Dark Fire by Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 6

Still, she was different from him in that she was filled with compassion and gentleness, everything he was not. For all the damage that had been done to her, she had no thoughts of revenge, no bitter hatred, only a quiet acceptance. She also had a firm resolve to stay clear of entanglements, to lead an uneventful, solitary existence.

The patterns of her mind were interesting. She preferred the company of animals. She could understand them easily, their body language, their thoughts. She could communicate with them without words.

Darius inhaled her scent, took it into his lungs, his body, and held it there. She was unique among humans, the way she could read the animals around her. It didn’t distress her-she loved animals-but the reactions of humans to her gift were always negative. Darius leaned down to lay his head over hers, beating back the rise of the beast within him roaring for freedom. His every instinct was to claim her irrevocably for all time. His body needed hers desperately. The wild craving for the taste of her was riding him hard.

But she needed rest and care. She deserved some kind of courtship. It was her very vulnerability that kept the beast in him leashed. Darius knew himself well, his strengths and weaknesses. He was as merciless and harsh as the land he had grown up in. He was as savage and relentless as the leopards he had run with. He killed without emotion, without malice, but he killed when he deemed it necessary and never looked back.

Tempest belonged to him. Somehow, and he had no idea how it had happened, a human was his other half. Her soul meshed with his, the jagged edges sealing perfectly together. He knew her body was made for his, that he would find in her the same fire that smoldered within him.

Sleep deeply, honey, with no bad dreams. I will watch over you. He murmured the words softly in her mind, filling her head with pleasant dreams, with things he remembered from his childhood. The beauty of the sa­vanna, the mystery of the monsoon, the abundance of colors, of animals. He conjured up the excitement of his first hunt with the leopards. He had tried to drop from the branches of a tree as he had seen the older animals doing but had landed feet in front of his intended victim, inadvertently sending it scurrying out of reach. He found himself smiling at the memory, smiling as she was doing in her sleep.

His hand closed over hers. Waterfalls, the magnificence of frothy, foaming water cascading hundreds of feet. Crocodiles, antelope. A pride of lions. With the details came the smells and feel and lulling heat of Africa. He shared it all with her, replacing the terrible events of her day, of her past, replacing her nightmare with something beautiful.

You’re a remarkable man, Darius .

He went still. Not a muscle in his body moved. Even his breathing ceased. He examined her face. She had spoken to him telepathically. It was not on the same path used among his family. It was different, more intimate. But it was her voice; there was no mistaking that. Somehow, in her compulsion-and-herb-induced sleep, she was still aware of his presence in her mind. It was unbelievable that a human could have such powers.

He examined her mind again. It was nothing like the human minds he was accustomed to. It intrigued him, its layers and compartments, as if she had things neatly filed and locked away. Perhaps he had been too complacent about her.

You can hear me? he asked in her mind.

Don’t you want me to hear you? Why else are you telling me of all these wonderful places and exciting memories if you didn’t want me to hear you?

He again noticed the velvet huskiness of her voice, like a drowsy caress, a lover turning her body mindlessly into his. Did she always sound that way? Did the others hear that sexy, erotic note in her voice?

This way of communicating does not frighten you? he asked.

I’m dreaming. I don’t mind dreaming about you. You’re sharing my mind; I’m sharing yours. I know your only wish is to help me sleep without nightmares.