Dark Fire (9 page)

She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was three in the afternoon. If she was going to get the other vehicles running and earn her keep, she would have to do it soon.

Groaning aloud as her muscles protested, she slid out from under the blanket and made her way to the bathroom. The shower felt good on her aching body and helped to clear away the cobwebs in her mind. As always she swept her hair up out of the way and dressed in a T-shirt and blue jeans, pulling on overalls to keep them semi-clean while she worked.

She was surprised to find the refrigerator fully stocked with fresh vegetables and fruits. She also spotted various breads and pasta. Somehow she knew Darius was responsible for the supplies.

Having learned at an early age to improvise meals, she made an artichoke and mushroom sauce to put over pasta and ate leisurely though sparingly, her stomach still upset from the previous days' events. Finally she cleaned up and went out to take a look at the troupe's car, truck, and motor home.

The afternoon sun was sinking, but it was hot and humid even under the canopy of trees where she was working. Still, she enjoyed the peace of the woods. A slight breeze came up about an hour after she began work, which relieved her discomfort a bit. For the most part, she was so focused on what she was doing, she didn't think of anything else. She finished her adjustments to the motor home by five o'clock and took a short break to drink some cool water and check on the cats.

The red sports car basically needed only a tune-up, and since the group seemed to carry a small-parts department with them, she was able to find what she needed easily. Tempest rather enjoyed working on the little car and was satisfied when it purred at her as she started it up. She took it up the winding ribbon of a road, putting it through several gear changes, driving as if on a race track. A few miles from the camp she pulled over to adjust the timing.

She was standing over the engine, listening to it, when the first wave of uneasiness washed over her. Keeping her head beneath the gaping hood, she lifted her eyes and searched the area around her. Someone was watching her. She knew it. She had no idea where her heightened awareness came from, but she was positive she was right.

Tempest?
The voice was, as always, calm and tranquil. But Darius sounded far away.
Tempest, what is it?

Her fingers clenched around the small instrument in her hand. They weren't going to play pretend with one another anymore. They couldn't pass this off as a dream.
Someone is watching me,
she responded.
It feels…
She paused, searching for the correct word to describe her uneasiness. When none came, she did what she did with the animals: She sent an impression of her emotion.

A small silence ensued as Darius evaluated the information. He troubles
me also. You are not within the perimeter I set. Did you not feel the wrenching when you passed through it?

Rusti frowned.
You set perimeters for me? What does that mean? You have a set distance I'm allowed to travel?
She was outraged, forgetting for a moment her unwanted watcher.

Do not give me trouble, honey. Just do what I say.
There was a hint of amused exasperation in his tone. I
knew you were trouble the
minute I
laid eyes on you. Make a slow visual sweep of the surrounding area. Very slow. Really look. I will, see what you see.

Rusti did as he ordered because she was curious to see what might happen. Her eyesight was good, her senses alert, yet she did not discover what was unsettling her.

It was a strange feeling to share her mind and eyes with another being. She wished she'd brought the cats with her.

It's too late to show good sense now, Tempest.
You should have stayed where you were, out of harm's way, as you were supposed to do. There is a man with a pair of binoculars watching from the small wooded area to your left. I can make out the bumper of his car.
Tempest felt her heart thud in alarm.
There is no reason to fear him. I am with you now. It would be impossible for him to hurt you.

But what if he approaches me? I know you are far away. I feel it.

Darius sent her a wave of reassurance, pouring warmth and strength into her. He would never allow another male to treat her as Harry the attacker had. Never again. He meant it. A vow to himself. A vow to her. Rusti swore she could feel him wrap a protective arm around her. She didn't stop to think that it might not be good idea to lean so heavily on his strength when she was bound to resent his dominating ways. She allowed herself to breathe again, allowed her heart to slow back to normal.

Keep working, honey. He is about to make his approach. Just
act normal. I will know if you need my intervention.

She took a deep breath, let the air out slowly, and bent once more to fine-tune her adjustment. She forced herself not to look up until she heard the man's car. The Mustang was pale blue and the engine super hot. She could tell by listening to it.

Closing the hood, she greeted the visitor. "Wow. That thing can go, can't it?"

The man unfolding himself from the Mustang's driver's seat grinned at her, showing lots of teeth. A camera hung around his neck. He was dressed in a rumpled suit, and his tie was loose. "She's the fastest thing I've had in years. I'm Matt Brodrick." He held out his hand.

For some reason Rusti was reluctant to touch him. She could feel the dread taking hold, swamping her. She made herself smile and wiped her palm on her jeans. "Sorry, I'm a bit greasy," she explained.

"That looks like one of the cars belonging to the Dark Troubadours. Are you a member of the band?"

There was real curiosity in his voice and a hint of some emotion she couldn't name. Rusti tilted her chin, her green eyes clearly suspicious. "What's your interest?"

"I'm a fan. Desari has a voice straight from heaven," the man answered, showing even more teeth. When she continued to regard him in silence, he heaved a sigh. "I'm a reporter."

She made a face. "Then you know I'm not a member of the band." She held up her toolbox. "I'm their mechanic."

He glanced around them. "Where's their camp? I've been up and down all these roads but haven't spotted it. I know they're somewhere nearby."

"And you think I'll just offer you that information out of the kindness of my heart?" She laughed.

Even in deep earth, miles away, Darius felt his body clench and harden at the sound of her laughter. She was like a carefree child, living each separate moment as it came, heeding nothing before, nothing in the future. The beast in him was growing, fighting for freedom. The fangs in his mouth lengthened to lethal points. He knew he was dangerous, he had always been dangerous, but now, with Tempest close to another male, he had passed the point of self-control. He had no other reason for existence, and he would not give her up. Ever.

