“You have clothes on the sheet. Get dressed, Tempest. I must feed.”
The moment he uttered the words, she became aware of her heart beating strongly. It sounded overly loud to her, like the beat of a drum. Worse, she could hear his heartbeat. The water pouring from the walls, too, was nearly deafening, whereas the night before she had hardly noticed it. And she heard something else—a high-pitched, far-off sound ominously like what she imagined a great number of bats might make.
Tempest took a deep breath, her teeth biting nervously at her lower lip. She didn’t like Darius’s using the word
feed.
She didn’t like the fact that her hearing had suddenly become so strangely acute. What did it all mean? He had bitten her several times. Could he infect her with whatever made him the creature that he was? Slowly she pulled on the clothes he had supplied— something else she didn’t want to examine too closely. They weren’t her clothes. Just where had they come from? “You’re in way too deep this time, Rusti,” she murmured aloud.
Darius was beside her, immaculate, elegant, powerful.
He ruffled her hair affectionately. “Stop talking to yourself.”
“I always talk to myself.”
“You are not alone anymore. You have me, so there is no further need to continue this habit. Are you ready?” His black eyes flicked over her pale face, settling for a moment on her trembling mouth. It amused him somewhat that periodically she scared herself with her own rousings and anxieties. It amazed him that she wasn’t always terrified of him, that she accepted his difference: the same way she accepted differences of skin color or religion. The same way she accepted animals.
Tempest unexpectedly reached out and took his hand “Even if you are the most arrogant being I’ve ever encountered, thank you for last night. It was beautiful, Darius.”
It was the last thing he’d anticipated, and it moved him as nothing else could. He turned his head away from her so that she would not catch the shimmer of tear; that suddenly touched his eyes. That in itself was a small miracle. He had not believed himself capable of tears yet he wanted to weep because she had thanked him Despite her anger at him, her fears of his powers am this place, their night had meant enough to her that she had thought to thank him.
As he took her toward the surface of the mountain he realized it was the first time anyone had thanked him for anything. His role as his family’s provider and protector had been established long ago and was thus now taken for granted. This small woman, so delicate yet so courageous, made him remember the reason he had chosen the role of provider and protector.
Chapter Eleven
The night was the most incredibly beautiful thing Tempest had ever seen. It was clear and slightly cold, and overhead thousands of tiny stars were trying to outsparkle each other. She inhaled the scent of pine. A slight breeze carried the hint of wildflowers to her. Mist off the falls cleaned the air around them. She wanted to run barefoot through the forest and revel in the beauty of nature. For a moment she even forgot Darius as she raised her arms toward the moon, a silent offering of joy. Darius watched her face, felt the happiness consuming her. Tempest focused on whatever she was doing at the moment, taking it into her mind and body and enjoying it to the fullest. She seemed to know how to really live. Was it because she had had so little joy in her lifetime? Was. it because she had fought so hard simply to survive? He touched her mind, a silent, watchful shadow hovering in the background, that he might share the intensity of the moment with her.
And he did. He saw it all. Each separate, vivid detail of wonder. The exquisite beauty of the leaves bathed in silver light. The individual drops of mist sparkling like diamonds in the air around the waterfall. The prisms of color flowing from the frothy cascade. Bats wheeling and dipping at myriad insects. Darius could even see himself tall and powerful, intimidating, masculine. His long hair flowed to his broad shoulders, and his mouth was... He brought himself up short, a smile hovering close. She definitely liked his mouth.
Tempest thumped him hard in the chest. “Get that smug smirk off your face. I know exactly what you’re thinking.”
His hand came up beneath hers and trapped her small clenched fist against his chest. “I notice you do not attempt to deny it.”
Her green eyes sparkled a teasing challenge. “Why should I? I have good taste. Most of the time,” she added pointedly.
