Dark Fire (15 page)

Tempest shoved him, hard. If the velvet rasp of his tongue touched her skin, she would be lost. "Get away from me." She took two running steps in growing alarm. "I mean it, Darius. Or we'll have to get a chaperone."

"You said you wanted the lizard thing." His hand shackled her wrist, chaining her to his side.

"I meant scales. You need scales. If you were a little crawly thing, I wouldn't feel I was risking my honor walking in the woods with you." She was laughing in spite of herself.

"If I shape-shifted into a lizard, you would run screaming back to camp." Darius knew that Julian and Desari had already departed in the touring bus with the cats. Dayan, Syndil and Barack were at that very moment cramming themselves into the fast little car Barack loved so much. He could hear Barack pleading with Syndil to talk to him, trying to convince her that he wasn't really a rat.

Darius took advantage of Tempest's momentary pause to gain possession of her hand. His fingers laced firmly through hers and drew her beneath the protection of his shoulder. "If I changed, I would want to show off and do a Komodo dragon for you."

Tempest allowed several heartbeats to go by while her imagination digested that one. "Don't we have to go somewhere tonight? I thought you had a tight schedule to keep. Let's leave Komodo dragons out of the picture. You're scary enough in human form."

They were drifting back toward camp, walking through the layer of fog that was thickening along the forest floor. It was eerie and beautiful, making the woods a magical, mystical place. Tempest liked the feeling of strength in Darius's hand, the heat of his body warming hers, the easy, fluid way he moved with the suggestion of tightly leashed power. Most of all she loved the way his eyes burned possessively over her, the way his chiseled, perfect mouth tempted her.

Darius stopped so abruptly, she ran into him. He had turned to face her, his features dark and sensual in the moonlight spilling through the canopy of trees. He looked what he was, a lord of power, a sorcerer without compare. Tempest could only stare up at his masculine beauty, lost in the hunger in his eyes.

She couldn't breathe when he was so close to her. His eyes darkened until they were merciless with hunger, with raw need. His hands slid down her arms to rest on her hips, to urge her body even closer to his. The midnight blue of the air mixed with the silvery sheen of the moon and came together with the white bank of fog, surrounding them, cutting them off from the rest of the world.

Darius bent his head slowly to hers, drawn by some power other than his own, beyond even his comprehension. All that mattered at that moment was that he feel her satin-soft mouth beneath his. That he taste the wild honey of her. That he take control and end their mutual misery. He had to do this. It was as necessary to both of them as breathing.

His lips were firm yet velvet soft, moving over hers, gently coaxing her response. He felt her shift beneath his hands, glide right inside him, wrap herself tightly around his heart. His teeth tugged gently, insistently, until Tempest had to comply with his unspoken demand and open her mouth to him. The ground beneath his feet whirled alarmingly, but his mouth was fastened to hers, transporting him through time and space to somewhere he had never been.

Without conscious thought, without meaning to do so, Darius found her mind with his and merged them together, sharing his erotic fantasies, his joy in her existence. Sharing the way his body came to life and raged for her, needed her. Hungered for her.

Pure feeling. He was soaring high without wings, free-falling through space, and all the time the flames were leaping higher. He was lost in her, would always be lost in her. Her skin was so soft, her hair like silk. She was the miracle of life itself.

It was all there, sweeping Tempest along in the vortex of his passion, catching her desire and magnifying it until she didn't know where she left off and he began. Until they were one being consumed with fiery hunger. There was no room for self-preservation, no room for modesty; her need was every bit as great as his own.

His arms tightened possessively, sweeping her into the shelter of his hard masculine frame. Deep within his body, his blood thickened to molten lava, a firestorm sweeping through his entire system until he knew he was going up in flames.

We have to stop.
The words brushed like butterfly wings in his mind, breathless, erotic, filled with the same hunger and need threatening to consume them both, threatening his very control. Yet there was something else. Something new. Because their minds were merged, he recognized it for what it was; fear as elemental as time itself.

Darius pulled himself back to reality, away from the urgent demands his body was making and back toward a semblance of sanity.

