Carpathian 06 - Dark Fire
She wished she'd brought the cats with her.
It's too late to show good sense now, Tempest.You shouldhave stayed where you were, out of harm's way, as you were supposed to do. There is a man with a pair of binoculars watching from the small wooded area to your left. I can make out the bumper of his car. Tempest felt her heart thud in alarm. There is no reason to fear him. I am with you now. It would be impossible for him to hurt you.
But what if he approaches me? I know you are far away. I feel it.
Darius sent her a wave of reassurance, pouring warmth and strength into her. He would never allow another male to treat her as Harry the attacker had. Never again. He meant it. A vow to himself. A vow to her. Rusti swore she could feel him wrap a protective arm around her. She didn't stop to think that it might not be good idea to lean so heavily on his strength when she was bound to resent his dominating ways. She allowed herself to breathe again, allowed her heart to slow back to normal.
Keep working, honey. He is about to make his approach. Justact normal. I will know if you need my intervention.
She took a deep breath, let the air out slowly, and bent once more to fine-tune her adjustment. She forced herself not to look up until she heard the man's car. The Mustang was pale blue and the engine super hot. She could tell by listening to it.
Closing the hood, she greeted the visitor. "Wow. That thing can go, can't it?"
The man unfolding himself from the Mustang's driver's seat grinned at her, showing lots of teeth. A camera hung around his neck. He was dressed in a rumpled suit, and his tie was loose. "She's the fastest thing I've had in years. I'm Matt Brodrick." He held out his hand.
For some reason Rusti was reluctant to touch him. She could feel the dread taking hold, swamping her.
She made herself smile and wiped her palm on her jeans. "Sorry, I'm a bit greasy," she explained.
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"That looks like one of the cars belonging to the Dark Troubadours. Are you a member of the band?"
There was real curiosity in his voice and a hint of some emotion she couldn't name. Rusti tilted her chin, her green eyes clearly suspicious. "What's your interest?"
"I'm a fan. Desari has a voice straight from heaven," the man answered, showing even more teeth. When she continued to regard him in silence, he heaved a sigh. "I'm a reporter."
She made a face. "Then you know I'm not a member of the band." She held up her toolbox. "I'm their mechanic."
He glanced around them. "Where's their camp? I've been up and down all these roads but haven't spotted it. I know they're somewhere nearby."
"And you think I'll just offer you that information out of the kindness of my heart?" She laughed.
Even in deep earth, miles away, Darius felt his body clench and harden at the sound of her laughter. She was like a carefree child, living each separate moment as it came, heeding nothing before, nothing in the future. The beast in him was growing, fighting for freedom. The fangs in his mouth lengthened to lethal points. He knew he was dangerous, he had always been dangerous, but now, with Tempest close to another male, he had passed the point of self-control. He had no other reason for existence, and he would not give her up. Ever.
"For money then?" Now the reporter's teeth looked shiny, his eyes as hard as stone, something cunning in his expression.
"Not a chance," she instantly denied, even though she could certainly use funds. "I don't betray people for money or anything else."
"I've heard some strange things about the group. Will you at least confirm or deny some of the reports?"
Tempest stowed her toolbox on the floor of the little sports car. "Why bother? You people make up whatever you want to. You write it and print it regardless of whom you might hurt."
"Just a couple of questions, okay? Is it true that they sleep during the day and stay up all night? That they all have some strange illness that makes it impossible for them to go out in the sun?"
Tempest burst out laughing. "That is so like a reporter. You must work for one of those disgusting little exploitation rags. Where do you idiots come up with this stuff? You must have a very vivid imagination. I can't say it was great meeting you, Mr. Brodrick, but I've got to go now."
"Wait a minute." Brodrick caught at the door of the car before she could close it. "If I'm wrong, say so. I don't want to print
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