Dark Fire by Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 6

She stepped behind him and laid down a covering spray of automatic fire, the bullets zinging viciously, giving him time to get Sasha into the bus. Tempest was backing toward him when he caught her in his arms, taking the weapon out of her hands.

Darius was well aware that she wasn’t shooting at anyone, only keeping them away. Tempest did not have one killer instinct in her body. Courage, loyalty, yes-she would never leave him or the cats, and she would do her best to protect them, but she would have a difficult time actually killing another human being.

Ruthlessly he took the decision out of her hands. “See to Sasha. Use the herbs in the closet. She will allow it.” He literally tossed her into the bus, turning away before she had time to protest.

At once it began to rain. Not lightly, but sheets and sheets pouring from the sky, drenching the forest and campsite, as if the heavens had opened up and dumped an entire ocean on them. Tempest concentrated on her task. Sasha was flicking her tail back and forth in agitation, a low, menacing rumble coming from her throat.

Darius protected the bus, shielding it from the hidden hunters who had now become his prey. His form, real and solid, shimmered in the driving rain briefly, then simply evaporated. In the silver sheen of the downpour, blood-red drops occasionally splashed to the ground.

The wind rose to a frantic pitch, screaming through the trees, as sharp as any knife. The male leopard was a whirling blur of savage fangs and claws, an instrument of revenge. For a brief moment the forest was alive with moans and cries and the horror and stench of death. When at last it was over, only the sound of the wind and rain remained.

Darius knelt for a moment in the rain, weary, wounded, revulsion for the necessity of this deed welling up in him. He bowed his head while the water began to flow in small streams around him. The bodies looked as though they had been attacked by wild animals, yet if they were studied, there would be a roar of interest heard halfway around the world. He could not allow that.

He spent considerable time arranging the area in a way humans would accept without too many questions. A battle had broken out between fanatical factions of weekend warriors, and they had killed each other, their bodies then disturbed by a multitude of scavenging animals. He took great care to remove any traces of his family’s presence from the area. They couldn’t afford to leave even tire marks in the campsite. The accumulating water would take care of that for him. He could hide the bus, blurring it from prying eyes until they were on a main highway.

Exhausted, he finally called in Forest, and man and cat made their way back to the bus together. Sasha was lying quietly, and the big male leopard went to her side and touched her several times, examining the wound, stitches, and wrapping. Tempest turned to look at Darius, her heart in her eyes. He felt he had come home, the weariness dropping away, the stench of death replaced by her welcoming light.

“You’re bleeding,” she said softly.

“I will live,” he answered. Ordinarily his kind shut down heart and lungs to preserve their blood, but Tempest and he were not safe yet. They still had to run the gauntlet of trucks blocking every road to the highway, and Darius knew others would be in those trucks waiting for them.

“Tell me what you need,” she said, aware that his body healed differently than hers.

“The herbs and soil I need are in the cupboard above the couch.”

He sounded tired, and that frightened her. She looked away, careful to avoid allowing tears into her eyes. The sight of Darius, soaking wet, weary, streaked in blood and mud, his black hair plastered to his head, nearly broke her heart.

She worked on him quickly. It was easier than she had envisioned, as the bullet had exited his body and he had started sealing off the wounds from the inside out. But it required tremendous energy on his part to heal his insides without benefit of the earth and rejuvenating sleep. Tempest packed his wound with the mixture of his healing saliva, soil, and herbs. It was strange to follow his directions to mix dirt with his saliva, but she accepted his explanation that Carpathians were of the earth and took advantage of its healing properties. Her hand caressed his neck, her fingertips conveying her growing love when she still could not voice it to him.