Dark Fire

Tempest glared at him, her green eyes flashing like emeralds. "Very funny. We have to get a couple of things straight. Maybe I'd rather take my chances here with you than out in the world right now, but not if you're going to keep dictating to me. There have to be a few ground rules. None of this... this... whatever you call this." She waved her hand to encompass everything. Kissing. Taking her blood. Seducing her. Ordering her around. Setting perimeters. All of it.



His black gaze never left her face. His eyes were as still as those of a leopard scenting prey. Avid. Burning. Intense. He took her breath away with his eyes. Hypnotized her. Cast a spell over her. Tempest pulled her gaze from his, from the seductive, black velvet trap. "And stop that, too," she said decisively, despite the fact that he made her hungry for him.



"Stop what?"



"Stop looking at me that way. It's definitely out. You can't look at me that way. It's cheating."



"How am I looking at you?" His deep voice dropped even lower, the cadence soft and husky. Mesmerizing.



"Okay, that's out, too. No talking in that tone of voice," she declared staunchly. "And you know very well what you're doing. Act normal."



His white teeth gleamed at her, nearly stopping her heart. "I am acting normal, Tempest."



"Well, then, that's out, too. No acting normal." With both hands on her slender hips, she glared challengingly at him.



Darius glanced away to hide the sudden smile pulling at his mouth. He rubbed the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. "That is a great number of rules, all of which seem impossible. Perhaps a more feasible plan might be in order."



"Don't even start with that infuriating, superior-male-amusement thing you do. It sets my teeth on edge." She was frantically attempting to backpedal, to put some emotional space between them so she could breathe. He needed to stop looking so male, too. That would help some. Suddenly dizzy, she sat down rather abruptly on the carpet of pine needles. Surprised, she blinked up at him.



Darius hunkered down beside her, cupping her face in his palm. "Just do as I ask, and everything will be fine, honey."



She caught at his thick wrist for support. "Did you listen to anything I said?"



"Of course I did. I can repeat your nonsense verbatim if you like." He wrapped an arm around her, so that she could lean into the shelter of his body. "Just sit here for a moment. You will feel better soon. I may have gotten a bit carried away, but your blood does not need replacing."



Her green eyes widened. "Don't even think about it, Darius. I mean it. I've read books. I've seen movies. I refuse to become a vampire."



His mouth quirked again. Sexy, intimate, the tiny gesture produced a rush of heat in her bloodstream, and she had to look away from him to save her soul. No one had the right to look the way he did.



"I am not a vampire, honey. The undead has chosen to lose his soul. I have endured, still alive, if lately only barely, these many long centuries."



"What are you then?" Tempest asked, reluctant to hear his answer yet excruciatingly curious.



"I am of the earth, wind, and sky. I can command these things, all things of nature. I am of an ancient race with powers and properties often mistakenly associated with those of vampires. But I am not vampire. I am Carpathian." He watched Tempest, anticipating the many queries she would likely raise in response to his pronouncement.



She tipped her head. "So, have there been many?"



"I do not understand the question." He appeared genuinely puzzled.



"Women like me. Do you collect women so you have a ready food supply?" She asked it flippantly because his proximity was making her blood rush.



His fingers tangled in her hair. "There are no other women. There have been no other women. You belong to me. Only you."



She wasn't certain she believed he'd had no other women, but she found she wanted it to be true. "Gee, do I feel lucky," she said. "It's not every day I get bossed around by a vam - Carpathian. I've been on my own and taking care of myself for as long as I can remember, Darius, and I like it that way."



His hand had slipped to the nape of her neck, his attention caught by the softness of her skin. "It seems to me you have not done a particularly good job of it. Face it: You need me."



She batted his hand away, afraid of the fire pooling low in her body. He wasn't safe. Nothing about him was safe, not even casual conversation. "I don't need anyone."



His black eyes burned over her face, hard possession in the set of his mouth. "Then you will learn to do so, will you not?"



Her heart jumped at the soft, warning note in his voice. He could sound so menacing when he chose. Fear flickered in the depths of her eyes, and her green gaze skittered away from his dark one. "Darius, I really am afraid of you." The admission came out under her breath.



