Dark Melody (Dark 12)

Corinne sat curled up in a deep-cushioned chair, her feet drawn under her and her head resting on her arm. Her hair cascaded in a silken curtain around her face. She sat in the dark waiting, her heart tapping out an uneven rhythm. She was trembling inside, feeling very shaky.

Lisa and Cullen had talked quietly for some time in the small bedroom off the hall before Lisa had finally fallen asleep. Cullen eventually sprawled close to Lisa, nodding off himself, his arm flung protectively around Lisa's waist.

Corinne waited up, fear beating in her like the pounding of a drum, as irregular as her heartbeat. She had no idea how she had come to be so wrapped up in a virtual stranger. Every cell in her body needed to know that nothing had harmed him. She could remember every detail of his face, every fleeting expression. She felt alone and frightened without him, and that was totally out of character for her. Corinne was unsure what to do. She was the one who had always seen to the details of everyday life. She juggled appointments and paid bills, made certain Lisa was where she was supposed to be and that John's business ran smoothly. She didn't fall for tall, handsome strangers in bars, certainly not one who was famous. She wrote songs for many famous musicians, but it had never occurred to her to be impressed with any of them.

She heard nothing but her own heartbeat, yet when she looked up, Dayan was looming over her, tall and strong and alive. Air rushed into her lungs and she could breathe again. Corinne had an unexpected and entirely unacceptable desire to trace the angles and planes of his face with her fingertips. She needed to touch him, to assure herself he was unharmed. A small smile found its way to her soft mouth. "I was worried."

Dayan reached down to lay his hand against her satin cheek. Her stomach did a funny little flip, his touch bringing a strange craving for more. "There was no need, Corinne, but I thank you for your concern." He said her name like a caress.

She shook her head, astonished at her reaction to him. He was truly lethal. No one had ever looked at her as he did. His eyes were intense, fathomless, dark and dangerous and mysterious, moving over her possessively. So hungry.

Could anyone ever refuse such longing? Such intense need? "I should have called the police," she confessed in a little rush. "I don't know why I listened to Cullen. I never listen to anyone when they aren't being logical, but he was so adamant."

"It is just as well you did not," Dayan said softly.

She looked up at him from under long lashes. "You aren't a criminal of some sort, are you? It seemed the only explanation for Cullen to carry on so."

Again he smiled, a slow, sexy curve accenting the sensual line of his mouth. He hunkered down beside her chair so that his head was level with hers. "Do I look like a criminal?" His voice held that strange black magic, whispering over her skin so that she shivered, but deep inside her a flame began to burn hotly and spread liquid heat like molten lava throughout her body.

"Even if you're not, you should be totally outlawed," she blurted out before she could censor her words.

Those black, black eyes glittered with male humor. "I will take that as a compliment. You did not say if you liked my playing."

She lifted her head, tossing her abundance of hair over her shoulder, the gesture purely feminine, entirely sexy. "You know very well you're phenomenal, I don't have to tell you. Everyone says so."

"But then, not everyone's opinion counts to me. Only yours." He was perfectly serious, as if she were the only one in his world. His deep black eyes did not leave her face. Did not even blink.

Corinne wanted to look away, afraid he was capable of mesmerizing her, but instead she felt herself falling into the depths of his eyes. They were so beautiful, unlike any eyes she had ever seen. He was compelling her to answer him. She had to answer him because it was necessary to him. He made her feel that way. "You play absolutely beautifully. I've never heard anything like it. I want to hear you sing again."

"You are C. J. Wentworth. You did not whisper a word about the famous C. J. who can make someone's career with one of her songs."

Color crept into her face again, and for a moment it was all he could do not to lean down and fasten his mouth to hers. She looked shy, yet so enticing he wanted to gather her to him and shelter her against his heart.

Corinne shrugged modestly. "I've had luck with my songs, but they're nothing like the ones you and Desari compose. Your music and lyrics linger in the mind."

"You have tapes of our gigs," he accused, a faint grin stealing into his eyes.

