Dark Fire (4 page)

When she tried to stand, she swayed slightly before finding her balance. She remembered every horrifying detail of the night before, even though Darius had commanded her to forget all of it. She had no doubt he was capable of commanding most human beings to do his bidding, but somehow he hadn't managed to do so with her. Tempest had always been a bit different, able to communicate with animals, to read their thoughts as they could read hers. That trait must have provided her partial immunity to Darius's mental push, though he likely thought he had successfully destroyed her memories of what he was and what he was capable of doing. She put a hand to her throat, searching for a wound, realizing that she wasn't immune to his blatant sex appeal. She had never felt such chemistry in her life. Electricity had arced between them, sizzling and crackling. And it was humiliating to acknowledge that, however much she'd like to think so, he wasn't completely to blame. She hadn't been able to control herself around him either. Which shocked her. Terrified her.

So okay. The man was an honest-to-God vampire. She would scream and fall apart later. Right now the important thing to do was get out. Run. Hide. Put as much distance between herself and that maniac as she could possibly manage before nightfall, when vampires allegedly arose. Right now, he had to be sleeping somewhere. God help her if he was in a coffin somewhere in the bus. She wasn't about to drive a stake through anyone's heart. It wasn't going to happen.

"Go to the cops," she ordered herself softly. "Someone has to know about this."

She lurched her way to the front of the bus. Glancing in a mirror to assure herself she still had a reflection, she winced at her appearance. The vampire had to be pretty hard up to come after someone who looked the way she did-like Frankenstein's bride.

"Sure, Tempest," she said to her image, "you tell the police. Officer, a man bit my neck and sucked my blood. He's the guardian-uh, bodyguard-for a real popular singer and band. He's a vampire. Please go and arrest him." She wrinkled her nose at herself and deepened her voice. "Sure, miss. I believe you. And who are you, anyway? A homeless, penniless young woman with a record of running away from every foster home we ever put you in. Let's say we take a nice ride to the funny farm. After all, you do spend a lot of time talking to animals." She made a moue with her lips. "Yeah, that'll work."

She found the bathroom, which proved amazingly luxurious, but cleaned up quickly rather than admiring her surroundings, showering, gulping as much water as she could. She changed into faded blue jeans and a fresh cotton top from the small backpack she always had with her.

The moment she headed for the exit, however, both cats lifted their heads alertly and made sounds of protest. She sent them her regrets but slipped out before they could stop her by body-blocking the doors. She could feel their intentions, knew Darius had instructed them to keep her there should she awaken. Both snarled and screamed in anger as she made good her escape, but she didn't hesitate, slamming the door behind her and running away from the bus.

She spent several minutes trying to locate the toolbox she always carried with her, but it was nowhere to be found. Cursing under her breath, she headed for the highway and began to jog. As soon as she put some miles between herself and that creature, she would be happy. Wouldn't you know she would find a vampire? Probably the only one in existence.

She wondered why she wasn't fainting with fright. It wasn't every day a person met a vampire. And she couldn't even tell anyone. Ever. She would go to her grave the only human being alive to know that vampires really existed. She groaned. Why was she always getting herself into trouble? It was so like her to go out on a simple job interview and manage to encounter a vampire.

She jogged for three miles, thankful that she liked to run, because not one single car had driven by in all that time. She slowed her pace and reached up to wrap her sweat-dampened hair into a ponytail again to get it off her neck. What time was it? Why didn't she own a watch? Why hadn't she checked the time before she took off?

After another hour or so of jogging and walking, she finally flagged down a car and managed to get a short ride. She felt abnormally tired and terribly thirsty. The couple who picked her up bubbled over with goodwill, but they wore her out with their energy, and she was almost glad to say good-bye and resume her jogging and walking.

But this time she didn't cover much ground. She was so tired, her body felt like lead, and each step she took felt as if she were wading through quicksand.

She sat down abruptly on the side of the road. Her head was beginning to pound with alarming force. She rubbed her temples and the nape of her neck, hoping to alleviate the pain.

