How could that be? How could Luiz have those exact products in his bathroom waiting for her to use? He couldn’t have known ahead of time and bought them for her. Everything came in on boats. He would have had to arrange it far in advance. The more she looked around, the more she realized the design of the bathroom, the tub, even the detail of the handheld water faucet was exactly as she’d pictured in her own home—if she ever had one.
She stepped onto the thick mat Luiz had on the floor and wrapped herself in a towel before going to the cabinet to examine the contents on the shelves. Her heart nearly stopped beating when she saw the dryer. For her curls, she used a very specific diffuser. It was designed to work with her type of hair. She had very thick hair and a lot of curls. She kept her hair long; otherwise, her curls would be tight little ringlets all over her head.
There was no way to just get that diffuser. It was from a special company, and it took a while for them to ship it. She knew. She’d been in the United States, not the Peruvian rainforest, and yet there it was. Sitting on a shelf with half a dozen other, smaller products she liked for her skin.
“Okay,” she whispered aloud. She spent a great deal of time alone and often spoke out loud.
“He was definitely in my mind, looking around at my memories. When was he able to do that and I wasn’t aware? What about Tomas? He can do that as well.”
She leaned into the mirror, turning her head slowly, and for the first time examined the mark on her neck. Two small spots that looked suspiciously like a snakebite. Or just a bite. Her heart went crazy as her hand crept up to cover the brand.
“You knew,” she accused herself. “Don’t act shocked. Don’t get allpanicky, because you’ve known all along—he took your blood after you said no to him. That’s why you woke up and wanted to run.”
What’s with Carpathian males that they don’t care in the least what their lifemate, or maybe it’s any woman, thinks or feels?She sent that question out into the universe because she really wanted the answer.
Where is the disconnect happening? Why are women less to you? Why don’t we have the same rights as you?
If she was being honest, the jaguar shifters were equally as bad. And human males around the world seemed often to have those same opinions. They were in charge, and the women were supposed to do whatever they said.
She shook out her hair and began to style it, completely on automatic, strangely grateful and yet resentful of having the products she needed at her fingertips.
Okay, not all men worldwide. She had to be fair. There were good men in the world, many of them. Men who respected women and had good relationships with them. Men who didn’t treat women as sex objects or servants.
Was she crying? Did she actually have tears spilling over and running down her face? She peered closer into the mirror because her image was blurry. She wasn’t a big crier, although she indulged occasionally when she was alone. Sorrow had welled up unexpectedly. Overwhelming grief. It was shocking in its raw intensity.
Her hands shook as she wiped at the tears and studied her pale face in the mirror. “What is wrong with you? You aren’t in love with him. You have the brains to get yourself out of this if you think logically.”
Emotions were visceral. Gutting her. It wasn’t simply because she couldn’t touch Tomas; it was because he was wrong for her. Dead to her, whether he was asleep beneath the ground or not.
Why are you so distressed,sivamet? I warned you what to expect. I am coming to you at sunset. Only a short time away.
Tomas flooded her mind—with him. Strong. Confident. Reassuring.That gentle stroke of velvet like a caress. He seemed to do so effortlessly. His concern for her was apparent, and yet he was undisturbed by their separation. Only she seemed to have to suffer the consequences of his binding them together.
Perversely, she didn’t want him to come to her. She hadn’t decided what to do or how best to handle the situation. She detested that he could read her emotions, which were all over the place. That had been one of the reasons she didn’t want him taking her blood. No one had the right to look into her personal thoughts or feel her emotions, confused or otherwise. She should be able to decide when and what she wanted to share.
Don’t mistake my sorrow for me believing you are dead or being sad about our separation. Yes, I do feel sad. Very sad. I asked you not to take my blood, just as I asked Luiz. Neither of you respected me enough to listen. My choice didn’t matter to you or to my cousin. Only what you wanted or needed. I needed time to learn about you and your ways. Neither of you was willing to give that time to me.
There was silence, but she felt him there, moving in her mind, stroking soothing caresses. She wasn’t even certain he knew he was doing it as he absorbed her accusation.
I understand how you would think that. Your point of view does count, Sarika, far more than you know. In my culture, before all else, we must put the safety of our women first. That is an absolute rule. We cannot get around it. No manner of discussion or upset can remove that fundamental imperative obligation. It is bred into our bones. Far before our births it is imprinted on us, just as the ritual binding words are.
That is an excuse, not the reality of the situation.She wished he didn’t sound so persuasive. He did. She didn’t want to hear him, but she was a listener. When she listened, she tried not to form arguments while the other person was speaking. That allowed her to hear them and try to process what they were really saying.
You do not understand. You believe you have no choice, but the truth isI have none when it comes to certain things, such as your safety and health. I wanted to give you the space you asked for so you could come to terms with the situation. I know you from your letters. I know you’re a thoughtful person, who would give real consideration to our customs and ways. The binding ritual is not a custom. Neither is the need to protect you. Those two things are sacred in our society, and we are compelled to obey those decrees. It is compulsion, not just want or need.
Sarika did her best to hear him out. He sounded as if he spoke the truth when he said he wanted to give her the space to come to terms with everything on her own. She liked that he referred to her letters. He had always given consideration to her ideas. She had to admit that about him. He’d never been dismissive of the things she thought would be good for the big cats in various environments.
He would always assess what she said and then give her his thoughts. Sometimes he would point out why something wouldn’t work, but then he would tell her that the idea she had for corridors went right along with his thinking. The jaguars needed to be able to move from one place to another in order to find mates.
But compulsion? What did that mean exactly? Had Tomas been unable to do anything else? Luiz had acted the same way about taking her blood.
Tell me about the binding ritual. What does that mean, and what did it do to me?
She felt his hesitation. That didn’t bode well. She began to dress carefully in clothes that she could easily shed if she needed to. Clothes didn’t work when one was shifting, and she had no idea what to expect once the sun went down.
I would prefer to explain it in person. It is a difficult concept, and the conversation needs to be in depth.
That was fair, but she felt different, as though something significant had changed in her body. Not just her body. Something fundamental that she couldn’t change back.
