Dark Fire (Dark 6)

Tempest woke slowly, as if emerging through a layer of hazy clouds. She was sore, every muscle protesting when she moved, yet not nearly as much as she had expected. She sat up, looking warily around her. Her body was alive with feeling, her skin sensitive beyond belief. She remembered the horror of the attack on her like a vague nightmare. What was vivid and sharp, every detail imprinted forever in her mind, was the memory of Darius's tongue caressing every bruise, taking away her pain and fear, replacing it with erotic, burning pleasure. She wanted to believe that one was a nightmare and the other a romantic dream, but Tempest always looked reality in the face. It was how she lived, how she survived. She might lie to someone else if it was necessary but never to herself. The things Darius had done in her dream world were all too real. She had been in some kind of a trance, half awake, half asleep. And they had talked to one another using only their minds, in much the same way she communicated with animals, only using words, not just images. Telepathy.

She took a deep breath and looked around her. She was alone in the luxurious motor home except for the two leopards, who each opened a sleepy eye at her stirring but did not seem inclined to get up. Tempest pushed a hand through her hair. Should she strike out on her own or take her chances with whatever kind of creature she had stumbled onto?

She hadn't had much luck with humans and had always preferred the company of animals. Last night, when her mind had connected with Darius's, she had recognized his brain patterns as being like an animal's in many respects. He had highly developed instincts and senses like those of the leopard. She knew he was a formidable hunter, but she had detected no evil in him.

Darius could have killed her anytime he wanted. He could have used her for food, if that was what these creatures did. But he hadn't done either. He had come after her when she was in trouble. He had treated her gently and compassionately. And he had tenderly attempted to heal her bruised body and take away the worst of her memories. The cost had not been small to him. Darius wanted her. She had felt the burning heat in him. She had been all but helpless, yet he hadn't acted on the demands of his body. She had felt his enormous energy drain out of him and into her while he was healing her. He had been extremely tired after using his great strength to ease her suffering, and she had even felt a gnawing, biting, insatiable hunger, his mind merging with hers until she was uncertain where her feelings left off and his began.

She sighed and pushed at the hair falling loose from the thick braid he had woven. No one ever had treated her as Darius had. He was kind and thoughtful, even tender, but for all that he wasn't an easy man to be around. Especially when she was so used to being on her own. His arrogance, his complete confidence in himself and his abilities, had a tendency to set her teeth on edge. Obviously he was accustomed to deference to his every wish. She was accustomed to being utterly independent. She bit at her lip, her teeth scraping back and forth as she thought it out.

Darius wasn't just arrogantly expecting obedience from her. It was far more than that. Hard possession lit the depths of his eyes, gave them a burning intensity, revealing a hunger only for her. "No, way, Rusti," she whispered aloud to herself. "That maniac is used to protecting and controlling everyone around him, so don't let your hormones start running away with you. And vampires are out of the question. You didn't want to get together with the neighborhood pimp; I don't think this is a much better choice. You have to leave. Vamoose. Run. Get out."

Yet she knew she was going to stay. Emitting a little groan, she covered her face with her hands. She had no money, no family, no home. Maybe if Darius slept during the day, and she slept all night, they would get along fine. She peeked out between her fingers. "As if I believe that will happen. That man wants to rule the world. His own private empire." She wrinkled her nose and mimicked his voice, "'My domain, Tempest.' Remember that he rules everything and everyone in his domain," she told herself.

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 shouldhave 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.

I am with you, baby. Do not sound so forlorn. That's not how I sounded, she replied, but he caught the echo of her thoughts.

Did I? Come home, honey. Everything will work out. You do not have to singlehandedly defend Desari from this reporter. He is not just a reporter.

Darius was silent. How had she known that?

He knew it. Several attempts had been made on Desari's life recently. He had read Brodrick's aura, found him to be deceitful, covering his lethal intentions with what he supposed to be charm. Tempest had been unable to read all that, but she had sensed a hidden agenda and done her best to divert the alleged reporter. She had done a good job, too. She'd sounded sincere and open, then contemptuous enough to lend authenticity to everything she said.

You don't have to believe me, Darius.

Tempest sounded hurt.

