy to stake the vamps during the day because they wouldn’t be able to move.” She blinked rapidly and looked around the table, embarrassed. “He was really drunk and he wasn’t making sense.”

Again Marguarita felt Zacarias probing Lea to insure she was an innocent and not probing for more information. She didn’t believe in vampires and thought DS and her brother had likely taken drugs along with their drinking. She was certain Charlie was having drunken hallucinations. She was very humiliated and didn’t understand why she couldn’t quit talking about a subject very painful to her. She wanted to go home and pull the covers over her head.

“Thank you, Lea,” Zacarias said quietly. “I know that was difficult. Charlie is responsible for the lives of his coworkers and we needed to know how ill he really is.”

Marguarita drew in her breath. She heard the soft note of a sentence pronounced. Charlie was likable when he wasn’t drinking, but how did one tell a man like Zacarias that? Zacarias had lived centuries in a stark, lonely unbearable existence, but with honor, never breaking his code. He wouldn’t understand weakness. In his world, the weak didn’t survive.

Zacarias suddenly reached out and wrapped his arm around her, bringing her into him, under the protection of his shoulder. His chair was beside hers that fast, with no one the wiser that he had moved again to cover the short distance between them.

She knew that. She knew that a few of the members of the main families—Chevez, Santos, Fernandez and Diaz—all knew that the sleeping chambers lay beneath various rooms in the ranches. They were used only when the De La Cruz family kept up appearances of being human and living in human society. Zacarias was the one member of the family that rarely showed himself at any of the ranches, yet if Charlie had given any forbidden details—and it sounded suspiciously as if he had—Zacarias would be in danger because of her. He was only staying at the hacienda because she was there.

She could feel her eyes burn. He wouldn’t listen to her. She knew he wouldn’t leave. He would hunt his enemies. She tried again.

Very gently now, knowing Lea was pushed close to her limit, Zacarias murmured softly into her mind. Tell me what else your brother and DS have discussed.

Lea pressed her fingers to her mouth, guarding a secret. She looked at Marguarita guiltily. Ashamed.

Marguarita could feel triumph rising in Zacarias. He didn’t feel it, he only kept pressing Lea, peeling back the layers until he found the secret she guarded so carefully.

“I’m sorry, Marguarita. Esteban made us come here because of you. It wasn’t just because this hacienda is owned by the De La Cruz family. I feel like such a fraud. According to my brother, there is a worldwide agency called the Morrison Agency, or something like that . . .”

Marguarita’s heart jumped. She pressed her hand tight over her mouth. My father heard of such a place several months ago. They test for psychic ability. He thought my gift with horses was a psychic talent.

I filled out their questionnaire but I never did their follow-up because my father died and I . . . Marguarita touched her scarred throat. I lost my voice and how could I explain it anyway? You have to feel the connection. There is no other way.

“We know of the agency,” Zacarias said. “Marguarita did initially begin the interview process, but went no further than filling out a questionnaire. What did that matter to your brother?”

Marguarita realized that by Zacarias answering for both of them, he appeared to know all about her, as if she’d shared all the details of her life with him.

Lea looked confused. “I’m not certain exactly, but it is the reason we chose this remote area. Esteban was avoiding the law, but I’d never really heard of this place. I overheard him on the phone talking about Marguarita and this Morrison Agency and he agreed with whoever he was talking to . . .”

“Was it this DS character?” Julio demanded.

She nodded. “I think. They thought it likely that if Marguarita did have a psychic talent then the chances of a De La Cruz showing up was much higher than on any of their other properties. Esteban was to come out first and strike up a friendship with her.”

“So you weren’t really friends with her.” Julio’s voice turned hard. He glared at Lea.

Tears immediately sprang to her eyes. “That’s not true.” Lea reached out for Marguarita imploringly. “I swear to you, the friendship between us is real. I felt at home here. For the first time in a very long while, I was happy.”

Marguarita took her hands, her gaze flicking to Zacarias. I don’t have my notepad. Please assure her we’re good, that I understand and am her friend.

Zacarias smiled at Lea, a mere baring of his teeth that was obviously supposed to serve as a smile. “Marguarita knows your friendship is real. Have no worries.” He pushed a small compulsion at the woman.

“It sounded so silly to me,” Lea continued. “I knew you were good with horses, but really, psychic? I didn’t care why we came, just that we had. Even Esteban seemed happy for a while—until DS showed up. It doesn’t take long before he ruins everything. Now our house is just plain scary.”