She flashed a saucy little smirk at him. "They didn't come cheap, either. I had to pay a fortune. The strange thing is, a few years ago I came across an old record. The band is called the Dark Troubadours, but the recording was made in the 1920s." She studied his face, feature by feature. It was a handsome mask, giving nothing of his thoughts away. "Most of the dealers know I love rare recordings and that I'm willing to pay for them. When one of them sold me that record, I became obsessed with the music. Its different, incredibly beautiful, almost haunting. You should hear it, Dayan. When I first heard the name of your band, I thought there might be some connection and I had to hear your music. It took a long time and a great deal of money to acquire the black-market tapes. I know you aren't the same band, but I swear, the similarities are amazing. The music is different, of course, of a different era, but the style, the way of playing is so like yours. I've listened to that record over and over, and I'd swear the musicians are the same. You know how you can listen and know who is playing just by the sound?" The words tumbled out of her in her excitement. She was speaking musician to musician.

He raked his hand through the dark silk of his hair, his intrigued gaze on her face, drinking her in. Devouring her with his eyes. That recording had been their one mistake. It had not occurred to them that technology would one day be able to identify individuals by voice. Fortunately, few of the records had been produced. They had quietly set about tracking down and destroying every copy. Obviously, they hadn't succeeded. "Well, have you heard of them? Did you use their name deliberately?" Corinne demanded, the mystery uppermost in her mind. "You have to hear this recording, Dayan. I've studied music all my life and I have a great ear. I'd swear it was you playing lead guitar."

"That's because it is me," he answered truthfully, allowing a mischievous smile to light the dark depths of his eyes.

Corinne blinked up at him. "So that would make you at least a hundred years old. You're so very well preserved, Dayan."

"Thank you." He bowed slightly from the waist with a curiously Old World elegance that suited him.

"You're welcome, although if you're thinking of a relationship, I'm afraid it's out of the question. I can't possibly go out with a man who's a hundred years old."

His smile widened until his white teeth gleamed at her, taking her breath away. He reached out to brush a stray tendril of hair behind her ear, his fingertips lingering against her skin in a light caress. "When I look at you I can barely breathe," he admitted starkly, melting her heart. "You are so beautiful."

Corinne took a deep breath, trying hard not to allow the wild color to creep up her neck into her face. Someone had to be sensible. She tried not to look at him so she could think more clearly. "Dayan, I'm very pregnant."

"You should be bigger." He spoke gently, but it was clearly a reprimand. "Now I will have to add that to my growing list of things to worry about where you are concerned." He reached out with lazy ease and caught a lock of her hair, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger as if he couldn't help himself.

"The baby is perfectly healthy," she said defensively, trying desperately not to be affected by the intimacy of his touch.

He tugged at her hair. "What has the doctor said about your health?"

Corinne tried to duck her head, but Dayan's hand caught her chin, his black eyes capturing her gaze, refusing to relinquish his control. "Answer me, honey."

It was odd, but she could feel his voice brushing at the walls of her mind, compelling her to answer him. She wanted to tell him despite her natural inclination to keep certain parts of her life private. She shrugged. "Well, you know. Doctors have a way of making everything seem like a worst-case scenario. I'd rather talk about what you found at our house."

Dayan moved, a menacing ripple of muscles that had her heart pounding in her throat again, but he was just standing, stretching like a large jungle cat before reaching for her. He picked her up easily, as if her weight were that of a small child, and glided through the hall to a bedroom.

Corinne closed her eyes tightly for a moment, her hand creeping around his neck. "What are you doing?"

"If we are to talk, honey, I thought it best you be somewhere comfortable. I will not deny it is in my mind to make love to you all night, but I am fully aware of your pregnancy and the difficulties it presents, so I promise to behave myself." There was a slightly humorous drawl to his voice, as if he knew that just saying the words, admitting his desire for her, would send heat coursing through her body. As if he knew his desire was contagious.

Dayan placed her in the middle of the large double bed and bent over her, his black eyes moving over her face intently. Her palm pushed against his broad chest in alarm, an effort to restrain him. Her eyes were enormous in her face, apprehensive. The ritual words beat in Dayan's head; his very body strained with the need to bind her to him. She was his lifemate, she belonged with him, and he needed her desperately. He had been alone for so long, so many centuries. She was here. In the same room with him.

Corinne.

She lay very still, like a small wild thing caught in a predator's stare, afraid to move. She couldn't look away from those black eyes, the intensity, the terrible naked need. She wanted to hold him, to banish that stark, lonely look for all time. Her palm, the tiny barrier between them, trembled as she stared up at him, mesmerized by his vulnerability when he seemed so invincible. "Dayan." She whispered his name  -  a soft sigh really, or was it an invitation? She didn't know, so how could he?

