Dark Fire (2 page)

Rusti shook her head. She edged away from his intensity, from the way he made her heart pound in alarm, glancing frantically at the rear door. But Darius was too close for her to make good her escape. So she looked to the big cats, then focused and aimed her thoughts at them, a talent she had had since birth, though one she would never admit aloud.

The smaller of the two leopards, the one with the lighter coat, moved between her and Darius and showed her teeth in a warning snarl. Darius reached down and laid a calming hand on the cat's head.
Be still, fade friend. I would not harm this one. She seeks to leave us. I feel it in her mind. I cannot allow such a thing. You would not wish it either.

At once the cat moved to position itself in front of the rear door, leaving Rusti no chance of escape. "Traitor," she hissed at the leopard under her breath, forgetting herself.

Darius rubbed the bridge of his nose thoughtfully.

"You are an unusual woman. You communicated silently with the animals?"

She looked guilty, ducking her head, her eyes shirting away from him as she pressed the back of her hand to her soft, trembling mouth. "I don't have a clue what you're talking about. If anyone's communicating with the animals, it's you. The cat's in front of the door. Not only everyone but everything obeys you, huh?"

He nodded slowly. "Everyone in my domain, and that now includes you. You are not to leave. We need you as much as you need us. Did Desari assign you a place to sleep?" He felt not only her hunger but also her fatigue. It beat at him, inside him, so that his every protective male instinct roared to life.

Rusti stared up at him, measuring her options. Somewhere deep inside herself, she knew that Darius had taken away her choices. He would not allow her to leave. She saw that in the merciless line of his mouth, the implacable resolve stamped on his features, and his soulless black eyes. She could pretend if she wanted to, leave it unspoken between them, not challenge him. Power clung to him like a second skin. She had been in dangerous situations before, but this felt entirely different. She wanted to run… and she wanted to stay.

Darius reached out and tipped up her chin with two fingers so that he could stare directly into her green eyes. Two fingers. That was all. But it felt as if he had put chains on her, bound them together in some inexplicable manner. She felt the impact of his gaze burning into her, branding her as his.

The tip of her tongue nervously moistened her full lower lip. Darius's body clenched in hot, hard, urgent demand. "You are not going to run, Tempest. Do not think you can get away. You need the job. We need you with us. Just follow the rules."

"Desari said I can sleep in here," she found herself answering. She didn't know what she was going to do. Down to her last twenty dollars, she had been certain this was the perfect job for her. She was an excellent auto mechanic, she enjoyed traveling, she liked being alone, and she loved animals. And something about this particular help-wanted ad had jumped out at her, drawn her to this place, these people, as if it was meant to be. It had been strange, almost a compulsion she couldn't resist to find these people, so sure was she that the job was meant for her. She should have known it was too perfect. Without thinking, she sighed softly.

Darius's thumb feathered lightly over her chin. He felt her tremble, but she stood her ground. "There is always a price to pay," he observed, as if reading her mind. His hand moved to her hair, and he fingered the red-gold strands as if he couldn't help himself.

Rusti stood very still, like a small animal caught out in the open by a stalking panther. She knew he was extremely dangerous to her, yet she could only stare up at him helplessly. He was doing something to her, mesmerizing her, hypnotizing her with his burning black eyes. She couldn't look away from him. She couldn't move. "How high is the price?" Her words came out strangled-sounding and husky. She couldn't tear her gaze away from his no matter how much her mind screamed at her to do so.

His body moved close, closer still, until his hard frame seemed to imprint itself on the softness of hers. He was everywhere, surrounding her, enveloping her until she was a part of him. She knew she should try to move, to break the spell he was weaving around her, but she couldn't find the strength. Then his arms closed around her, drew her into him, and her heart turned over at the gentleness in a man of such power and enormous strength. He whispered something soft and soothing. Something compelling. A sorcerer's seduction.

