the other one to him.
Finally sated, he slowly allowed his body to reshape. The cat snarled silently, its instinct to pull what appeared to be carcasses deeper into the trees and finish consuming them, blood and meat. Darius fought the urge and padded on cushioned paws back toward the touring bus.
His group now traveled together as musicians, modern-day troubadours, going from city to city singing, as often as possible, in the small local venues Desari preferred. The constant travel also preserved their personal anonymity even as their outward fame grew. Desari had a beautiful voice, haunting and mesmerizing. Dayan was a superb songwriter, and his voice, too, captured audiences and held them spellbound. In the old days the troubadour life had allowed them to travel from place to place without close scrutiny, and no one could notice or compare their differences from others. Now, with the world growing smaller, maintaining privacy from fans was a much more difficult feat. Thus, they made every effort to act and appear "normal," including using inefficient, imperfect, automotive travel. And thus their need for a mechanic to maintain their caravan of vehicles.
Darius made his way back to the campsite and shapeshifted as he entered the motor home equipped with every luxury. Tempest was in a deep sleep, due, he was certain, to the fact that he had been greedy in the taking of her blood. He should have tried to control himself, to deprive himself of the unexpected ecstasy of it.
Just looking at her made his body ache with a relentless, urgent demand he knew was not going to go away. He and this fiery little woman, would have to learn to strike some sort of balance. Darius was unaccustomed to opposition. Everyone always did as he bade without question. He could not expect a tempestuous human woman to do the same. He tucked the blanket more closely around her and bent to brush his mouth against her forehead. His thumb skimmed the softness of her skin, and he felt a jolt throughout his body.
Darius collected himself and directed a firm command to the leopards before stalking out of the bus. He wanted Tempest safe at all times. Though the cats slept the day away, as did Darius and his family, the leopards gave the troupe semblance of security, guarding the bus while the troupe members were resting and restoring themselves deep within the ground. He directed the cats' protective instincts to include Tempest above all.
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Chapter Two
Vampire. Tempest sat up slowly, wiping at her mouth with the back of one trembling hand. She was in the Dark Troubadours' touring bus, on the sofa bed, lost in a sea of pillows, a blanket covering her. The two leopards pressed close to her were sleeping. The sunlight was trying in vain to filter through the dark curtains covering the windows. It must be late afternoon, with the sun so low. She was weak, shaking. Her mouth was dry, her lips parched. She needed liquid of some kind, any kind.
When she tried to stand, she swayed slightly before finding her balance. She remembered every horrifying detail of the night before, even though Darius had commanded her to forget all of it. She had no doubt he was capable of commanding most human beings to do his bidding, but somehow he hadn't managed to do so with her. Tempest had always been a bit different, able to communicate with animals, to read their thoughts as they could read hers. That trait must have provided her partial immunity to Darius's mental push, though he likely thought he had successfully destroyed her memories of what he was and what he was capable of doing. She put a hand to her throat, searching for a wound, realizing that she wasn't immune to his blatant sex appeal. She had never felt such chemistry in her life. Electricity had arced between them, sizzling and crackling. And it was humiliating to acknowledge that, however much she'd like to think so, he wasn't completely to blame. She hadn't been able to control herself around him either.