Carpathian 12 - Dark Melody
arms, moving up and down over her skin, warming her, offering a measure of comfort. "Go with Cullen. I'll take care of things here." There were two human males waiting in concealment in the house. "Cullen, take them to the house where we're staying. I will come as soon as I am able."
The authority in his voice said he was a man used to being obeyed. Lisa immediately slid into the car, her face very pale. Corinne balked, just as he had known she would.
She lifted her chin at him, her green eyes flashing. "I don't think so! You're getting in the car too, Dayan.
What are you thinking? My husband was murdered. Don't you think it's a bit of a coincidence that someone's in our house? You're coming with us!" Corinne caught his arm and tugged.
Dayan smiled down at her, his heart melting. "Thank you, Corinne." He framed her face with his hands, his black gaze holding her captive. "You will go with Cullen and wait for me, and you will not call the authorities." His mouth brushed the top of her head, the briefest contact; then he was smiling his reassurance as he put her gently in the car.
"Dayan, please, come with us. I have a bad feeling about this," she protested.
"It will be fine, Corinne. I am not easily killed." He leaned across the seat in the protective way he had and tightened her seat belt. "Your heart is beating too irregularly," he whispered against her ear, his mouth against her skin. "Listen to the rhythm of mine." He brought her hand to his heart.
For one moment she couldn't breathe, and then she could hear the sound of his heart. At once her heart seemed to work to follow his lead. It was impossible, but then, Corinne could move objects by simply willing them to move, so she believed in the impossible. With Dayan, everything seemed natural. She felt a jolt of electricity as his fingers brushed the silken top of her head before he closed the car door. Whips of lightning danced in her bloodstream. He did everything smoothly and efficiently, with no hurry, his confidence complete. It was impossible not to do as he said when he seemed in such complete control and utterly invincible. Corinne couldn't look away from him until the car pulled out from the curb.
The moment those black eyes were no longer on her, Corinne covered her face with her hands. "We shouldn't have left him like that. I don't know why I act so out of character around him. Cullen, we need to go back and help him. If someone is in our house, they could hurt him, or worse."
Cullen laughed softly. "Save your sympathy for anyone in the house. It won't be Dayan who goes down."
"I'm serious," Corinne said. "There could be several men with guns."
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"Believe me, it won't matter. They won't hurt him." Cullen spoke with complete conviction.
"He's a musician, a gentle, sweet poet," Corinne protested, thinking of the beauty of his words, the tenderness in his smile.
Cullen laughed softly. "He's much more than that, Corinne. Don't worry about him. He really has an uncanny knack for taking care of himself."
Dayan watched the car until the taillights disappeared around a corner. Corinne feared for his safety. He read it easily in her eyes, in her mind. Heard her protest with his acute hearing. It warmed him as nothing else had ever done. Then he turned his head very slowly to look at the house. As he turned, his entire demeanor changed. There was nothing left of the elegant male. At once he looked like what he truly was.
A dark, dangerous predator unsheathing his claws. Stalking his prey. He began to move in the darkness
– his home, his world. He had the complete advantage. He could see easily on the darkest night, he could move with the silence of the wind, he could scent his prey as keenly as the wolf, and he could command the skies and the earth itself.
Dayan glided around the house, effortlessly vaulting the six-foot fence. As he did so he shifted shape, landing silently on four paws instead of two feet. The leopard padded softly on its large, cushioned paws, the grass barely moving as it circled the back of the house. Off the back porch a light shone beneath the door of a small room. In the shadow of the porch, the huge cat wavered and shimmered, its mottled fur almost iridescent for a brief moment, then it simply dissolved as if it had never been.
A stream of vapor poured through the crack of the door, flowing as quickly and silently as a lethal dose of carbon
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