"For money then?" Now the reporter's teeth looked shiny, his eyes as hard as stone, something cunning in his expression.

"Not a chance," she instantly denied, even though she could certainly use funds. "I don't betray people for money or anything else."

"I've heard some strange things about the group. Will you at least confirm or deny some of the reports?"

Tempest stowed her toolbox on the floor of the little sports car. "Why bother? You people make up whatever you want to. You write it and print it regardless of whom you might hurt."

"Just a couple of questions, okay? Is it true that they sleep during the day and stay up all night? That they all have some strange illness that makes it impossible for them to go out in the sun?"

Tempest burst out laughing. "That is so like a reporter. You must work for one of those disgusting little exploitation rags. Where do you idiots come up with this stuff? You must have a very vivid imagination. I can't say it was great meeting you, Mr. Brodrick, but I've got to go now."

"Wait a minute." Brodrick caught at the door of the car before she could close it. "If I'm wrong, say so. I don't want to print garbage."

"So if I tell you the truth, you'll actually print it, not make up some new sensational tale just to sell your rag?" Her green eyes flashed at him in pure challenge.

"Absolutely I will."

"Right at this moment, the band and their bodyguard are out hiking. They've been hiking up in the hills for the last hour or so. We have to be on the road this evening to make their next gig on time, so they're taking one last break. Then we'll eat dinner and get out of here.

Print that, Mr. Reporter. It's a little mundane, but they also put on their pants one leg at a time, just like everybody else." Rusti had a deep sense of loyalty, and Darius and his family had supported her solidly. If an exploitative journalist like this one suspected anything out of the ordinary with them, she was not above telling a few lies to shield them, even with her own reservations about the group.

"You saw them an hour ago?" Brodrick demanded.

Rusti glanced pointedly at her watch. "Nearly two hours ago. I expect them back any time now. And they'll expect the vehicles to be running smoothly so we can get out of here. I doubt if any of them will be sunburned-they use sunscreen like everyone else I know- but if they are, I'll call you. How's that?" She slammed the door with unnecessary force. "In case you're interested, Desari is prone to mosquito bites. She uses bug repellent along with sunscreen. Would you like to know the brand?"

Good girl,
Darius approved, his pride in her growing.

"Come on," Brodrick protested, "give me a break. I'm just doing my job. You know she's news. My God, she has a voice like an angel's. Every major recording company is begging for a deal, and she's still playing little clubs. She could make millions."

Rusti laughed again. "And what makes you so certain she hasn't? Is it so terrible for her to do what she loves? She's an entertainer. She likes the intimacy of small crowds. It isn't the same in a huge stadium; she can't make the same connection with the audience. And there wouldn't be any such connection in a recording studio." She was picking the information straight from Darius's mind. She looked up at Brodrick. "I feel sorry for you. You must hate your job, prying into people's lives with no real understanding of who they are. Money isn't everything, you know."

Brodrick clamped his hand on the door. "Take me back with you to their camp. Introduce me. If I could get an exclusive interview, it would do a lot toward making my boss happy with me."

"Not a chance," she said. "I don't know you, and you ask pretty stupid questions. Any reporter worth his salt would come up with something better than whether or not Desari sleeps during the day. If you gave a performance that ended at two o'clock in the morning, then met with people, including reporters, for another couple of hours, you'd probably want to sleep, too. So what kind of dumb question was that?" Rusti injected as much contempt into her tone as she could muster. "I'll tell you what. When you figure out something worthwhile to ask her, I'll see what I can do for you. But I refuse to put my own job on the line for an idiot."

She then slowly maneuvered the little car away from the reporter's side. In the rearview mirror, she kept an eye on him as she drove off.
He might follow me, Darius. Should I lead him away from the camp?

You will come straight home, Tempest. And next time do not leave without protection.

She sent him an image of wringing his neck. I
have lived alone all my life, you overbearing, king-sized pain
in
the butt.
I
don't need anyone's protection, and I'm sure not asking permission to go anywhere I choose. You have enough people to boss around already, so give it a rest.

I can see I need to turn my complete attention to getting you in hand, honey. Fortunately, I am up to the task.
He sounded far more complacent and sure of himself than she liked.

The way his voice poured over her skin like warm honey and filled her body like molten lava, pooling wickedly low within her, was stranger than anything she had ever encountered. Her own body was betraying her. Weren't some things in life best left alone, vampires among them?

Tempest. You closed your mind to mine. What is it? Do you think me so formidable that I should not hear your
thoughts
when you are angry with me? It does not change what is.

Nothing is, Darius
.
How can you talk to me this way, anyway?
She decided the best defense was an offense. Let him try to answer that one.
Is it because you can talk to animals the way I do?
She believed in giving everyone a gracious out.

So you are admitting to that now. We might actually be getting somewhere.

She glanced in the rearview mirror again. She was flying down the narrow, twisting road, skidding through turns and taking one or two off-the-beaten-path trails. She didn't see any distant dust to indicate the reporter was following her, but she had a feeling he was trying to do just that, and she refused to lead him back to the camp.

Darius knew that to be completely safe he still needed one hour before he could rise. Locked in the ground as he was, he feared for Tempest's safety unless she did as he ordered and returned to the area within the perimeter he had set. He considered forcing his will on her. It was tempting, since she was being so ridiculously stubborn, but he would monitor her for now and hope she complied. Only if it became necessary would he compel her to do his bidding.

He liked her mind. He liked her independence, her sense of freedom, her spirit. She would learn she couldn't get away with defying him, but for now he wanted to handle her as delicately as possible.

Darius? Her voice was soft, hesitant, brushing his mind like the touch of fingers on his skin. Flames swept through his body, setting him on fire. He had to have her soon. Time was running out on his control. He needed her desperately.