Dark Fire by Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 6

“Darius, don’t.” She whispered the words, meant to make it a command. It came out a husky plea of need.

His mouth moved over her skin, sending waves of fire beating at her. I have no other choice. What you ask is like trying to stop the wind. It is inevitable between us. Accept me. Accept what I am. She felt the gentle lapping of his tongue, an erotic, hypnotic rasp of velvet. Her head arched back, exposing the vulnerable hollow of her throat. Heat spiraled through her body as his teeth sank deeply into the offering and he fed hungrily, voraciously on her sweetness. Nothing else would ever sate his hunger again. Nothing. His body burned, needed, demanded. She lay in his arms, drowsy, in a dark, magical dream world, on fire for him.

Somewhere in the woods an owl hooted. From inside the bus one of the cats screamed restlessly, the sound eerie in the twilight. Tempest drew in a deep, shuddering breath, her sense abruptly coming back to her. She was lying in his arms, a willing sacrifice, her body moving against him with an unknown hunger. Her breasts felt full and aching, her nipples hard and pushing against her thin shirt. She felt drowsy and heavy-eyed yet sinfully wanton. She began to struggle wildly, her fists flailing at Darius.

He pulled himself from a world of pure feeling, stroking his tongue over the pinpricks to seal the tiny points of evidence. “Be calm, honey. I am not hurting you.” He rested his forehead against hers. “I will take this incident from your mind and wish that I could do so from my own as well.” She was trembling in his arms, her enormous eyes wide with shock, her face pale.

“It’s okay, Darius. It was just a surprise,” she whispered. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” She made another attempt to get out of his arms.

Darius tightened his hold on her. “I am not going to give you up. I cannot. I do not expect you to understand, and I cannot explain adequately. I have been doing for others all of my existence. I have never had anything for myself; I never wanted or needed anything. But I need you. I realize you cannot accept what I am, but it does not matter to me. I wish I was able to say that it did, but I will not give you up. You are the only one who can save me. Save the others from me. Mortals and immortals alike.”

“What are you, Darius?” Tempest stopped fighting him. She knew she had no hope of getting away from him unless he allowed it. Her voice was the merest thread of sound. Her heart was slamming against his chest so rapidly, she was afraid it might explode. At once his black eyes caught and held hers, and she felt herself falling forward into their dark, fathomless depths.

“Be calm, honey. There is nothing to fear.” He enfolded her in waves of tranquility, a soothing, peaceful sea of reassurance.

As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t look away. There was such an intensity about Darius. He was as still and solid as the mountains, as hard as granite, yet so gentle with her. When he looked at her, a burning hunger lit his eyes, a hard possession. He was ageless. Timeless. With a relentless will. He would never swerve from his chosen path. And he had chosen her.

She reached up to touch her throbbing neck. “Why me?”

“In all the world, in all these centuries since emotions left me, I have been so alone, Tempest. Utterly alone. Until you. Only you bring me color and light.” He in­haled, taking her scent deep within his lungs. He needed relief from his body’s relentless demands. “Do not worry, you will not remember any of this.”

Still held captive by his black gaze, Rusti shook her head slowly. “I remember the last time, Darius. You didn’t erase my memory.”

His black-ice eyes didn’t waver, didn’t blink as he accepted the nearly impossible as fact. “You ran away because of what I am.” He said it without expression, as if her revelation was not of paramount importance.