Dark Fire (Dark Series - book 6)

by Christine Feehan

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

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

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

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

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

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

  We have to stop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  For a moment Darius stared at her. Then he blinked, wiping out the mocking amusement she was certain she had seen swirling in the depths of his eyes. He regarded her with a perfectly sober expression that made her want to

  really

  kick his shins. It took a goodly measure of self-control to keep from doing it.

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

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

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

  “Actually, honey, he was my apprentice,” he said.

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

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

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

  “But t
hey would conspire

  for

  you,” Tempest said with sudden insight. She tilted her head at him. “What would they do if this Prince of your people didn’t like something you did?”

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

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

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

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

  Chapter Seven

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She glared at the lavish interior of the motor home. “You’re acting worse than a teenager,” she told herself. “He’s arrogant and bossy and strange. Keep that in mind when you’re going ga-ga over his looks. He’s a man. That’s bad enough. And he’s worse than a man. He’s a...” She searched for the right explanation. “A something. Something you don’t want any part of. Now go check the oil. Something mundane, ordinary. Something you can relate to.”

  Just before dawn he had carried her to the bus they had by then overtaken, after driving all night. She closed her eyes and could still feel the strength in his arms, the way the hard muscles of his chest felt against her soft breasts. In the early streaks of light she could see his face, sensual, beautiful, yet as harsh as time itself. He had carried her gently, carefully into the bus and laid her on the couch among the pillows. His tenderness as he covered her with a quilt was forever etched in her heart. The kiss he brushed over her temple still held traces of fire.

  And her neck. Tempest pressed a hand to her neck, then turned back to the mirror to look once more. His mouth had left a burning brand there, marking her as his. She could see the evidence, the odd mark that throbbed and seared and called to him. She covered it with her palm and captured the scorching heat there.

  “You are in so much trouble this time, Rusti,” she murmured softly. “I don’t even have a clue how I’m going to get you out.”

  She attempted to eat cold cereal but found she was more lonely than hungry. She wanted to see his mouth, the way he quirked it, slow and sexy. She wanted to see the black burning of his eyes. The cereal tasted like cardboard. Why was it erotic when Darius took her blood, when the thought of any other doing such a thing sickened her? What made it repulsive when Barack had bent close yet made her entire body clench in anticipation of Darius? She touched the mark with a fingertip this time.

  “You are not going to sit here daydreaming, Tempest,” she declared staunchly, vaguely wondering why she was calling herself the name Darius insisted upon. “Go do something, anything, but stop acting stupid.”

  She took only a few minutes to clean up and, after petting the sleepy leopards, went outside. The heavy drapes at the windows had blocked the light out of the bus so that the day seemed brighter than ever, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut against its brilliance. The breeze was soft and playful, tugging at her hair and clothes, rustling leaves and blowing pine needles here and there about their new campsite.

  The air smelled fragrant with both pine and wildflowers. Water bubbled somewhere close by. Tempest fiddled halfheartedly with the bus engine, fine-tuning until she was satisfied. The wind made her feel more lonely than ever. Colors seemed so much more vivid when Darius was around. Everything was more vivid when Darius was around.

  Obsession.

  Was that what this was? Tempest filled a water bottle and slid it into her knapsack. She would go hiking, wade in the stream, and cool off. Wash him away. Whistling, she pushed her hands into her pockets and started off, determined that Darius’s presence was no longer going to haunt her. But a feeling of dark oppression began to overtake her as she walked farther from the camp.

  She tried singing, but her heart seemed heavy, her legs like lead as she took each step. A terrible sorrow was growing in her. She needed to see Darius, touch him, know that he was alive and well. She found the thin ribbon of a stream and followed it until it widened and poured in a frothy silver blanket over an outcropping of rocks. She took off her shoes and strode in. The icy cold cleared her head enough that she could reason again.

  Darius was not dead or hurt. Nothing was wrong. The bond between them was growing because he merged his mind more often with hers. They shared an intense intimacy that was not meant for humans. Without his mind touching hers, she was feeling the loss. That was all. It was simple. She just had to learn to live with it.

  Tempest waded farther out into the stream so that the water poured over her knees and the current urged her to follow its course. She became aware of the insects in the air, their constant hum, their buzzing about. They were darts of color, a whirring of gossamer wings. She listened in the way Darius had taught her, in utter stillness, with the water flowing around her and her mind centered on the tiny creatures teeming with life.

  Tempest watched a brillian
t blue dragonfly hover above the stream. Very slowly she looked around and saw butterflies gathering. So many beautiful colors, wings beating in the air. They came from everywhere, brushing up against her, landing on her shoulders, her arms. Entranced, she stayed attuned to them until she feared she was gathering too many. Abruptly she released them, and they gracefully began to take flight.

  Musical notes seeped into her mind as the birds began a concert, a rivalry of sound. Various species vied for air waves and tried to outdo one another. She listened intently, repeating the sounds in her mind until she was certain she had each separate song, each meaning, before she answered them.

  One by one she called them to her. Holding out her arms, she sang to them, coaxed them, her throaty warbling luring the birds from their branches and nests. They flew around her, circling low, dipping to inspect her warily before settling on her arm.

  Chattering and scolding, the squirrels came next, rushing forward to stop at the edge of the water. Slowly, with great care, Tempest made her way toward them, all the time still talking quietly to the birds. They fluttered around her, cooing and singing, trilling their favorite tunes to her. Two rabbits moved hesitantly into the open, wiggling their noses at her. Tempest stayed very still, reaching out only with her mind to include them in the circle of communication.

  It was a bird that first warned her of danger. Riding an air current high above them, its sharp eyes caught a stealthy movement in the brush several yards from the gathering. It keened an alarm, cautioning those below that they weren’t alone. Tempest turned around quickly as the birds took flight and the squirrels and rabbits raced to safety. She was left alone in the clearing, her bare feet still in the water. The man partially hidden in the thick brush was busy taking a series of pictures. He looked all too familiar and, worse, all too triumphant. He had obviously taken photos of the animals swarming around her.

  Tempest sighed and ran a hand through her hair. At least she hadn’t managed to draw out anything major or exotic. No bears or fox or minks. But she could still see the reporter’s tatty little rag with her picture on the front, captioned