Of course I believe you, honey. Now get back here where I do not have to worry about you.

It was clearly an order.

Rusti sighed heavily. He wasn't getting it. She didn't want anyone worrying about her. As she approached within a mile of the campsite, she felt a curious shifting around her; the air seemed heavy and oppressive. At once she realized she had encountered a barrier of some sort. It created a sense of dread in her, as if she needed to turn around. Why was she feeling it now? Was Darius amplifying the perimeters he insisted she observe?

She tossed her mane of red hair, green eyes blazing defiance. He was not going to rule her as he did all the others. They treated him like some kind of Greek god. She groaned aloud. Why had she come up with that particular analogy? Just because he looked like one, acted like one? There went her hormones, running amok again.

Deliberately she began to think of things like taking the little red car for a spin down the highway, far from bossy men. She could hear Darius laughing softly, not in the least worried she would actually steal the car and defy him. Don't

bet on it, she snapped as she parked directly behind the motor home and got out.

The four-wheel-drive truck was next on her to-do list. It was more important to get it than the dirt bikes into top shape. She lifted the hood and, as always when she worked, focused only on what she was doing, blocking out everything and everyone else.

Darius rose at the precise moment it was safe to do so, bursting from the earth with so much power that soil spewed upward like a geyser. The sky was a soft gray, not yet completely dark, but the canopy of trees cast deep shadows and aided in protecting his eyes. He inhaled, scenting the air around him, taking in each detail, every story the wind had to tell him.

The ever-present hunger gnawed at him, but this time his body, hard and heavy, was making unfamiliar, relentless demands, filled with a terrible need as insatiable as his hunger. He forcibly controlled the inner beast roaring for release and strode around the bus. He spotted Tempest perched precariously on the front grill of the truck, wielding a wrench that looked as if it weighed more than she did. Even as he approached her, her small body swayed, then teetered on the brink of disaster. She attempted to grab the edge of the hood but slipped backward with a small sound somewhere between alarm and annoyance. Clearly it wasn't her first fall.

Darius moved with blurring speed to catch her before she hit the ground. She landed in his arms. "You are more trouble than any woman I have ever encountered. Have you made a study on the best ways to drive a man insane?"

Tempest thumped his heavy muscled chest. "You scared me to death. Where did you come from? And put me down."

His body savored the feel of her, so soft against his hardness. Her face had smudges of grease on it, but she was beautiful all the same. "My heart cannot take any more incidents. What did you think you were doing?" he said gruffly.

Tempest squirmed to remind him to put her down. "My job." He was enormously strong, his body as hard as an oak tree, but his skin was like hot velvet. She could feel the rush of blood through her, hot and needy. It scared her to death. She shoved hard at him. Darius didn't appear to notice. Instead, he started striding away from the campsite. Her heart began to pound. He reminded her of a great warrior claiming his prize. He held her as if he had a right to her, as if she belonged to him.

Darius carried Tempest into the woods, away from open spaces, finding cooler shadows. Her scent beckoned him, and he found himself burying his face against the slender column of her neck. Her pulse beat frantically, drawing his attention. Her silken hair fell against his head, brushing flames over his skin. A sound welled up in his throat as his self-control slipped precariously. There was such danger in this madness. He knew better, but nothing mattered anymore but having her.

Rusti felt the warmth of his breath on her skin. Felt molten heat. And her body clenched in expectation. She circled his head with her arms, drawing him closer without even realizing what she was doing. His need was so great, it beat in him so strongly, that she could feel it swamping her, overwhelming even her sense of survival. His heart matched the rhythm of hers, strong and frantic. She felt the sweeping caress of his tongue along her neck, and her heart skipped a beat, her insides going liquid in anticipation.

"Darius, don't." She whispered the words, meant to make it a command. It came out a husky plea of need.

His mouth moved over her skin, sending waves of fire beating at her. I

have no other choice. What you ask is like trying to stop the wind. It is inevitable between us. Accept me. Accept what I am.

She felt the gentle lapping of his tongue, an erotic, hypnotic rasp of velvet. Her head arched back, exposing the vulnerable hollow of her throat. Heat spiraled through her body as his teeth sank deeply into the offering and he fed hungrily, voraciously on her sweetness. Nothing else would ever sate his hunger again. Nothing. His body burned, needed, demanded. She lay in his arms, drowsy, in a dark, magical dream world, on fire for him.

