Dark Fire by Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 6

“I can’t breathe down here,” Tempest said desperately, wiping at the tears spilling onto her lashes and running down her face. “Darius, let me go. Please let me go.”

He lifted her struggling body as if she were no more than a child and buried his face in her neck for a moment, savoring her scent, the feel of her skin. “There is no need to fear this place, honey. It is a place of healing.” His voice dropped an octave, taking on a compelling, hypnotic rhythm. “You will sleep in my arms, sleep until I call your name and awaken you.”

Darius lifted his head so that his black eyes could stare directly into her green ones, so that he could trap her gaze in his black ice. Mesmerizing. Relentless. She could not pull her gaze away no matter how strong her will. He felt her resistance and admired her for it, but he was unyielding. This he could not give her. He would have to face her on the next rising, but this day she would be safe.

* * *

Chapter Ten

“This is all we have.” The photograph was tossed on the table. It was of a slender young redhead standing in a stream with her arms outstretched. She was laughing, her face turned up toward the sun, while hundreds of butterflies fluttered around her.

“Matthew Brodrick is dead. The police say there’s no question but that it was a suicide. But I say differently. Matt was one of us. He knew what he was up against. He wouldn’t have taken pictures of just anybody.” Brady Grand drummed his fingers alongside the photograph, then tapped it twice. “This woman knows something. This stream is the same stream where Matt’s body was found.”

“Come on, Brady,” Cullen Tucker protested. “Look at that picture. It’s full sun. Broad daylight. No way is that woman a vampire.”

Grand’s cold eyes traveled around the circle of men.

“I didn’t say she was, only that she knew something. For all I know, she was helping Matt. Find her, and we can get at the truth.”

“The’truth’ is, we haven’t gotten anywhere,” Cullen snarled. “You say this band is a group of vampires. The only ‘proof you’ve offered so far is some obscure quotation based on the Persian word Dara, referring to the troupe’s Singer, Desari.”

A low murmur of approval went around the room. Then the others shifted nervously. No one wanted to cross Brady Grand outright; he was just too mean. But they had lost six men in the first attempt against the band, excellent marksmen, and now they’d lost Matt Brodrick.

Brady looked around at the others. “Is that what you think? That I’m wrong about these creatures? What of the fact that we sent six military-trained assassins to kill supposedly defenseless civilians, and all our soldiers ended up dead, the creatures still alive and well? Tell me how that happened, Cullen. You tell me how some simple security guard single-handedly destroyed all six of our men and their remains. They had a foolproof escape plan but disappeared. They sprayed the stage with bullets, yet the band members were relatively unhurt. Explain that, Cullen, because I don’t see how it’s possible.”

“The band got lucky. Maybe their bodyguard is better than you think, paramilitary himself. What do you know about the big guy? Not too much gets by him. Is it possible the team went in with poor information? That maybe it was you who screwed up?”

Brady’s fist clenched tightly until his knuckles turned white. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I know for certain that the singer is a vampire. I know it, Cullen. The team knew, too, or they never would have gone in to make the hit. We wanted to bleed her as much as possible, weaken her, and take her alive. Our people have wanted a live specimen to study for years. But if the only thing we can get is a dead one, than so be it.”

“All we’ve accomplished so far is to make the world think we’re a bunch of crazy fanatics,” Cullen objected. “I say we target someone else, someone not so damned popular. The cops love Desari. The merchants in every city she goes to love her. The audiences love her. If we kill her, they’ll hunt us down like dogs.”