His hand settled around her ankle. Marguarita kicked him hard with her other foot and pushed herself up to her hands and knees to escape.

"Stop it. I do not want to have to force your obedience." His fear mounted with the thought of losing her. Something was terribly wrong and he had to fix it.

Why not? She rolled over, her face damp with sweat and beaded with tiny red dots. Her eyes showed both accusation and hurt. I was so wrong about you. You're exactly what you told me - a monster. And your binding words are a lie. You lied. They mean nothing.

Marguarita could barely breathe, caught between pain and dissolution. She'd loved those words he'd whispered to her, binding words, he'd said. He'd married her in the way of his people with words like cherish , heart and soul . Things said like always in my care . He'd stolen her heart with those glimpses of a man who desperately needed saving, and those tender, amazing words that somehow had bound them together.

There is no care. Certainly nothing like cherish. Take your empty words and keep them. I don't want them.

Zacarias caught his breath, her accusation tearing at him along with the sight of her tears, streaked with pink. Right now nothing could matter to him but her physical condition. He had to find a way to help her. He focused on finding a way through the barrier in her mind.

"Marguarita," he pitched his voice low, velvet soft, bordering on hypnotic. "You could be in trouble, sivamet. You have to let me in to see what is happening."

Go away and leave me alone with this. I can get through it myself. I don't want anything to do with . . .

She broke off abruptly. Her eyes went wide and her mouth gaped open in a silent scream. Horror spread across her face. Her stomach seemed alive, rippling, contracting, her muscles knotting in her arms and legs.

Zacarias reached for her again, the need in him bordering now on total insanity. What was wrong? What was going wrong? This made no sense to him. Clearly she was in agony. She had no control, her body struggling to expel toxins, fighting to reshape organs and change her body from human to Carpathian. He was certain if he could share her mind, he would shoulder the pain, but even in the height of the wave, her barrier against him never wavered. He needed another way in without harming her.

Waiting for the surge of pain to pass was agony for him. He breathed through it, trying to take in enough air for both of them. He noticed each bout lasted longer and seemed harder. He waited until he could see recognition in her eyes before he tried again.

"Marguarita. You cannot continue this way. It is getting worse. Let me in. I can take away the pain."

Temper smoldered in her eyes. I don't want your help. I'd rather suffer. I want to never forget, never ever forget this lesson of yours .

He needed her to keep talking. Telepathic communication went directly from her mind to his. He found her thread and used a very delicate touch, weaving his thread to hers.

"This was not meant as a lesson, Marguarita. You knew I would bring you into my world. This was consequence. To protect both of us. To protect my brothers from having to hunt me. To protect your family here from a monster unlike any other."

I can do this myself. You can say it isn't a punishment, but you meant it that way.

He shoved both hands through his hair. "You knew I would bring you into my world and you consented," he reiterated, keeping his voice very low, nearly holding his breath as he carefully and very gently wrapped more of himself around that tiny thread she used to access his mind.

I thought you would introduce me with love and care, not in such a cold, unfeeling manner. Not with such pain. She gasped again, her hands flying to her stomach. I don't want you. Go away.

Once again she rolled over, struggling to her hands and knees. The vomiting was explosive, horribly wrenching as she expelled all the toxins in her body. Her body convulsed again, contorting, driving her forward until she hit the wall, and rolled over again, drawing her legs up to her belly.

Horrified at her lack of control she buried her face in her hands when she became aware of the mess everywhere. Please go away.

His tenacious hold on the thread between them was growing stronger with every contact. It was only a matter of time before he could ease into her mind and seize control without her consent.

"Did you forget what would happen if you were killed, Marguarita?" He asked the question in that same low voice. "You knew my legacy. You uncovered a secret few have knowledge of, my darkest secret, and yet still you persisted in your disobedience."

He couldn't keep the hurt of betrayal from rising. He made every effort not to feel it, to distance himself once again from all overwhelming emotion, but now that the dam had been punctured, he was unable to stem the tide. He cared nothing for the rest of the world. To him, everything and everyone was still separate from him, lost to him, unless he could feel through her. But Marguarita was different. He saw her in full, vivid color. He felt her and through her, his emotions, everything lost to him all those centuries - both good and bad.

She had become his world and he had believed in her. He believed in himself because of her - for the first time thinking he could actually live a life with another. He had spent centuries living only on honor and yet, with a single decision, she could have destroyed and nullified everything he'd ever done - everything he'd ever been.

He didn't remember his father as the man who had raised and shaped his life. He remembered him only as the undead, that rotting, soulless vampire who would have killed his own sons. Marguarita would have made him that same memory for his brothers - the ones who would have had to hunt and kill him. It was more than possible that he would have murdered his own brothers.

A single sound of despair escaped from the back of his throat. He brushed one hand over his face as if he could remove the knowledge of her betrayal so easily.