A small blue pickup truck pulled up beside her. It was a measure of her weakness that she could barely find the strength to get to her feet and go to the driver's window.

The man was about forty, compact, and muscular. He smiled at her, his eyes holding a hint of worry. "Something wrong, miss?"

Rusti shook her head. "I need a ride, though, if you're going any distance."

"Sure, hop in." He pushed a pile of clutter from the seat to the floor. "The truck's a mess, but what the heck?"

"Thanks. The weather looks like it's going to turn nasty." And it did. Unexpectedly, dark clouds began to float across the sky.

The man glanced up through the windshield. "Crazy. The weather reports said clear and sunny. Maybe those clouds will just drift on by. I'm Harry." He stuck out his hand.

"Tempest." She slipped her hand into his for a brief shake, but the moment she touched him, her stomach lurched and her skin crawled.

His thumb brushed the back of her hand just once, sending a chill down her spine. But Harry released her immediately and put the truck back into gear, his eyes on the road. Rusti huddled as far from him as possible, fighting her rising nausea and wild imagination. But the moment her head was against the back of the seat, tiredness overtook her, and her lashes kept drifting down.

Harry glanced at her with obvious concern. "Are you sick? I could take you to the nearest doctor. I think there's supposed to be a small town a few miles up this road."

Rusti tried to rally. She shook her pounding head. She knew she was pale, and she could feel small beads of perspiration dotting her forehead. "I jogged for several miles. I think I just overdid it." But she knew that wasn't the problem. For some reason every cell in her body was protesting the distance she was putting between herself and Darius. She knew it. Felt it.

"Go to sleep, then. I'm used to driving alone," Harry advised. "I usually have the radio on, but if it bothers you, I can do without it."

"It's not going to bother me," she replied. Her lashes would not stay up no matter how hard she tried to stay awake. She was exhausted. Had she picked up a bug?

Suddenly she sat up straight. Could vampires have rabies? They turned into bats, didn't they? And couldn't bats carry rabies? She was okay with bats, but that didn't mean she liked vampires. What if Darius had infected her with something?

She realized Harry was staring at her. He was probably thinking he had picked up a nutcase. Deliberately she settled back against the seat and closed her eyes. Could a person become a vampire with one bite? One little bite? She squirmed, remembering the dark, sensual heat burning through her body. So okay. Maybe a big bite. The memory, the feel of his mouth on her neck, made her throb and burn, flooding her with flames all over again. She found her hand creeping up to her throat to cover the spot, to hold the erotic memory in the palm of her hand.

She nearly groaned aloud. Darius definitely had infected her with something, but it wasn't rabies. Weariness continued to invade her body, deadening her limbs, so she gave up the fight and allowed her eyes to close.

Harry drove for fifteen minutes, casting quick, covert glances at his hitchhiker. His heart was pounding loudly in his chest. She was small and curvy and had fallen right into his lap. He never looked a gift horse in the mouth. Glancing at his watch, he was satisfied to see that he was ahead of schedule. He was meeting his boss in a couple of hours and had time enough to indulge his fantasies with the little redhead.

The ominous clouds had thickened and darkened, occasionally issuing small veins of lightning and a rumble of thunder. But it was still early evening, around six-thirty, and Harry watched for a grove of trees where he could pull off the road into a private area and remain undetected by any passing cars.

Rusti jerked awake when a hand fumbled clumsily at her breast. Her eyes flew open. Harry was leaning across her, tearing at her clothes. She slugged him as hard as she was able to in the small confines of the truck. But he was a big man, and his fist clipped her behind her ear, then smashed into her left eye. For a brief instant she saw stars, then everything went black, and she slid farther down into the seat.

Harry's mouth covered hers, wet and slimy. Again she struggled wildly, raking at his face with her fingernails. "Stop! Stop it!"

He slapped her over and over, his other hand squeezing her breast hard, hurting her. "You're a whore. Why else would you get in here with me? You wanted this. You know you did. That's okay, honey, I like it rough. Fight me. It's great. It's what I want."