She closed her eyes, the world suddenly hazy and dreamlike. She felt as if she couldn't move, as if she didn't want to move. She waited almost breathlessly. His mouth brushed her right temple, moved across her ear, feathered across her cheek to the corner of her lips, breathing warmth, leaving little dancing flames wherever he touched. She felt torn in two. One part of her knew it was so perfect, so right; the other urged her to run as fast and as far as she could. His tongue stroked across her neck, a velvet, rasping caress that curled her toes and sent heat pooling deep within her. His fingers curved around her nape, drawing her even closer. His tongue stroked a second time. A white-hot sensation pierced her skin exactly over her frantically beating pulse. Pain sliced through her, then gave way instantly to erotic pleasure.

Rusti gasped, found some deep reservoir of self-preservation, and squirmed, pushing at the muscles of his chest. Darius shifted subtly, but his arms remained tight and unyielding. Drowsiness slipped over her, a willingness to give him whatever he wanted.

She felt divided into two selves, one locked helplessly in the dark embrace, the other looking on in shock and horror. Her body was hot. Burning. Needing. Her mind accepted him and what he was doing. Taking her blood, staking his claim on her. Somehow she knew that he was not trying to kill her but possess her. Knew also that he was not anything human. Her eyelashes swept down, and her legs buckled.

Darius slipped one arm under Tempest's knees and lifted her, cradling her against his chest as he fed. She was hot and sweet and unlike anything he had ever tasted. His body was on fire for her. Still feeding, he carried her to the couch, savoring the essence of her, unable to stop himself from taking what was rightfully his. And she
was
his. He felt it, knew it, would accept nothing less.

Only when her head lolled back on her slender neck did he realize what was happening. Swearing eloquently to himself, he closed the wound in her neck with a sweep of his tongue and bent to check her pulse. He had taken far more blood than she could afford to give. And his body still throbbed with a relentless, savage demand. But Tempest Trine was a small woman and not of their race; she could not afford such a blood loss.

Worse, what he was doing was strictly forbidden, breaking every code, every law he knew. Every law he himself had taught to the others and demanded they follow. Yet he couldn't stop himself. He had to have this woman. True, a mortal female could be used for sex, a simple pleasure of the body, if one could still feel such things. And as long as one did not drain the life from her entirely, a mortal female could also be used for sustenance, to feed upon. But not both, and never at the same time. It was taboo. Darius knew that if she hadn't fainted from the blood loss, he would have taken her body with his. Not once but again and again. And he would have killed anyone who tried to stop him, who tried to take her from him.

Had it happened, then? Was he turning vampire? The one thing every Carpathian male feared-was it happening to him? He didn't care. He only knew that Tempest Trine was of the utmost importance to him, the only woman he had ever wanted in centuries of a lonely, barren existence. She made him feel. She made him see. She brought life and color into his bleak world, and now that he had seen it, felt it, he would never go back to total emptiness.

Cradling her on his lap, he started to tear open his wrist with his teeth. But something stopped him. It didn't seem right to feed her that way. Instead, he slowly opened his immaculate silk shirt, his body unexpectedly tightening even more in anticipation. One fingernail lengthened into a razor-sharp talon and sliced a thin line across his chest. Then he pressed her mouth to the wound. His blood was ancient and powerful and would replenish her quickly.

At the same time he reached for her mind. In her unconscious state, it was relatively easy to take control, to command her to do his bidding. Still, he was astonished at what he discovered. Desari was right. Tempest's mind did not follow the usual human pattern. It was more like that of the cunningly intelligent leopards he often ran with. Not exactly the same, but definitely different from the normal human brain. For the moment it didn't matter; he easily controlled her, demanding that she drink to replenish what he had taken from her.

Out of nowhere an ancient chant came into his mind. He found himself saying the words of a ritual, uncertain where they came from, knowing only that they must be said. He murmured them in the ancient tongue of his people, then repeated them in English. Bending over Tempest protectively, stroking her hair, he breathed the words softly into her ear. "I claim you as my lifemate. I belong to you. I offer my life for you. I give you my protection, my allegiance, my heart, my soul, and my body. I take into my keeping the same that is yours. Your life, happiness, and welfare will be cherished and placed above my own for all time. You are my lifemate, bound to me for all eternity and always in my care." As he uttered the words, he felt a curious shifting in his body, a release of a terrible tension. He also felt the words weaving tiny threads between her soul and his, his heart and hers. She belonged to him. He belonged to her.

