“It’s okay, Darius. It was just a surprise,” she whispered. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” She made another attempt to get out of his arms.
Darius tightened his hold on her. “I am not going to give you up. I cannot. I do not expect you to understand, and I cannot explain adequately. I have been doing for others all of my existence. I have never had anything for myself; I never wanted or needed anything. But I need you. I realize you cannot accept what I am, but it does not matter to me. I wish I was able to say that it did, but I will not give you up. You are the only one who can save me. Save the others from me. Mortals and immortals alike.”
“What are you, Darius?” Tempest stopped fighting him. She knew she had no hope of getting away from him unless he allowed it. Her voice was the merest thread of sound. Her heart was slamming against his chest so rapidly, she was afraid it might explode. At once his black eyes caught and held hers, and she felt herself falling forward into their dark, fathomless depths.
“Be calm, honey. There is nothing to fear.” He enfolded her in waves of tranquility, a soothing, peaceful sea of reassurance.
As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t look away. There was such an intensity about Darius. He was as still and solid as the mountains, as hard as granite, yet so gentle with her. When he looked at her, a burning hunger lit his eyes, a hard possession. He was ageless. Timeless. With a relentless will. He would never swerve from his chosen path. And he had chosen her.
She reached up to touch her throbbing neck. “Why me?”
“In all the world, in all these centuries since emotions left me, I have been so alone, Tempest. Utterly alone. Until you. Only you bring me color and light.” He inhaled, taking her scent deep within his lungs. He needed relief from his body’s relentless demands. “Do not worry, you will not remember any of this.”
Still held captive by his black gaze, Rusti shook her head slowly. “I remember the last time, Darius. You didn’t erase my memory.”
His black-ice eyes didn’t waver, didn’t blink as he accepted the nearly impossible as fact. “You ran away because of what I am.” He said it without expression, as if her revelation was not of paramount importance.
“You have to admit, it isn’t every day a vampire bites one’s neck.” She made a feeble attempt at humor, but her fingers curled convulsively in his thick mane of jetblack hair, betraying her nervousness.
“So I am responsible, after all, for the attack on you.” Darius was assessing the possibility of what she had said. It had to be true. Humans generally required little effort to control. But likely with the difference in her brain patterns, he should have used a much harder mental push to induce forgetfulness. What courage she must have to face him again. To know what he was, and yet remain as she had this night to face him.
“Of course you weren’t responsible for what Harry did,” she denied huskily, desperate to tear her gaze from his. She was drowning in those eyes, trapped forever. His arms were iron bands around her, locking her to him. She should have been far more afraid of him than she actually was. Had he succeeded in mesmerizing her?
“Yet you stayed this time, knowing I took your blood,” he mused aloud. “You didn’t try to leave, even believing me something as evil as a vampire.”
“Would it have done me any good?” she asked, for once wanting to meet his eyes, wanting to see his expression.
He didn’t so much as flicker an eyelash. His features were as etched granite, sensual yet immovable. “No,” he answered her honestly. “I would find you. There is nowhere in this world I cannot find you.”
Her heart pounded again. He could hear it, could feel the vibration echoing through his own body. She drew in a breath. “Are you going to kill me? I’d just as soon know now.”
His hand moved over her hair in a slow caress that sent butterfly wings brushing at her stomach. “You are the only one in this world, mortal or immortal, who, I can say with complete conviction, is perfectly safe. I would give my life to protect you, but I will not give you up.”
There was a small silence while she studied his implacable features. She believed him. Knew he was as merciless and dangerous as any wild predator. He watched her throat work, a small, agitated attempt to swallow.
“All right,” she conceded. “Then there isn’t much point in running away, is there?” Her mind was in chaos, making it impossible to think what to do. What could she do? More importantly, what did she want to do? She bit down hard on her lower lip.
A small dot of ruby red welled up on that lush, trembling lower lip. A temptation. An invitation.
Darius groaned aloud, the sound coming from his soul. She couldn’t do that, tempt him beyond endurance, and get away unscathed. He bent his head to hers, his mouth hard and possessive. His tongue found that tiny dot of sweetness, swept it into his keeping, savored it. But he couldn’t stop there. Her lips were satin soft beneath his. Trembling. Enticing. God, he wanted her. Needed her. Hungered for her.
Open your mouth for me. I’m afraid of you.
The words held tears, held fear, yet she was helpless against her own burning need. Tempest did as he ordered.
Time stopped for Rusti, and the world fell away, until there was only the hard strength of Darius’s arms, the heat of his body, the width of his shoulders, and his perfect, perfect mouth. He was a mixture of domination and tenderness. He swept her up with him, caught in a whirling kaleidoscope of colors and feelings. Nothing would ever be the same again. She would never be the same again. How could she be? He was branding her heart. Branding her soul. He was crawling inside her and taking over so that she breathed only him.
His hunger was beating at him, at her. She was the only thing in his world that was solely for him. She was fire, hot, silky fire racing through his veins, and he never wanted it to stop. Only when she gasped, her lungs laboring, did he lift his head, his black eyes burning with possession over her face. Tempest was very pale, her eyes enormous, her lips holding the imprint of his.
She was so weak, she was grateful Darius was still cradling her in his arms. Her legs felt like rubber. “I think I’m going to be like one of those ridiculous heroines in an old-fashioned novel and faint,” she murmured against his neck.
“No, you are not.” He attempted to feel guilt—he had taken her blood, and she was so small and fragile that any blood loss could make her weak—but Darius was not one to waste time on regrets. How could he regret what was as natural and inevitable as the tide? She was his. Her blood was his. Her heart and soul belonged to him.
Very gently, tenderly, he ran a caressing hand over her silky hair and down her soft cheek to lay his palm against her throat. His fingers curled slowly around her neck, his thumb feathering the delicate line of her jaw. He wanted to touch every inch of her, explore every secret, intriguing shadow and hollow, memorize her luscious curves.
“Darius.” Her green eyes found his black ones. “You can’t just decide you own me. People don’t own one another anymore. I’m not certain what you are, but I gather you weren’t born here or even in this century. I was. I value my independence. It matters to me that I make my own decisions. You don’t have the right to take that from me.” She tried to choose her words carefully, accepting that she was to blame for her own behavior, that this wasn’t all Darius’s fault.
She had wanted to kiss him. She admitted it. She touched her swollen lips, a little awed. No one should be able to kiss like that. It was like falling off the edge of a cliff, soaring through the skies, touching the sun. It was like burning, going up in flames, until there was no more Tempest Trine, no thinking individual, only mindless, impossible passion.