He felt the breath slam right out of his lungs. He glided after her, a great jungle cat stalking his prey. Silent. Intense. His gaze fixed on her face as she backed away. Corinne forgot they were on a porch and stepped off the platform without looking. Somehow Dayan managed to catch her. She blinked, and that fast he was cradling her safely in his arms. “Fortunately for you, I can live up to my reputation. Look where you are going next time.” Deliberately he flashed his immaculate white teeth at her, displaying masculine amusement at her predicament.
Corinne raised her eyebrow, managing to look haughty even while cradled in his arms. “How did you do that? How could you move fast enough to catch me?”
“I am a superhero,” he confessed soberly. “I never told you because I feared you would not like men in capes. Mine is very traditional, but nice all the same.”
She laughed so hard she had to clutch at his shoulder, afraid she might fall out of his arms. “You’d like me to believe you’re a superhero. I want to see the all-important cape. You can’t be a superhero without one.” She liked being in his arms. She
loved
being in his arms. He was enormously strong, yet surprisingly gentle. He could say the most outrageous things with a straight face and innocent black eyes. She looked up at him from under her long lashes. “You need tights to be a superhero too. Bright blue tights,” Corinne pointed out wickedly.
One black eyebrow shot up eloquently. “Tights?” He repeated the word as if it were not in his vocabulary. “Blue tights?”
She tried to look serious but she couldn’t stop laughing and her heart was beginning to hurt. A hard, painful weight was pressing down on her, squeezing the air from her lungs so that she wanted not to gasp for air. Corinne looked away from him, not wanting him to see the struggle. It was amazing to her that she could be so happy, could forget everything so completely in his company. Her body had to remind her it was wearing out fast. Corinne blinked back sudden tears and buried her face against his shoulder.
Dayan remained silent, allowing his heart to find the scattered, irregular rhythm of hers and slowly guide it back to normal. He cleared his mind of desperation, finding a calm center and reached across time and space as his kind could do.
Darius. My need for the healer increases. I do not think I have much time.
There was a moment of time, a heartbeat of silence.
Dayan never doubted, not even in his desperation. Darius’s gentle voice flowed into his mind, flooded him with conviction.
Two of our greatest healers are making their way to the Cascades. We will meet you there. We will not fail you, Dayan.
He took the directions straight from Darius’s mind, learning the way to a safe house owned by one of the Carpathians’ greatest healers, Gregori, and his wife, Savannah, daughter of their Prince.
I thank you for moving
so
quickly. All is well with you? Yes. The women are anxious to see you and your lifemate.
Dayan took comfort in Darius’s voice and words. In his long lifetime, Dayan had never known Darius to fail at a task. If he gave his word about something, it was done. They were family. They had traveled together for nearly a thousand years. To know that his family was mobilizing swiftly, moving to help him save his lifemate, gave him added confidence it could be done. They would find a way to save her. If possible, the child also, but it was imperative they save Corinne. Without her, Dayan could not continue. He would not want to face the darkness and the emptiness. Wherever she traveled, he would choose to be at her side, to protect and guard her in the next life.
It was only after a few minutes of breathing normally that Corinne realized their hearts were beating with the same rhythm. Keeping her head pillowed on his shoulder, she looked up at him with her large green eyes. “Where are you? You’ve gone very solemn and serious on me.”
“I was ‘talking’ with my brother.”
“He’s telepathic too?” Corinne lifted her head to look at him more closely. “Put me down, Dayan. I’m really capable of walking without breaking my neck. It must have been wonderful to grow up with someone who shared your talent.”
Dayan shrugged his powerful shoulders, a lazy ripple of muscle. “I never thought about it. All of us are telepathic. The entire family.” Reluctantly he lowered her feet to the ground.
“Do you think it’s genetic, then?” Corinne pressed her hands protectively over her baby, suddenly afraid for her. Her own life had been at times very difficult because of her special gifts. She knew she wouldn’t be around to protect and reassure her child when times were hard.
Dayan’s hands framed her face. “I call the Troubadours my family because we’ve been together since we were small children, but only Darius and Desari are truly brother and sister. Syndil, Barack and I are related the way you and Lisa are related. The ties are stronger than blood.”
“Of course, the members of your band. They all have interesting names.”
Dayan laughed softly. “I forget what a serious little fan you are. You have inflated my ego for all time.”
“A serious little fan,” she echoed, her eyes beginning to smolder with hidden fire. She tossed her head, the copper highlights in her hair sizzling from the walkway light as it came on automatically. “I’ll have you know that it isn’t
you
I’m a fan of, but
music.
There is a difference, you know. Don’t get me wrong — “ She held up her hand to ward him off as he advanced rather purposefully on her. She found herself laughing again, watching his eyes glinting at her. “You’ve convinced me to be a fan. Really, you have. I’ll stare adoringly at you next time you play.” She batted her eyelashes and fanned herself. “I could act the perfect little groupie if your ego needs a boost.”
“I’m flattered,” he said, catching her small hand in his. “So tell me what you know of our band.”
She shrugged casually. “You play guitar, as does Barack. Syndil plays the drums and just about any other instrument. Desari is your lead singer, and she has an amazing voice. You sing only when the mood strikes you or if a particular song warrants it. My guess is, you both write the lyrics to your songs.” She smiled up at him. “And your music is awesome, although there are a few others who are right up there with you.” She looked down at her fingernails. “Legends.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Who? Name a legend.”
“In what category? I like rock and roll myself.”
“Rock and roll?” There was a slight sneer in his voice. “Who would you consider a legend in rock and roll? Tread carefully, your reputation is on the line.”
“What year are we talking here? In the fifties there was so much going on. If you’re going to be all snobby about modern rock and roll, we can raise the stakes and talk blues or jazz. Surely you’ll admit there are legends in blues and jazz.”
“I’ll concede that point to you, but you can’t start looking in the fifties. The origins of rock and roll began long before the fifties. Have you listened to the tribal music and the original beats coming out of Africa?”
She grinned at him, one eyebrow shooting up. “Surely you aren’t testing me, thinking I don’t know my music history. That isn’t the point. Do you honestly think there aren’t legends from the fifties and sixties?”
“Maybe the Dark Troubadours,” he mused, his black eyes laughing at her wickedly.
“Excuse me, Mr. Legend, what about Louis Armstrong? Do
not
make the mistake of turning up your nose at him. Muddy Waters, for heaven’s sake, and BB King, he’s awesome. He just has such presence. And Stevie Ray Vaughn. I could name several others.”