Dayan captured her hand, brought her fingers to the warmth of his mouth. "You have nothing to fear, Corinne. I would never do anything that might harm you or the child. I cannot help wanting you, but until it is safe, I think we will both have to suffer."

She found herself smiling as she moved over to allow him to stretch out beside her. Why she trusted him so much, so quickly, she couldn't fathom, but it didn't matter. She liked being beside him, felt comforted by his very presence. He was solid and warm, his arms strong as he pulled her to him, fit her into the curve of his body. She shivered, more from his close proximity than the cool night air, but she liked the way he instantly drew a comforter over them even though she knew he wasn't cold.

"Are you going to tell me what you found at our home?"

"Are you going to believe me?" He asked the question quietly, but she could feel him waiting in the darkness for her answer.

"You forget, my husband was murdered. I know someone was in the house," she answered firmly. "I felt it."

He winced inwardly at the word husband. John. Her husband, John. Dayan had to get over that sick feeling whenever she mentioned him. John had been a part of her life for many years, first as a childhood friend, then later as a husband. A part of her loved him, would always love him. His hand bunched in her hair and he brought the silken strands to his face, inhaling the fragrance that was so unique to her. "There were two men in the house. They had guns and orders to kidnap both of you."

Her large eyes moved over his face. "Why?"

"A few months ago our band received word that we were on a hit list. That was how I first met Cullen. He risked his life to warn us. There is a society, a group of fanatics who believe in vampires."

Corinne lifted her head off the pillow to stare at him in shock. "You've got to be kidding me. Vampires? In this day and age? And what does that have to do with me? Or with you, for that matter?"

"You said you were different, that John had gone to talk to someone about his differences. That is the kind of thing these people target. The moment he set foot in the Morrison Center, you were noticed. How are you different, Corinne?"

His voice was like magic in the darkness, soft velvet brushing over her skin and in her mind. She loved the sound of his voice, his interesting accent, which she could not identify. The way he twisted certain words and sounded such a mixture of Old World and modern. "I can move objects without touching them." Somehow it was easier to make the confession in this dark room with his body lying close to hers, with her palm resting over the steady beat of his heart. She waited for his reaction, his derision, his shock. She waited for him to get up and quietly move away from her. Corinne didn't realize it, but her heart had gone crazy, beating irregularly again as she waited for Dayan to respond.

Dayan captured the hand over his heart, brought her knuckles to his mouth so that his breath moved over her skin, warm and reassuring. "What an amazing gift you have. I too can do such a thing."

Corinne turned her head to look at him. "You can? I've never met anyone else who could. It's so cool. Lisa doesn't like me to do it, but I can't help myself. John knew things. Like the telephone was going to ring and who would be calling. I've never met anyone else who could move objects."

"I can do other things too," he told her softly, his white teeth scraping along her fingers, back and forth in a soothing rhythm so that her heart settled down into the steady pattern of his.

Tears of relief were burning behind Corinne's eyes. Somebody who could understand. Even Lisa, who loved her, didn't really understand. She wanted Corinne to hide her differences from the world, and from her. Lisa pretended that Corinne was like everyone else. They had enough trauma in their lives without adding any more burdens. "Can you read minds?"

Dayan nodded solemnly. "Yes. I do not have to touch the person to read his thoughts. I was very relieved to know you found me attractive when you saw me, because you took my breath away."

A slow smile curved Corinne's soft mouth. "That is so cheating. You honestly can read my mind?"

"Right now you are attempting to keep your mind totally blank and you are wondering if there is any way you can censor your more, ah... how shall I put this delicately...?"

Corinne burst out laughing, the sound soft and inviting in the privacy of the bedroom. Dayan closed his eyes in an attempt to control himself. His body was burning with need, a hard, urgent ache. Little jackhammers seemed to be ripping at his skull. Her body was soft and tempting against his, her curves fitting into the hard angles and planes of his body. Fitting just right. He ached with need and loneliness. Inside him the beast was fighting to break free, raging against the restrictions Dayan was placing on himself. He reminded himself over and over that first and always came her health and well-being. He allowed the scent and sound of her to wash over him, into him, through him, so that he felt centered and balanced.

