Christine Feehan - Dark Possession

MaryAnn had never told anyone, and she wanted to tell him. The constriction in her chest had grown; the feeling of being drawn inside was terrifying, almost as if the very essence of her was being sucked into a small, dark place, to be held in tight confines. She wanted to throw out her arms and kick her legs to prove to herself she was still in her own body and not tucked inside a box.

«I tried to tell my mother, and she told me it was a dream-a nightmare that perhaps I'd remembered as I ran. She didn't want me to go running anymore and neither did I. I never did it again. And I never went into a forest after that.» It had taken all of her courage to come here to this place to help Solange and Jasmine, to find Manolito and try to get him out of wherever his mind had locked him. Her courage was waning, and she wanted the comfort of home.

«Because it triggered the memory?»

«The feeling of terror and being unable to breathe. The fear of being locked away and unable to get out.» MaryAnn moistened her dry lips, her hand creeping up to his neck, fingers curling around his nape. She needed to feel the strength of his larger frame, the heat of his body and the steady beat of his heart.

Manolito remained silent, simply holding her while she stared up at the stars and ignored the animals surrounding them. Surprisingly, she felt no threat from them, only a kind of kinship, a rush of sympathy and concern toward her. She took a breath and let it out. She was going to tell him all of that memory because she was absolutely certain it had occurred, and it was the only real way she could face it.

«The woman clawed her way through the brush. We were being chased and she was sobbing. I knew she was hurt, but she clung to me, forcing herself to cover the miles until we came up to a house, a vacation home for a lady and her husband who had been friends with the woman carrying me. The lady came out. I remember her face, frightened, concerned, shocked when she saw blood everywhere. The woman handed me to her and told her they were trying to kill us, that they would kill me. She pleaded with the woman to save me.»

She had to stop because her throat constricted again and there was that terrible tightness in her chest that came more and more often. She buried her face against him, a shudder going through her body.

«MaryAnn.» He stroked a hand down her hair, rubbed circles of comfort along her back. «Did you recognize the lady? The neighbor? Was she familiar to you?»

She didn't know. How could she know? Her heart pounded wildly and her breath came in ragged gasps. The admission burst out of her without her consent, without her permission, the declaration shocking her. «She was my grandmother.» She choked, gasped for breath, her fingernails biting deep into his skin. «The neighbor, who took me, was-is-my grandmother.»

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, protectively, one hand shaping the back of her head, fingers moving in her hair gently as he massaged her nape to soothe her. He hadn't expected the feelings– the emotions-that assailed him. He was shaken by the sheer intensity of sensation coursing not through his body, but through his heart and mind. He murmured softly to her in a mixture of Carpathian and Portuguese languages as she wept in his arms.

She felt small and lost to him, and far too vulnerable. MaryAnn was a woman of confidence, not this soft bundle so shattered curling in his arms, burrowing into him and not even aware she did so. Her distress was so great that waves of it burst over him and spread throughout the rain forest, disturbing all the creatures.

«How could they do that to me?»

He waited. She still kept that barrier firmly in place, not allowing him access to her mind-to her pain-or even to memories. And he suspected she had more.

«My parents should have told me. That woman… I know her. I feel her here,» MaryAnn pressed a trembling hand to her heart. «I ache thinking of her. She sacrificed her life to save me, just as the man did.»

«Most parents would willingly sacrifice their lives for their children, MaryAnn. There is no greater love.» He kept his voice gentle, hypnotic, although he was careful to keep from pushing or adding a compulsion. He kept her wrapped in warmth and safety in the only way he could, outwardly, when his every inclination was to push forward, to soothe and make everything all right for her. It was difficult to suppress his instincts to take her over. She was not a woman to be taken over.

Manolito nuzzled the top of her head with his chin and then brushed dozens of small kisses into her hair. A mixture of emotions poured from her. Grief. Anger. Feelings of betrayal. Guilt for thinking even for a moment anyone else might have given birth to her.

«I love my parents. We're a normal family.»

She opened her mind again to him, and images of her childhood leapt into his brain. She was attempting to prove to him, and to herself, that her memories of growing up within her family were true and real, and everything else was simply an illusion, or a bad nightmare. He could see her parents holding and kissing her, swinging her into the air, laughing and happy with her. She had been surrounded by happiness and love her entire life.

«They love me.»

There was satisfaction in her voice, but she was clutching his hand and her nails bit deep into his flesh. He looked down at their joined fingers and could see the hard knots beneath her skin, the curve of her nails, thick and strong, one not covered in polish.

«It is obvious they love you,» he agreed and brought her hand to the warmth of his mouth, pressing his lips to the knots, smoothing them, gently tugging with his teeth until the nail piercing his skin was lifted and she relaxed a little more.

«I don't know what I'm supposed to think,» she said, sounding vulnerable and lost.

His heart reached for hers instinctively. «No matter what your past was, MaryAnn, you are still you. Your parents loved you and raised you surrounded in that love. If they are not your birth parents, it does not in any way change that fact.»

«You know there's more to it than that.» She jerked her hand out of his and sat up, facing away from him, toward the treetops. She could see the highway in the canopy, the branches touching, serving as a long strip from tree to tree where even the larger animals could travel quickly.

She swallowed the lump in her throat threatening to choke her. «My whole life has been built on a lie, Manolito. I don't have the history my parents have given me. I don't have the stability of all the structure I thought I had. I don't know who I am. Or what I am. Growing up, I sometimes had flashes of memories, and each time, my parents explained it away as inconsequential, when really, it was very important.»

«Maybe they had reasons, sivamet. Do not judge them harshly when you do not yet have all the facts.»

«It isn't happening to you. Your entire life isn't being ripped apart.» She flashed him one smoldering look over her shoulder and turned away again. «And then you come along and add to it all by claiming me, by binding us together in a ritual I don't have a choice in. And now I'm becoming something else. How do you think you would feel if it was happening to you?»

«I don't know, but is becoming a Carpathian so terrible?» He swept a hand through his hair, wishing he had his entire memory back. «You will be able to do so many things that you cannot do now. You will see, in time, that there is no reason to worry.» Her life as his lifemate would be perfect. He would make it perfect. «It seems unreasonable to be upset over something you cannot change.»

His voice was so calm it set her teeth on edge. He spoke as if they were having a philosophical discussion, not contemplating irreversible and dramatic changes to her life. Fury burned through her. «Reasonable? I shouldn't worry about being forced out of my own body? You're taking me over, telling me what I have to do, and I should just go along with it because you say so. How nice for you to live in your comfortable skin and know who and what you are. Claiming me doesn't change your life at all, does it?»