For a moment she was certain he hadn't heard her, but then his hand stilled on the nape of her neck, hot and possessive. "I know you are, Tempest, but there is no need for it, and you will get over it."



A flutter of anger gave her courage. "Don't be so certain I'll just let you take over my life."



"If you feel you can do no other than attempt to defy me, by all means, you are welcome to do so, but I warn you, I am not an easy man to cross." His voice was velvet soft, and all the more menacing because of it. There was a hard strength in his fingers as they circled her soft throat.



"Since I'm already afraid of you, that isn't exactly news, Darius," she said, her heart thumping in rhythm to her words. "It isn't as if I haven't been afraid before.



It isn't exactly a new experience for me. But I've always managed." She tilted her chin defiantly.



Darius bent his head close, his eyes like glinting ice. "You are afraid of the loss of freedom, Tempest, not of me. You are afraid of the untamed passion in you that rises up to meet the passion in me. It is that, not me, that you fear."



She pushed at the wall of his chest with both hands. He didn't budge. "Well, thank you very much for that analysis," she snapped, all at once stormy. "What would the others think if I told them you were acting this way?" she challenged. "Are they so far under your thumb that they'd help you?"



He shrugged with casual, fluid grace, reminiscent of a leopard stretching. "It would not matter to me one way or the other. It might break up our family, it might cause bloodshed, but in the end, the outcome would be the same. I will not give you up, Tempest."



"Oh, shut up," she said rudely, exasperated with him. "There isn't much to like about me once you get to know me. I'm always in trouble; it just happens. I'll make you crazy."



His hand closed over her fragile wrist, his thumb finding her pulse unerringly. "You already make me crazy," he replied softly. "You will do as I say soon enough, and then I will not have to worry so much."



"It isn't going to happen in this lifetime," she announced, glaring at him. "And as I have only this one, you're in for a big disappointment."



His laughter was low and amused, rife with that mocking male superiority that said she would be easy enough to handle. "Come on, honey. The others will be rising soon. We have miles to travel this night to stay on schedule. The cats will need to feed before we go." He did not add that all of his family would have to do the same. He sensed her deep fear that he wanted her to use for sustenance, that perhaps he intended the rest of them to use her, also. He wanted to reassure her but knew mere words would not help.



He reached down and pulled her to her feet. She was so unexpectedly light for a woman with such an iron will, and he was so enormously strong, he felt he might fling her into the sky if he wasn't careful.



The moment she was standing, she jerked away, wiping her palms on her jeans, glaring at him. He might rule everyone around him, but she wasn't about to stand for his nonsense. She wasn't going to become a food supply for anyone. And she certainly wasn't going to have some male fantasy figure dominating her life. She might have a penchant for trouble, but she wasn't stupid.



Darius glanced down at her transparent, expressive little face as they walked back toward the camp. She could not hide her thoughts from him anymore, now that he realized the differences in her mind. His earlier troubles served him right for being so complacent and sure of himself in his dealings with her. She was an unusual mortal, yet he hadn't considered that he would have to delve deeper than he normally would. Aside from thinking too much, Tempest had an interesting mind, a way of focusing in on one thing only and blocking out everything else.



She stumbled a little, and he slipped an arm around her shoulders despite her little shrug of retreat. By nature, Tempest was accepting of others. She also understood the way animals reasoned, their survival instincts. So it would require her only a step or two to accept the Carpathian way of life.



Darius knew she could accept it as long as it didn't encroach on her way of life. Tempest lived like a nomad. That was essentially the same way his group lived, but she preferred a solitary existence. She understood an animal's way of life, had strong survival instincts herself, but she had less understanding of people and why they did the things they did. Growing up in a crack house, with mothers selling their children for drugs, selling their own souls for the drugs, she had decided at an early age that she wanted little to do with people, and nothing had happened since to change her mind.