They weren't joined yet, but she was beside him, giving him the precious gift of color and emotion. She was there, alive and real, a truth he could barely grasp.

Corinne.

Her name was a light in the terrible darkness of his soul. Shining for him alone. Leading him away from a path down which so many of his kind had disappeared for all eternity.

Corinne.

He breathed her name and calmed his raging body with the knowledge that she was beside him.

"Let's not go there," Corinne said softly, laughter in her voice. "How did these people know about your gifts? And why would they think you were a vampire?" It was much safer to keep the conversation away from the almost bewitched way she felt in his company.

"I think there are many reasons. Our lifestyle, traveling from country to country, seems odd to many. The name of our band may even have contributed to the society's suspicions. We hand-raised two leopards and they travel with us. We sleep during the day and perform at night. Somehow it all added up to our being vampires. They tried to kill us by spraying the stage where we were performing with bullets." In the darkness he shrugged. "Cullen used to belong to the society."

"Cullen?" She echoed the name in alarm, astonished that Dayan could say it so casually. Lisa was alone in the other room with Cullen, asleep and very vulnerable.

Dayan touched her gently, his hand moving over her face. "Be calm, honey. Cullen risked his life to warn us. Those killers want him more than they want us. I've stayed with him to help protect him. My family owes him a great debt. Thanks to you, I can feel friendship again, even affection, where before I felt only a debt of honor. You have already given me more than you will ever know."

"I don't understand the vampire thing. Why haven't the police found these men?" Corinne was deliberately ignoring his strange references to her. She didn't understand her attachment to him, the way she needed to be with him when she had never been a needy person in her life. She felt safe with Dayan, yet at the same time threatened in some elemental and very exciting way.

"This group operates the same way terrorist organizations work. Hit and run, meet in secret. Only those at the top know who belongs. No one trusts anyone else. Some of those on the bottom have no real idea that killing goes on. I know it sounds bizarre, but unfortunately the society is very real. We have to protect ourselves at all times. If these people have targeted you and Lisa, you need protection too. They will not stop hunting you. Somehow we have to find a way to convince Lisa she really is in danger. She is resisting the truth because she does not want anything else in her life to change."

"Lisa had it much harder than John or me. When we were very young, their father began to date my mother. It was mainly a drinking relationship. We didn't know it then, but their father when he drank was extremely violent. To make a long story short, their father murdered my mother. Lisa walked in when he was bludgeoning her with a tire iron, and he knocked Lisa down, put a bag over her head, threw her in the trunk of a car with my mother's body and doused them with gasoline. John knew  -  he always knew things, and between the two of us, we managed to free Lisa without her father knowing." Corinne had unlocked the trunk of the car using her unique gift. "Lisa, John and I stayed together. We lived mainly on the streets, sort of fending for ourselves." She said it hurriedly, in a little rush, not wanting to dwell on the painful details of her childhood. She never talked about that time, never revealed the details of her early life to anyone, yet she couldn't stop herself from giving Dayan whatever he asked for.

Dayan threaded his fingers through Corinne's, all too aware of the sorrow beating at her, the horror of those memories. "After the murder, Lisa was so battle-scarred she didn't talk for days on end. I sat with her for hours and rocked her back and forth, and she would hold me when I broke down and cried. John was our rock; he stole food for us and kept us safe as we grew up. Eventually we all landed jobs in a cafe. Lisa was discovered there by a huge modeling agency. After that we didn't have to worry about a roof over our heads. I was already making money writing songs, so I pursued music in college. John became very successful at landscaping. We lived together as a family."

He touched her mind very gently, not wanting to be intrusive when she was reliving painful memories, but he wanted to "see" the details. Her life had been difficult, and he could clearly see her loyalty and love for John and Lisa. They had formed a family together and kept one another safe in a world gone insane. They had virtually raised themselves in a harsh environment and managed to remain loving and sensitive despite the odds against them.

"Lisa is not different in the way you are." He made it a statement, his hand tangling in her heavy mass of hair.

"We were terrified of Lisa's father. God only knows what he would do if he ever saw my gift, or found out about John. Lisa still is frightened and prefers not to talk about our differences." Without thinking, Corinne burrowed closer to his warmth. "Why would these people target Lisa? It isn't as if she does anything strange. No one could possibly think she's evil."

