“I have never spoken of this to anyone, not even Desari. I am sorry. I came here to help you, but I speak only of myself. I want to scream and weep and crawl into a hole. You are very easy to talk to.”
Tempest shook her head. “You have to find a way to go on.”
“Please tell me what happened to you, how you were able to cope.”
In the kitchen, Darius stirred, reluctant for Tempest to endure any more trauma. But he wanted to know, he had to know, and he realized it was important for both women to be able to discuss the traumatic events they had suffered.
“I met a great lady who was working at one of the homeless shelters I landed in. I was seventeen at the time. She let me live at her house. I used to steal cars and soup up the engines just for the fun of it. Ellen made me realize I could put my mechanical skills to better use and make a good living while I was at it. She helped me get my high school equivalency diploma, and after that she got a me good job at a garage with a friend of hers. It was great for a while.”
“But something happened,” Syndil guessed.
Tempest shrugged pragmatically. “Ellen died, and I had nowhere to stay again. As soon as I was without protection, my boss showed his true colors. He caught me off guard. I trusted him; he was Ellen’s friend. I really didn’t expect it of him.” She closed her eyes against the vivid memories crowding in, the way he had slammed her into a wall, knocking the breath out of her, leaving her dazed and completely vulnerable to his attack.
“Did he hurt you?”
“He wasn’t gentle, if that’s what you mean, and I had never... been with anyone. I decided it wasn’t something I ever wanted to try again.” She shrugged, trying not to wince when her ribs protested. “Unlike you, I’ve never had a family. I’m used to being on my own and working things out for myself. I’ve always had to learn everything the hard way. It’s different for you. You had a life, a family. You know what love is.”
“I cannot imagine myself with a man ever again,” Syndil said sadly.
“You have to try, Syndil. You can’t just withdraw from the world, from your family. Some of it has to be up to you. Ellen always told me to play the cards I’m dealt, not wish for another hand. You can’t change what happened to you, but you can see to it that your life isn’t destroyed by it.”
Listening from the kitchen, Darius vowed to himself that the group would play in the city where that garage owner lived sometime soon, and he would pay him a visit. Still, this was the first time he had heard Syndil talk to anyone about what had happened to her, and he felt a sense of great relief. If she could talk to Tempest, perhaps they both would benefit from the experience.
He could feel weariness beating at his little redhead. Her body was sore, and shock was exhausting her. He knew she had jogged much of the distance she had managed to put between them, and she’d had no money for food or lodgings. He didn’t want to interrupt the women, but Tempest was visibly sliding down into the sofa cushions when he glanced at them from the doorway.
Syndil realized it at once. “I will talk to you when you are more rested, Rusti. Thank you for sharing your experiences with me, a virtual stranger. I think you managed to help me more than I did you.” She waved at Darius as she exited the trailer.
Darius glided toward Tempest in his silent, intimidating way. “You are going to bed now, honey. I will not listen to any arguments.”
Tempest was already lying down. “Does anyone else besides me ever get the urge to throw things at you?” She sounded drowsy, not combative.
Darius hunkered down beside her so he was at eye level with her. “I do not think so. If they do, they do not have the audacity to tell me.”
“Well, I think throwing something at you is the only way to go,” Tempest told him. Her eyes were already closing, and her voice was weary and sad despite her heavy words.
Darius stroked the wealth of red-gold hair away from her face, his fingers soothing her scalp. “Do you? Maybe tomorrow might be a better time to try it.”
“I have a very good aim,” she warned him. “It would be easier on you if you just quit giving me orders.”
“That would ruin my reputation,” he objected.
A smile curved the corners of her mouth, emphasizing the thin red cut at the side of her lip.
Darius resisted the impulse to lean down and find that small cut with his tongue. “Go to sleep, baby. I am going to do my best to take away some of your soreness. Before you fall asleep on me, I made you an herbal concoction that will help you rest better.”
“Why do I feel as if you’re taking over my life?”
“Do not worry, Tempest. I am very good at managing lives.”
She could hear the laughter in his voice, and an answering smile found its way to her mouth. “Go away, Darius. I’m too tired to argue with you.” She settled deeper into the pillows.
“You are not supposed to argue with me.” He focused on the glass on the counter in the kitchen. It floated from there to his palm easily. “Sit up, honey. You have to drink this whether you want to or not.” He slipped his arm behind her back and lifted her so that he could press the glass to her lips.
“What does it taste like?” she asked, suspicious.
“Drink it, baby,” he instructed. She sighed softly. “What’s in it?”
“Drink, Tempest, and stop giving me your sass,” he ordered, practically tipping the contents down her throat.
She coughed and sputtered but managed to get most of the herbal mixture down. “I hope there were no drugs in that.”
“No, it is all natural. It will make you sleep easier. Close your eyes again.” He placed her back among the pillows.
“Darius?”She said his name softly, drowsily, and it seeped into his soul and tightened his body to an urgent ache.
He reached above her head to the shelf of candles his family made, searching forests and marshes for the ingredients that would produce the aromas they needed. “What, honey?”
“Thank you for coming after me. I don’t know if I could have gone through it again.” She was so tired, the words slipped out, revealing far more than she would have willingly disclosed.
“You are very welcome, Tempest,” he acknowledged seriously. Darius gathered a few candles, and turned off all lights, plunging the motor home into darkness.
A small cry of alarm escaped Rusti’s throat. “Turn on the lights. I don’t want them off.”
“I am lighting candles for you, and you are not alone, honey. No one can hurt you here. Just relax, and let that drink take effect. You will fall asleep, and I will do what I can to ensure that you wake up without so much pain. If you like, I can bring the cats in to keep you company.”
“No. I’m always alone. It’s safer that way,” she murmured, too far gone to watch her words. “I take care of myself and answer to no one.”
“That is what you used to do before you met me,” he corrected gently.
“I don’t know you.”
“You know me. With the lights on or off, you know me.” He bent once more to brush his mouth lightly in her hair. Her heart nearly stopped, then began to pound. “Tempest, leave off all this unnecessary fear. I would never harm you. You can trust me. You feel it in your heart, in your soul. Lights do not stop bad things from happening. You know that, too.” But he lit the candles anyway so that the soft glow would reassure her and the aromas would soothe her.
The herbal drink he had given her was beginning to take effect, her eyelids growing too heavy to hold up. “Darius? I hate the dark. I really do.” Still, she drifted with his tide, not asking herself why she felt so safe and comforted with him when she was so uneasy with the rest of the world, when he was not even human.
He stroked her hair gently, silently giving her a small mental push toward sleep. “The night is a beautiful place, Tempest. When you are feeling a little better, I will show you.”
His hands were soothing, and she relaxed beneath his caressing fingers, breathing in the aromas of the candles. Darius began a soft chant. It was not in English; she had never heard the language. The words seemed to seep into her, brushing like butterfly wings in her mind, and she wasn’t sure if he was whispering them out loud or not.