Brady Grand swore as he clutched at the seat in front of him. “What the hell are you doing, Martin? We almost crashed. Slow down if you have to. Wallace says she has to be alive. We need information, and the only way to lure one of them to us is through a woman.”
“You didn’t see it?” Martin wiped the sweat from his face. “It was an owl. The biggest damned owl I ever saw.”
“There wasn’t anything there,” Brady snarled. “You’re just chicken. All you have to do is drive.” Brady swept back the red-gold hair falling across Tempest’s face so he could examine the ugly cut where Martin had hit her with the billy club. “You hit her too damned hard. She’s bleeding like a stuck pig back here.”
A gust of wind hit the side of the car, blowing it several inches into the other lane. Ahead of them ominous black clouds gathered from out of nowhere. Veins of lightning zigzagged from cloud to cloud. Thunder crashed so loudly, it shook the car. Martin ducked again and swore out loud. “This is getting out of hand, Brady. I say it’s a warning of some kind. If something’s doing this, I don’t want to challenge it. Let them have her.”
The car was slowing, pulling to the side of the road. Brady slapped the back of Martin’s head hard. “Drive!
This is what we want. He’ll follow us. We haw a poison that will render him helpless. We’ll actually bag one of them. Just drive the damned car.”
A cloud, black and sinister, poured into the car through a back window that was cracked open an inch. It flowed in, spreading a dark vapor that obscured all vision. Brady grabbed at the woman but felt something tugging her away from him.
“No way! I’ll kill her!” He jerked his gun into position and pulled the trigger as fast as he could. It was too late. The vapor had wound itself around his throat and was pulling tighter and tighter. He felt his captive slide to the floor and tried to aim the gun at her head, pulling the trigger again, cursing as he did so. The reverberations from the shots were loud in the close confines of the car.
“You thought you could take my woman from me,” Darius said softly.
The venomous black vapor suddenly felt real, felt like a solid noose, a garrote cutting deep into Brady’s throat, slicing through flesh so that his blood ran like a river down his neck to soak into his immaculate white shirt. He was still cursing as he died.
Darius snarled silently as the stench of gunpowder drifted out the window and the black cloud slowly solidified. Blood was dripping from his left thigh, and another bullet had caught him near his hip when he had flung his body over Tempest to protect her. She wasn’t moving, and it scared him to death. The driver was dead. Grand had shot him with his wild barrage of bullets.
Tenderly, carefully, he drew Tempest’s motionless body from the bloodstained car. He clamped down hard on his own pain, taking time to examine every inch of her before launching himself skyward. Droplets of blood splashed to earth as he flew, mingling with the soil. He took her to the cave.
One of you needs to take care of the car. It must be destroyed, and then we must find the head of this organization
that
continues to hunt Desari and us. We cannot take any further chances with them, Julian. They must have a hideout nearby.
You
are injured. I will come to you and give you aid. Do not leave the women until it is safe to do so.
Darius’s voice held hard authority. He knew Julian was unlike the others. They were used to following his orders, while Julian had long been a loner, answering to no one except on the rare occasion when he had contact with his Prince or the Dark One, the healer of their people. Julian chose his own way always. He would likely ignore Darius and accede to Desari’s wishes that he aid her brother. Darius let his breath out slowly, acknowledging that Julian would make his own decisions. I cannot protect them at this
time, and I am relying on you. As soon as the concert is over, put them somewhere safe, and all of you meet with me to ferret out this predator.
There was a small silence. You
are safe? I am.
Darius was uncertain if he spoke the truth. He was not at full strength, and he had lost a great deal of blood. Ordinarily he would have instantly shut down his heart and lungs to preserve the precious fluid until his kindred came to provide for him. But he didn’t have the time or luxury to do so now. Tempest was hurt.
Tempest stirred and moaned softly, raising a trembling hand to the gash on her head. “Ow.” Her long lashes fluttered, rose, and she smiled at him. “I knew you would come, Darius, but I’ve got a hell of a headache.”