Rusti inched away from the warmth of Darius's body. She didn't like the way he made her feel, that out-of-control rush of hungry need. He was too dangerous, too powerful, far too used to getting his way in all things. She liked her quiet, independent life. Solitude suited her. The last thing she needed was to be caught up in Darius's bizarre troupe of followers.



She sighed, unaware that she did so. She couldn't stay with the Dark Troubadors. The sanctuary they had seemed to offer was rapidly turning into something she wasn't equipped to handle.



Darius glanced down at her bent head, the faraway, pensive look on her face, the sadness reflected in her large eyes. He laced his fingers through hers. "There is no need to worry so much, honey. I have sworn to protect and care for you. I do not take such oaths lightly."



"This isn't exactly something a person can prepare herself for, Darius. Even if you're a... a Carpathian rather than a vampire, whatever you are isn't altogether human. I know that when you communicate mentally with me."



"Are you so certain that you are completely human? When I merge my mind with yours, I observe brain patterns different from those of ordinary mortals."



She winced, looking as if he'd struck her. "I know I'm different. Believe me, you aren't telling me anything I haven't heard before. You can't call me anything I haven't already been called. Freak. Mutation. Frigid. You name it, I've heard it."



Darius stopped abruptly, forcing Tempest to do the same. He brought her hand to the warmth of his mouth. "I did not mean it that way. I admire what you are. If either of us is a 'mutation' from the norm, Tempest, it is me, not you. I am in no way human. I am an immortal. And I can assure you that you are neither a freak nor frigid. Your heart and soul were simply waiting for mine. Not everyone can hand themselves over to just anyone. A few know that the giving of the treasure of one's body, one's intimacy, is sacred, meant solely for the one they were made for, their other half. Perhaps those who taunted you were jealous of that knowledge in you because they were in far too much of a hurry to wait or because they held themselves too cheap."



Her long lashes hid her emerald eyes. "I'm not a virgin, Darius."



"Because some man forced himself on you?"



"I think you have a false impression of me. I'm no angel, Darius. I've stolen cars, souped them up, gone for joy rides. I've always rebelled against so-called authority figures, probably because the ones I knew left a bad taste in my mouth. It always amazes me how the most self-righteous people, the ones forever preaching and pointing fingers at others, often do the most underhanded and dishonest things. Once I could support myself, I came up with my own code of honor, and that's what I live by. But I'm no saint, and I never have been. The places I come from don't breed saints."



Darius was becoming familiar with every nuance of her voice. She sounded slightly sad, accepting of her brutalizing childhood but angry with herself for trusting others during those terrible years. Trusting them and having them let her down. That was why she preferred the solitary existence she had chosen, and he could sense her determination not to give it up, despite her need to. The job as mechanic to their traveling band had represented the ability to support herself and be free from the demands of intimate, prolonged contact with other people. He was taking that away from her.



"Perhaps it would be easier on you if I removed your memories of what I am. I could do it properly, Tempest," he offered. He found himself reluctant to do so, however. Somehow he wanted her to accept him as he was.



She shook her head adamantly. "No. If you did something like that, I would never be able to trust anything you said or did."



"You wouldn't remember, and it would take away your unnecessary fears. It does not make sense to me that you should remain afraid of us when we regard you as family," he said reasonably.



"No, don't do that to me," she insisted.



For a moment his dangerously predatory eyes moved over her face, a red flame flickering in their depths, reminding her of a wolf, a relentless hunter. What did she know of him? Only that he was not human but "Carpathian," allegedly immortal. And that he believed he had a right to her. She knew little of the unusual powers and properties he'd mentioned, but she felt them radiate out of his every pore. She could be lulled into a false sense of security because he often treated her gently, even tenderly.



But Darius was first and foremost a predator, yet with all the cunning and intellect of a human. He was dark, mysterious, dangerous, powerful, and very, very sensual It was a formidable combination. Tempest nearly groaned aloud. How was she going to get out of this mess? His thumb was feathering over her knuckles, sending darts of fire racing through her bloodstream. Why did she have to be attracted to him? Especially if he was more beast than man? Was it because he was the first male who had ever treated her with such care? Was it because he was so utterly lonely and in need?



