Dark Fire (10 page)

I am with you, baby. Do not sound so forlorn.

That's not how I sounded,
she replied, but he caught the echo of her thoughts.
Did I?

Come home, honey. Everything will work out. You do not have to sinltehandedly defend Desari from this reporter.

He is not just a reporter.

Darius was silent. How had
she
known that?
He
knew it. Several attempts had been made on Desari's life recently. He had read Brodrick's aura, found him to be deceitful, covering his lethal intentions with what he supposed to be charm. Tempest had been unable to read all that, but she had sensed a hidden agenda and done her best to divert the alleged reporter. She had done a good job, too. She'd sounded sincere and open, then contemptuous enough to lend authenticity to everything she said.

You don't have to believe me, Darius.
Tempest sounded hurt.

Of course I believe you, honey. Now get back here where I do not have to worry about you.
It was clearly an order.

Rusti sighed heavily. He wasn't getting it. She didn't want anyone worrying about her. As she approached within a mile of the campsite, she felt a curious shifting around her; the air seemed heavy and oppressive. At once she realized she had encountered a barrier of some sort. It created a sense of dread in her, as if she needed to turn around. Why was she feeling it now? Was Darius amplifying the perimeters he insisted she observe?

She tossed her mane of red hair, green eyes blazing defiance. He was not going to rule her as he did all the others. They treated him like some kind of Greek god. She groaned aloud. Why had she come up with that particular analogy? Just because he looked like one, acted like one? There went her hormones, running amok again.

Deliberately she began to think of things like taking the little red car for a spin down the highway, far from bossy men. She could hear Darius laughing softly, not in the least worried she would actually steal the car and defy him. Don't
bet on it,
she snapped as she parked directly behind the motor home and got out.

The four-wheel-drive truck was next on her to-do list. It was more important to get it than the dirt bikes into top shape. She lifted the hood and, as always when she worked, focused only on what she was doing, blocking out everything and everyone else.

Darius rose at the precise moment it was safe to do so, bursting from the earth with so much power that soil spewed upward like a geyser. The sky was a soft gray, not yet completely dark, but the canopy of trees cast deep shadows and aided in protecting his eyes. He inhaled, scenting the air around him, taking in each detail, every story the wind had to tell him.

The ever-present hunger gnawed at him, but this time his body, hard and heavy, was making unfamiliar, relentless demands, filled with a terrible need as insatiable as his hunger. He forcibly controlled the inner beast roaring for release and strode around the bus. He spotted Tempest perched precariously on the front grill of the truck, wielding a wrench that looked as if it weighed more than she did. Even as he approached her, her small body swayed, then teetered on the brink of disaster. She attempted to grab the edge of the hood but slipped backward with a small sound somewhere between alarm and annoyance. Clearly it wasn't her first fall.

Darius moved with blurring speed to catch her before she hit the ground. She landed in his arms. "You are more trouble than any woman I have ever encountered. Have you made a study on the best ways to drive a man insane?"

Tempest thumped his heavy muscled chest. "You scared me to death. Where did you come from? And put me down."

His body savored the feel of her, so soft against his hardness. Her face had smudges of grease on it, but she was beautiful all the same. "My heart cannot take any more incidents. What did you think you were doing?" he said gruffly.

Tempest squirmed to remind him to put her down. "My job." He was enormously strong, his body as hard as an oak tree, but his skin was like hot velvet. She could feel the rush of blood through her, hot and needy. It scared her to death. She shoved hard at him. Darius didn't appear to notice. Instead, he started striding away from the campsite. Her heart began to pound. He reminded her of a great warrior claiming his prize. He held her as if he had a right to her, as if she belonged to him.

Darius carried Tempest into the woods, away from open spaces, finding cooler shadows. Her scent beckoned him, and he found himself burying his face against the slender column of her neck. Her pulse beat frantically, drawing his attention. Her silken hair fell against his head, brushing flames over his skin. A sound welled up in his throat as his self-control slipped precariously. There was such danger in this madness. He knew better, but nothing mattered anymore but having her.