He growled low in his throat, a sound meant to intimidate her, but instead she laughed. “Down, boy. Anyone with your arrogance can take a little bit of ribbing.” As he brought her hand to his mouth and nipped her knuckles menacingly, her laughter changed to an abrupt squeal of alarm.
“Do not count on it,” he cautioned, his white teeth gleaming like a predator’s. “I am like any man. I expect the woman I love to adore me and think me perfect.”
She gave an inelegant snort. “You’ll have a long way for that one.”
His black eyes, so compelling, burned over her face. “I do not think it will be so long, honey.”
“Go find yourself food. We have to meet the others,” Tempest said a little desperately. He could not look at her that way. He just couldn’t.
“And if I go, what will you do for me?” he prompted, rubbing her knuckles along his shadowed jaw. The sensation sent dark fire racing through her blood.
“I’ll be a good little girl and wait right here for you.” She made a face at him. “Don’t worry so much, Darius. I’m not really the adventurous type.”
He groaned at the blatant lie. “My heart could not take it if you were any more adventurous.” His black eyes pinned her. “Obey me in this, Tempest. I do not want to come back and find you hang-gliding off another cliff.”
She rolled her eyes. “What trouble can I possibly get into up here? No one’s around for miles. Really, Darius, you’re becoming totally paranoid.” She strode to a boulder with a flat top. “I’ll just sit here and contemplate nature until you return.”
“The other alternative is for me to tie you to a tree,” he mused, straight-faced. “Try it,” she dared him, green eyes flashing fire.
“Do not tempt me,” he shot back, meaning it. He examined the boulder for himself. With Tempest, anything was bound to happen. A snake under the rock, a stick of dynamite blowing it up.
Tempest laughed at him. “Go away. Do you have any idea how pale you are? I’m afraid in a minute you’ll decide that I’m your midnight snack.” Swinging one crossed leg back and forth, feigning indifference, she blinked up at him, wishing she could take back the words. She didn’t want to give him any ideas. “Do have any idea how truly bizarre all this is?”
He loomed over her, tall and enormously strong. “I only know you’d better be sitting right here when I get back.” He made it an order. No velvet over iron this time. Just pure iron. He said it between his teeth to show her he meant business.
Tempest smiled up at him, all innocence. “I can’t think what else I would possibly do.”
He kissed her then because she was so damned tempting that he thought he might incinerate if he didn’t. Her mouth was incredibly soft and pliant, such a mixture of sweet fire and hot honey that he had trouble pulling away. Hunger was beating at him to the extent that he was finding it difficult not to nuzzle her throat and seek the taste of her, rich and hot, flowing into his body. He felt his fangs lengthening at the thought and quickly jerked away. His restless sleep and long night of sexual activities had drained his control. He needed to feed.
One moment Darius was kissing her as if he would never let her go, the next he was gone, just disappeared. In his place was a trailing vapor of mist, streaking away from her toward deeper woods. She watched the cometlike phenomenon almost idly, not certain if it was really Darius or some strange effect created by the lofty atmosphere and the waterfall. It was beautiful, a prism of colors and lights flickering like countless fireflies through the trees. She wondered if he had scented prey, and she shivered at the choice of words that had come to her mind.
Something slightly off-key inserted itself into her magical world, but it was so slow, so insidious, she barely noticed it. Everything around her was so exciting, seen through new eyes, a true awakening. The color of the water particularly captured her fascination, the way the wind played with the surface, tugging and teasing it into a frothy foam. But the nagging intrusion was persistent, a mournful note, a jangle, as if something was out of step with the rightness of all she was seeing.
Tempest frowned and rubbed her forehead. It began aching, throbbing, getting worse as she sat still. She stood, shifting her weight from foot to foot, and very carefully took stock of her surroundings, trying to see without the vivid colors and details, to perceive the reality around her.