Tempest was on fire, no longer herself but a part of Darius. They were one single and complete entity. She clung to him, the only safe anchor in a wild storm of magic. Darius lifted his head so that his mouth hovered inches from hers. They stared at one another, drowning in each other's eyes, awed that they could produce such a conflagration with only a kiss.

Tempest retreated, a subtle feminine withdrawal from him, trying to find herself and cool the terrible heat searing her body. She touched her mouth with her fingertips, unable to believe that she had helped to generate such flames.

"Do not say it, honey. I know exactly what you are going to say." That infuriating male amusement tinged his husky voice.

Tempest shook her head. "I don't think I can talk. Honestly, Darius, you're lethal. We just can't do this. It's too dangerous. I expected lightning to start arcing between us."

He shoved a hand through his dark mane of hair. "I swear I was hit by a bolt. White-hot and jagged, tore right through me."

Her smile was tentative but there all the same. "So we agree. No more of that."

Darius wrapped an arm around her body and found she was trembling. "I think plenty of that is the answer, Tempest. We have to learn to control it. The more practice we have, the better we will be."

"Better?" Tempest pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes enormous. "We don't dare get any better at it, Darius, or we could set the world on fire. I don't know about you, but I don't feel so great right now." Her body was heavy and aching for relief, sensitive to the slightest touch. Each time Darius brushed against her, darts of fire raced through her. She needed him, needed his body. "If we had any sense, we'd put half the world between us."

Darius brought her knuckles to the warmth of his mouth and was intrigued by two small scars on them. His tongue examined the faded white marks, a slow, velvet rasp of heat. Tempest closed her eyes against the smoldering desire in his eyes, against his blatant sensuality. This time she knew the instant conflagration wasn't caused only by her. She didn't do things like this, didn't seek instant intimacy. Ever. Who would have thought such a small touch, one look, could reduce her to liquid heat and an ache that would never stop again?

"Darius, you have to stop." She was half laughing but very near tears. "I have no idea what to do. I mean, you're a vampire."

He shook his head. "Not vampire, honey. God help us all, never that. I explained to you that the vampire has chosen eternal darkness, has chosen to lose his soul. You are my soul, my strength, the light to my dark. I am Carpathian, even though I was not raised with our people and my ways are somewhat different. I do not know the Prince of our people, the one who has undertaken to keep our species from extinction. I did not even know he existed or that my elder brother still lived until a few weeks ago."

Tempest began to laugh. "Isn't there anything normal we can converse about? Say, the weather? Unusual weather we're having." If he continued to talk to her about things her brain refused to comprehend, she was afraid she would lose her mind. Everything was happening far too fast.

His grin was teasing. "Would you like me to create a storm? We could make love in the rain."

"We can find the others and pretend there's safety in numbers," Tempest suggested firmly, ignoring the way her body went into meltdown at his outrageous suggestion. "I can see which of us is the practical one, and it isn't you." She tugged at his hand, leading him back toward the camp.

He followed her for a few minutes in puzzled silence. Finally, curious, he cleared his throat. "Tempest? Where exactly is it that we are going? Not that I mind-I will follow wherever it is you wish us to go-but to my recollection, this trail winds around a rocky ravine. It is unsafe."

She could feel the color rising beneath her skin and creeping up her neck. When she attempted to untangle her fingers from his, he clung to her like glue. She felt like kicking him in the shins. It was bad enough that he set her body on fire, but now she was completely flustered, while he looked the same as ever-calm, implacable, completely invincible.

"Just where is the camp, then?" she demanded through clenched teeth.

For a moment Darius stared at her. Then he blinked, wiping out the mocking amusement she was certain she had seen swirling in the depths of his eyes. He regarded her with a perfectly sober expression that made her want to
really
kick his shins. It took a goodly measure of self-control to keep from doing it.

"Don't lecture me. I normally have some sense of direction," she protested. "You must have put a spell over me or something. Just lead the way. And wipe that expression off your face while you're doing it."