"It does not matter what their reasoning is, we will have to protect her. I have searched long for you, Corinne. I know you have accepted your death as inevitable because the human doctors have convinced you there is no hope, but it is not going to be that way. You are going to get well and spend your life with me." His thumb was rubbing the inside of her wrist, a caress that she felt all the way to her bones.

"You said human doctors. Is there any other kind?" She was trying to tease him because he sounded so intense.

"I want to try something. I am not a real healer, but I can help you, at least for a short time if you will allow me to do so," Dayan said tentatively. He was in new territory, feeling his way carefully. But her health was so fragile, he wanted to help in any way he could.

"What do you mean? Like faith healing?" She tried not to sound skeptical, but they were talking about vampires and religious fanatics and other highly impossible things. Still, Corinne didn't mind the strange conversation; she enjoyed lying in the darkness beside him, whispering softly.

"Do this for me." There was a magical quality to his voice that always made her want to do anything for him. How could anyone resist him? Ever?

"Tell me what to do."

"Just stay still and allow me to attempt this. I have to leave my body and enter yours. Usually a healer does this, not someone like me. I have sent for our best, but until the healer arrives, I am sure I can help you."

Corinne believed him. She didn't know why she believed he could do what he claimed  -  it was absurd  -  but she could see his confidence and she believed. It was odd to think he could read her thoughts, but it didn't bother her much, certainly not as it would if anyone else claimed such a thing. She lay perfectly still, waiting, without protest, to see what he did.

Beside her, Dayan became motionless, not a single muscle moving. Even his breath seemed to cease. She felt a warmth inside her, growing, moving, spreading. She heard a faraway chant. The words were in another language, quite beautiful and soothing, so she relaxed completely. The voice was male, definitely Dayan's, but it was in her mind, not spoken aloud. And he had a beautiful voice.

Dayan examined her enlarged heart carefully, then moved on to the baby. A tiny infant, a female. She was beautiful, fully formed and aware of his intrusion. He reassured the baby immediately, sending waves of serenity to surround her. She had the same abilities as her mother; perhaps they were even stronger. Although extremely small, the baby was perfectly formed, needing only to mature to thrive in the outside world. He left the child with encouragement and returned to his primary mission. Corinne's heart was definitely laboring.

He was not a healer and he didn't have the necessary skills to repair her heart. He could give her his blood to help strengthen her, but he had no idea what it would do to the child. He had touched the infant's mind, knew her as a person; he knew that Corinne already loved her. He couldn't chance harming the baby, not unless Corinne's time ran out. Still softly chanting the ancient healing ritual, Dayan did what he could to shore up her weak, laboring heart.

Corinne knew the exact moment he pulled out of her body. The warmth was gone, and she felt the loss of his presence instantly. She turned her head to look at him, slightly bemused. Perhaps he was a black-magic sorcerer. She was totally bewitched by him, completely under his spell. When his black gaze met hers, she saw hunger there, a terrible aching need, a void only she could fill. Corinne felt it, although she realized the intensity of their emotions made no sense.

"I just met you," she offered softly, her moss-green eyes examining his face.

Dayan linked their hands again, brought hers over his heart. "I have searched the world over for you, through time and distances you cannot imagine. You are the one. My other half. My lifemate." His voice was gentle, whispering over her like velvet.

Corinne shivered, edged closer to the protection of his strong body without realizing she did so. "I like that word. Lifemate. It sounds magical. Like we were meant to be together." Her eyes widened. "I can breathe easier, Dayan, I really can. What did you do?" She was experiencing that strange phenomenon again: Her heart was beating in the exact same rhythm as Dayan's. "Do you hear that? Listen to our hearts."

"We were made to be together, two halves of the same whole," he informed her gently, knowing she wouldn't understand. He meant it literally when she thought he was talking figuratively. "You are the other half of my soul, the light to my darkness. I hold the other half of your heart. We belong, Corinne."

She loved the way he said her name, a lazy drawl, his strange accent curling the vowel sounds until they were intriguingly sexy. "How strange, when I've never believed in love at first sight. You're overpowering, I'll give you that much. I can't make up my mind whether it's your guitar playing or the sound of your voice that's making me lose what little sense I had. Which do you think it is?"

"Something made me go into that bar tonight," he answered softly, his teeth teasing the pad of her thumb. She could feel each gentle scrape all the way down to her toes. "I dreamed you up. You're my fantasy come true."

