Dark Fire by Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 6

He could hear the anguish in her voice, the degradation and shame she felt. He realized she had not even looked up at him.

“This was not your fault,” he said. “You know that, Tempest. This man tried to rape you because he is depraved, not because you did anything to incite him.”

“I was hitchhiking,” she confessed in a low voice. “I never should have gotten into his truck.”

“Tempest, if he had not found you, he would have found another girl, perhaps one without anyone to look after her. Now let me see your face. Do you think you could take it out of my shirt long enough for me to assess what damage he has done to you?” Darius made an effort to lighten his tone to help put her at ease.

She could not believe how gentle he was. She could feel his enormous strength, his tremendous power, yet even his voice was tender. It brought fresh tears to her eyes. She had run away from him thinking him a monster, yet it was he who had saved her from a real monster. “I just can’t face anyone yet.” Tempest’s voice was muffled against him, but he could hear her determination. She was getting ready to make her next bid for freedom.

Darius turned then, with her cradled in his arms, and began striding back toward the road. The rain beat down on them relentlessly, but he didn’t seem to notice. He took her a distance away so that she wouldn’t have to see the horror of what he had done to her attacker.

“I need to sit down,” she finally objected, “on solid ground.” Suddenly she realized her shirt was in tatters and her bare skin exposed. She gasped out loud, attracting his instant attention, his black gaze moving broodingly over her.

Then he laughed softly to calm her anxiety. “I have a sister, honey. I have seen the female body before.” But he was already lowering her feet to the ground and shrugging out of his jacket. Very gently he enveloped her in it, taking the opportunity to look at her more closely. Already dark bruises were marring the perfection of her fair skin, and a faint trickle of blood seeped from the corner of her mouth. Darius had to look away from that temptation. He caught a glimpse of more bruises on the creamy swell of her breast, along her narrow rib cage, and on her smooth stomach.

Rage swept through him, turbulent and unfamiliar. He wanted to kill the man over and over, to feel his neck snap beneath his hands. He wanted to rend and tear like the leopards he had spent so much time studying, so much time learning from. He fought down the killing rage until it simmered and seethed just below the surface but where she could not possibly see it.

His natural instinct was to heal her, using the curative agent in his saliva, but he refrained, not wanting to alarm her further. There would be time enough when he got her home and could put her to sleep.

Tempest was aware that Darius could see her, even in the dark. Curiously, she was no longer afraid of him. She stared at the toes of her dirty running shoes, uncertain what to do. She was sick and dizzy, she hurt everywhere, and she wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. She had no money, nowhere to go.

Darius reached out, ignored the way she flinched from his hand, and wrapped his long fingers possessively around the nape of her neck. “I am going to take you home. You can soak in the tub, I will fix you something to eat, and no one will see you but me. Since I have already seen you, it is all right.” His tone seemed to request agreement, but she heard command in his voice. “We have to call the police,” she said softly. “I can’t let him get away with this.”

“He will not commit such an atrocity again, Tempest,” he murmured softly. He could hear the engine of a car speeding toward them, and he identified it as their own. “Has my sister introduced you to any of the other band members yet?” he inquired, deliberately distracting her so that she wouldn’t ask any questions.