“Perhaps it would be easier on you if I removed your memories of what I am. I could do it properly, Tempest,” he offered. He found himself reluctant to do so, however. Somehow he wanted her to accept him as he was.
She shook her head adamantly. “No. If you did something like that, I would never be able to trust anything you said or did.”
“You wouldn’t remember, and it would take away your unnecessary fears. It does not make sense to me that you should remain afraid of us when we regard you as family,” he said reasonably.
“No, don’t do that to me,” she insisted.
For a moment his dangerously predatory eyes moved over her face, a red flame flickering in their depths, reminding her of a wolf, a relentless hunter. What did she know of him? Only that he was not human but “Carpathian,” allegedly immortal. And that he believed he had a right to her. She knew little of the unusual powers and properties he’d mentioned, but she felt them radiate out of his every pore. She could be lulled into a false sense of security because he often treated her gently, even tenderly.
But Darius was first and foremost a predator, yet with all the cunning and intellect of a human. He was dark, mysterious, dangerous, powerful, and very, very sensual It was a formidable combination. Tempest nearly groaned aloud. How was she going to get out of this mess? His thumb was feathering over her knuckles, sending darts of fire racing through her bloodstream. Why did she have to be attracted to him? Especially if he was more beast than man? Was it because he was the first male who had ever treated her with such care? Was it because he was so utterly lonely and in need?
“Stop thinking so much, Tempest,” he repeated softly a hint of laughter in his velvet voice. “You are making things seem worse than they are.” He was becoming tempted to remove her memories despite her reluctance just to ease her fears, yet he was selfish enough to want her to know what he was and have the courage to stay with him anyway.
“Right,” she groused, “like that could happen.”
Darius enjoyed the way she fit beneath his shoulder He even enjoyed the way she defied him. He was aware that she had no idea of the power he wielded, the things he was capable of doing, but he felt fully alive with her The wind rushed over them, blowing her soft hair around her face. He heard the rustle in the trees as the leaves swayed to the music of the breeze. He found himself smiling for no reason, when it had been many centuries since he had smiled at all. He had forgotten the feeling of happiness. Here, in the trees, with the night upon them, the wind calling to him, wild and free, and Tempest tucked beneath his shoulder, he felt both happiness and a sense of belonging.
Rusti glanced up at Darius, a little overwhelmed that she was acting as if all was normal when she should have been running screaming into the sunset. His face was £ sensual work of art, carved with harsh yet beautiful lines If she had to describe him to someone else, she wasn’t certain what she would say. He was power personified. Danger personified. And he was so incredibly sexy. Mesmerizingly so.
She closed her eyes. Well, that settled it, then. She couldn’t look at him. She went up in flames every time she did. “Why couldn’t you be a nice, ordinary man?”
“What is ordinary?” he asked, amused.
“You didn’t have to have those eyes,” she accused, flashing a glare at him. “Your eyes should be outlawed.”
Warmth flowed into his heart, a curious, melting sensation. “So you like my eyes.”
Her long lashes instantly veiled her expression. “I didn’t say that. You’re conceited, Darius-that’s one of your biggest problems. You’re arrogant and conceited. Why would I like your eyes?”
He laughed softly. “You like my eyes.”
She refused to give him the satisfaction of agreeing. The campsite was just ahead through the trees, and she could hear the laughter of the others. Desari’s musical voice was distinctive. It was soft and dreamy, even more mesmerizing than the others’. Tempest had noticed immediately the same hypnotic quality in Darius’s voice.
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