“You shouldn’t go back to that house,” Julio told Lea. He glanced at Marguarita, pointedly prompting her to invite Lea to stay.

“You are welcome to stay, Lea,” Zacarias said for both of them, surprising Marguarita. He brought her hand up to his mouth and brushed his lips lightly over her knuckles. She will not stay here. She still believes she can save her brother.

I am sorry, sívamet. He is too far gone.

You don’t know that. But he did. Zacarias had been in the world too long. He had seen too many friends, family members, humans fall. She saw it all in his mind. She felt his terrible sorrow like a weight pressing on his chest, on his heart—yet he refused to acknowledge it.

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to take it on, that weight that never left him. What would it be like to spend her days hunting people who had meant something to him at one time? Having to kill the people that had mattered? To know you could never make a friend, trust anyone, love anyone or be loved? She wanted to understand him and it was here, in this sorrow, in the memories he refused to acknowledge she would find her courage to stand with this man.

“Take me home, Julio,” Lea said. “It’s very late and I need to sleep. I’m glad Ricco is going to be all right.”

Marguarita signed thank you and blew her a kiss.

Julio rose with her. “Thank you for the tea, Marguarita.”

Zacarias kept his hand on Marguarita’s shoulder as he rose, too. “I will see you out.” I have to remove her memories of the conversation with us about Diaz. It could put her in danger.

She was surprised that he had added the last after a brief hesitation. In his memories, she had never found an instance where he explained himself to anyone.

She felt as if he’d wrapped her in a protective cloak of warmth—more than warmth—he surrounded her with protection and filled her mind with love. She hugged herself, trying not to smile. She wasn’t even certain if he knew what he was feeling toward her, but she knew and, right then, when she felt a little out of her depth, she needed him just the way he was.

Marguarita collected the cups and dessert plates and took them to the sink to wash up. Looking at the crumbs made her think of hunger, but she didn’t feel it. The thought of eating anything was disturbing. She drank water, hoping that would assuage her growing thirst. There was a strange throbbing in her veins, a beat that refused to go away, a soft insistent call that steadily grew stronger. A need. A longing. A hunger.

The entire time she’d spent with Lea and Julio, she’d been uneasy and had convinced herself it was because of Zacarias, afraid of what he might say or do. But here, alone in the kitchen, with no one to witness, she could admit to herself, it was the call of their hearts, the steady ebb and flow of the blood in their veins. She could hear it, and although she’d turned the volume down as Zacarias had helped her learn to do, she found the temptation beating in her own veins—beating in Zacarias’s veins, in his mind and heart.

It would never stop, not as long as her mind was immersed in Zacarias—as long as he filled her up in the way she filled him. The hunger didn’t stop for Zacarias, not when he could hear the drumming call of a pulse, not when he could smell the rich scent of fresh blood. That was his world and one she had to become accustomed to.

When she was alone, trying to analyze how she felt about taking blood, the human in her was frightened and even utterly repulsed. Strangely, after first being terrified, Zacarias had somehow turned the act of giving or receiving blood into something natural and even beautiful, a sharing of the very essence of life as long as he was with her.

Marguarita knew the exact moment Zacarias entered the room. He moved in utter silence, but she was immediately aware of him, every one of her senses springing to life. Her body sang. Her heart fluttered and a million butterflies took wing in her stomach.

He came up behind her, so close she felt his heat, the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck where he swept her hair out of the way and bent to brush his lips over her skin. A whisper of a caress, and yet she shivered in reaction, her blood turning warm—her body welcoming.

“I know that was difficult for you as well as for your friend, and I am truly sorry.”

She turned around. He didn’t step back. She was pinned between the sink and his body. Tilting her head, her gaze found his. She smiled at him.

He kissed the tip of her nose. “If that is true, you are the only one who sees my eyes in color. I have only seen them dark, like the shadow of death.”

She circled his neck with her arms, linking her fingers at his nape as she leaned into him. I assure you, they are a beautiful blue when you look at me that way.

“What way is that?”

With caring. She couldn’t bring herself to say love, but it felt like love.

He caught her chin so she couldn’t look away from him. “Will it feel like love when I take you away from everything you know? Everyone you love?”

His eyes stared into hers. All midnight blue. So beautiful her heart fluttered.

“You humble me.”

“I will rule you.” He said it starkly, shadows sliding into the blue of his eyes.

A slow smile softened the hard edge to his mouth. “I will expect you to keep your word. Do not ever keep your fear or your anger from me. I want all of you.”