Somewhere in the woods an owl hooted. From inside the bus one of the cats screamed restlessly, the sound eerie in the twilight. Tempest drew in a deep, shuddering breath, her sense abruptly coming back to her. She was lying in his arms, a willing sacrifice, her body moving against him with an unknown hunger. Her breasts felt full and aching, her nipples hard and pushing against her thin shirt. She felt drowsy and heavy-eyed yet sinfully wanton. She began to struggle wildly, her fists flailing at Darius.

He pulled himself from a world of pure feeling, stroking his tongue over the pinpricks to seal the tiny points of evidence. "Be calm, honey. I am not hurting you." He rested his forehead against hers. "I will take this incident from your mind and wish that I could do so from my own as well." She was trembling in his arms, her enormous eyes wide with shock, her face pale.

"It's okay, Darius. It was just a surprise," she whispered. "I know you wouldn't hurt me." She made another attempt to get out of his arms.

Darius tightened his hold on her. "I am not going to give you up. I cannot. I do not expect you to understand, and I cannot explain adequately. I have been doing for others all of my existence. I have never had anything for myself; I never wanted or needed anything. But I need you. I realize you cannot accept what I am, but it does not matter to me. I wish I was able to say that it did, but I will not give you up. You are the only one who can save me. Save the others from me. Mortals and immortals alike."

"What are you, Darius?" Tempest stopped fighting him. She knew she had no hope of getting away from him unless he allowed it. Her voice was the merest thread of sound. Her heart was slamming against his chest so rapidly, she was afraid it might explode. At once his black eyes caught and held hers, and she felt herself falling forward into their dark, fathomless depths.

"Be calm, honey. There is nothing to fear." He enfolded her in waves of tranquility, a soothing, peaceful sea of reassurance.

As much as she wanted to, she couldn't look away. There was such an intensity about Darius. He was as still and solid as the mountains, as hard as granite, yet so gentle with her. When he looked at her, a burning hunger lit his eyes, a hard possession. He was ageless. Timeless. With a relentless will. He would never swerve from his chosen path. And he had chosen her.

She reached up to touch her throbbing neck. "Why me?"

"In all the world, in all these centuries since emotions left me, I have been so alone, Tempest. Utterly alone. Until you. Only you bring me color and light." He inhaled, taking her scent deep within his lungs. He needed relief from his body's relentless demands. "Do not worry, you will not remember any of this."

Still held captive by his black gaze, Rusti shook her head slowly. "I remember the last time, Darius. You didn't erase my memory."

His black-ice eyes didn't waver, didn't blink as he accepted the nearly impossible as fact. "You ran away because of what I am." He said it without expression, as if her revelation was not of paramount importance.

"You have to admit, it isn't every day a vampire bites one's neck." She made a feeble attempt at humor, but her fingers curled convulsively in his thick mane of jetblack hair, betraying her nervousness.

"So I am responsible, after all, for the attack on you." Darius was assessing the possibility of what she had said. It had to be true. Humans generally required little effort to control. But likely with the difference in her brain patterns, he should have used a much harder mental push to induce forgetfulness. What courage she must have to face him again. To know what he was, and yet remain as she had this night to face him.

"Of course you weren't responsible for what Harry did," she denied huskily, desperate to tear her gaze from his. She was drowning in those eyes, trapped forever. His arms were iron bands around her, locking her to him. She should have been far more afraid of him than she actually was. Had he succeeded in mesmerizing her?

"Yet you stayed this time, knowing I took your blood," he mused aloud. "You didn't try to leave, even believing me something as evil as a vampire."

"Would it have done me any good?" she asked, for once wanting to meet his eyes, wanting to see his expression.

He didn't so much as flicker an eyelash. His features were as etched granite, sensual yet immovable. "No," he answered her honestly. "I would find you. There is nowhere in this world I cannot find you."

Her heart pounded again. He could hear it, could feel the vibration echoing through his own body. She drew in a breath. "Are you going to kill me? I'd just as soon know now."

