trees, with the night upon them, the wind calling to him, wild and free, and Tempest tucked beneath his shoulder, he felt both happiness and a sense of belonging.
Rusti glanced up at Darius, a little overwhelmed that she was acting as if all was normal when she should have been running screaming into the sunset. His face was a sensual work of art, carved with harsh yet beautiful lines If she had to describe him to someone else, she wasn't certain what she would say. He was power personified. Danger personified. And he was so incredibly sexy. Mesmerizingly so.
She closed her eyes. Well, that settled it, then. She couldn't look at him. She went up in flames every time she did. "Why couldn't you be a nice, ordinary man?"
"What is ordinary?" he asked, amused.
"You didn't have to have those eyes," she accused, flashing a glare at him. "Your eyes should be outlawed."
Warmth flowed into his heart, a curious, melting sensation. "So you like my eyes."
Her long lashes instantly veiled her expression. "I didn't say that. You're conceited, Darius - that's one of your biggest problems. You're arrogant and conceited. Why would I like your eyes?"
He laughed softly. "You like my eyes."
She refused to give him the satisfaction of agreeing. The campsite was just ahead through the trees, and she could hear the laughter of the others. Desari's musical voice was distinctive. It was soft and dreamy, even more mesmerizing than the others'. Tempest had noticed immediately the same hypnotic quality in Darius's voice.
"Everyone should stop following your orders, Darius," she scolded, her green eyes peeping up at him through long lashes. "It's the only possible way to save you. No one ever questions you."
"Perhaps because they trust me to know what is right," he said softly, gently.
She watched him inhale, dragging the night scents into his lungs, and knew instinctively that he was scanning the area, testing the campsite, ensuring to his satisfaction that it was safe. As they emerged through the thick stand of trees into the open, where the others waited, she felt the impact of several pairs of eyes on her. She stopped, her teeth sinking into her lower lip her heart somersaulting alarmingly. She hated being the center of attention.
Darius stepped in front of her, easily blocking her small body from sight. He bent close to her. "Go shower The others need to hunt this night before we leave. The cats can feed, then we will split up and meet at the next campsite. You will ride with me."
She wanted to argue with that, but more, she wanted to be away from the others, away from their inquisitive stares. Wordlessly, she turned around and hurried to the motor home. It felt like a sanctuary, as if it was already her home.
She took her time in the shower, enjoying the hot water cascading over her skin. It was difficult to close her mind to thoughts of Darius, but it was the only safe thing to do. She knew she wouldn't be able to stay long with him always around, but if she could hang in long enough to get across the country, maybe things would work out. And it was, after all, Desari who had hired her, putting her on a generous salary. Desari would give her the money the minute she asked for it; she could tell that Darius's sister was like that.
When she had gathered enough courage to quit hiding in the bus and face the group, the campsite appeared empty. A slight noise revised her first impression. Warily she made her way to the small red car. The man peering into the open hood was the one who had been driving the night before.
At the time she had barely glanced at him. Now studying him, she realized he was, typical of the other band members, incredibly handsome. He had long dark hair, a mischievous look around his dark eyes, and his mouth had a sultry, moody kind of sexiness. She could easily see that this Troubador must be a hit with females of every age on the tour.
He looked up and grinned at her. "So, we meet at last, Tempest Trine. I am Barack. I was beginning to feel left out. Darius, Desari, Julian, and Syndil all speak highly of you. I figured they must have told you I was the group's bad boy and that you were avoiding me as a result."
Tempest found herself smiling. How could she not? Her natural wariness dictated