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but Manolito knew he was still in danger. Or maybe the shadow world really was illusion and he was losing his mind.
Because his legs refused to hold him any longer, Manolito slowly crouched down, careful to appear to stay in control. He took another slow look around him, a small frown on his face. Why was he seeing everything through a veil, as if he were only half in his world and half in another? He plunged his hand into the soil he had slept in, hoping that it would anchor him and keep him from the shadows.
Just as he'd expected, the soil was terra preta, fertile black soil found among the poorer reddish clay or white sand in the rain forest. Unlike the other soils of the rain forest, the terra preta maintained fertility. Finding the precious soil had been a deciding factor in his family's decision to purchase the island.
The De La Cruz brothers had realized the soil was their key to survival and hope. Far away from their homeland, without their native soil, they searched the rain forest and most of Brazil in the earlier centuries for something rich and rejuvenating that would aid them not only in healing wounds and sleeping, but also in giving them strength needed to maintain their honor so far from their prince and people and without lifemates to sustain them. He took handfuls of the precious dirt and packed the wounds on his belly and sides to keep from losing any more blood.
Even with the soil in his hands, the large, lacy fronds darkened in color, turned from vibrant green to a drab gray. His breath caught in his throat as a thought occurred. If his lifemate was dead, would he cease to see in color?
The rain forest was capable of overwhelming newcomers with its sheer intensity of vivid, brilliant color and raw beauty. Manolito was at home in a place many saw as threatening and oppressive. Now, with his lifemate having restored his emotions and his ability to see in color, he should be blinded by the vivid colors, but as his surroundings fluctuated between color and shadow, could that mean she was dead? Was that why she wasn't with him? For a moment time seemed to stop. His heart thundered in his ears, a frantic cry for his other half.
No. He let out his breath. She was alive. He felt her. Touched her mind-to-mind. It had been brief, but her mind had pushed against his. Close to him, the jaguar-man stirred, bringing Manolito's attention snapping back to him. Feeling vulnerable, not knowing what was real and what was illusion, he forced his body to his feet once again, facing the man.
"Let me aid you," Luiz offered, frowning as he observed the sheen on Manolito's skin. He kept his voice low and friendly, seeing the sudden flare of heat in the Carpathian hunter's eyes. "Are your wounds so terrible?"
Manolito shook his head. He could not afford to go drifting between worlds. Not when he didn't know friend from enemy. That only put him in more danger than ever, yet he couldn't seem to stop it. One moment the forest would be vivid with brilliant colors and the familiar, comforting night sounds, and the next, it would be a dull version, the colors muted and hazy, the shadows alive with something not alive, yet not dead. He made an effort to force his mind back to the situation, to extract as much information as possible when he had the opportunity.
"Do you know who this woman is that the vampire is sending your men to acquire?"
At once the jaguar-man's expression changed to one of wariness. "I am not certain. There are few purebloods left even among our males. There are even fewer women, and only one or two of noble blood."
"My youngest brother has found his lifemate. She is jaguar. And from an aristocratic lineage. Are you referring to her?" Manolito wanted to get it out in the open. If this was some elaborate plan to recapture Juliette, Riordan's lifemate, the jaguar-men would have a war on their hands. The De La Cruz brothers would protect Juliette with their lives, and every other Carpathian would do the
Because his legs refused to hold him any longer, Manolito slowly crouched down, careful to appear to stay in control. He took another slow look around him, a small frown on his face. Why was he seeing everything through a veil, as if he were only half in his world and half in another? He plunged his hand into the soil he had slept in, hoping that it would anchor him and keep him from the shadows.
Just as he'd expected, the soil was terra preta, fertile black soil found among the poorer reddish clay or white sand in the rain forest. Unlike the other soils of the rain forest, the terra preta maintained fertility. Finding the precious soil had been a deciding factor in his family's decision to purchase the island.
The De La Cruz brothers had realized the soil was their key to survival and hope. Far away from their homeland, without their native soil, they searched the rain forest and most of Brazil in the earlier centuries for something rich and rejuvenating that would aid them not only in healing wounds and sleeping, but also in giving them strength needed to maintain their honor so far from their prince and people and without lifemates to sustain them. He took handfuls of the precious dirt and packed the wounds on his belly and sides to keep from losing any more blood.
Even with the soil in his hands, the large, lacy fronds darkened in color, turned from vibrant green to a drab gray. His breath caught in his throat as a thought occurred. If his lifemate was dead, would he cease to see in color?
The rain forest was capable of overwhelming newcomers with its sheer intensity of vivid, brilliant color and raw beauty. Manolito was at home in a place many saw as threatening and oppressive. Now, with his lifemate having restored his emotions and his ability to see in color, he should be blinded by the vivid colors, but as his surroundings fluctuated between color and shadow, could that mean she was dead? Was that why she wasn't with him? For a moment time seemed to stop. His heart thundered in his ears, a frantic cry for his other half.
No. He let out his breath. She was alive. He felt her. Touched her mind-to-mind. It had been brief, but her mind had pushed against his. Close to him, the jaguar-man stirred, bringing Manolito's attention snapping back to him. Feeling vulnerable, not knowing what was real and what was illusion, he forced his body to his feet once again, facing the man.
"Let me aid you," Luiz offered, frowning as he observed the sheen on Manolito's skin. He kept his voice low and friendly, seeing the sudden flare of heat in the Carpathian hunter's eyes. "Are your wounds so terrible?"
Manolito shook his head. He could not afford to go drifting between worlds. Not when he didn't know friend from enemy. That only put him in more danger than ever, yet he couldn't seem to stop it. One moment the forest would be vivid with brilliant colors and the familiar, comforting night sounds, and the next, it would be a dull version, the colors muted and hazy, the shadows alive with something not alive, yet not dead. He made an effort to force his mind back to the situation, to extract as much information as possible when he had the opportunity.
"Do you know who this woman is that the vampire is sending your men to acquire?"
At once the jaguar-man's expression changed to one of wariness. "I am not certain. There are few purebloods left even among our males. There are even fewer women, and only one or two of noble blood."
"My youngest brother has found his lifemate. She is jaguar. And from an aristocratic lineage. Are you referring to her?" Manolito wanted to get it out in the open. If this was some elaborate plan to recapture Juliette, Riordan's lifemate, the jaguar-men would have a war on their hands. The De La Cruz brothers would protect Juliette with their lives, and every other Carpathian would do the
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