Carpathian 06 - Dark Fire

change what is.
    Nothing is, Darius . How can you talk to me this way, anyway? She decided the best defense was an offense. Let him try to answer that one. Is it because you can talk to animals the way I do? She believed in giving everyone a gracious out.
    So you are admitting to that now. We might actually be getting somewhere.
    She glanced in the rearview mirror again. She was flying down the narrow, twisting road, skidding through turns and taking one or two off-the-beaten-path trails. She didn't see any distant dust to indicate the reporter was following her, but she had a feeling he was trying to do just that, and she refused to lead him back to the camp.
    Darius knew that to be completely safe he still needed one hour before he could rise. Locked in the ground as he was, he feared for Tempest's safety unless she did as he ordered and returned to the area within the perimeter he had set. He considered forcing his will on her. It was tempting, since she was being so ridiculously stubborn, but he would monitor her for now and hope she complied. Only if it became necessary would he compel her to do his bidding.
    He liked her mind. He liked her independence, her sense of freedom, her spirit. She would learn she couldn't get away with defying him, but for now he wanted to handle her as delicately as possible.
    Darius? Her voice was soft, hesitant, brushing his mind like the touch of fingers on his skin. Flames swept through his body, setting him on fire. He had to have her soon. Time was running out on his control. He needed her desperately.
    I am with you, baby. Do not sound so forlorn.
    That's not how I sounded, she replied, but he caught the echo of her thoughts. Did I?
    Come home, honey. Everything will work out. You do not have to sinltehandedly defend Desari from this reporter.
    He is not just a reporter.
    Darius was silent. How had she known that? He knew it. Several attempts had been made on Desari's life recently. He had read Brodrick's aura, found him to be deceitful, covering his lethal intentions with what he supposed to be charm. Tempest had been unable to read all that, but she had sensed a hidden agenda and done her best to divert the alleged reporter. She had done a good job, too. She'd sounded sincere and open, then contemptuous enough to lend authenticity to everything she said.
    You don't have to believe me, Darius. Tempest sounded hurt.
    Of course I believe you, honey. Now get back here where I do not have to worry about you. It was clearly an order.

    Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    Rusti sighed heavily. He wasn't getting it. She didn't want anyone worrying about her. As she approached within a mile of the campsite, she felt a curious shifting around her; the air seemed heavy and oppressive. At once she realized she had encountered a barrier of some sort. It created a sense of dread in her, as if she needed to turn around. Why was she feeling it now? Was Darius amplifying the perimeters he insisted she observe?
    She tossed her mane of red hair, green eyes blazing defiance. He was not going to rule her as he did all the others. They treated him like some kind of Greek god. She groaned aloud. Why had she come up with that particular analogy? Just because he looked like one, acted like one? There went her hormones, running amok again.
    Deliberately she began to think of things like taking the little red car for a spin down the highway, far from bossy men. She could hear Darius laughing softly, not in the least worried she would actually steal the car and defy him. Don't bet on it, she snapped as she parked directly behind the motor home and got out.
    The four-wheel-drive truck was next on her to-do list. It was more important to get it than the dirt bikes into top shape. She lifted the hood and, as always when she worked, focused only on what she was doing, blocking out everything and everyone else.
    Darius rose at the precise moment it was safe to do so, bursting from the earth with so much power that soil spewed upward like a geyser. The sky was a soft gray, not yet completely dark, but the canopy of trees cast deep shadows and aided in protecting his eyes. He inhaled, scenting the air around him, taking in each detail, every story the wind had to tell him.
    The ever-present hunger gnawed at him, but this time his body, hard and heavy, was making unfamiliar, relentless demands, filled with a terrible need as insatiable as his hunger. He forcibly