Laughter spilled into his mind. Ask Julio and Cesaro before you ask for that. I have a very bad temper. It doesn’t happen often, but I’m not reasonable when someone is silly enough to push me too far over the edge.

Zacarias looked down into those melting-chocolate eyes and knew he was lost. He was not a man who trusted, yet he trusted her word. She would stand with him. He took her hand and tugged, leading her through to the main room of the house.

“I want you to come with me, Marguarita. I want to show you our world.” He smiled down at her, his eyes more blue than ever. “With you, I will be seeing it for the first time.”

She sketched a question mark.

“In color. You will provide the colors and emotion. I have never seen the night and the moon and rain forest in vibrant color.” It seemed a miracle that she could do that for him. Just being with her gave him a different world altogether.

He’d lived in a kind of void. A hell that was stark and barren and very ugly. The rich colors and even the emotions—both bad and good—made everything a kind of miracle.

She had given him such a gift, allowing him to ride a horse with her, exploring the ranch, flowing over the ground, one with the animal, and he could give her this. He hoped to woo her a little, court her, show her he had something to give as well.

It’s close to dawn, Zacarias, she reminded gently.

The night was his, what little was left of it. His world. His domain. It mattered little that for centuries it had been a hell. She was with him now. Marguarita. The flip side of hell was paradise and he would take her there, find it with her, experience it with her. Through her.

Marguarita didn’t hesitate. She tightened her fingers in his and reminded him gently. I’m not wearing any underwear. Will I need different clothing?

He groaned. He’d been steadily ignoring the temptation of her body. He wanted to spend time with her, give her something besides his continual hunger.

“I will keep you warm.” His gaze drifted possessively down her body. He loved her hourglass figure, all those lush curves just for him. “You are a beautiful woman.”

She blushed, glowed. Her smile was a bit like the moon rising and the stars joining in. He went out the door before he lost his control and they didn’t make it out of the house. She seemed to have that effect on him.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and took to the sky. She gasped and clung. He laughed softly and buried his face in all that hair. Silken strands were everywhere. She tried to tame it by tightly holding the arm locking her to him and reaching cautiously with her other hand to bunch the mass into a thick twisting knot held to the nape of her neck.

“You have to actually open your eyes to appreciate this,” he whispered.

Joy burst through him. Fireworks. Vibrant colors. Speeding light zipping across the heavens. A glittering wonderland spread out below him and Marguarita was in his mind, sharing it all with him. She was more than a miracle, she was a little piece of heaven. What would it matter if he had seen this without her? It would have meant nothing at all. Now . . . his rain forest . . . his country—was everything, because she was there.

He felt her fingers dig into his arm. He bent his head to put his mouth against her ear, although he didn’t use words. He wanted the more intimate form of communication. He felt every breath she took. Felt every beat of her heat. Show me your trust, mića emni kuηenak minan.

Her breath hissed out, although he felt laughter, nervousness and excitement at the same time, filling his mind. You just called me a lunatic again, didn’t you?

Well, he teased, you are flying through the air above the canopy of the rain forest with me. You have to be a bit of a lunatic to do that. I did call you beautiful though. And mine. Does that make up for it?

She opened her eyes. Below her was every shade of green on the color spectrum, with the bright silvery light of the moon spilling over the canopy. Instead of looking up at it from the forest floor, she was looking down at it. A breathless sigh of wonder filled his mind. He dropped down fast, taking her through the branches, to show her the spectacular find he’d run across years earlier.

He felt the wonder of that sight from so long ago, and knew now why he had returned year after year to make certain the flock was still there. He hadn’t felt the rush back then, but he felt it now, the beauty and majesty of the large birds all roosting in the hollows of the grove of trees. There were so many, great imposing birds.

He had always felt at home in the rain forest and had felt more of a kinship with the animals than he had with people populating the world.

Like me, Marguarita confirmed. That’s why we connected so quickly and deeply, Zacarias, we both have a kinship with animals.

The impression of her soft laughter teased his mind. Of course you’re more like a great jungle cat, all teeth and claws, and I’m more like the hummingbirds buzzing around the flowers.

She looked up at him, her eyes bright with joy, with the thrill of what he was sharing with her. Deliberately he showed his teeth, baring them at her much like a wild animal. More laughter spilled into his mind. All that warm honeyed molasses poured through him, a kind of molten gold, filling the cracks and spaces and driving away more of the shadows.

His arm tightened around her. How had he gone from being completely alone to being completely filled by a woman? A human woman at that?

More laughter spilled brightness through him. A lunatic of a woman.