She laughed then, the sound like music in his ears, a melody even his guitar couldn't match. "Complete with baby on the way, a broken-down heart, and killers stalking me. I'd say you need to try dreaming again, Dayan, you didn't do a very good job." She wanted to be his dream come true, wished she were the one he needed.

"You are the only one I need."

He was so certain, so intense. There was no hint of a smile in his black eyes, rather that strange look that reminded Corinne of a predatory animal. He looked dangerous. She changed the subject abruptly. Their relationship couldn't really go anywhere, so what was the use in speculation? "How did you find out the two men were in our house without their seeing you?"

Dayan turned on his side, propping his elbow on the bed so he could rest his head in his palm and gaze down at her face. He could see her clearly in the darkness. He was a night creature and his eyes took in everything. Right now his gaze was focused on her face. She looked beautiful to him, lying there, unaware in her innocence of what he was, what he was capable of. "I needed the information," he replied gently, one fingertip tracing her lush mouth because he couldn't stop himself.

"That isn't an answer," she told him firmly. "Don't avoid the question."

"I do not want you to be afraid, Corinne. I am not always the gentlest of men. Those two were lying in wait to attack you and your friend. One of them had certainly participated in killing your husband. If it is the same organization that attempted to wipe out my entire family in one evening, they would have killed both you and Lisa. They are hunting Cullen, whose only sin was to warn us. I did not feel particularly kindly toward these individuals."

"You confronted them," she guessed. What was he not telling her? Surely he couldn't have faced two armed men alone and bested them. "Do you carry a gun?" She hated guns, those cold metallic instruments of death.

His broad shoulders shrugged casually. "I do not need a gun to kill," he said honestly. "I do not need a gun for any reason whatsoever."

She let her breath out slowly. "I'm glad to hear that."

He knew Corinne said it because she didn't have any idea what he was. A predator, dangerous and powerful. He had no need of a gun; he commanded the earth, the sky. He could shower the land with fire or buckle the ground beneath their feet. His voice alone could rob others of their will. He was a Carpathian male, a hunter of the vampire, his strength enormous, his ability to shape-shift only one of his many gifts. His was a dying species, a race of men doomed to wander the earth endlessly in search of the light that complemented their darkness, the one woman who was the other half of them. Without that woman they lost their ability to feel, lost the ability to see in color, so that they inhabited a dark, shadow world with only memories of honor to keep them from choosing the way of the vampire.

The insidious whisper of power was always with them, eating at them, calling to them, crouching in them, a dark beast filled with blood lust and the need to kill just to feel that momentary rush. As the centuries passed, the dark stain grew and spread, filling the males, until there was no hope, only the dark, dangerous hunger.

For the first few centuries, Dayan had suppressed the beast with his music and the poetry he had loved, but his struggle had increased in the last two hundred years. "Very recently there has been a change in our lives. You know all the band members, right?"

"Desari, of course, your singer. Barack and Syndil and you." Corinne rubbed his arm, sensing his unhappiness.

"And Darius, head of our family and bodyguard. The change was good for my brothers and sisters, not so good for me. First Julian arrived and claimed Desari as his lifemate. Then Darius found Tempest. Barack claimed Syndil, and I was left alone. I felt isolated, Corinne. I cannot explain how difficult it was. How alone I was." The sight of all of them so happy together had left him terribly alone. It had been a kind of hell without them all. They had been together during the centuries of their existence, yet he could no longer face them. The sight and sounds and smells of the mingling couples had made his loneliness even more intolerable.

He was different. He was a danger to them, to the women as well as the men. He saw the wary way Syndil always looked at him. She had been attacked by one of their own, Savon, after Savon had turned vampire. Darius had destroyed the vampire, but it had been a close thing.

Dayan knew the others worried about him, and it had disturbed him that he felt nothing at all. Just alone. Always and forever alone. He was not afraid of Darius and his power, as he should have been. He was Darius's second-in-command. Darius felt tremendous loyalty to him, and they had exchanged blood on more than one occasion when one or the other had been wounded. It enabled them to communicate privately; it also enabled them to track one another at will, no matter how great the distance.