He leaned over her and pressed a wet cloth to her head. “Close your eyes, honey and lie still so I can see what I can do about this.”
“They wanted one of you to follow, didn’t they?” she murmured, her lashes drooping. She felt sick.
“You have a slight concussion, Tempest.” Darius knew his voice reflected his weariness. It was impossible for him to keep the pain at bay with his strength waning by the moment. Fortunately, she had not recovered enough to notice his wounds. He scooped up handfuls of rich soil, mixed it with his healing saliva, and packed the gaping holes in his body.
Darius sent himself seeking outside his own body and into hers. It was difficult to focus as completely as he must while his great strength and energy were draining away. He had tried to slow his heartbeat, to slow the loss of blood, hoping to give himself more time. He could feel her fear, the pounding and throbbing of the pain in her head. She had lost blood, but not the copious amounts head injuries often led to. She would not need a replacement.
He tested the bruising, meticulously worked at healing it inside her skull and then outside until the wound was closed. He took her headache away and retreated, slumping wearily onto the floor of the cave.
For a long while there was only the sound of their heartbeats. Tempest lay floating in a kind of a dream state. After some time she became aware of the differences in the rhythms of their hearts. They always beat the same when they were close to each other, yet now his heart seemed slow, almost stuttering.
Tempest forcibly roused herself. She turned her head slowly toward Darius and, to her horror, found him slumped in an awkward position against a boulder, his skin drawn tight over his skull, his face gray and dotted with crimson beads of blood.
Gasping in alarm, she came to her knees, reaching for him. His shirt and trousers were soaked in blood. “My God, Darius!” she whispered, horrified.
There was no response. She reached for his wrist to check his pulse, found it thready and weak. Tempest knew immediately that he had seen to her needs before his own. He was unconscious. He had lost too much blood. She was afraid he was going to die. They were stuck deep within the earth. There was no way she could drag his body out of the cave and to help in time.
Tempest forced herself not to panic. He wasn’t human. What could she do to revive him with what she had at hand? She had no way of contacting the others. The private mental path the family used only worked among them. She noticed the soil packed in his wounds. He had tried to stop the bleeding using the richness of the earth. Quickly she looked around, searching for the soil he’d said was filled with minerals and healing agents. She mixed a fresh pack and spread it over the wounds.
“Darius, tell me what to do,” she whispered, feeling more lonely than she ever had before. Smoothing the hair from his forehead with gentle fingers, she felt her heart turn over, then begin to pound. She had somehow fallen in love with him. He wasn’t human. He was overbearing and dominant. They probably didn’t have a chance in hell of making it work, but she wasn’t about to fail him.
Somehow in the short time they were together, Darius had become her other half, more important to her than her own life. He shared his life, his memories, with her; he laughed with her, took care of her injuries before his own. He showed her in a thousand ways that he loved her. Despite his arrogant ways, he cared for her, cooked for her, saw to her every need. She
felt
his lov
e. More important, through his memories, when their minds were melded, she saw his greatness. And she knew absolutely that he was willing to grow old and die for her.
Well, she was not about to lose him. Tempest eased him down so he would be more comfortable. No one else was around to give him the one thing he needed most. So she stretched out beside him, turning so that her head was pillowed on his shoulder.
“Here’s the deal, my darling,” she whispered. “You are going to take my blood, as much as you need to heal you. If it works, you’ll wake up and save my life. Hopefully I won’t be deranged.” She made a face. “I really don’t want to be deranged. So let’s just do this and not think too much about it. Okay? This is my decision.” She leaned into him and brushed her mouth against hi: neck. You
understand me, Darius? This is my decision, my free will. I want to do this for you. Take my blood. I’m offering my life for yours. I think you’re a great man am well worth it.
She dug the pocket knife out of her jeans and, biting her lip hard, slashed a hideous gash in her wrist, instantly pressing it to his mouth.
