Dark Fire by Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 6

His white teeth gleamed at her, nearly stopping her heart. “I am acting normal, Tempest.”

“Well, then, that’s out, too. No acting normal.” With both hands on her slender hips, she glared challengingly at him.

Darius glanced away to hide the sudden smile pulling at his mouth. He rubbed the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. “That is a great number of rules, all of which seem impossible. Perhaps a more feasible plan might be in order.”

“Don’t even start with that infuriating, superior-male-amusement thing you do. It sets my teeth on edge.” She was frantically attempting to backpedal, to put some emotional space between them so she could breathe. He needed to stop looking so male, too. That would help some. Suddenly dizzy, she sat down rather abruptly on the carpet of pine needles. Surprised, she blinked up at him.

Darius hunkered down beside her, cupping her face in his palm. “Just do as I ask, and everything will be fine, honey.”

She caught at his thick wrist for support. “Did you listen to anything I said?”

“Of course I did. I can repeat your nonsense verbatim if you like.” He wrapped an arm around her, so that she could lean into the shelter of his body. “Just sit here for a moment. You will feel better soon. I may have gotten a bit carried away, but your blood does not need replacing.”

Her green eyes widened. “Don’t even think about it, Darius. I mean it. I’ve read books. I’ve seen movies. I refuse to become a vampire.”

His mouth quirked again. Sexy, intimate, the tiny gesture produced a rush of heat in her bloodstream, and she had to look away from him to save her soul. No one had the right to look the way he did.

“I am not a vampire, honey. The undead has chosen to lose his soul. I have endured, still alive, if lately only barely, these many long centuries.”

“What are you then?” Tempest asked, reluctant to hear his answer yet excruciatingly curious.

“I am of the earth, wind, and sky. I can command these things, all things of nature. I am of an ancient race with powers and properties often mistakenly associated with those of vampires. But I am not vampire. I am Carpathian.” He watched Tempest, anticipating the many queries she would likely raise in response to his pronouncement.

She tipped her head. “So, have there been many?”

“I do not understand the question.” He appeared genuinely puzzled.

“Women like me. Do you collect women so you have a ready food supply?” She asked it flippantly because his proximity was making her blood rush.

His fingers tangled in her hair. “There are no other women. There have been no other women. You belong to me. Only you.”

She wasn’t certain she believed he’d had no other women, but she found she wanted it to be true. “Gee, do I feel lucky,” she said. “It’s not every day I get bossed around by a vam-Carpathian. I’ve been on my own and taking care of myself for as long as I can remember, Darius, and I like it that way.”

His hand had slipped to the nape of her neck, his attention caught by the softness of her skin. “It seems to me you have not done a particularly good job of it. Face it: You need me.”

She batted his hand away, afraid of the fire pooling low in her body. He wasn’t safe. Nothing about him was safe, not even casual conversation. “I don’t need anyone.”

His black eyes burned over her face, hard possession in the set of his mouth. “Then you will learn to do so, will you not?”

Her heart jumped at the soft, warning note in his voice. He could sound so menacing when he chose. Fear flickered in the depths of her eyes, and her green gaze skittered away from his dark one. “Darius, I really am afraid of you.” The admission came out under her breath.

For a moment she was certain he hadn’t heard her, but then his hand stilled on the nape of her neck, hot and possessive. “I know you are, Tempest, but there is no need for it, and you will get over it.”