Dark Storm (Dark #23)(59)
Author: Christine Feehan

"Oh, my God. Dax! Dax, do something! He’s alive. He’s still alive!"

With a wave of his hand, Dax sent all the insects fleeing their feast. He stepped up to the dais and placed a hand just over the boy’s collarbone. Bloody eyelids fluttered. Haunted eyes rolled up to focus on Dax. How Marty was alive, let alone still conscious, Riley had no idea. Her heart was breaking as she looked at him, and tears streamed down her face.

Dax held the contact for several minutes, clearly searching Marty’s mind for information he could use. When he was done, he turned his head just slightly toward her, not making eye contact. "Riley, look away." It was the closest Dax had ever come to a plea, and she almost did as he asked. Instead, she squeezed the hand she still held. She knew what he was going to do, and she wouldn’t let him do it alone.

In that instant all pain was gone, memories of horror were gone from his mind, so Marty only remembered happy moments in his life. Dax waved his hand, and Marty gave one last sigh before succumbing to his horrible wounds. Riley didn’t need to be told that there was nothing they could do. The boy was too far gone. Her tears continued to fall as Dax walked them away from behind the dais.

Clouds formed unnaturally fast, dark and mean. Lightning raced from one side of the sky to the other. The electricity was palpable in the air, but it was Dax being so closed off that truly unnerved her. For the first time she felt him mentally slipping away, and she let him go. She understood the need to distance oneself when faced with such horrors.

"Marty was here to study ruins with his professor and Todd, his friend," Dax said, staring at the gathering storm. "He had a love for history and especially the study of how myths and gods were created. Mitro spent a lot of time in this part of his brain. I believe the vampire may be considering making his own cult, using the volcano and the dragons and local legend." His voice was neutral, but even without the connection she thought she detected shame.

"This is not your fault, Dax."

He went on as if he didn’t hear her. "Mitro used Marty to learn about the modern world, or at least as much of it as he could. He took his time while he made the village people sacrifice each other in his name. Pedro was one of the first to die."

"Dax …"

Dax cut her off. "Yes, Riley, this is my fault. Every child, every man, every woman … their deaths are my fault." Dax raised his hand and lightning sprang to his fingertips, gathering into another ball of light and fire.

"Do we know where he is?"

"Before coming here Marty and Todd spent time in a city, filled with people. Mitro spent time reviewing those memories. I think the city appealed to his latest aspirations."

Dax threw the ball of flame straight down at their feet. Waves of lightning and fire in every color spread in an instant, burning everything but them. Dax took her arm and guided her back toward their camp. The fire retreated from their every step. "I believe he wants to go to a place where there are young people that will worship him as he believes he deserves."

When the village was out of sight, Riley looked up at Dax. Otherworldly and beautiful, his expression looked carved from stone.

Riley had had enough of his stoicism. She could feel how much he was suffering. She reached up, grabbed the back of his hair and kissed him hard. At first, he held firm and then their world turned to a fire as hot and wild as the one they’d just left as he let her take him to someplace far, far different.

Chapter 12

Riley knew she wasn’t alone the moment she woke. She was surrounded by Dax’s scent. Warm. Masculine. Wild. Dangerous-which was strange because she instantly felt safe.

"Open your eyes."

Her body responded to that soft, hypnotic voice, melting, turning liquid. She lifted her lashes and looked into his face. Desire, raw and electric, sizzled through her body until heat pooled low. He looked sinfully beautiful, the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. There was nobility in that carefully carved face. Each feature was distinct and etched with an artistic hand. His short, spiked hair, obsidian black, nearly sparkled, giving her palms a tingly feeling and forcing her to curl her fingers tightly into fists to prevent her from running them through that thick pelt. God, he was gorgeous.

Her breath caught in her throat. He was lying beside her on his side, his body curved protectively around hers, on one elbow, his head propped up by his hand, his eyes drifting possessively over her. The look in his eyes stole her sanity. There was desire, stark and raw that set her blood surging hotly, bringing every single nerve ending in her body alive.

Riley was reluctant to sit up, savoring the feel of his hard muscles, the impressive length and thickness of his heavy erection lying tight against her bottom and the heat from his body warming her. He smiled at her, a flash of white teeth, his strange eyes claiming her. The multifaceted eyes glowed at her with small orange-red flames illuminating the colors of diamonds. His free hand was in her hair, as if he couldn’t resist the feel of it. His long fingers massaged her scalp, sending the most delicious sensation through her.

She blinked up at him. "Hello."

He inclined his head. "Good evening. I brought you something."

His hand reluctantly slipped from her hair, and she actually followed the descent of that warm touch with her head, wanting to rub against him more. Was there shyness in his voice? Not quite, but certainly a hesitant charm she found intriguing. She turned over and as he sat up, so did she, stifling a yawn. He traced the pad of his finger down her cheek to her lower lip.

"You have this very tempting lip that makes me want to lean over and just bite," he said very softly.

She found herself blushing. She wasn’t a woman who blushed, but then men didn’t say blatantly sexual things to her as a rule. Her mother always told her she was intimidating, unapproachable and too striking. The combination, according to Annabel, was lethal when meeting men. Only the bravest would dare to get shot down. Of course mothers had to say things like that-maybe they even believed it. Riley had never bought into her mother’s explanations.

His finger caressed her lip, soft brushstrokes threatening to steal her sanity. She had an incredible, and completely out of character urge, to draw that finger into her mouth. He was temptation personified-the serpent in the garden-and she was falling faster than Eve ever thought of eating that apple.

She made a sound, she knew she managed something, but his eyes, with those small red-orange flames flickering with such heat, surrounded by the longest lashes she’d ever seen, were so distracting and intense.

"Do you want your gift?" he asked softly.