"You aren't alone, Dayan; never think that," Corinne whispered, aching for him. She heard the loneliness in his voice and she wanted desperately to comfort him. Dayan brought Corinne's fingers to his mouth once more, kissing them gently instead of crushing her to him as he wanted. She had changed his life for all time. He could return to his family now without worry, without the threat that he might turn vampire and have to be hunted and destroyed. He would never have to read in their minds their worry over him, sense their pity and sorrow, their fears. He could feel the love he held for them all, instead of just remembering it. Corinne had done that just by being in the world for him to find. All the long centuries had been worth the wait. All the loneliness, all the terrible emptiness.

Corinne filled him with hope again. No one would be completely safe until she was bound to him, until the ritual had been completed, but Dayan could breathe easier. He had found her at long last, his Corinne. She would save him, and with him, any that he might have endangered.

"I wish I could read minds," Corinne teased. "You go very quiet and you never exactly answer my questions. What happened to our conversation regarding those men in my house? It seemed very important to me."

"Was it?" His voice was that perfect whisper of sound. "I find you the most important thing in my life. It is difficult to keep my mind on anything else, but since it is of such importance to you, I will try."

He was staring down at her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world. His black gaze drifted over her face, possessive, hungry, aching with need... with some inner torment she didn't understand. He was looking at her the way a man looks at a woman he wants to spend the entire night making love with.

"Eternity making love," he corrected, proving he really could read her mind.

Her eyes widened in astonishment. A blush worked its way up her neck to her face, putting color into her cheeks. She realized it could be embarrassing having Dayan read her mind. She thought about him way too much. Thought about every detail of his appearance  -  his long, thick hair as shiny as a raven's wing, his black eyes, so intense and needy, his sculpted mouth, perfectly chiseled, molded and shaped into a sensual masterpiece. Half laughing, embarrassed that she couldn't control her wayward thoughts, she put her hand over her eyes to block him out.

"Do not do that, honey," he reprimanded softly. "Do not ever do that. I would not be happy if you did not find me attractive."

"You're too attractive," she confessed. "Not real. I don't exactly have these kinds of feelings every day." His perfect white teeth flashed at her. "That is a relief."

"Now you're laughing at me." She tried to stifle the yawn welling up. "It's almost morning and we haven't gotten anywhere with this. Did you call the police? Is it safe to go back into our house?"

Dayan shook his head. "Maybe to get a few things, but you cannot stay there. When those two men do not return to their people, others will be sent after you. The first place they will look is your home."

"You didn't call the police, did you?"

"Why would we want to do that? The police cannot do anything to these people; they cannot touch them."

"What did you do with the two in my home? Why aren't they going to return to their people?"

"They had orders to kill you, honey. You did not expect me to allow them to walk away." He made it a statement. "It was fair enough  -  they had guns."

She tangled her fingers in the silky mass of his hair because she had wanted to do that from the first moment she laid eyes on him. "You don't make sense, Dayan. You answer me, but not so I can understand anything. I'm tired." Her long lashes were continually fluttering down despite her efforts to stay awake. "I'm too tired to figure out your sentences with all the holes in them. But don't worry, I'm fairly good at things like that when I'm fully awake."

Dayan stroked the hair from her forehead, his fingertips lingering in a gentle caress. "You can go to sleep, Corinne. You will be safe here and we can finish this conversation when you are not so tired. The baby needs to sleep too. A little girl." There was the slightest of "pushes" in his voice, a hidden compulsion to give in to her desire to sleep.

She smiled up at him, at his strong, sensual features. "That's right, a girl. How did you know?" Corinne found herself suppressing a yawn.

"When I attempted to heal you, I checked to make sure she was in good health. She is beautiful, and very aware of you already." He lowered his head, his heated gaze moving over her face, dropping to her mouth. It moved even lower to brush the slender column of her neck, rested on the pulse beating there.

Embarrassed again by the molten heat spreading through her body, Corinne tried to look away. Dayan's hand spanned her throat. "I want you to want me. Just for this one moment in time." He bent his dark head toward hers, slowly, relentlessly, his black gaze mesmerizing her so she couldn't breathe. Her lashes fluttered in anticipation, her lips parting slightly.

He took his time, in no hurry to end the moment, inhaling her fragrance, gathering her close to him, his body slanting protectively, possessively over hers. He could feel her body, soft and pliant, every curve pressed snugly into the hardness of his own powerful frame, and he savored the differences between a man and a woman. He could feel his blood heat, and he allowed himself the luxury.