Rusti felt the warmth of his breath on her skin. Felt molten heat. And her body clenched in expectation. She circled his head with her arms, drawing him closer without even realizing what she was doing. His need was so great, it beat in him so strongly, that she could feel it swamping her, overwhelming even her sense of survival. His heart matched the rhythm of hers, strong and frantic. She felt the sweeping caress of his tongue along her neck, and her heart skipped a beat, her insides going liquid in anticipation.

"Darius, don't." She whispered the words, meant to make it a command. It came out a husky plea of need.

His mouth moved over her skin, sending waves of fire beating at her. I
have no other choice. What you ask is like trying to stop the wind. It is inevitable between us. Accept me. Accept what I am.
She felt the gentle lapping of his tongue, an erotic, hypnotic rasp of velvet. Her head arched back, exposing the vulnerable hollow of her throat. Heat spiraled through her body as his teeth sank deeply into the offering and he fed hungrily, voraciously on her sweetness. Nothing else would ever sate his hunger again. Nothing. His body burned, needed, demanded. She lay in his arms, drowsy, in a dark, magical dream world, on fire for him.

Somewhere in the woods an owl hooted. From inside the bus one of the cats screamed restlessly, the sound eerie in the twilight. Tempest drew in a deep, shuddering breath, her sense abruptly coming back to her. She was lying in his arms, a willing sacrifice, her body moving against him with an unknown hunger. Her breasts felt full and aching, her nipples hard and pushing against her thin shirt. She felt drowsy and heavy-eyed yet sinfully wanton. She began to struggle wildly, her fists flailing at Darius.

He pulled himself from a world of pure feeling, stroking his tongue over the pinpricks to seal the tiny points of evidence. "Be calm, honey. I am not hurting you." He rested his forehead against hers. "I will take this incident from your mind and wish that I could do so from my own as well." She was trembling in his arms, her enormous eyes wide with shock, her face pale.

"It's okay, Darius. It was just a surprise," she whispered. "I know you wouldn't hurt me." She made another attempt to get out of his arms.

Darius tightened his hold on her. "I am not going to give you up. I cannot. I do not expect you to understand, and I cannot explain adequately. I have been doing for others all of my existence. I have never had anything for myself; I never wanted or needed anything. But I need you. I realize you cannot accept what I am, but it does not matter to me. I wish I was able to say that it did, but I will not give you up. You are the only one who can save me. Save the others from me. Mortals and immortals alike."

"What are you, Darius?" Tempest stopped fighting him. She knew she had no hope of getting away from him unless he allowed it. Her voice was the merest thread of sound. Her heart was slamming against his chest so rapidly, she was afraid it might explode. At once his black eyes caught and held hers, and she felt herself falling forward into their dark, fathomless depths.

"Be calm, honey. There is nothing to fear." He enfolded her in waves of tranquility, a soothing, peaceful sea of reassurance.

As much as she wanted to, she couldn't look away. There was such an intensity about Darius. He was as still and solid as the mountains, as hard as granite, yet so gentle with her. When he looked at her, a burning hunger lit his eyes, a hard possession. He was ageless. Timeless. With a relentless will. He would never swerve from his chosen path. And he had chosen her.

She reached up to touch her throbbing neck. "Why me?"

"In all the world, in all these centuries since emotions left me, I have been so alone, Tempest. Utterly alone. Until you. Only you bring me color and light." He inhaled, taking her scent deep within his lungs. He needed relief from his body's relentless demands. "Do not worry, you will not remember any of this."

Still held captive by his black gaze, Rusti shook her head slowly. "I remember the last time, Darius. You didn't erase my memory."

His black-ice eyes didn't waver, didn't blink as he accepted the nearly impossible as fact. "You ran away because of what I am." He said it without expression, as if her revelation was not of paramount importance.

"You have to admit, it isn't every day a vampire bites one's neck." She made a feeble attempt at humor, but her fingers curled convulsively in his thick mane of jetblack hair, betraying her nervousness.