Drink, love. Drink for both of us We live together or we die.
She meant every word. Then were no doubts, no regrets, but it hurt like hell.
At first she felt her blood flow into his mouth on it’s own, but then he moved weakly, bringing his hand up to capture her wrist, to press it tightly against him. His lips moved, drawing the precious liquid into his faltering body, a mindless, blind instinct for survival.
Tempest closed her eyes, allowed the gathering darkness to float her away.
Chapter Seventeen
Water dripped slowly from the ceiling of the cave and seeped from the walls, collecting into pools along the floor. It mixed with the rich red soil, making it look like blood lying in puddles on the steaming surface. Somewhere far off a rock fell, clattering against other boulders. Then there was silence again.
Darius became aware that he was lying on the ground, his body heavy and cumbersome. Hunger was a raw, gaping wound in his gut. He was aware of pain; he seemed to be floating in a sea of it. Something held him pinned to the ground, but he had no idea what had happened or where he was. He turned his head slowly, shocked at how difficult it was to do so. His mind seemed to be clouded, to be moving slowly. It took a moment for his eyes to focus. As they did so, the hand covering his mouth fell limply onto his chest.
The cry of pain and fear was torn from his very soul.
It echoed in the cave again and again, tormented and deep, reverberating to the heavens. Darius caught Tempest’s wrist and hastily sealed the terrible gaping wound that had saved his life. “Baby, baby, what have you done?” He dragged her close, his hand over her stuttering heart. She was laboring for breath, her heart working far too hard. The blood loss was mortal. Tempest was dying.
Without a second thought, he tore a wound in his wrist and forced it over her mouth. A small amount of his blood would keep her alive until he had a chance to feed and supply her with a transfusion. His mind was a blank. There was only the litany of prayer. She could not die. He would never let her go. She could not die. He swore it to himself, to God. He sent her to sleep, commanding her to stay alive, forcing the edict into her brain, his will like iron. He made it clear that she dared not defy him in this.
When he was able, he left her, taking to the sky to hunt. He wasn’t particular in his prey; he fed fast and voraciously, ruthlessly dropping his victims one by one onto the ground before he could kill them, his mind filled only with his need to get back to Tempest. It no longer mattered to him whether anyone else lived or died. There was only room for her. His entire will was bent on holding her to the earth with him.
This time, with his renewed strength, he pulled her into his arms, cradled her against his chest, and cut open a line over his heart. He fed her lovingly, ensuring that she took enough to live. When her body began to respond to the sustenance, she tried to move away from him. Darius merely forced her closer, held her tighter. She would obey him. That was all there was to it. He had given her far more freedom than he had ever thought possible, even when he could have compelled her obedience, but now he gave her no choice. This was for her life, for his soul. If she died, he was damned. He would never go quietly into the sun. He would wreak vengeance upon the world such as it had never seen. He would deliberately choose that course to get at those who had taken her from him.
When Darius was certain she was completely renewed, he gently inserted his hand between her mouth and his chest, closed the laceration, and laid her down. He would have to clean the blood from both of them before she awakened. He closed his eyes, reaching inside his body to repair the damage from the inside out. His hip wound was nasty, the bullet shattering the bone and doing more injury than he would have liked. The thigh wound was easier to repair; he was able to align everything and close off all the veins and arteries without much effort. He even bathed in the steaming pool before replacing the packs on his wounds. This time he mixed herbs with the soil and saliva.
Tempest began stirring restlessly. Darius went to her immediately, lying down beside her to encircle her shoulders in his arms, drawing her up so that she could rest her head against his chest. Her long lashes fluttered, but she didn’t lift them. Darius traced the curve of her cheek and slipped his palm over her throat to feel her pulse beating into it.
“Wake up, honey. I need you to open your eyes,” he coaxed softly. “I’m thinking about it first,” she answered tiredly.
“Thinking?” he echoed. “You took centuries off of my life, and you are thinking before you open your eyes?”
