Dark Fire (6 page)

"Bossy," Tempest supplied knowingly.

The black eyes rested possessively on her face. "What was that?"

This time she did grin. It hurt, but she couldn't stop herself. She suspected no one ever challenged or teased this man. "You heard me."

His eyes burned suddenly with an intensity, with a dark, dangerous hunger that took her breath away, that made her think of the leopards he kept as companions. She pulled her gaze from his. "Keep talking. Tell me about everyone."

Darius slid a hand over her damp hair and found the nape of her neck. His fingers curled around the slender column, liking the way she fit into his palm. Desire slammed into him, hard and unexpected, even as he was deliberately trying to view her as a child in need of his protection. He had touched her only to comfort her, but he didn't let go. He cursed himself for his lack of control. He needed the contact with her, needed to feel her, to know she was real and solid and not some figment of his imagination.

"Barack and Dayan also play in the band. Both are talented musicians, Dayan a guitar player without equal. He writes many of our songs as well. Syndil-" He hesitated, unsure what to reveal about Syndil. "She plays the organ, the piano, just about any instrument. She recently suffered a trauma, however, and has not gone up on stage for a while."

Tempest's gaze jumped to his. She caught his sorrow before he had time to conceal it. "Something happened to her like what happened to me."

His fingers tightened around her neck. "But I did not get there in time to stop it-something I will regret for all eternity."

She blinked and looked away from him quickly. He had said "for all eternity." Not "until I die" or any of the other expressions a human might use. Oh,
Lord.
She didn't want him to guess that her memory of what he had done to her hadn't been erased, as he'd wished. But what if he intended doing it again, and this time it worked?

A knock on the door had Tempest jerking around, her heart pounding. Darius rose gracefully, fully aware of Syndil's presence outside the mobile home. He moved with fluid grace toward the door.

Tempest couldn't keep her eyes off him. He was incredibly graceful and supple, sinewy muscles rippling beneath his silk shirt. He walked silently, like one of his great cats.

"Darius." Syndil refused to meet his eyes. She was staring at her shoes. "I heard what happened and thought perhaps I could help in some small way." She handed him Tempest's toolbox and backpack. "Perhaps you would allow me to see her for a moment?"

"Of course, Syndil. Thank you for your concern. I appreciate any aid you can render." Darius stepped back to allow her entry. He didn't allow the hope for her recovery to flare even for an instant in his eyes. He followed the woman he regarded as another younger sister to the table. "Tempest, this is Syndil. She would like to speak with you if you are feeling up to it. I will clean the kitchen. The two of you will be more comfortable in the sleeping quarters."

Tempest managed a small smile. "That's his nice way of ordering us out of here. Everyone calls me Rusti," she told Syndil, oddly without shame before this other wounded woman.

As she slipped past Darius, he reached out to catch her hair and give a small tug. "Not everyone, honey."

She sent him a quelling glance over her shoulder, forgetting for a moment her swollen eye and bruised mouth. "Everyone
else"
she corrected.

Darius allowed her hair to slide through his fingers, savoring the contact with her, however slight it was.

Tempest walked carefully, not wanting to jar her bruised ribs. Syndil gestured to the couch, and Tempest sank into the soft cushions. Syndil examined her face. "Did you allow Darius to heal you?" she inquired.

Her voice was beautiful, satin soft, haunting and mysterious. Tempest knew immediately that she, too, was a creature like Darius. It was in her voice and eyes. But as hard as she tried, she could detect no evil in Syndil, just a quiet sadness.

"Is Darius a doctor?" she asked.

"Not exactly, but he is talented at healing others." She looked down at her hands. "I did not allow him to help me, and that hurt both of us more than I can say. Be stronger than I was. Allow him to do this for you."

"Darius arrived before I was raped," Tempest said bluntly.

Syndil's beautiful eyes filled with tears. "I am so glad. When Desari told me you had been attacked, I thought…" She shook her head. "I am so glad." She touched a swollen bruise with a gentle fingertip. "But the man hurt you. He hit you."