"Stop thinking so much, Tempest," he repeated softly a hint of laughter in his velvet voice. "You are making things seem worse than they are." He was becoming tempted to remove her memories despite her reluctance just to ease her fears, yet he was selfish enough to want her to know what he was and have the courage to stay with him anyway.



"Right," she groused, "like that could happen."



Darius enjoyed the way she fit beneath his shoulder He even enjoyed the way she defied him. He was aware that she had no idea of the power he wielded, the things he was capable of doing, but he felt fully alive with her The wind rushed over them, blowing her soft hair around her face. He heard the rustle in the trees as the leaves swayed to the music of the breeze. He found himself smiling for no reason, when it had been many centuries since he had smiled at all. He had forgotten the feeling of happiness. Here, in the trees, with the night upon them, the wind calling to him, wild and free, and Tempest tucked beneath his shoulder, he felt both happiness and a sense of belonging.



Rusti glanced up at Darius, a little overwhelmed that she was acting as if all was normal when she should have been running screaming into the sunset. His face was a sensual work of art, carved with harsh yet beautiful lines If she had to describe him to someone else, she wasn't certain what she would say. He was power personified. Danger personified. And he was so incredibly sexy. Mesmerizingly so.



She closed her eyes. Well, that settled it, then. She couldn't look at him. She went up in flames every time she did. "Why couldn't you be a nice, ordinary man?"



"What is ordinary?" he asked, amused.



"You didn't have to have those eyes," she accused, flashing a glare at him. "Your eyes should be outlawed."



Warmth flowed into his heart, a curious, melting sensation. "So you like my eyes."



Her long lashes instantly veiled her expression. "I didn't say that. You're conceited, Darius - that's one of your biggest problems. You're arrogant and conceited. Why would I like your eyes?"



He laughed softly. "You like my eyes."



She refused to give him the satisfaction of agreeing. The campsite was just ahead through the trees, and she could hear the laughter of the others. Desari's musical voice was distinctive. It was soft and dreamy, even more mesmerizing than the others'. Tempest had noticed immediately the same hypnotic quality in Darius's voice.



"Everyone should stop following your orders, Darius," she scolded, her green eyes peeping up at him through long lashes. "It's the only possible way to save you. No one ever questions you."



"Perhaps because they trust me to know what is right," he said softly, gently.



She watched him inhale, dragging the night scents into his lungs, and knew instinctively that he was scanning the area, testing the campsite, ensuring to his satisfaction that it was safe. As they emerged through the thick stand of trees into the open, where the others waited, she felt the impact of several pairs of eyes on her. She stopped, her teeth sinking into her lower lip her heart somersaulting alarmingly. She hated being the center of attention.



Darius stepped in front of her, easily blocking her small body from sight. He bent close to her. "Go shower The others need to hunt this night before we leave. The cats can feed, then we will split up and meet at the next campsite. You will ride with me."



She wanted to argue with that, but more, she wanted to be away from the others, away from their inquisitive stares. Wordlessly, she turned around and hurried to the motor home. It felt like a sanctuary, as if it was already her home.



She took her time in the shower, enjoying the hot water cascading over her skin. It was difficult to close her mind to thoughts of Darius, but it was the only safe thing to do. She knew she wouldn't be able to stay long with him always around, but if she could hang in long enough to get across the country, maybe things would work out. And it was, after all, Desari who had hired her, putting her on a generous salary. Desari would give her the money the minute she asked for it; she could tell that Darius's sister was like that.



When she had gathered enough courage to quit hiding in the bus and face the group, the campsite appeared empty. A slight noise revised her first impression. Warily she made her way to the small red car. The man peering into the open hood was the one who had been driving the night before.



At the time she had barely glanced at him. Now studying him, she realized he was, typical of the other band members, incredibly handsome. He had long dark hair, a mischievous look around his dark eyes, and his mouth had a sultry, moody kind of sexiness. She could easily see that this Troubador must be a hit with females of every age on the tour.



