Dark Fire by Christine Feehan Read Free Book Online Page B

supplied knowingly.
    The black eyes rested possessively on her face. "What was that?"
    This time she did grin. It hurt, but she couldn't stop herself. She suspected no one ever challenged or teased this man. "You heard me."
    His eyes burned suddenly with an intensity, with a dark, dangerous hunger that took her breath away, that made her think of the leopards he kept as companions. She pulled her gaze from his. "Keep talking. Tell me about everyone."
    Darius slid a hand over her damp hair and found the nape of her neck. His fingers curled around the slender column, liking the way she fit into his palm. Desire slammed into him, hard and unexpected, even as he was deliberately trying to view her as a child in need of his protection. He had touched her only to comfort her, but he didn't let go. He cursed himself for his lack of control. He needed the contact with her, needed to feel her, to know she was real and solid and not some figment of his imagination.
    "Barack and Dayan also play in the band. Both are talented musicians, Dayan a guitar player without equal. He writes many of our songs as well. Syndil-" He hesitated, unsure what to reveal about Syndil. "She plays the organ, the piano, just about any instrument. She recently suffered a trauma, however, and has not gone up on stage for a while."
    Tempest's gaze jumped to his. She caught his sorrow before he had time to conceal it. "Something happened to her like what happened to me."
    His fingers tightened around her neck. "But I did not get there in time to stop it-something I will regret for all eternity."
    She blinked and looked away from him quickly. He had said "for all eternity." Not "until I die" or any of the other expressions a human might use. Oh, Lord. She didn't want him to guess that her memory of what he had done to her hadn't been erased, as he'd wished. But what if he intended doing it again, and this time it worked?
    A knock on the door had Tempest jerking around, her heart pounding. Darius rose gracefully, fully aware of Syndil's presence outside the mobile home. He moved with fluid grace toward the door.
    Tempest couldn't keep her eyes off him. He was incredibly graceful and supple, sinewy muscles rippling beneath his silk shirt. He walked silently, like one of his great cats.
    "Darius." Syndil refused to meet his eyes. She was staring at her shoes. "I heard what happened and thought perhaps I could help in some small way." She handed him Tempest's toolbox and backpack. "Perhaps you would allow me to see her for a moment?"
    "Of course, Syndil. Thank you for your concern. I appreciate any aid you can render." Darius stepped back to allow her entry. He didn't allow the hope for her recovery to flare even for an instant in his eyes. He followed the woman he regarded as another younger sister to the table. "Tempest, this is Syndil. She would like to speak with you if you are feeling up to it. I will clean the kitchen. The two of you will be more comfortable in the sleeping quarters."
    Tempest managed a small smile. "That's his nice way of ordering us out of here. Everyone calls me Rusti," she told Syndil, oddly without shame before this other wounded woman.
    As she slipped past Darius, he reached out to catch her hair and give a small tug. "Not everyone, honey."
    She sent him a quelling glance over her shoulder, forgetting for a moment her swollen eye and bruised mouth. "Everyone else" she corrected.
    Darius allowed her hair to slide through his fingers, savoring the contact with her, however slight it was.
    Tempest walked carefully, not wanting to jar her bruised ribs. Syndil gestured to the couch, and Tempest sank into the soft cushions. Syndil examined her face. "Did you allow Darius to heal you?" she inquired.
    Her voice was beautiful, satin soft, haunting and mysterious. Tempest knew immediately that she, too, was a creature like Darius. It was in her voice and eyes. But as hard as she tried, she could detect no evil in Syndil, just a quiet sadness.
    "Is