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future. The beast in him was growing, fighting for freedom. The fangs in his mouth lengthened to lethal
points. He knew he was dangerous, he had always been dangerous, but now, with Tempest close to
another male, he had passed the point of self-control. He had no other reason for existence, and he
would not give her up. Ever.
"For money then?" Now the reporter's teeth looked shiny, his eyes as hard as stone, something cunning
in his expression.
"Not a chance," she instantly denied, even though she could certainly use funds. "I don't betray people
for money or anything else."
"I've heard some strange things about the group. Will you at least confirm or deny some of the reports?"
Tempest stowed her toolbox on the floor of the little sports car. "Why bother? You people make up
whatever you want to. You write it and print it regardless of whom you might hurt."
"Just a couple of questions, okay? Is it true that they sleep during the day and stay up all night? That they
all have some strange illness that makes it impossible for them to go out in the sun?"
Tempest burst out laughing. "That is so like a reporter. You must work for one of those disgusting little
exploitation rags. Where do you idiots come up with this stuff? You must have a very vivid imagination. I
can't say it was great meeting you, Mr. Brodrick, but I've got to go now."
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"Wait a minute." Brodrick caught at the door of the car before she could close it. "If I'm wrong, say so. I
don't want to print garbage."
"So if I tell you the truth, you'll actually print it, not make up some new sensational tale just to sell your
rag?" Her green eyes flashed at him in pure challenge.
"Absolutely I will."
"Right at this moment, the band and their bodyguard are out hiking. They've been hiking up in the hills for
the last hour or so. We have to be on the road this evening to make their next gig on time, so they're
taking one last break. Then we'll eat dinner and get out of here.
Print that, Mr. Reporter. It's a little mundane, but they also put on their pants one leg at a time, just like
everybody else." Rusti had a deep sense of loyalty, and Darius and his family had supported her solidly.
If an exploitative journalist like this one suspected anything out of the ordinary with them, she was not
above telling a few lies to shield them, even with her own reservations about the group.
"You saw them an hour ago?" Brodrick demanded.
Rusti glanced pointedly at her watch. "Nearly two hours ago. I expect them back any time now. And
they'll expect the vehicles to be running smoothly so we can get out of here. I doubt if any of them will be
sunburned-they use sunscreen like everyone else I know- but if they are, I'll call you. How's that?" She
slammed the door with unnecessary force. "In case you're interested, Desari is prone to mosquito bites.
She uses bug repellent along with sunscreen. Would you like to know the brand?"
Good girl,Darius approved, his pride in her growing.
"Come on," Brodrick protested, "give me a break. I'm just doing my job. You know she's news. My
God, she has a voice like an angel's. Every major recording company is begging for a deal, and she's still
playing little clubs. She could make millions."
Rusti laughed again. "And what makes you so certain she hasn't? Is it so terrible for her to do what she
loves? She's an entertainer. She likes the intimacy of small crowds. It isn't the same in a huge stadium; she
can't make the same connection with the audience. And there wouldn't be any such connection in a
recording studio." She was picking the information straight from Darius's mind. She looked up at
Brodrick. "I feel sorry for you. You must hate your job, prying into people's lives with no real
understanding of who they are. Money isn't everything, you know."
Brodrick clamped his hand on the door. "Take me back with you to their camp. Introduce me. If I could
get an exclusive interview, it would do a lot toward making my boss happy with me."
"Not a chance," she said. "I don't know you, and you ask pretty stupid questions. Any reporter worth
his salt would come up with something better than whether or not Desari sleeps during the day. If you
gave a performance that ended at two o'clock in the morning, then met with people, including reporters,
for another couple of hours, you'd probably want to sleep, too. So what kind of dumb question was
that?" Rusti injected as much contempt into her tone as she could muster. "I'll tell you what. When you
figure out something worthwhile to ask her, I'll see what I can do for you. But I refuse to put my own job
on the line for an idiot."
She then slowly maneuvered the little car away from the reporter's side. In the rearview mirror, she kept
an eye on him as she drove off.He might follow me, Darius. Should I lead him away from the camp?
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You will come straight home, Tempest. And next time do not leave without protection.
She sent him an image of wringing his neck. Ihave lived alone all my life, you overbearing, king-sized
pain inthe butt. Idon't need anyone's protection, and I'm sure not asking permission to go
anywhere I choose. You have enough people to boss around already, so give it a rest.
I can see I need to turn my complete attention to getting you in hand, honey. Fortunately, I am up
to the task.style='font-size:11.0pt;font-family:Arial; color:black'>He sounded far more complacent and
sure of himself than she liked.
The way his voice poured over her skin like warm honey and filled her body like molten lava, pooling
wickedly low within her, was stranger than anything she had ever encountered. Her own body was
betraying her. Weren't some things in life best left alone, vampires among them?
Tempest. You closed your mind to mine. What is it? Do you think me so formidable that I should
not hear yourthoughtswhen you are angry with me? It does not 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
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