He looked up and grinned at her. "So, we meet at last, Tempest Trine. I am Barack. I was beginning to feel left out. Darius, Desari, Julian, and Syndil all speak highly of you. I figured they must have told you I was the group's bad boy and that you were avoiding me as a result."



Tempest found herself smiling. How could she not? Her natural wariness dictated that she keep her distance from him, but his ready grin was contagious. "No one warned me, but I can see they should have."



He patted the car lovingly. "What did you do to make her purr like this?" There was genuine interest in his voice. "I turned on the engine, and she sounded so happy to see me."



"Don't you work on cars? You sure can drive them."



Barack shook his head. "I keep thinking I'll get around to studying it, but there are always so many things to get in the way."



"That's unusual," Tempest said before she could censor her words. "Normally a serious driver and auto enthusiast like you is interested in what's below the hood." She wanted to kick herself for the inane remark. Like Darius, Barack probably slept during the day and used other "powers" at night. She made herself look casually away. "Where are the cats? I haven't seen them in a while."



"Feeding. We have to hit the road tonight, so Darius is allowing them to hunt, as is their right." Barack ran his gaze appreciatively over the small redhead. She was different from other mortal females. He knew she was different, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly how.



But he could hear her heart beating strongly, the ebb and flow of blood in her veins. Hunger was ever present, gnawing at his insides. Like the others, he should have gone to the campground only a few miles away and fed, but checking out the newly tuned car had intrigued him.



"Come over here, Tempest." His voice was low and compelling. He smiled, a flash of white teeth. "Show me what you did to the engine." His hunger was growing as he listened to the rush of blood in her veins.



Rusti didn't like his smile now, didn't like the way he was watching her. She glanced around. "I have to pack my tools and things, get ready to leave. I can show you later."



Shock registered on his handsome face, complete amazement. It occurred to Rusti that no one had ever turned Barack down before. There must have been a hidden compulsion in his voice she had failed to respond to. More and more she realized she was in over her head. If Darius had been the only one she had to deal with, maybe she could have done so successfully - at least long enough to get her across country. But they were all like him. She began backing away.



Barack instantly looked contrite. "Hey, I didn't mean to frighten you. I am not like the one who attacked you. Desari hired you. That means you are under our protection. Seriously, do not fear me. I have never had any woman fear me."



Rusti forced herself to stand her ground and made herself smile. "I'm just a little nervous after yesterday. Once the others get back, I won't be so tense." But at the moment she felt as if she had stumbled into a nest of rattlesnakes.



"We are friends, Tempest. Come here. Show me what you have done to make this machine purr."



She could feel his mind reaching to calm hers, to compel her to do his bidding. Which was worse? Allowing him to use her for a food source or allowing him to realize she knew exactly what he was? Would he then kill her? She decided it might be dangerous to let him know he wasn't controlling her, so she made herself stumble toward him, fear and revulsion choking her. She didn't want this man touching her the way Darius did.



For a moment interest at that thought swirled enough through her mind to push down her fear. Why, if the notion of being used for food sickened her, did she find the way Darius bit into her neck blatantly erotic?



Okay. She had lost her mind totally, she decided. That was the only answer. She had to get out of this jam and find a way to run for it. Produce a suddenly sick aunt in need out of thin air.



She was close to Barack now, his body crowding hers. Her stomach churning, feeling close to tears, she tried to hold herself very still. He was murmuring something to her; she could hear the words buzzing in her mind, but they had no meaning. She wanted to push him away and run. She couldn't stand it; she couldn't. She tried to equate what he was about to do with a simple animal bite, but her stomach revolted, and involuntarily she arched her neck away from his hot breath.



Waves of distress nearly choked her as his fingers curled around her arm. He was enormously strong, quelling her struggles with a viselike grip. A small sound escaped, a note of terror. Inside her mind Tempest could hear herself screaming, though no sound emerged from her closed throat. She was in the middle of real nightmare with no way out.



Then, without warning, not even a rush of wind, a huge black panther hit Barack squarely in the chest, a full two hundred pounds of fury driving the man back and away from Tempest. Barack hit the side of the car hard, the air knocked from him, then landed on the ground on his back, the cat driving straight for his throat.