His hand moved over her hair in a slow caress that sent butterfly wings brushing at her stomach. "You are the only one in this world, mortal or immortal, who, I can say with complete conviction, is perfectly safe. I would give my life to protect you, but I will not give you up."

There was a small silence while she studied his implacable features. She believed him. Knew he was as merciless and dangerous as any wild predator. He watched her throat work, a small, agitated attempt to swallow.

"All right," she conceded. "Then there isn't much point in running away, is there?" Her mind was in chaos, making it impossible to think what to do. What could she do? More importantly, what did she want to do? She bit down hard on her lower lip.

A small dot of ruby red welled up on that lush, trembling lower lip. A temptation. An invitation.

Darius groaned aloud, the sound coming from his soul. She couldn't do that, tempt him beyond endurance, and get away unscathed. He bent his head to hers, his mouth hard and possessive. His tongue found that tiny dot of sweetness, swept it into his keeping, savored it. But he couldn't stop there. Her lips were satin soft beneath his. Trembling. Enticing. God, he wanted her. Needed her. Hungered for her.

Open your mouth for me. I'm afraid of you.

The words held tears, held fear, yet she was helpless against her own burning need. Tempest did as he ordered.

Time stopped for Rusti, and the world fell away, until there was only the hard strength of Darius's arms, the heat of his body, the width of his shoulders, and his perfect, perfect mouth. He was a mixture of domination and tenderness. He swept her up with him, caught in a whirling kaleidoscope of colors and feelings. Nothing would ever be the same again. She would never be the same again. How could she be? He was branding her heart. Branding her soul. He was crawling inside her and taking over so that she breathed only him.

His hunger was beating at him, at her. She was the only thing in his world that was solely for him. She was fire, hot, silky fire racing through his veins, and he never wanted it to stop. Only when she gasped, her lungs laboring, did he lift his head, his black eyes burning with possession over her face. Tempest was very pale, her eyes enormous, her lips holding the imprint of his.

She was so weak, she was grateful Darius was still cradling her in his arms. Her legs felt like rubber. "I think I'm going to be like one of those ridiculous heroines in an old-fashioned novel and faint," she murmured against his neck.

"No, you are not." He attempted to feel guilt - he had taken her blood, and she was so small and fragile that any blood loss could make her weak - but Darius was not one to waste time on regrets. How could he regret what was as natural and inevitable as the tide? She was his. Her blood was his. Her heart and soul belonged to him.

Very gently, tenderly, he ran a caressing hand over her silky hair and down her soft cheek to lay his palm against her throat. His fingers curled slowly around her neck, his thumb feathering the delicate line of her jaw. He wanted to touch every inch of her, explore every secret, intriguing shadow and hollow, memorize her luscious curves.

"Darius." Her green eyes found his black ones. "You can't just decide you own me. People don't own one another anymore. I'm not certain what you are, but I gather you weren't born here or even in this century. I was. I value my independence. It matters to me that I make my own decisions. You don't have the right to take that from me." She tried to choose her words carefully, accepting that she was to blame for her own behavior, that this wasn't all Darius's fault.

She had wanted to kiss him. She admitted it. She touched her swollen lips, a little awed. No one should be able to kiss like that. It was like falling off the edge of a cliff, soaring through the skies, touching the sun. It was like burning, going up in flames, until there was no more Tempest Trine, no thinking individual, only mindless, impossible passion.

"Darius, did you understand what I said?"

"Did you understand what I said?" he countered softly between his white teeth. "I know it is not an easy thing to accept one such as me, but I have given my eternal allegiance and protection to you, and that is no small thing, Tempest. It is for all time."

"It isn't that I can't accept what you are. I don't even know what that is yet, really." She squirmed suddenly. "Put me down. Please. I feel very - " She broke off, not wanting to admit to feeling defenseless, but the word shimmered between them all the same. "Please, Darius. I want to talk about this and not feel at such a disadvantage."

His hard mouth curved, taking away the almost cruel, implacable edge as if it had never been. Slowly he lowered her feet to the ground. She was half his size and had to tip her chin up to look at him. "Do you feel at more of an advantage now?" he asked softly, amusement in his black-velvet voice.