He walked in silence, his body unconsciously protective toward hers. "What kind of spell did I put over you?" he asked gently, his voice that pure, mesmerizing, hypnotic cadence she couldn't seem to resist.

"How should I know?" she asked petulantly. "For all I know, you studied with Merlin." She regarded him with suspicion. "You didn't, did you?"

"Actually, honey, he was my apprentice," he said.

She put both hands over her ears, her fingers still entwined with his. "I don't want to hear this. Even if you're kidding, I don't want to hear this."

They reached the clearing, and Tempest stopped to stare at the empty grove. Only the truck remained. Not so much as a stray paper wrapper indicated that anyone had ever been there. She was destined to be alone with Darius whether she wanted it or not. "This isn't a conspiracy, is it?"

Darius laughed softly as he opened the door to the truck. "My family probably thinks I have lost my mind, but they would never conspire against you."

"But they would conspire
for
you," Tempest said with sudden insight. She tilted her head at him. "What would they do if this Prince of your people didn't like something you did?"

Darius shrugged casually with his natural arrogance. "I would not want my family to do other than stay out of my business. I have long taken care of myself and my own concerns. I answer to no one. I never have, and I would be unable to do so at this late date." His hands spanned her waist, and he lifted her effortlessly, depositing her on the seat of the truck. "Fasten your seat belt, honey. I would not want you to leap out at the first sign of trouble."

She was muttering under her breath as he slid behind the wheel. In the close confines of the truck, he seemed more powerful than ever. The width of his shoulders, the strong columns of his thighs, the heat of his body. Tempest swallowed the groan caught in her throat. His masculine scent beckoned to something wild and untamed in her. Her fingernails tapped out a nervous rhythm on the dashboard. "You know, Darius, maybe I should just take a bus."

He heard the shadow of desperation in her voice and chose to ignore it. After starting the engine, he reached over to touch her soft skin just once, his fingertip running down her cheek.

The feathery touch sent her heart racing. She knew he heard, knew he was aware of her blood rushing through her veins, was aware of her body ready for and needful of his. With a little sigh she sank down into the seat and laid her head back, closing her eyes.

Chapter Seven

She was lonely. Tempest thought about that as she brushed out her hair and stared thoughtfully into the mirror in the bathroom of the troupe's motor home. The long night had been like a beautiful dream, Darius talking softly to her in the intimacy of the small truck cab, his voice, such a perfect blend of notes, relating interesting bits of history, making it come alive for her. His arm sweeping her next to him, ensuring that her safety belt was snug. The warmth of his body seeping into hers.

They had driven for hours, the night sky unfolding before them, the ribbon of highway their guide. She had become drowsy, her head falling onto his shoulder and settling there. She hadn't intended that to happen, but it felt right. Darius made her feel safe and cherished. It was in his voice, in the heat of his eyes, in the way his body sheltered hers.

Tempest sighed aloud. She didn't want to get used to the feeling. Nothing lasted forever, and ultimately it was better to rely on herself. She didn't want to fall into a seductive trap, no matter how silken it was. In any case, Darius was far too powerful to even contemplate such a foolhardy act. But she could dream, and it seemed as if she was doing a lot of that lately.

She was lonely without Darius. At many times in her life she had experienced loneliness, but this was different. This felt as if a part of her was missing, a dark void she couldn't fill or escape on her own.

She had awakened late again, another bad habit she was developing. It was well after three in the afternoon. She put it down to traveling all night. No wonder the troupe slept during the day. How else could they keep up such an insane schedule?

She peered closely at her reflection in the mirror. Her bruised eye should still be deeply purple, swollen, and ugly, but only the faintest smudge of blue remained. Darius had healed her. Color crept up her face, and her body leapt to life as she remembered how. It was easier to recall it as an erotic dream. Darius. She missed him while he slept, God only knew where.

Disliking the way her eyes were shining, she swung away from the mirror. It was bad enough that she had lingered in the shower like a lovesick calf, dreaming of him. His eyes. His mouth. His voice. The way his body rippled with strength.