Vaguely aware of Desari, Julian, another man, and Syndil beginning to emerge from the trees but stopping, frozen in horror, Rusti sought to calm the wild cat. In its mind she found a red haze of killing fury, like nothing she had ever encountered. She ran forward, still trying to soothe it, whispering to it, commanding. Only when she was near Barack, a Barack who was not even struggling for his life, who instead lay submissively beneath those terrible teeth, did she comprehend that the cat was Darius. Shocked, she continued to approach the cat.



"Rusti, stay back!" Desari called out to her. She tried to move forward to help Barack, to stop Tempest, but Julian was restraining her, literally lifting her off her feet, his strong arms around her waist.



The terror on Desari's face, echoing in her voice, registered with Tempest, but even with her own heart pounding in alarm, she reached for Darius, past the fierce fury of the animal to find the man. She knew him. She wasn't exactly certain how, but she knew he was there, somewhere inside that killing rage.



Darius. It is over. Barack did nothing but frighten me. Come back to me. She kept her tone a soft, trusting plea, much like what she used



first with a frightened animal. Soothing, with a belief that it would respond. She somehow knew that Darius would not respond to any of the others and that if she didn't stop him, the cat could very well end Barack's life.



This had happened because of her. That knowledge, like his identity, came to her seemingly out of nowhere, but she was certain of it, and she felt a rush of wonder that anyone could have such a depth of feeling for her.



Please, Darius, for me release Barack and come to me.



The panther snarled, exposing long, razor-sharp canines, but at least he wasn't sinking them into Barack's throat. The cat crouched low, vicious, its body frozen into utter stillness, only the tail twitching restlessly, angrily, back and forth. Barack lay under the cat, totally submissive, well aware of who had attacked him. The silence was filled only with his heavy breathing and the cat's snarling rage.



"Darius." Tempest was a heartbeat from the cat's teeth. Cautiously she laid a hand on the heavily muscled back. Her voice was soft, warm honey. "I'm all right. Look at me. He didn't hurt me. He really didn't."



A collective gasp went up, as much for her knowledge as for her courage. It was now obvious to all that she knew the identity of the great cat. Desari clenched Julian's hand in hers, suddenly afraid. No human could know of their existence and live. It placed them all in jeopardy. How did Tempest Trine know? Neither Darius nor Barack would have been so careless as to forget to expunge her memories. Yet how could they do such a thing as destroy the woman who had the courage to save one of their lives, as Tempest was clearly attempting to do?



The black panther moved, ever so slightly shifting its weight, placing its neck beneath Tempest's palm.



Please, Darius, I'm hanging on to my courage by a thread. Help me out. I want to get away from everyone. This is very frightening. All of it. And I don't understand it, so come to me and explain it.



In spite of her determination to be brave, her hand was trembling as it lay on the great cat's back.



Tempest felt Darius's control seeping slowly back into his mind, felt the man overcoming the beast's rage. The panther moved against her, inserting itself between her and the fallen man. It pushed her away from Barack's supine figure, farther even, toward the trees and away from the prying eyes of his family. Then the leopard padded behind her, directing her into the deeper woods, its walk so silent, she felt she could hear leaves falling.



Back at the campsite the group released a long, collective sigh of relief. Dayan moved first, reaching down and pulling Barack to his feet. "Close call. What the hell did you do?" His voice was accusing. No one ever crossed Darius.



Barack held up his hands. "Nothing. I swear it. I was going to feed, that's all. Nothing else happened. He went berserk on me."



Syndil's slender hand fluttered to her throat. "Could Darius be turning? Darius is never out of control. Could it be happening?"



"No!" Desari cried out, somewhere between fear and outrage at the betraying thought. "No, Darius cannot turn. He is too strong."



Julian slipped an arm around her waist, a slight grin on his face. "None of you know, do you? Darius has not turned. He will never turn. Not now. He has found his lifemate."



"What are you talking about?" Dayan asked.