But it wasn't right. She was a mortal. He was Carpathian. She would grow old; he never would. Still, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered to him except that she was in his world, that she was beside him. That it felt right to him. She fit with him as if she had been fashioned only for him.

Darius closed his eyes and held her to him, savoring the feel of her in his arms. He closed his wound himself and laid her among the pillows lining the couch. Very gently, almost reverently, he cleaned the dirt and grime from her face. You
will not remember this when you awaken.
You
will know only that you took this job and are now part of our crew. You know nothing of what I am or that we exchanged blood.
He reinforced the command with a hard mental push more than sufficient to convince a human.

She looked so young in her sleep, her red-gold hair framing her face. He touched her, his fingers possessive, his black eyes burning fiercely. Then he turned to regard the large cats. You
like her. She can speak to you, can she not?
he asked them.

He could feel their answer, not in words but in images of affection and trust. He nodded.
She is mine, and I will
not
give her up. Guard her well while we sleep until the next rising
, he silently commanded them.

The two cats rubbed against the couch, trying to get as close as possible to the woman. Darius touched her face once more, then turned and left the mobile home. He knew Desari would be waiting for him, and her gentle doe-eyes would be accusing.

She stood leaning against the front of the trailer, confusion on her beautiful face. The moment she saw him, she looked anxiously at the bus. "What have you done?"

"Stay out of this, Desari. You are my own blood, the one I most love and treasure, but-" Darius stopped, amazed that he could express that emotion honestly for the first time in centuries. He did feel love for his sister again. It beat in him, real and strong, and his relief was tremendous at not having to reach for and feign remembered emotions. He recovered his composure and continued. "But I will not tolerate your interference in this matter. Tempest will stay with us. She is mine. The others will not touch her."

Desari's hand went to her throat, and her face paled. "Darius, what have you done?"

"Do not think to defy me, or I will take her far from here and leave you all to go your own way."

Desari's mouth trembled. "We are under your protection, Darius. You have always led, and we have always followed you. We trust you completely; trust your judgment." She hesitated. "I know you would never hurt this girl."

Darius studied his sister's face for a long moment. "No, you do not, Desari, and neither do I. I know only that, without her, I will bring danger and death to many before I am destroyed."

He heard her swift intake of breath. "Is it that bad, Darius? Are you so close, then?" She did not need to use the words
vampire
or
undead.
They both knew intimately of what she spoke.

"She is all that is standing between the destruction of mortals and immortals alike. The line is fragile. Do not interfere, Desari. It is all the warning I am capable of giving you," he said with a merciless, implacable resolve.

Darius had always been the acknowledged leader of their small group, ever since they were all children and he had saved them from certain death. Even as a mere youth he had reared and protected them, given them his all. He was the strongest, the most cunning, and the most powerful. He had the gift of healing. They relied on him for his wisdom and expertise. He had steered them safely through the long centuries without thought for himself. Desari could do no other than support him in this one thing he asked. No, not asked. Demanded. She knew Darius was not exaggerating, not lying, not bluffing; he never did. Everything he said, he meant.

Slowly, reluctantly, Desari nodded. "You are my brother, Darius. I am with you always, whatever you choose to do."

She turned as her lifemate abruptly shimmered into a solid state beside her. Julian Savage still took her breath away, the sight of his tall, muscled frame, the striking, molten-gold eyes that always reflected love back to her.

Julian bent to brush Desari's temple with the warmth and comfort of his mouth. He had caught her distress through their psychic link and instantly returned from hunting prey. When he turned his gaze on Darius, his eyes were cold. Darius met that gaze with one equally chilling.