"So I am responsible, after all, for the attack on you." Darius was assessing the possibility of what she had said. It had to be true. Humans generally required little effort to control. But likely with the difference in her brain patterns, he should have used a much harder mental push to induce forgetfulness. What courage she must have to face him again. To know what he was, and yet remain as she had this night to face him.

"Of course you weren't responsible for what Harry did," she denied huskily, desperate to tear her gaze from his. She was drowning in those eyes, trapped forever. His arms were iron bands around her, locking her to him. She should have been far more afraid of him than she actually was. Had he succeeded in mesmerizing her?

"Yet you stayed this time, knowing I took your blood," he mused aloud. "You didn't try to leave, even believing me something as evil as a vampire."

"Would it have done me any good?" she asked, for once wanting to meet his eyes, wanting to see his expression.

He didn't so much as flicker an eyelash. His features were as etched granite, sensual yet immovable. "No," he answered her honestly. "I would find you. There is nowhere in this world I cannot find you."

Her heart pounded again. He could hear it, could feel the vibration echoing through his own body.

She drew in a breath. "Are you going to kill me? I'd just as soon know now."

His hand moved over her hair in a slow caress that sent butterfly wings brushing at her stomach. "You are the only one in this world, mortal or immortal, who, I can say with complete conviction, is perfectly safe. I would give my life to protect you, but I will not give you up."

There was a small silence while she studied his implacable features. She believed him. Knew he was as merciless and dangerous as any wild predator. He watched her throat work, a small, agitated attempt to swallow.

"All right," she conceded. "Then there isn't much point in running away, is there?" Her mind was in chaos, making it impossible to think what to do. What could she do? More importantly, what did she want to do? She bit down hard on her lower lip.

A small dot of ruby red welled up on that lush, trembling lower lip. A temptation. An invitation.

Darius groaned aloud, the sound coming from his soul. She couldn't do that, tempt him beyond endurance, and get away unscathed. He bent his head to hers, his mouth hard and possessive. His tongue found that tiny dot of sweetness, swept it into his keeping, savored it. But he couldn't stop there. Her lips were satin soft beneath his. Trembling. Enticing. God, he wanted her. Needed her. Hungered for her.

Open your mouth for me.

I'm afraid of you.
The words held tears, held fear, yet she was helpless against her own burning need. Tempest did as he ordered.

Time stopped for Rusti, and the world fell away, until there was only the hard strength of Darius's arms, the heat of his body, the width of his shoulders, and his perfect, perfect mouth. He was a mixture of domination and tenderness. He swept her up with him, caught in a whirling kaleidoscope of colors and feelings. Nothing would ever be the same again. She would never be the same again. How could she be? He was branding her heart. Branding her soul. He was crawling inside her and taking over so that she breathed only him.

His hunger was beating at him, at her. She was the only thing in his world that was solely for him. She was fire, hot, silky fire racing through his veins, and he never wanted it to stop. Only when she gasped, her lungs laboring, did he lift his head, his black eyes burning with possession over her face. Tempest was very pale, her eyes enormous, her lips holding the imprint of his.

She was so weak, she was grateful Darius was still cradling her in his arms. Her legs felt like rubber. "I think I'm going to be like one of those ridiculous heroines in an old-fashioned novel and faint," she murmured against his neck.

"No, you are not." He attempted to feel guilt-he had taken her blood, and she was so small and fragile that any blood loss could make her weak-but Darius was not one to waste time on regrets. How could he regret what was as natural and inevitable as the tide? She was his. Her blood was his. Her heart and soul belonged to him.

Very gently, tenderly, he ran a caressing hand over her silky hair and down her soft cheek to lay his palm against her throat. His fingers curled slowly around her neck, his thumb feathering the delicate line of her jaw. He wanted to touch every inch of her, explore every secret, intriguing shadow and hollow, memorize her luscious curves.

"Darius." Her green eyes found his black ones. "You can't just decide you own me. People don't own one another anymore. I'm not certain what you are, but I gather you weren't born here or even in this century. I was. I value my independence. It matters to me that I make my own decisions. You don't have the right to take that from me." She tried to choose her words carefully, accepting that she was to blame for her own behavior, that this wasn't all Darius's fault.