My lunatic, he agreed, finding himself smiling.

She had changed the world. Brought him to life. Brought the world around him to life. He couldn’t resist teasing her. You do know that hummingbirds fight all the time. They are vicious little creatures.

He laughed out loud. The sound startled him—pleased him. He had heard the word fun, but didn’t really understand the concept until that very minute. Sharing with Marguarita was fun.

Are you cold? Had he detected a little shiver?

Everywhere she looked, curious heads in pairs looked up at her from hollowed-out holes in the trees where they roosted.

He felt her excitement, flowing through her, flowing through him. She had awoken him after centuries of darkness. A part of him would always worry just what she’d managed to awaken. His feelings for her were too intense and too mixed to take out and examine.

He looked down at the riot of color, all the shimmering feathers as the macaws slowly stretched and preened, getting ready for their early morning meeting as the moon descended and the sun rose.

He gave a derisive snort and felt her laughter pour into his mind. She flooded him with happiness. She tightened her fingers around his wrist, her body vibrating with excitement as the birds fluttered wings and, almost as one body, took to the air. Beams of light spilled through the trees, hitting the vibrant colors on the shimmering, iridescent feathers. The colors nearly blinded him, so vivid and intense, making him a little dizzy. He had seen the sight before, but not in living color. Not like this. And not with her.

Marguarita. He breathed her name, a soft whisper on the wind, carrying through the rain forest to the macaws.

The large birds wheeled in the air, a graceful display of living fireworks, a spectacular demonstration of nature at her most beautiful.

Zacarias could barely breathe with the emotions rising like a tidal wave. For her. For Marguarita. He had brought her to this special place to share this very moment. A gift for her, yet in the end, the gift had been from her. The colors. The intensity. The sheer feeling.

In the air, in the rain forest, out in the open where he belonged—just at that moment where night turned into day and his heart beat in both places.

She stroked him with love, deep inside his mind, soft caresses that burned through skin and bone, branded him somewhere he thought long gone. She broke him open and poured herself inside of him, filling him up with her light.

She turned, there in his arms, and he stripped them both of clothes, so that it was her skin sliding against his, all warm and soft and lush, her body already ripe for him. He bent his head to find her mouth while she wound one leg around his waist, pressing her inviting entrance tight against him. She tasted of innocence and sin. He bunched her hair in his hand and pulled her head back so he could kiss her again and again, his tongue exploring all that sexy heat.

Her hips rocked invitingly against his. He marveled that she didn’t hesitate, didn’t deny him anything, not even when she was poised thirty feet in the air with a carpet of macaws spread below them and the branches around them filling with monkeys. She kissed him back, seemingly oblivious to anything but him. Trusting him, giving herself to him without reservation.

He had to let go of her hair to lift her other leg around him. She levered herself up, using her hands on his shoulders, sliding her scorching hot body over his belly to position herself right over the smooth head of his cock. He closed his eyes, savoring the exquisite feeling as she slowly impaled herself, sliding down in an excruciatingly gradual motion, taking his breath with her little circles and the way her tight body reluctantly gave way, stretching around the thick length of him.

She threw her head back and began a slow ride designed to drive him insane. Her muscles gripped and stroked, the friction building like a slow fire when the fierce heat was already surrounding him. She felt velvet soft, moist and tight. Too tight. Strangling him. Sending bolts of lightning streaking through his body. His every nerve ending felt even the tiniest movement she made as she rose up, her body sliding over his, fitting like a glove, a second skin, and then sinking back over him, taking him deep inside her.

Her hair blew around them, cloaking them one moment and sliding away the next to reveal their bodies intertwined. He let her set the pace, watching every expression on her face, her eyes, the happiness, the pleasure, the lust, but mostly, he found himself looking for the love. It was there in her melting eyes. In the way she touched him. In the way she moved, that slow, spiraling lazy ride, as if she wanted to enjoy every last moment with him, wring it out to forever. She savored him.

He realized she had opened the dam of his emotions, and for her, every feeling was more intense, more everything. His world centered around her. This world. The one with color. With emotion. With love.

Her hands smoothed his skin, her lips suddenly brushed his shoulder and retreated again as she let her head fall back and her eyes meet his.

Always, avio päläfertiilam—my lifemate. I will always live with you. There is no other way. He took the control back, surging into her over and over, each stroke deep and long and each one telling her what she was to him. He drove her up high and as he tipped her over the edge, she took him with her. They soared across the sky, a dizzying ride, locked together, racing the sun as they made their way home.