Corinne watched the expression in his eyes change from black, sensual possession to a strange, almost predatory stare. Red flames seemed to dance in the very depths of his gaze, and he looked fiercely hungry and all at once threatening. Before she could react, before she could think to protect herself, Dayan's mouth found hers and time simply stopped for both of them.

His mouth was gentle, even tender, a direct contrast to the strength of his arms and the powerful muscles of his body. An electrical jolt flashed through her, through him, and a thousand tiny tongues of flame began to lick along every square inch of her skin. There was so much sensation, she could only cling to him, her mouth taking on a life of its own, matching the hunger in him as he fed on her. The long, drugging kisses made her feel as if the bed was spinning out of control beneath her and her body was no longer her own. She was drenched in hot fire, filled with aching need. She made a small sound of protest, yet her hands sought his back to hold him to her.

Nothing in her life had prepared her for such a firestorm of need. She had to have him right at that moment. She wanted him to possess her for all time. Her body seemed empty without him, every cell crying out for him. If she hadn't been pregnant, if it hadn't been risky, she would have become his entirely.

He was everywhere around her, blocking out the room, the world, narrowing her vision until only Dayan existed with his perfect mouth taking hers, his hands moving over her in a gentle exploration. Corinne closed her eyes as he deepened the kiss, as his hand shaped her breast, pushing aside the neckline of her blouse to explore the vulnerable line of her throat.

His mouth drifted to the corner of hers, moved along the curve of her chin to her soft throat. He murmured something soothing as if to quiet her, as if she might struggle. On some level her brain was protesting her behavior, but she couldn't move, couldn't lift her lashes, and self-preservation didn't seem to be so very important in that moment. She felt his tongue sweep over the pulse beating in her neck; his strong hands gathered her closer still. Her body clenched and pulsed with need, with anticipation. His teeth scraped gently, teasingly over the throbbing spot, drenching her with hot answering liquid. She felt she might be drowning, yet she couldn't move, so mesmerized was she by his black-magic spell.

White-hot heat flashed through her, a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. For a moment she couldn't tell the difference. Then she was drifting in a dream world as Dayan indulged his erotic hunger, his mouth moving over her pulse, feeding on her until she thought she might die of pleasure. Her arms crept up to cradle his head to her, to hold his mouth against her skin.

Dayan heard his own heartbeat pounding in his head, roaring like the beast inside him trying to break free. The ritual words beat in his brain like a drum, filled his mind and heart and soul as he drank. Her blood was sweet, intoxicating, the pleasure coursing through him like wildfire. Fiery hot. The roar increased until his body was going up in flames, urgent, demanding, painful with need. He whispered her name like the talisman it was, forced himself to breathe, to hang on to his sanity, to fight the raging beast and its demands. His tongue stroked across the two tiny wounds, closing them with the healing agent in his saliva, resting his forehead against hers while he fought for total control.

Corinne felt drowsy, and yet her body was on fire, filled with an aching hunger that reduced her mind to erotic images which flared up like dancing flames. She didn't want him to leave her like this, her body throbbing and crying out for his, yet she couldn't summon the energy to move her arms. They felt like lead, sliding from him to lie uselessly on the sheets beside her.

When she managed to pry her lashes open a tiny bit, she could only see his eyes, those haunting eyes watching her with a terrible longing, a terrible need. Her throat worked, and tears burned behind her lashes and clogged her throat. She wanted to remove that look from his face for all time. He looked so alone. So terribly alone with that bleakness etched into the lines of his face, that emptiness in his eyes.

Corinne made a supreme effort and lifted her hand so that her finger could caress the shape of his mouth.

Don't look so sad, Dayan. I'm not going anywhere.

She could only say the words in her head because she was far too tired to speak them. Her lashes were already drifting down.

Dayan caught her wrist and brought her knuckles to his lips, a flare of surprise moving through him. He had not given her his blood, yet the connection between them was so strong!

'I will never allow you to escape from me, Corinne, not even through death. Nor will I allow any harm to come to you.

She carried that last thought with her as she succumbed to the demand for sleep. Dayan watched her for a long time as the sun began to climb in the sky. He held her hand and simply breathed her in, memorizing the curve of her cheek and the sweep of her lashes to take with him to ground. He murmured a soft command to her and reluctantly left her as the sun stained the darkness and the sky turned a silvery gray.