“Tell me what I look like first.” Her voice was a mere thread of sound. “You are not making sense.” His voice was a black-velvet caress.
“Have my teeth grown? Do I look like a hag? I don’t feel deranged, but you never know.” Her lashes lifted, and she glanced up at him, laughter in the depths of her green eyes. “I could be, you know.”
“Could be what?” She was so beautiful, she took his breath away.
“Deranged. Aren’t you listening? After all, I decided on a lifetime of sucking blood from the necks of men.”
“From the necks of men?” He could breathe again, really breathe. It was safe to allow his heart to beat again. “You will never, at any time, be sucking on the necks of men, unless, of course, it happens to be mine. I am a jealous man, baby, a very jealous man.”
“Why don’t I feel like I want blood? Shouldn’t I have cravings?” She turned her head to look up at him. His color was back, his clothes once more immaculate. How did he do that? She didn’t really care. She was so tired, she just wanted to sleep. “I still don’t like closed-in places. I thought I might wake up wanting to hang upside down like a bat or something,” she teased.
He caught the worried note, the one she was desperately trying to hide from him. His fingers tangled in her hair in a soothing massage. “We will get through this, Tempest. I cannot believe you took such a chance with your life. I will have much to say to you when you are feeling better. You were told the decision was made, and yet you deliberately chose to place your life in jeopardy. I will not get over this for many centuries.” He would never get over her courage, the act of sheer love she had committed for him. For
him.
His heart was melting even as it was pounding in a kind of terror for what would follow.
“Stop lecturing me, Darius,” she said softly, pressing a hand to her stomach. Her insides were beginning to feel hot and uncomfortable, as if they were suddenly twisting and turning. “Oh, God, I’m sick.”
Instantly he placed his hand over her stomach and felt the writhing inside her body, the building waves of heat. He swore softly. The breath rushed out of her, tore a cry of pain from her throat. She jerked up, then slammed back against him. He laced his fingers through hers.
“It has started, my love. You are going through the conversion.” He merged his mind with hers, focused, shouldered as much of the pain
as he was able.
The first wave of pain lasted several minutes. An eternity. Darius was sweating and swearing in every language he knew. When she grew quiet, he wiped the beads of blood from her face with shaking fingers.
Tempest moistened her lips, her green eyes cloudy with shock. “If you leave me in the first century after this, Darius, I swear to you, I’ll hunt you down like a dirty dog. They said painful. Remind me to tell them that’s an understatement.”
“They may not be alive for you to tell,” he threatened, brushing back the silken strands of her hair, now damp and clinging to her skin. He wanted to strangle Syndil and Desari for their interference.
She tightened her grip on him, her muscles going rigid. Darius had to hold her down as her body seized and contorted, the fire racing to tissue and bones. It squeezed her heart and lungs, reshaping, changing her organs, the pain so intense that it drove all color from her face even when he shouldered the agony with her.
At last the wave ebbed slowly away, giving her another respite. Her nails were digging into his arm. “Can you make it stop, Darius?” The plea was wrenched from her when she didn’t want to ask. She knew him enough to know he would stop any suffering the moment he was able. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.” She whispered the words hoarsely, reaching up to touch his perfect mouth with trembling fingers. “I can do this. I know I can.” But it was swelling in her body again, red-hot fire that threatened her very sanity.
Darius could not believe she was trying to reassure him in the midst of such agony. He could only hold her, feeling helpless, tears gathering in his eyes, a prayer for mercy in his soul, his mind merged as strongly with hers as possible.
Tempest wanted to scream and scream, but no sound emerged. She was going to be sick, and some shred of mindless modesty had her blindly crawling away from Darius. But he was merged so tightly with her, he could read the needs of her body. It was desperately trying to rid itself of toxins, of the last remnants of human blood and waste. He held her in his arms, blood-red tears etching paths down his face.
Dark Fire (Dark Series - book 6) Page 31