was beginning to take effect, her eyelids growing too heavy to hold up. "Darius? I hate the dark. I really do." Still, she drifted with his tide, not asking herself why she felt so safe and comforted with him when she was so uneasy with the rest of the world, when he was not even human.
He stroked her hair gently, silently giving her a small mental push toward sleep. "The night is a beautiful place, Tempest. When you are feeling a little better, I will show you."
His hands were soothing, and she relaxed beneath his caressing fingers, breathing in the aromas of the candles. Darius began a soft chant. It was not in English; she had never heard the language. The words seemed to seep into her, brushing like butterfly wings in her mind, and she wasn't sure if he was whispering them out loud or not.
Darius continued the chant long after he was certain Tempest was in a deep sleep. Only then did he lean down and inhale the fresh scent of her to take into his keeping. His mouth moved over her temple, the lightest of contacts, then feathered down to her swollen eye. His tongue bathed the bruised tissue with the healing agent of his kind. Finally, after so long a wait, he could find the tempting corner of her mouth and lave the cut with his tongue. He took his time, enjoying his work, holding her mind with his, continuing the chant to keep her asleep.
His palm moved down her throat, then slid across her shoulder, taking the robe with it, leaving soft, satiny skin bared in its wake. His tongue found the edge of a nasty bruise and traced it down over the swell of her breast. Tempest moaned and moved restlessly, fighting the layers of the hypnotic trance. She was strong, her mind oddly different, hard to control when he was indulging temptation and using his energy to heal.
Darius was intrigued and puzzled by her difference from other humans. In all the centuries of his existence, he had never run across a mortal's brain pattern like hers. Because of their earlier blood exchange, it was easier to stay in the shadow of her mind, their bond stronger than before. And he was also beginning to realize the enormity of his own emotions, of the consequences of his actions and of binding her to him with the ritual words.
Tempest was no ordinary woman he was simply sexually attracted to. It went far beyond that, far beyond the boundaries he had previously accepted in relationships. His allegiance had swung completely to this one small woman, even above his own people, those he had protected, hunted for, killed for, led through centuries of turmoil and change.
Darius sighed and lapped gently at a huge, colorful bruise on Tempest's rib cage. He knew he would protect her first above all others. He traced the delicate line of her jaw. What was it about her that made him feel more loyal to her than to his own family, his own kind?
In her mind he found great courage and a tremendous capacity for compassion and understanding. He studied her body, so fragile and delicate, so perfect. With a little sigh he pulled the edges of her robe together and brought the blanket up to her chin. He sent himself seeking outside his own body and into hers, a feat he had rarely attempted on a human. It required far more concentration than with one of his own kind.
He found each bruised internal organ and slowly repaired them from the inside out. He was becoming intimate with her mind, with her body, like a lover, though he had not yet shared her body or mind in the way he wanted.
Darius . His sister's mental call to him brought him back to his own body.
What is it? he responded.
I sense your hunger. Go hunt. We will look after Rusti. Do not worry, brother. She will be safe with me.
Only you. The command came out before he could censor it, more from jealousy than from fear that anyone in their group would choose to harm Tempest. When his sister laughed softly, the hauntingly beautiful notes brushing in his mind, he cursed at himself for revealing his lack of
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