Darius knew it instantly. He slowly withdrew from her body, feeling slightly bereft. It shamed him that he could need her so much, hunger for her blood, the taste of her body, the feel of her surrounding him. He had to find a way to strike a balance between treating her gently enough to keep from scaring her off and forcing his will on her so that he could keep her always safe at his side.
Darius tenderly pulled her up against his hard frame, where Tempest slumped, blushing wildly at how wanton she had been, begging him to take her. She shoved her hands through her hair, and at once his palms covered her upthrust breasts, sending fire sizzling to her sensitive nipples and back to him again. She buried her face against his chest, too tired to stand on her own, and Darius instantly swept her up into his arms. She closed her eyes as they moved in a blur through time and space.
Whatever he said to the others, however he had made it happen, she was grateful that the campsite was empty, except for the bus when they returned, both of them stark naked. When she was making love to Darius, she felt totally free, totally uninhibited. But once they were back in the real world, her private nature reasserted itself, and she was painfully modest.
Darius carried her into the trailer to the sofa bed, placing her among all its pillows. “You will rest now, Tempest.” It was decree, an order delivered in a voice meant to be obeyed.
She caught at him as he went to move away from her, drawing him back to the bed, down beside her. Her hand stroked the hard angles and planes of his face, a gentle caress that totally disarmed him. Darius was instantly lost in the contentment, the sheer pleasure of having her with him. He lay down beside her, just for a few minutes, and pulled her into his arms.
Chapter Fourteen
“What are we going to do about these people stalking Desari?” Tempest asked as she snuggled into the curve of Darius’s arm.
He looked down at her, his mouth brushing her forehead tenderly. “We? What is this ‘we’? As I understand it, the society’s first objective is to acquire you. You are going to do exactly what you promised and obey me to the letter.”
“Actually,” Tempest said calmly, ignoring his ruthless tone, “I thought Cullen Tucker said that the society considered Julian a vampire for certain. I would say he was their first target.”
“Security is a matter for the men, Tempest, not for you. From now on, you will do as I say and stay out of trouble.”
Tempest was drowsy, content to lie in his arms and smile up at the black fury gathering in his eyes. Idly she touched his mouth, a feather-light caress tracing the perfection of his lips. “I do love your mouth,” she admitted before she could censor the words.
Darius found he was instantly distracted from his anger. One touch from her and he couldn’t remember his own name, let alone his lecture. He kissed her hard, possessively, taking his time to explore her sweetness, to show her exactly where she belonged. When he lifted his head, her emerald eyes were bemused, beautiful, and so sexy that he found himself groaning aloud.
“Rest while I fix you something to eat,” he ordered.
Her long lashes swept down, her velvet soft lips just asking to kissed again. Darius had to look away from her or he wouldn’t have the strength to leave her.
She caught at his hand. “I’m really not hungry, Darius. Don’t bother fixing anything. It will only be a waste of time. In fact, I feel slightly sick.”
Guilt swept him. It was his fault she was having trouble eating. He touched her face, his heart melting. “You will eat what I fix, honey. I will ensure it stays down.” But he was talking to himself; she was already asleep.
Darius spent a few minutes staring down at her, absorbing the rhythm of her breathing into his body. His life. It came down to that. This delicate, fragile creature was his entire life, his entire world. He needed to take better care of her, pay greater attention to her health and safety. Tempest seemed to go from one crisis to the next. He would have to put his foot down, get her under some semblance of control. She would start by taking naps in the evening hours to build up her strength.
Absently Darius fashioned a pair of jeans and pulled them on, carelessly buttoning them as he padded on bare feet to the door of the bus. The leopards were off in the forest, and he prompted the animals to return to the safety of their camp. As he opened the door, the night breezes washed over him, carrying scents and sounds from miles around.
At once his black eyes became flat and merciless. A low hiss escaped as he exhaled sharply. The enemy had found them. Not one or two but, if his acute sense of smell had not failed him, a virtual army surrounded them. The men were moving slowly through the forest, ringing the campsite. He smelled their fear, their adrenaline, their sweat. He smelled their excitement. He read their intentions, their eagerness for the kill.