"It's far worse to be hurt on the inside," Tempest said, pulling the throw pillows around her as if fashioning them into walls to keep her safe.

Chapter Three

Syndil stared at Tempest for a long moment. Then her breath escaped in a long, slow hiss. She sat down and leaned forward to try to read Tempest's expression. "It happened to you. Not this time, but sometime in your past. You know what it is like. The fear. The revulsion." Her eyes sparkled like black ice, like crushed jewels. "I scrubbed myself for three and half hours, and months later I still do not feel clean." She ran her hands up and down her arms, anguish reflected in her enormous eyes.

Tempest glanced toward the kitchen to assure herself that Darius could not hear them. "You should get counseling. There are places, Syndil, people who can help you put your life back together again."

"Is that what you did?"

Tempest swallowed hard, feeling the familiar nausea that arose every time that particular door started to crack open. She shook her head, pressing a hand to her stomach.

"I wasn't in a position to seek help. I was simply trying to survive." Once more she glanced toward the kitchen, then lowered her voice still further. "I never really knew either of my parents. My earliest memories are of a dirty room where I ate off the floor and watched grownups put needles in their arms, legs-every vein they could find. I didn't know which of the adults was my mother or father. Occasionally the authorities would scoop me up and dump me in foster homes, but mainly I lived on the streets. I learned to fight off drug dealers and pimps and every other man that happened by. It was a way of life, all I knew for several years."

"That is when it happened to you?" Syndil asked, her eyes so filled with pain that Tempest wanted to gather her into her arms. At the same time she wanted to run, to never have to relive that particular time in her life again. She couldn't bear it, not on the heels of Harry's attack.

"No, it might have been easier if it had been some sleazy drunk or junkie or even one of the pimps, but it was someone I trusted," Tempest confessed in a low voice, the words forced out of her by some bond between her and Syndil, a bond forged by a terrible trauma they both shared.

"It was someone I loved and trusted, too," Syndil admitted softly. "As a result, I do not know how to trust anyone now. I feel as if he killed that part of me. I cannot perform in the band. I loved playing; the music has always been inside me, and now I cannot hear it. I feel dead without it. I cannot stand to be alone with any of the males I grew up with, men I have always loved as my family. I know they worry for me, but I cannot change what has happened."

Tempest twisted a length of red-gold hair around her finger. "You have to live, Syndil, not simply exist. You can't let him rob you of your life, your passions."

"But he did. That is exactly what he did. I loved him like a brother. I would have done anything for him. Yet he was so brutal, and his eyes were so vicious as he hurt me, as if he hated me." Syndil turned away. "It changed all of us. The men now look at one another with suspicion and distrust. If such a transformation could happen to Savon, perhaps it could happen to one of them, too. Darius has suffered terribly, because, as our leader, he feels responsible. I have tried to tell him he is not, but he has always cared for and protected us. I know that if I could get over this, it would ease his suffering, but I cannot." She looked at her hands. "The others do not treat me as they once did. Barack especially does not seem to trust me. They watch me all the time now, as if it were my fault."

"Likely they are watching you protectively, not suspiciously. But you are not responsible for what anyone else is feeling, Syndil. You can overcome this, just as the others will in their own time and in their own way. You won't forget it-it might haunt your life and even your relationships-but you can be happy again," Tempest assured her.

"I have never spoken of this to anyone, not even Desari. I am sorry. I came here to help you, but I speak only of myself. I want to scream and weep and crawl into a hole. You are very easy to talk to."

Tempest shook her head. "You have to find a way to go on."

"Please tell me what happened to you, how you were able to cope."

In the kitchen, Darius stirred, reluctant for Tempest to endure any more trauma. But he wanted to know, he had to know, and he realized it was important for both women to be able to discuss the traumatic events they had suffered.

"I met a great lady who was working at one of the homeless shelters I landed in. I was seventeen at the time. She let me live at her house. I used to steal cars and soup up the engines just for the fun of it. Ellen made me realize I could put my mechanical skills to better use and make a good living while I was at it. She helped me get my high school equivalency diploma, and after that she got a me good job at a garage with a friend of hers. It was great for a while."