"These things were never taught to you," Julian mused softly, more to himself than the others. "You were not raised among other Carpathians. What is often second nature to us is not even known to you." His grin widened. "It is not known to Darius. Life is about to become quite interesting around here, boys and girls."



"Stop spouting nonsense, and tell us what you mean."



Desari commanded, her soft, dark eyes beginning to smolder. "Should we be protecting Rusti?"



"The only one safe is Tempest. Each Carpathian male must find the light to his darkness. It is his only salvation. Without that woman, his lifemate, he will eventually be forced to choose the dawn and eternal rest, or he will succumb to the madness of the undead and lose his soul for all time. Become vampire. There is only one woman for each male, one other half."



"But Tempest Trine is human," Dayan objected. "This cannot be. We have been aware that there exists the other half of our heart, our soul, out there somewhere. A quest to find the proper mate must be made, as you found Desari, Julian. But Tempest is not a Carpathian."



"There are a handful of human women," Julian answered slowly, "all having some form of psychic ability, who can be lifemates to Carpathians. No doubt Tempest Trine is one such female. She wandered into your midst seeking a job but was likely drawn to do so because she was connected to Darius," he explained. "Funny, is it not, how fate has a way of bringing two linked souls together? Do not attempt to intervene between them and, for God's sake, do not touch that woman. Should you do so, Darius will be more beast than man, his every instinct to protect and care for her, to keep her from any others who might threaten her or her connection to him. He is more dangerous at this time than at any other." Julian grinned again. "Leave him to it; he will figure it out eventually."



"I should talk to him, explain," Desari said.



"I did not hear him asking for explanations, did you?" Julian prompted, his arms gathering her close to him. "It is best - and safest - not to interfere in the process of joining lifemates."



"Wait a minute." Barack leaned his long frame against the red car. "You lost me somewhere. I know Darius took her blood; I could smell his scent on her. Are you telling me that he would use her body, too? Isn't that combination strictly forbidden with mortals? Darius himself taught us this."



"Tempest appears to be different," Julian said. "She cannot be classified as a normal mortal; therefore, the rule does not apply."



Syndil's doe-eyes, normally soft and loving, were glinting fire at Barack. "You sought to feed on her? That is beneath you. She was under our protection. You are so insensitive, Barack. Always the playboy. You cannot leave women alone, not even those traveling with us practically as family. Rusti had a terrible experience yesterday. Did you give that a thought when you went to satisfy your own urges?"



"Syndil." Barack looked hurt. Syndil had a sweet, loving nature and was never angry, never upset with any of them.



"Do not 'Syndil' me, Barack. Are you so lazy that you had to feed from a woman protected by our family? I suspect you think so much of your charm that you thought she would be grateful to provide for you."



"It was not like that. I was merely overly hungry, having waited too long to feed. I would not have harmed the woman. And I had no idea she belonged to Darius. Hell, I never would have touched her had I known. He was going to rip my throat out, Syndil. You should be sympathizing with me. Look at my chest. He ripped open my skin. Won't you come heal it for me?" Barack gave her his most imploring, boyish pout.



"Perhaps next time you will think twice before you go chasing after women," Syndil replied and whirled away.



"Hey, wait a minute." Barack trailed after her, desperately trying to get back into her good graces.



"Have we all lost our minds around here?" Dayan demanded. "Soft, sweet Syndil is acting the shrew. Desari is acting like a lovesick calf. I do not know you well, Julian, but you seem to be enjoying Darius's discomfort far more than is seemly, and bad-boy Barack is chasing after Syndil like a lost puppy. What the hell is happening?"



"Your leader has found his lifemate, Dayan," Julian said happily, "and is clueless, totally clueless, about how to deal with her. Finding your lifemate leaves you feeling as if someone punched you in the gut and stole your sanity. Your Darius is used to having his way in all things, simply commanding whatever he deems correct. But now I suspect he is in for the shock he so richly deserves."



"He will simply force his will upon Tempest," Dayan said confidently, "then everything will return to normal."



"Forcing your will on your lifemate is in the same category as cutting your own throat. Not a wise idea. Still, watching will make for much fun," Julian said smugly.