Her foot began aching, and she slipped off her shoe and knelt to rub the sole. But the pain wasn’t where she had hurt herself. It was deep within the tissues, and she knew it wasn’t her pain; she was feeling the echo of something or someone hurting. A sudden stillness seemed to sink into the forest, quieting all wildlife. She heard the rush of wings and thought she understood the sudden silence. An owl hunting would keep mice and small animals cowering in their snug homes. Yet the bats remained busy with the insects above her head. Thoughtfully she replaced her shoe and straightened.
A thin ribbon of a deer trail led into the straggly timberline. She wandered over to it, something pulling her in that direction. She wouldn’t go far; she just wanted to find the jarring note intruding on the beauty of nature. The feeling persisted even as she followed the minimal trail. At times it led into thickets of bushes and brambles. She sensed the presence of rabbits crouched below the thorns. They remained unmoving, only their whiskers twitching.
The new intensity of nature’s colors and details began to overlap her need to hunt down the mournful sound seeping into her brain. She found herself sneaking glances at the starlit sky and occasionally turning in full circles to admire the forest. Ferns were becoming taller as she walked deeper into the interior. Moss covered the tree trunks rising skyward. She touched the bark of one and was in awe at the complex blend of textures.
It occurred to her that her senses were so heightened that no mind-altering drug could ever compare. She wandered away from the trail for a moment so she could study an unusual rock formation. The boulders were covered on one side with lichen and tiny life forms, minute insects creating their own world. Tempest glanced up at the sky again, amazed that she could see so clearly even within the deep shadows of the trees.
She was moving into thicker woods, where it was much darker, yet she could see quite well, her eyesight as acute as her hearing. She turned the focus of her newfound senses inward. Her stomach was slightly upset. She felt full; the thought of food made her slightly sick, yet she was thirsty. She became aware of the sound of the stream bubbling happily toward the waterfall. She angled toward the water, pushing her way through the brush.
As she knelt at the edge of the stream, she became aware of the discordant note again. It was louder this time, jarring her, making her head hurt. Somewhere close by something wasn’t right. Something was in pain.
She dipped her hand in the running water and brought it to her parched mouth. Her mind was tuning itself to Darius’s, automatically seeking him. She needed the contact. Tempest didn’t know why, but if she didn’t reach for him, find him, just for a moment, she knew she would be terrified. She needed him.
The idea of needing him alarmed her, but, unerringly, her mind had already found his. Giving it the lightest of touches, she was no more than a faint shadow sliding in, seeking the comfort of knowing he was alive and well, that he was sating his voracious hunger. Her heart pounded wildly for a moment. She withdrew immediately, annoyed with herself for needing him, annoyed that her first thought had been to wonder if he was seeking sustenance from a woman. She should have been concerned for his prey, not jealous of it, however momentarily.
Tempest blinked and refocused. Where was she? How had she gotten here? Nothing looked familiar. Where was the deer trail? She would follow it back to the boulder where she had promised to wait. “You did it again, Rusti,” she chided herself under her breath, worried that Darius might touch her mind and feel her confusion. Slowly she straightened and took a good look around.
There was no deer trail in sight. “Why have you no sense of direction?” she muttered to herself, not wanting Darius to pick up her unspoken thoughts. She wasn’t going to live this one down unless she could find her way back before he returned. She decided to follow the stream. She knew it ended at the falls several feet above the little clearing overlooking the cliffs. If she came out above the falls, she could climb down to the clearing. It all made perfect sense.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she began to walk briskly along the edge of the rapidly moving stream. The problem became apparent at once. The stream doubled back in several places, seeming to meander through the thickest parts of the forest. Brambles tore at her jeans, and the vegetation around her seemed to loom to jungle proportions.
As she moved steadily forward, the mournful note that had set her off in the first place seemed to increase. She knew she was close to whatever it was.
An animal in pain. She knew it with sudden clarity. A large animal, and it was suffering terribly. It was wounded, the laceration infected, and the paw hurt when pressed onto the ground as it attempted to walk. It was broadcasting loudly, the vibrations in the night air finding her a ready recipient.
