Darius knew that to be completely safe he still needed one hour before he could rise. Locked in the ground as he was, he feared for Tempest’s safety unless she did as he ordered and returned to the area within the perimeter he had set. He considered forcing his will on her. It was tempting, since she was being so ridiculously stubborn, but he would monitor her for now and hope she complied. Only if it became necessary would he compel her to do his bidding.
He liked her mind. He liked her independence, her sense of freedom, her spirit. She would learn she couldn’t get away with defying him, but for now he wanted to handle her as delicately as possible.
Darius?
Her voice was soft, hesitant, brushing his mind like the touch of fingers on his skin. Flames swept through his body, setting him on fire. He had to have her soon. Time was running out on his control. He needed her desperately.
I am with you, baby. Do not sound so forlorn. That’s not how I sounded,
she replied, but he caught the echo of her thoughts.
Did I? Come home, honey. Everything will work out. You do not have to singlehandedly defend Desari from this reporter. He is not just a reporter.
Darius was silent. How had
she
known that?
He
knew it. Several attempts had been made on Desari’s life recently. He had read Brodrick’s aura, found him to be deceitful, covering his lethal intentions with what he supposed to be charm. Tempest had been unable to read all that, but she had sensed a hidden agenda and done her best to divert the alleged reporter. She had done a good job, too. She’d sounded sincere and open, then contemptuous enough to lend authenticity to everything she said.
You don’t have to believe me, Darius.
Tempest sounded hurt.
Of course I believe you, honey. Now get back here where I do not have to worry about you.
It was clearly an order.
Rusti sighed heavily. He wasn’t getting it. She didn’t want anyone worrying about her. As she approached within a mile of the campsite, she felt a curious shifting around her; the air seemed heavy and oppressive. At once she realized she had encountered a barrier of some sort. It created a sense of dread in her, as if she needed to turn around. Why was she feeling it now? Was Darius amplifying the perimeters he insisted she observe?
She tossed her mane of red hair, green eyes blazing defiance. He was not going to rule her as he did all the others. They treated him like some kind of Greek god. She groaned aloud. Why had she come up with that particular analogy? Just because he looked like one, acted like one? There went her hormones, running amok again.
Deliberately she began to think of things like taking the little red car for a spin down the highway, far from bossy men. She could hear Darius laughing softly, not in the least worried she would actually steal the car and defy him. Don’t
bet on it,
she snapped as she parked directly behind the motor home and got out.
The four-wheel-drive truck was next on her to-do list. It was more important to get it than the dirt bikes into top shape. She lifted the hood and, as always when she worked, focused only on what she was doing, blocking out everything and everyone else.
Darius rose at the precise moment it was safe to do so, bursting from the earth with so much power that soil spewed upward like a geyser. The sky was a soft gray, not yet completely dark, but the canopy of trees cast deep shadows and aided in protecting his eyes. He inhaled, scenting the air around him, taking in each detail, every story the wind had to tell him.
The ever-present hunger gnawed at him, but this time his body, hard and heavy, was making unfamiliar, relentless demands, filled with a terrible need as insatiable as his hunger. He forcibly controlled the inner beast roaring for release and strode around the bus. He spotted Tempest perched precariously on the front grill of the truck, wielding a wrench that looked as if it weighed more than she did. Even as he approached her, her small body swayed, then teetered on the brink of disaster. She attempted to grab the edge of the hood but slipped backward with a small sound somewhere between alarm and annoyance. Clearly it wasn’t her first fall.
Darius moved with blurring speed to catch her before she hit the ground. She landed in his arms. “You are more trouble than any woman I have ever encountered. Have you made a study on the best ways to drive a man insane?”
Tempest thumped his heavy muscled chest. “You scared me to death. Where did you come from? And put me down.”
His body savored the feel of her, so soft against his hardness. Her face had smudges of grease on it, but she was beautiful all the same. “My heart cannot take any more incidents. What did you think you were doing?” he said gruffly.
Tempest squirmed to remind him to put her down. “My job.” He was enormously strong, his body as hard as an oak tree, but his skin was like hot velvet. She could feel the rush of blood through her, hot and needy. It scared her to death. She shoved hard at him. Darius didn’t appear to notice. Instead, he started striding away from the campsite. Her heart began to pound. He reminded her of a great warrior claiming his prize. He held her as if he had a right to her, as if she belonged to him.
Darius carried Tempest into the woods, away from open spaces, finding cooler shadows. Her scent beckoned him, and he found himself burying his face against the slender column of her neck. Her pulse beat frantically, drawing his attention. Her silken hair fell against his head, brushing flames over his skin. A sound welled up in his throat as his self-control slipped precariously. There was such danger in this madness. He knew better, but nothing mattered anymore but having her.
Rusti felt the warmth of his breath on her skin. Felt molten heat. And her body clenched in expectation. She circled his head with her arms, drawing him closer without even realizing what she was doing. His need was so great, it beat in him so strongly, that she could feel it swamping her, overwhelming even her sense of survival. His heart matched the rhythm of hers, strong and frantic. She felt the sweeping caress of his tongue along her neck, and her heart skipped a beat, her insides going liquid in anticipation.
“Darius, don’t.” She whispered the words, meant to make it a command. It came out a husky plea of need.
His mouth moved over her skin, sending waves of fire beating at her. I
have no other choice. What you ask is like trying to stop the wind. It is inevitable between us. Accept me. Accept what I am.
She felt the gentle lapping of his tongue, an erotic, hypnotic rasp of velvet. Her head arched back, exposing the vulnerable hollow of her throat. Heat spiraled through her body as his teeth sank deeply into the offering and he fed hungrily, voraciously on her sweetness. Nothing else would ever sate his hunger again. Nothing. His body burned, needed, demanded. She lay in his arms, drowsy, in a dark, magical dream world, on fire for him.
Somewhere in the woods an owl hooted. From inside the bus one of the cats screamed restlessly, the sound eerie in the twilight. Tempest drew in a deep, shuddering breath, her sense abruptly coming back to her. She was lying in his arms, a willing sacrifice, her body moving against him with an unknown hunger. Her breasts felt full and aching, her nipples hard and pushing against her thin shirt. She felt drowsy and heavy-eyed yet sinfully wanton. She began to struggle wildly, her fists flailing at Darius.
He pulled himself from a world of pure feeling, stroking his tongue over the pinpricks to seal the tiny points of evidence. “Be calm, honey. I am not hurting you.” He rested his forehead against hers. “I will take this incident from your mind and wish that I could do so from my own as well.” She was trembling in his arms, her enormous eyes wide with shock, her face pale.