Dark Fire by Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 6

She made a sound of protest, of fear. She told herself it was because the candles suddenly went out, leaving the bathroom in darkness, but she knew it was more than that.

He held her gaze, not allowing her to slip from his mesmerizing possession. “You know it is true. I am used to telling everyone what to do. And I am very attracted to you.” He winced inwardly at the understatement of that particular comment. “I should have been more gentle with you.”

Darius carried her into the dining area and placed her in a chair at the table. A bowl of steaming soup was waiting for her. “Eat it, honey. I slaved over this for you.”

Tempest found herself attempting a smile. It stung her mouth, then she felt it inside her, spreading warmth. No one, as far back as she could remember, had ever treated her with so much caring. No one had ever made her a bowl of soup.

“Thanks for coming after me,” she said, stirring the broth, trying, without seeming to, to see what was in it.

He sat opposite her, took the spoon from her with a little sigh, dipped it into the soup, and blew on it. “You eat this stuff, not play with it,” he reprimanded, and he held the spoon to her mouth.

Reluctantly she complied. Astonishingly enough, it was good. Who would have suspected a vampire could cook? “It’s vegetable soup,” she stated, pleased. “And it’s very good.”

“I do have my talents,” he muttered, remembering all the various broths he had concocted for the baby girls, trying to keep them alive. Since Carpathians did not eat meat, he had worked with roots, berries, and leaves, trying everything on himself first, poisoning himself more than once.

“Talk to me,” Tempest pleaded. “I don’t want to start shaking again, and I can feel it coming on.”

Darius held another spoonful of soup to her mouth. “Has Desari told you much about us?”

She shook her head, concentrating on the warmth the soup provided.

“We travel a great deal, giving concerts, you know. Dayan and Desari are our singers. That is Desari’s voice you are listening to on the tape. She is very good, is she not?” There was pride in his voice.

Tempest liked his way of speaking, an Old World, old-fashioned manner she found oddly sexy. “She has a beautiful voice.”

“Desari is my younger sister. Recently she found her-” He broke off, then tempted her with another spoonful of soup before continuing. “She found a man she loves very much. His name is Julian Savage. I do not know him very well, and we sometimes have trouble getting along. I suspect we are rather alike, and that is the problem.”

“Bossy,” Tempest supplied knowingly.

The black eyes rested possessively on her face. “What was that?”

This time she did grin. It hurt, but she couldn’t stop herself. She suspected no one ever challenged or teased this man. “You heard me.”

His eyes burned suddenly with an intensity, with a dark, dangerous hunger that took her breath away, that made her think of the leopards he kept as companions. She pulled her gaze from his. “Keep talking. Tell me about everyone.”

Darius slid a hand over her damp hair and found the nape of her neck. His fingers curled around the slender column, liking the way she fit into his palm. Desire slammed into him, hard and unexpected, even as he was deliberately trying to view her as a child in need of his protection. He had touched her only to comfort her, but he didn’t let go. He cursed himself for his lack of control. He needed the contact with her, needed to feel her, to know she was real and solid and not some figment of his imagination.

“Barack and Dayan also play in the band. Both are talented musicians, Dayan a guitar player without equal. He writes many of our songs as well. Syndil-” He hesitated, unsure what to reveal about Syndil. “She plays the organ, the piano, just about any instrument. She recently suffered a trauma, however, and has not gone up on stage for a while.”