It wasn’t as if the animal was making actual noise; it was more that Tempest had always been able to communicate with animals, and she could hear, in her head, a silent scream of pain. She tried to ignore it, even took several more steps along the bank of the stream, but the animal’s distress level was overwhelming. “I can’t just leave the darn thing,” she argued. “It could be caught in a trap. One of those awful steel things that crush an animal’s leg and make it die a hideous death. I’d be as guilty as whoever put the stupid trap out in the first place.” She was already turning back, resolutely following the vibrations in her head.
She had no actual warning that she was practically on top of the animal until she parted some bushes and saw a large mountain lion crouched above her on a rocky ledge. Its yellow eyes stared down at her with malevolence. The cat was heavily muscled, a bit on the thin side, and broadcasting as much hunger as pain. Why hadn’t she caught that before?
Tempest sank her teeth into her lower lip in agitation. Okay. This was it. The last straw. She was going to be in so much trouble when Darius found out about this one. The cougar was staring at her, frozen in place, only the tip of its tail flicking back and forth. Tempest thought about running, but she knew the animal would definitely attack her if she was that stupid. She reached for the cat’s mind.
Hunger. Anger. The cougar was moody and in pain. There was something in its paw, something sticking in and hurting each time it tried to hunt. The cat had tried to bite and gnaw it out but had been unsuccessful. The cat had not eaten in several days, and hunger was riding it hard. And now it was staring at easy prey with obvious satisfaction.
Tempest tried to soothe the cougar, tried to send the impression that she would help. She could remove the painful thorn; she could provide fresh meat. The yellow eyes continued to stare at her, an eerie portent of death. Tempest forced her mind away from the possibility of an attack and continued to send impressions of aid to the cat. She kept the fear from her mind so the animal would not leap at her.
The cougar shook its head, puzzled. Tempest sensed confusio
n, a need to feed, yet the animal found her strange, unfamiliar, perplexing. The mountain lion needed the thorn out, and Tempest concentrated on that. Images of the thorn removed, the paw healed. If she didn’t help the creature, it would remain unable to hunt, and it would perish. The cougar was young, a female; she could reproduce. Tempest knew the cat was extremely dangerous; hunger and pain could force any animal to strike out. But it just wasn’t in her to walk away without trying to help. She had managed to control large dogs. Once a tiger at a zoo had bonded with her.
She stood quietly, watching the animal closely for signs of acceptance. She had infinite patience. Hers was a God-given gift, and she believed in it implicitly. Others might call her a freak, but she knew she could help animals, really help them at times like this. She spoke quietly, soothingly in her mind, sending images of the thorn out, the paw feeling so much better. She swamped the cat with the images, kept the animal off balance.
Most cats were curious by nature, and this big one was no different. It snarled silently, but the resolve in its head to kill and feed instantly was fading. It wanted the terrible thorn out, the pain to be gone. Tempest pressed her advantage, sought to expand her mental images and vibrations of goodwill. The cat became more relaxed, the yellow eyes squinting, not so fixed and merciless.
Tempest allowed herself to breathe more deeply and moved cautiously closer, her gaze flicking to the sore paw. It was quite swollen and pustulent. “Poor baby,” she crooned softly. “We need to take that thing out of there for you.” All the while she built the images of the cat accepting her extracting the thorn. “It might hurt, so I’m thinking we should decide up front that you won’t lose your mind and eat me. In the long run, it would be far better for you if you just let me take the thing out.” She was quite close now, close enough to touch the animal.
The wound was worse than she first thought; infection had really taken hold. It was possible she couldn’t help the poor thing. Tempest sighed. She didn’t want to give up. There was always a chance that if she could remove the foreign object embedded so deeply in the paw, the cat might survive. It was more accepting of her, curious that she could communicate, that she understood its pain and hunger, overcoming, for the moment, its desire and need to eat.
Dark Fire (Dark Series - book 6) Page 20