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Dark Fire by Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 6

Darius’s black eyes suddenly came alive, burning with a kind of fierce protectiveness. His gaze swept over his family.

Tempest sighed heavily and sat up, pushing at her wild mass of hair, which was tumbling everywhere. “Darius, I’m too tired to figure this out. What is it everyone is worried about? It’s unfair to keep me in the dark just because I’m unfamiliar with your needs.”

“He must sleep our sleep in the ground,” Syndil blurted out, not daring to look at Darius.

“Isn’t that what we’re doing? I’m going to the blasted cave. I’ll sleep while he’s in the ground,” Tempest said. “That’s the plan.”

Syndil shook her head, ignoring Darius’s warning growl.

Tempest clamped her hand over Darius’s mouth to shut him up. “Tell me.”

“He will not go to ground. He will sleep as a mortal with you above earth because he fears to leave you vulnerable to attack.”

There was a silence while Tempest digested the information. It was clear to Tempest that Darius was displeased with Syndil for interfering. Very gently Tempest stroked his neck with loving fingers, soothing him while she thought it all out. Eventually she shrugged. “So put me to sleep, and then both of us can be in the ground.” The idea of it turned her stomach; it sounded like a burial. But if she was completely unaware, it was a small thing to attempt if it helped Darius.

Her calm statement brought a collective gasp of admiration. “You would be willing to do such a thing for Darius?” Desari asked, gripping Tempest’s wrists. “You suffer greatly from confined spaces. Darius has told us this.”

Tempest shrugged. “I wouldn’t suffer if I was asleep,” she pointed out. “Let’s get to it, Darius. I’m tired.” And she was. Her body felt heavy and cumbersome. She didn’t look at him, not wanting him to see the revulsion and horror at the idea of being buried alive reflected in her eyes.

Darius’s arm swept around her and brought her small body into the shelter of his, his heart swelling with pride in her. He didn’t need to see her expression to read her true thoughts. A part of him was dwelling in her mind like a shadow. The terror burial and caves held for her was clear to him, yet she was willing to make the sacrifice if it meant his health. “This is a great gift you offer me, Tempest, but it is impossible. My body is made to shut down my heart and lungs. Your body is not. You would suffocate in the ground. It may take a little longer, but my body will eventually heal,” he assured her.

Over her head, Darius’s black eyes blazed at his family. No one dared defy that look, except Julian, who grinned at him. Desari kept a death grip on Julian’s hand to deter her lifemate from riling her brother further.

“Please fix Tempest a vegetable broth,” Darius instructed his sister.

Tempest shook her head decisively. “I really couldn’t eat a thing, Desari, but thank you. I just want to go sleep for a week or so.”

Darius glanced at his sister, a quick, steady look she could read all too easily.

She nodded almost imperceptibly. “Come on, we must allow them to clean up a bit.”

Barack growled low in his throat. “Syndil, Sasha has need of our healing powers. I will carry her, and you bring the herbs.”

Syndil’s eyebrows shot up. “Have you forgotten we are entertaining a guest? I was going to fix him dinner and then take a walk with him.”

Barack caught her arm just above the elbow. “Don’t keep baiting me, Syndil. I have only so much patience.”

She gave him a haughty look. “I do not have to answer to you, barbarian. Not now, not ever.”

“Dayan can walk with your precious guest into the woods. I will send Forest hunting him,” Barack snapped. “You will stay with me.”

“I think you have forgotten yourself.” Syndil glared at him. “I am leaving for a while, taking a small vacation.”

There was a moment’s silence. Darius’s head snapped up, his black eyes burning, but he refrained from the violent protest welling up within him. Dayan paused in the act of heading out of the bus, his face all at once harsh. Even Julian stilled as if Syndil had dropped a bombshell.

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Categories: Christine Feehan
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