A low growl rumbled in his throat in response to the threat. He was anchored to the trailer and Tempest, unable to act as he would had he been alone. A snarl lifted his lip, revealing lengthened canines. The truth was simple. He welcomed the fight. He had had enough of the threats to his family, and his way had always been one of action. He sent out the eerie call of the leopard, warned the others of the danger, and turned to wake Tempest.
She surprised him, listening to his explanation and donning the clothes he provided almost without question. “Do you have any weapons in here?” she finally asked.
His eyebrows shot up. “As in guns?” he prompted.
She laughed. “I’m from the streets, Darius. Don’t let the fact that I was attacked a couple of times fool you. I was blindsided. If you don’t see it coming, it’s a little hard to defend yourself.”
“Our guns are in the case just inside the closet. But use them only if it is absolutely necessary to protect yourself. Let me handle these idiots,” he cautioned warily. Tempest with a gun in her hand was a scary proposition.
“Where are the others?”
“They have gone ahead to our next stop, taking Cullen Tucker with them. He had nothing to do with this that I can detect,” Darius said calmly.
He sent himself seeking out into the night while she hastily prepared the bus for a quick getaway. He found one man approaching from the north, a long rifle in his capable hands. A sniper in camouflage. Darius directed the male leopard to hunt. The female cat was sent after the man closest to the sniper, a few feet to his left. They were in thick brush, easy targets for the cats, and Darius knew their deaths would be swift and silent. He was torn between staying in his present form and protecting Tempest and going out into the forest, where he could do more good.
“Go,” she said softly, feeding shells into the guns she had laid out. “I know you won’t be far if I need you.”
Darius leaned down to kiss her soft mouth. There were shadows in her eyes, and she was trembling slightly, but she looked him in the eye, and he could feel the resolve in her mind. “Do not allow anything to happen to you, Tempest. For the sake of all mortals, see to your safety first.” He glanced at the arsenal she was preparing. “And do not shoot me when I return.”
“I’ll resist the temptation.” Her hand stroked his neck. “See to it you come back to me.” The ache in her heart was real and strong.
Fear.
She tasted it in her mouth.
He disappeared. One moment he was real and solid, standing in front of her, the next he was gone. Tempest had no idea if he had dissolved into vapor or moved so quickly that she hadn’t seen him. Outside in the darkness, the wind began to build, emitting a low, eerie moan. It spoke of death. Tempest shivered, wondering how she knew but knowing it anyway. The wind was death. Darius was the wind.
She saw herself in the mirror. Pale, her hair wild, her eyes wide with fear. She looked absurd, a small woman in blue jeans and T-shirt loading a big gun, but there was grim determination to the set of her mouth. Her feet were bare, and she remedied that quickly, certain she would have to leave the illusion of safety the trailer provided. She sat on the step, a gun in her lap, two others behind her within easy
reach, and she waited.
Darius streaked through the sky, noting the position of each attacker. There were seventeen men, all armed. The campsite was surrounded, heavy trucks positioned across each trail leading to the main highway to prevent the bus from leaving. Forest was dragging the body of the eighteenth man through heavy brush. The male leopard was moving silently, his powerful body sleek and deadly, undetected by the hunters creeping forward within a few feet of him.
Darius dropped behind a large man armed with everything from hand grenades to a machete. He simply snapped the man’s neck as if it were a matchstick. There was no time for a sound to escape, only the rush of wind that carried Darius to the next assailant in line. This one was crouched low, peeking into the trees, trying to catch a glimpse of the silver bus. The wind caught him in a death grip, like a huge hand at his throat, and slowly strangled the life out of him while his body dangled helplessly a foot from the ground, then fell unceremoniously to the forest floor.
“Murphy?” A voice hissed off to Darius’s right. “I can’t see anything. Where’s Craig? He was supposed to stay close.”