His knee pressed hard against her thigh, holding her down so that he could tear at the waistband of her jeans. Rusti's hand found the door handle, and she wrenched at it and jackknifed out onto the ground. Scrambling on all fours, she tried to get away.

Overhead the skies unexpectedly opened up, and the dark clouds emptied onto them like a waterfall. Harry caught her ankle, dragging her back over the gravel toward him. Grabbing her other ankle, he flipped her over so hard it drove the air from her lungs.

Lightning flashed, sizzled, and arced from cloud to cloud. She saw it clearly as she stared up at the sky. Rain fell in silver sheets, drenching her. She closed her eyes as Harry struck her repeatedly with his clenched fist. "Feels good, feels real good, doesn't it?" he rasped. His eyes were ugly and hard, glaring down at her with hatred and triumph.

Tempest fought him with every ounce of strength she possessed, kicking at him when she could draw her legs up, beating at him until her fists were bruised and aching. Nothing seemed to help. The rain poured down on them both, and thunder growled, shaking the ground.

There was no warning whatsoever. One moment Harry's weight was pressing down on her body, the next he was jerked backward by some unseen hand. She heard the thud as her attacker landed hard against his truck. She tried to roll over, sick to her stomach. Every muscle hurt. She managed to make it to her knees before she vomited violently, again and again. Her eye was swelling shut, and with the rain, wind, and abruptly falling darkness, it was hard to see what was happening.

She heard an ominous crack, the sound of a bone breaking. She crawled almost blindly toward a tree and dragged herself unsteadily up to brace herself on the trunk. Then arms surrounded her, drew her toward a solid chest. Instantly she erupted into a fighting, struggling wild thing, screaming and blindly flailing.

"You are safe, now," Darius crooned softly, battling down the beast raging in his body. "No one is going to hurt you. Be calm, Tempest. You are safe with me."

At that moment she didn't care what Darius was; he had saved her. She clutched his jacket and burrowed close, trying to shrink from the terrible brutality and disappear into the shelter of his body.

Tempest was shaking so hard that Darius was afraid she would collapse. He lifted her into his arms, holding her close. "See to the mortal," he snapped over his shoulder to Dayan, his second in command.

Darius carried Tempest's small, battered body into the comparative shelter of the trees. She was a mess, her face swollen and bruised, tears streaming down her checks. She was hunching into herself, rocking back and forth, far too reminiscent of Syndil after Savon's attack for Darius's comfort. He simply held her, allowing her to cry, his arms strong and comforting.

Before he had risen, the warning of the cats had reached him that Tempest was fleeing. He had slowed her down as much as he could, making her exceedingly tired. Then he sent the clouds to darken the skies so that he might rise early without the sun hurting his sensitive Carpathian eyes, without burning his Carpathian skin. The moment he could, he had launched himself skyward, commanding Dayan to follow him. Together they streamed across the night toward her, Barack racing after them in the sports car at Darius's command.

Now each tear she shed tore at him, ripping into his soul as nothing else had ever done. "You have to stop, baby," he whispered softly into her hair, "you will make yourself sick. It is all right now. He is gone. He will never touch you again." Or
anyone eke.
Dayan would destroy any evidence that Tempest had ever been in that blue pickup. Her attacker would drive himself into a tree and break his neck farther down the road.

Darius found his own hand trembling as he stroked her hair, his chin rubbing the silkiness just because he had to. "What made you leave? We offered the perfect job for you. And you will have me to look after you."

"Lucky me," Rusti said wearily. "I need some aspirin."

"You need sleep and time to heal," he corrected gently. "Come home with us, Tempest. You will be safe there."

Tempest clutched her head, but every single place Harry had punched her throbbed and hurt, each worse than the other. She hated that anyone should see her like this, and she certainly had no intention of going anywhere with Darius, especially when his sister and the rest of his group would witness her humiliation.

She pushed ineffectually at the solid wall of his chest, wincing when even her palms hurt. Darius caught her hands and examined them carefully, then brought each to his mouth. His tongue moved over her fingers in a rasping caress that sent a shiver through her body but, oddly enough, soothed the pain. "I can't go back there, not like this."