Dark Possession(78)

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.