Darius loomed up, larger than life, his features harsh and relentless, his black eyes burning coals of fury. Long white canines revealed themselves as he smiled. “Both of them lost.” His words were soft and mesmerizing. The man froze in horror, unable to do so much as lift his gun as the apparition moved toward him with blinding speed. The hunter felt the impact in the vicinity of his chest and stared down in horror at the gaping hole there. He wanted to scream, but no sound emerged. He died standing up, facing Darius, his face a twisted mask of shock.
As merciless as the wind itself, Darius moved on to the next attacker. This one was young, with pitted cheeks, scrubby mustache, and paint smeared on his face. He was breathing heavily, adrenaline pumping through his body. His finger continually stroked the trigger of his automatic weapon. Darius moved past him, a blur of muscle and sinew, razor-sharp talons ripping out his throat as he passed.
Some distance away a gun erupted, spouting red flame into the darkness. A man’s high-pitched scream mingled with the unearthly cry of the female leopard. Darius turned toward the sound. Several guns spewed bullets wildly, raking the area where the sounds had come from, until an authoritative voice several yards off to his left barked an order.
Tempest came to her feet, her first thought for Darius. Automatically she reached for him, wincing when she felt the red haze of killing fury in his mind. Breaking contact, she sought out the cause of the cry. Instantly she knew the female leopard was in jeopardy. Swearing beneath her breath, she tried to calm herself enough to decide what to do. Sasha was hurt; she could feel the pain and anger in the cat as she dragged herself through the foliage back toward the bus and her human companions.
Tempest hesitated only one second before she stuck a pistol into the waistband of her jeans, gripped the automatic, and ran toward the trees. She sent Sasha quick reassurance that she was on the way, she would help get the cat to safety and stop the pain.
There was another shout, much closer than she would have liked, followed by a volley of shots. Again Tempest reached out to touch Darius’s mind, terrified that he was hurt. He was in the middle of shape-shifting, his body accommodating the muscular form of a panther even as he was leaping for a low tree branch. He crouched above a sniper who was slithering on his belly through the vegetation. The Sniper’s gun was trained on Forest as the leopard made its approach toward another intruder, who was firing at Sasha as the female cat retreated.
Tempest gasped aloud as she shared Darius’s mind. He was utterly without mercy, emotionless, calm and cool, relentless in his pursuit of those who threatened his family. He leapt upon the sniper, silent, merciless, deadly. As his wicked canines sank deep into the gunman’s throat, she broke away, unwilling to witness Darius killing his adversary.
Tempest ducked low beneath the canopy of low, sweeping branches, trying hard to be quiet and not rustle any bushes. Petite, she was able to move easily on the narrow trails established by small animals, but she nearly stumbled over the silent, wounded panther. Sasha was crouched motionless in the large ferns growing beneath the trees. Tempest laid a calming hand on the cat’s back and sent it waves of reassurance as she knelt to inspect the injury.
The leopard’s back right leg was coated with blood. Tempest muttered unladylike swear words beneath her breath. The cat was too large for her to lift by herself. She wrapped an arm around its belly and lifted just enough to allow Sasha to crawl forward. The ground was uneven, and the panther was in tremendous pain, leaning more and more of her weight onto Tempest as she limped toward the bus.
Sasha suddenly turned her head to the left, curling her lips in a snarl of warning, then freezing into stillness. Tempest dropped flat, eyes searching the area to her left. A man loomed up, his head turned away from her, a gun cradled in his arms, another strapped to his shoulder. He was dressed in dark clothing, his face smeared with black stripes. He looked like a gorilla coming out of the gathering mist.
While the night had been clear, fog was now rolling in fast, gathering into a white, eerie vapor on the forest floor. Tempest lay against the injured panther, shaking with fear, weak from lack of food, and already exhausted. Even the gun felt heavy in her hands. It seemed an impossible task to get the leopard back to the comparative safety of the bus.
