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Dark Fire by Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 6

Darius was casting a spell, weaving it tightly around her, not simply with the hypnotic power of his voice, or the hard strength of his body but with the night itself. She had never noticed that the darkness had such vivid colors of its own. The moon was shining through the canopy of trees, bathing the world in a soft, iridescent silver. The leaves glistened like gems as the breeze blew gently through them.

The low sigh of the wind was the first sound she could identify clearly after that of her own heart. Darius’s arms tightened around her, locking her against his much larger frame. Tempest had an aversion to tight spaces, and she always avoided being too close to men, especially when she was alone and they were strong. However, instead of making her feel threatened, Darius made her feel safe and protected.

“Really listen to it, Tempest, with your heart and mind as well as your ears. The wind is singing softly, whispering tales. There, very close to us-do you hear it? The wind has carried to us the sound of fox kits.”

She tilted her chin, straining to catch a single note of what he could hear. Fox kits. Could he really know that? As if reading her mind, Darius placed his lips against her ear. “There are three of them. They must be very young; they’re barely moving around.”

Tempest felt his lips move in her hair, as if he had accidentally, not by design, brushed against the strands. Self-preservation finally took over, and she attempted to step away from him. But her foot hovered over empty space. She had forgotten she was atop a log. Only Darius’s arms kept her from a fall.

He laughed softly, that infuriating, male, mocking amusement. “I was right. You need me. You need a keeper.”

“I wouldn’t if you weren’t driving me insane all the time,” she accused him, but she was clutching at him all the same.

“Allow me to merge my mind more fully with yours. I can teach you to listen, to hear the true sounds of the night. My world, Tempest.” He glanced down at the slender fingers curled around the thickness of his arm. She was so fragile, so delicate, a small but hugely courageous woman. She was bom for him. His heart and mind, his very soul recognized hers. Every cell in his body reached for her, needing, hungry, with an intensity that would never be assuaged.

Darius could feel her slight body trembling against the hardness of his. A fierce, protective instinct rose in him, swamping him with the sheer force of it. He wanted to carry her off to his lair, keep her safe from the everyday dangers of the world around them, keep her close and protected at all times. But he realized that, no matter how strong his feelings, she was mortal, and she had grown up in a different world, one he could never go back and change for her. It had shaped her character as surely as the ages and dangers he had faced had shaped his. He could not move her too fast. The demands of his body and soul had to take second place to her fears, groundless though they might be.

“If you merge your mind fully with mine, will you be able to read my every thought?” she asked anxiously.

He ruffled her hair, affection in the caress. “You mean as I already do?”

Her emerald eyes flashed at him. “You can’t read every thought I have,” she said decisively.

There was a short, telling silence. She tilted her head back to look at him. “Can you?” This time her voice definitely wobbled.

Darius wanted to kiss that worried look right off her face. “Of course I can.”

Her teeth tugged at her lower lip. “You couldn’t before. I don’t think you can, Darius.”

“You merge with me every time you communicate mentally with me. It may have taken me a few times to figure out your differences from others, but once I did, it allowed me to slip in and out of your mind at will.” His fingers curled lovingly around the nape of her neck. “If you like, I could share some of your memories with you. The little alley you favored behind a Chinese restaurant. You were fond of its unusual cobblestones.”

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Categories: Christine Feehan
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