Just leave me to this.

There was weariness in her voice. She was weakening, the fight between human and Carpathian taking its toll. But even with his reminder, she didn't seem to understand what a terrible betrayal it had been. He couldn't afford to think of himself right now. She was in trouble and he wanted - no, needed  - to ease her through the change. This terrible, traumatic episode could not continue.

"You know I cannot." Silently he willed her to answer him. Each time she did, she opened her mind just a little more, giving him a stronger hold on the thread that would allow him to seize control without harming her.

I'm too tired to argue. Do what you want. What I want obviously doesn't matter to you.

The weariness in her voice alarmed him. If he knew anything about her with certainty, it was that she was a fighter. In that moment, he sensed she gave up, her life, him, all of it. She was willing to allow it all to slip away.

He was so focused on her that he saw the wave approaching almost before she did. This time was even more intense. Unseen hands picked her up and threw her down like a rag doll. She fell on her back, her hands flying to her throat. Zacarias had to grip her writhing body and turn her over to keep her from choking.

Zacarias couldn't coax her, or plead anymore. He needed this to stop almost more than she did. Waving his hands, he removed all traces of vomit and expelled toxins from her body and the floor. A breeze cleared the room of all scent. Candles sprang up, bringing the soft fragrance of lavender through the entire house.

In desperation, he took control, following those threads straight back into her mind. Complete chaos reigned. Fear uppermost. Hurt. Her sense of betrayal was every bit as strong as his. Her motivation for disobeying him had nothing to do with equality, or asserting her independence. In part it had been a vow imprinted from birth, the lifemate bond and her own character refusing to allow her to take a chance of putting his life in danger.

She had disobeyed out of love for him.

Zacarias groaned aloud, trying to grasp the enormity of what that meant. He still didn't truly understand that emotion. He had felt it long ago - so long ago - but the emotion was so far removed from him that he no longer recognized it for what it was. Marguarita knew how to love. She had given herself into his care, trusting him to do the best thing for her.

Her love enveloped him. Swamped him. Lifted him. Once again, warmth poured through the ice of his mind and body, finding the shadows, bridging the gaps where connections should have been. He felt her inside him - where she belonged - cementing them together with her love. With the essence that was her.

She had made a bad decision in refusing to obey him, yes, but she didn't understand the enormity of the repercussions. He could tell her, but her knowledge wasn't the same as his. He knew evil walked in the world, knew what it could and would do, he had battled it for centuries. She had been raised in a loving environment where vampires were the thing of legends. Yes, she'd faced one, and she had the courage to defy it, but she had never really seen the destruction they could cause on a massive scale.

Zacarias had no time to examine the revelations in her mind. The terrible toll on her body had to be stopped. He pushed away all thoughts of himself and his own reactions to the way her mind worked, the depth of her ability to give and feel. That couldn't matter. Only stopping the crushing pain. He shed his body, flowing as pure spirit into hers, using that delicate thread to find his way.

Just as in her mind, chaos reigned in her body. He could see clearly what was happening, the reformation of her body, the changes taking place in order for her to become Carpathian. He should have realized it would be a near-death experience; she would have to die as a human to be reborn as a Carpathian. And she was fighting it. Refusing. That, too, was unexpected.

He hadn't come to comfort her when she needed it. He'd added to the trauma instead of gathering her into his arms and holding her. She rejected him and his ways as adamantly now as he clung to them. She had closed off access to her mind deliberately, knowing she would suffer, yet not wanting his help to aid her passage. No longer wanting his comfort or him.

He had thought her a lunatic for seeing him as anything but a dangerous predator, too long in the shadows, his soul already blackened, pierced through with a million tiny holes until it was impossible to repair. And yet, she had seen past the dark shadows to the man clinging to life somewhere on the edges. Lost. He'd been so lost. He didn't know anything other than to hunt and kill. She had been the one to give herself freely to him, trusting that he would honor his ritual binding vow.

Zacarias summoned his energy until he was all power and healing light. The reshaping of organs could be speeded up, but the only way to stop the pain was for him to shoulder as much as he could. Share it with her. Feel it with her. She resisted. He knew she would, but she was weak, he was strong and his blood heeded his call.

"Rest as much as possible in between the waves," he said gently as the pain receded from her body. He kept that thread, his one link to her.

She sighed and turned her head away from him as he lifted her into his arms off the floor. The room felt and smelled clean, the scent of lavender and chamomile drifting around them. The bed had cool sheets with the scent woven into them lightly. He placed her in the exact center and lay down beside her, his arms trapping her body to give her an anchor.

"I know you do not want me to help you through this, Marguarita," he said gently, brushing the damp hair from her face. Her lashes lay in two thick crescents, a stark black against the white, almost translucent skin. She shivered continually, uncontrollably. Even her teeth chattered. "But I have to. I know right at this moment you cannot understand, but I have no choice."