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Dark Fire by Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 6

He smiled, his black eyes softening, the hard edges of his mouth tender. “And what of you? Do you think yourself less than me that you must sacrifice so for me?”

She shook her head hastily to disabuse him of that notion. “Of course not. In fact, I think you need me around to keep you from being an arrogant, overbearing dictator, to keep you on the straight and narrow.”

“Overbearing dictator?” he echoed, male amusement sliding into the velvet timbre of his voice. He nuzzled the nape of her neck.

“Exactly.” The smile faded from her face, leaving her solemn. “I’m not like other people, Darius. I’ve never fit in anywhere. I don’t know if this will work out between us, but if you can manage not to try to rule every aspect of my life, I’m willing to try. I know I want to be with you. I know I’m not afraid of you or your people.”

His eyebrows shot up at her blatant lie.

“Oh, shut up.” She threw a towel at him. “Don’t look at me like that. I know you would never hurt me. Never, Darius. I don’t believe in too many things, but I believe in you.” She looked around for clean clothes and was disappointed when she realized she hadn’t thought to bring any with her. Fatigue was crowding in, pushing out her need to convince him. She wanted to lie down and sleep for a week.

“Just promise me you’ll think about this, Darius. It’s really the only sensible solution. And if it doesn’t work out between us, by the time we know, I should be able to take care of myself.” She sank down onto the edge of the tub, too weary to stand any longer.

Darius tamped down his hunger, his raging desire, and the emotions that were clouding his good judgment. He caught up the robe he had made a day or two earlier for her. It was hanging on the door, thick and warm. He enfolded her in its softness. “We will eat, honey, and then we will sleep. All of this can be sorted out on the next rising.”

“Isn’t that the first day of Desari’s performance? Whoever sent those men after her will try again. She’ll be so vulnerable, Darius. We have to resolve this before she goes on stage.”

He could hear her weariness. It clung to her like a second skin. The Carpathian male could do no other than protect his lifemate, see to every aspect of her care, so he simply took possession of her arm and, without further conversation, led her into the kitchen and sat her at the table.

Desari had prepared a bowl of steaming vegetable broth. The aroma filled the bus, but Tempest merely pressed a hand to her stomach and tried not to gag. See, Darius? I can’t eat anyway. I can’t have one foot in my world and one foot in yours. I’m willing to risk the conversion to have a chance at a future with you.

He ignored her soft, persuasive voice and thrust his mind deliberately into hers. Not gently, but firmly taking control, giving her no time to fight him. You will eat this broth, and it will stay down and nourish you. It was a command. He forced her obedience, even when her stomach rebelled, attempting to rid itself of the food.

Tempest blinked up at him, finding her soup bowl empty. She shoved her damp hair away from her face, her long lashes drooping tiredly. “I just want to sleep, Darius. Let’s go to sleep.”

He wrapped her in his good arm, lifted her easily, and carried her out of the trailer and into the night. They were back to their warrior and captive roles, but Tempest didn’t care. She closed her eyes and settled closer against his chest.

The tunnel he chose leading into the earth was warm with geothermal activity. At once it robbed her of breath, inducing a feeling of suffocation in her. She tried to hide it from Darius, not wanting him to know she was uncomfortable. She burrowed closer to him, giving herself up to his protection. She knew he would not go into the soil because she could not go. He would make them a sleeping area in the safety of the earth where she could sleep the sleep of humans and he could try his best to follow suit. But he needed the rejuvenating soil, especially now that he was wounded. He needed to shut down his heart and lungs and sleep the Carpathian way. Tempest smiled against his heavy muscles, suddenly confident of her ability to persuade him to her way of think­ing. She just needed to rest first before she renewed her attack. Darius could not resist her forever. She had been in his mind, felt his vulnerability. He would give in if she persisted. He wanted her conversion with every cell in his body.

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Categories: Christine Feehan
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