"But something happened," Syndil guessed.

Tempest shrugged pragmatically. "Ellen died, and I had nowhere to stay again. As soon as I was without protection, my boss showed his true colors. He caught me off guard. I trusted him; he was Ellen's friend. I really didn't expect it of him." She closed her eyes against the vivid memories crowding in, the way he had slammed her into a wall, knocking the breath out of her, leaving her dazed and completely vulnerable to his attack.

"Did he hurt you?"

"He wasn't gentle, if that's what you mean, and I had never… been with anyone. I decided it wasn't something I ever wanted to try again." She shrugged, trying not to wince when her ribs protested. "Unlike you, I've never had a family. I'm used to being on my own and working things out for myself. I've always had to learn everything the hard way. It's different for you. You had a life, a family. You know what love is."

"I cannot imagine myself with a man ever again," Syndil said sadly.

"You have to try, Syndil. You can't just withdraw from the world, from your family. Some of it has to be up to you. Ellen always told me to play the cards I'm dealt, not wish for another hand. You can't change what happened to you, but you can see to it that your life isn't destroyed by it."

Listening from the kitchen, Darius vowed to himself that the group would play in the city where that garage owner lived sometime soon, and he would pay him a visit. Still, this was the first time he had heard Syndil talk to anyone about what had happened to her, and he felt a sense of great relief. If she could talk to Tempest, perhaps they both would benefit from the experience.

He could feel weariness beating at his little redhead. Her body was sore, and shock was exhausting her. He knew she had jogged much of the distance she had managed to put between them, and she'd had no money for food or lodgings. He didn't want to interrupt the women, but Tempest was visibly sliding down into the sofa cushions when he glanced at them from the doorway.

Syndil realized it at once. "I will talk to you when you are more rested, Rusti. Thank you for sharing your experiences with me, a virtual stranger. I think you managed to help me more than I did you." She waved at Darius as she exited the trailer.

Darius glided toward Tempest in his silent, intimidating way. "You are going to bed now, honey. I will not listen to any arguments."

Tempest was already lying down. "Does anyone else besides me ever get the urge to throw things at you?" She sounded drowsy, not combative.

Darius hunkered down beside her so he was at eye level with her. "I do not think so. If they do, they do not have the audacity to tell me."

"Well, I think throwing something at you is the only way to go," Tempest told him. Her eyes were already closing, and her voice was weary and sad despite her heavy words.

Darius stroked the wealth of red-gold hair away from her face, his fingers soothing her scalp. "Do you? Maybe tomorrow might be a better time to try it."

"I have a very good aim," she warned him. "It would be easier on you if you just quit giving me orders."

"That would ruin my reputation," he objected.

A smile curved the corners of her mouth, emphasizing the thin red cut at the side of her lip.

Darius resisted the impulse to lean down and find that small cut with his tongue. "Go to sleep, baby. I am going to do my best to take away some of your soreness. Before you fall asleep on me, I made you an herbal concoction that will help you rest better."

"Why do I feel as if you're taking over my lifer

"Do not worry, Tempest. I am very good at managing lives."

She could hear the laughter in his voice, and an answering smile found its way to her mouth. "Go away, Darius. I'm too tired to argue with you." She settled deeper into the pillows.

"You are not supposed to argue with me." He focused on the glass on the counter in the kitchen. It floated from there to his palm easily. "Sit up, honey. You have to drink this whether you want to or not." He slipped his arm behind her back and lifted her so that he could press the glass to her lips.

"What does it taste like?" she asked, suspicious.

"Drink it, baby," he instructed.

She sighed softly. "What's in it?"

"Drink, Tempest, and stop giving me your sass," he ordered, practically tipping the contents down her throat.

She coughed and sputtered but managed to get most of the herbal mixture down. "I hope there were no drugs in that."

"No, it is all natural. It will make you sleep easier. Close your eyes again." He placed her back among the pillows.