The man disappeared into the trees, the fog surrounding him. Tempest got to her feet, her knees rubbery, her mouth dry. Sasha crept forward with Tempest’s help. They inched their way over the ground—a slow, painstaking process that seemed never-ending. The heavy fog was their only protection once they emerged from the forested area to the campsite itself. Tempest sent up a silent prayer that the thick vapor would prevent their presence from being detected.
Darius felt the disturbance ahead. He had made his way through the line of intruders, the male leopard coming from the opposite side to meet him at the campsite. Twice Darius had used the heavy fog to wrap a sniper in its deadly grip, choking the life out of the intruder. He had left behind no living enemy and knew Forest had done the same. The numbers against them had been significantly reduced, Sasha accounting for two before she was shot.
Darius was very much aware of where Tempest was at every moment and what she was doing. He had made no attempt to stop her from reaching the cat because he would have had to force her compliance. All the same, he was terrified for her, and the fear was nearly paralyzing him. He sensed the man rushing out of the fog at her, his gun pointed at her head. Sasha tried to throw herself over Tempest, protecting her at Darius’s command, even as he took control of the weapon, using his mind and the eyes of the female leopard to force the barrel back around toward the killer.
The man screamed horribly as the gun he was holding, seemingly of its own volition, turned slowly, inexorably, toward his own heart. Even as he tried to tell his brain to stop, he felt his own finger tighten on the trigger. Darius had been moving with preternatural speed and arrived on scene just as the man fell. He leapt toward Tempest, slamming her into the earth. A bullet caught him high in the back of his shoulder, burning and tearing through his body, stealing his breath.
Darius wanted to lie there a moment and rest, but the man who had succeeded in shooting him was moving in for the kill. Putting aside pain, he focused his will on the enemy. Already, however, he was directing the male leopard, stirring up the wind, and creating the dense fog, and he was weary now, his great strength draining, along with his life’s blood, onto the ground.
Still, he rose up like an apparition, his body contorting, his face lengthening into a long muzzle, fangs exploding into his mouth as the wolf surged forward and tore into the oncoming wall of a man’s chest. The enemy was so frozen with terror at the sight of something half man and half wolf, he could only gape in horror.
Tempest had hit the ground so hard, it knocked the wind out of her. For a moment she could only lie there, trying to collect her scattered wits. She wasn’t eve
n certain who had tackled her. It was Sasha who prodded her into action, with her mewling, painful cries, the harsh images of torn flesh. Tempest rolled over to see Darius drop a body onto the ground. She cried out a warning, and he instantly turned and met a huge attacker rushing him with a machete.
He caught the man’s raised arm with his casual strength and stared at him a moment, his eyes holding the other captive. Slowly he bent his head and drank, needing to replace his own loss, needing the nourishment and power of adrenaline-laced blood. The rush hit him hard in his weakened state, and he drank voraciously.
Darius!
Tempest whispered to him urgently. Something in her knew she had to stop him. She didn’t understand why; she knew he had killed, but not this way, never this way.
Darius, I need you now.
The soft, beautiful voice penetrated his mind, subduing the raging, beast, appeasing the wild hunger for death and blood. He forced his teeth away from his prey and dropped the man into the dirt while he still lived. Without looking into the woods, he sent his message to the male leopard. The man must be destroyed, leaving no witnesses to what had happened here. It was necessary to the survival of his race.
“I will carry Sasha,” Darius said gruffly, the beast still strong in him, red flames flickering ferociously in his eyes.
Tempest gasped when she saw the blood, inky black in the darkness, running down Darius’s back. “Go. I’ll cover you.”
“They are coming in from the left,” he said, pushing her ahead of him, bending to lift the huge cat.
She stepped behind him and laid down a covering spray of automatic fire, the bullets zinging viciously, giving him time to get Sasha into the bus. Tempest was backing toward him when he caught her in his arms, taking the weapon out of her hands.
Darius was well aware that she wasn’t shooting at anyone, only keeping them away. Tempest did not have one killer instinct in her body. Courage, loyalty, yes—she would never leave him or the cats, and she would do her best to protect them, but she would have a difficult time actually killing another human being.
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