Dark Fire by Christine Feehan Read Free Book Online Page A

small, forlorn, hurt, and so alone-stayed with him. He felt her slender form enclosed in the towel beneath his hands before he allowed himself to look at her. She appeared more childlike than ever. And for the moment Darius treated her that way, drying her shivering body impersonally, pretending not to notice her soft, satiny skin, her curves, her tiny rib cage and narrow waist. He toweled the red-gold strands of hair, dark now with moisture.
    "I can't stop shaking," Tempest said, her voice a mere thread of sound.
    "Shock," he said gruffly. He wanted to hold her in his arms, take away what had happened to her. "You are in shock. It will pass." He quickly wrapped her in the warmth of the robe because he couldn't stand seeing her skin so bruised and swollen. He hated the way her eyes avoided his, as if she had something wrong and was ashamed.
    "Put your arms around my neck, Tempest," he ordered softly, his voice a blend of huskiness and hypnotic power.
    Rusti reluctantly complied, and he lifted her up, forcing her to look into his black, burning eyes. She almost groaned. She could get lost in his eyes. No one should have those eyes.
    "I want you to hear me this time, Tempest. This was not your fault. You did nothing wrong. If you need to place blame on someone other than the man who attacked you, place it where it belongs: squarely on my shoulders. You would never have left if I had not frightened you."
    She made a sound of protest, of fear. She told herself it was because the candles suddenly went out, leaving the bathroom in darkness, but she knew it was more than that.
    He held her gaze, not allowing her to slip from his mesmerizing possession. "You know it is true. I am used to telling everyone what to do. And I am very attracted to you." He winced inwardly at the understatement of that particular comment. "I should have been more gentle with you."
    Darius carried her into the dining area and placed her in a chair at the table. A bowl of steaming soup was waiting for her. "Eat it, honey. I slaved over this for you."
    Tempest found herself attempting a smile. It stung her mouth, then she felt it inside her, spreading warmth. No one, as far back as she could remember, had ever treated her with so much caring. No one had ever made her a bowl of soup.
    "Thanks for coming after me," she said, stirring the broth, trying, without seeming to, to see what was in it.
    He sat opposite her, took the spoon from her with a little sigh, dipped it into the soup, and blew on it. "You eat this stuff, not play with it," he reprimanded, and he held the spoon to her mouth.
    Reluctantly she complied. Astonishingly enough, it was good. Who would have suspected a vampire could cook? "It's vegetable soup," she stated, pleased. "And it's very good."
    "I do have my talents," he muttered, remembering all the various broths he had concocted for the baby girls, trying to keep them alive. Since Carpathians did not eat meat, he had worked with roots, berries, and leaves, trying everything on himself first, poisoning himself more than once.
    "Talk to me," Tempest pleaded. "I don't want to start shaking again, and I can feel it coming on."
    Darius held another spoonful of soup to her mouth. "Has Desari told you much about us?"
    She shook her head, concentrating on the warmth the soup provided.
    "We travel a great deal, giving concerts, you know. Dayan and Desari are our singers. That is Desari's voice you are listening to on the tape. She is very good, is she not?" There was pride in his voice.
    Tempest liked his way of speaking, an Old World, old-fashioned manner she found oddly sexy. "She has a beautiful voice."
    "Desari is my younger sister. Recently she found her-" He broke off, then tempted her with another spoonful of soup before continuing. "She found a man she loves very much. His name is Julian Savage. I do not know him very well, and we sometimes have trouble getting along . I suspect we are rather alike, and that is the problem."
    "Bossy," Tempest