Syndil stared at Tempest for a long moment. Then her breath escaped in a long, slow hiss. She sat down and leaned forward to try to read Tempest's expression. "It happened to you. Not this time, but sometime in your past. You know what it is like. The fear. The revulsion." Her eyes sparkled like black ice, like crushed jewels. "I scrubbed myself for three and half hours, and months later I still do not feel clean." She ran her hands up and down her arms, anguish reflected in her enormous eyes.

Tempest glanced toward the kitchen to assure herself that Darius could not hear them. "You should get counseling. There are places, Syndil, people who can help you put your life back together again."

"Is that what you did?"

Tempest swallowed hard, feeling the familiar nausea that arose every time that particular door started to crack open. She shook her head, pressing a hand to her stomach.

"I wasn't in a position to seek help. I was simply trying to survive." Once more she glanced toward the kitchen, then lowered her voice still further. "I never really knew either of my parents. My earliest memories are of a dirty room where I ate off the floor and watched grownups put needles in their arms, legs - every vein they could find. I didn't know which of the adults was my mother or father. Occasionally the authorities would scoop me up and dump me in foster homes, but mainly I lived on the streets. I learned to fight off drug dealers and pimps and every other man that happened by. It was a way of life, all I knew for several years."

"That is when it happened to you?" Syndil asked, her eyes so filled with pain that Tempest wanted to gather her into her arms. At the same time she wanted to run, to never have to relive that particular time in her life again. She couldn't bear it, not on the heels of Harry's attack.

"No, it might have been easier if it had been some sleazy drunk or junkie or even one of the pimps, but it was someone I trusted," Tempest confessed in a low voice, the words forced out of her by some bond between her and Syndil, a bond forged by a terrible trauma they both shared.

"It was someone I loved and trusted, too," Syndil admitted softly. "As a result, I do not know how to trust anyone now. I feel as if he killed that part of me. I cannot perform in the band. I loved playing; the music has always been inside me, and now I cannot hear it. I feel dead without it. I cannot stand to be alone with any of the males I grew up with, men I have always loved as my family. I know they worry for me, but I cannot change what has happened."

Tempest twisted a length of red-gold hair around her finger. "You have to live, Syndil, not simply exist. You can't let him rob you of your life, your passions."

"But he did. That is exactly what he did. I loved him like a brother. I would have done anything for him. Yet he was so brutal, and his eyes were so vicious as he hurt me, as if he hated me." Syndil turned away. "It changed all of us. The men now look at one another with suspicion and distrust. If such a transformation could happen to Savon, perhaps it could happen to one of them, too. Darius has suffered terribly, because, as our leader, he feels responsible. I have tried to tell him he is not, but he has always cared for and protected us. I know that if I could get over this, it would ease his suffering, but I cannot." She looked at her hands. "The others do not treat me as they once did. Barack especially does not seem to trust me. They watch me all the time now, as if it were my fault."

"Likely they are watching you protectively, not suspiciously. But you are not responsible for what anyone else is feeling, Syndil. You can overcome this, just as the others will in their own time and in their own way. You won't forget it - it might haunt your life and even your relationships - but you can be happy again," Tempest assured her.

"I have never spoken of this to anyone, not even Desari. I am sorry. I came here to help you, but I speak only of myself. I want to scream and weep and crawl into a hole. You are very easy to talk to."

Tempest shook her head. "You have to find a way to go on."

"Please tell me what happened to you, how you were able to cope."

In the kitchen, Darius stirred, reluctant for Tempest to endure any more trauma. But he wanted to know, he had to know, and he realized it was important for both women to be able to discuss the traumatic events they had suffered.

"I met a great lady who was working at one of the homeless shelters I landed in. I was seventeen at the time. She let me live at her house. I used to steal cars and soup up the engines just for the fun of it. Ellen made me realize I could put my mechanical skills to better use and make a good living while I was at it. She helped me get my high school equivalency diploma, and after that she got a me good job at a garage with a friend of hers. It was great for a while."

"But something happened," Syndil guessed.

Tempest shrugged pragmatically. "Ellen died, and I had nowhere to stay again. As soon as I was without protection, my boss showed his true colors. He caught me off guard. I trusted him; he was Ellen's friend. I really didn't expect it of him." She closed her eyes against the vivid memories crowding in, the way he had slammed her into a wall, knocking the breath out of her, leaving her dazed and completely vulnerable to his attack.

"Did he hurt you?"

"He wasn't gentle, if that's what you mean, and I had never... been with anyone. I decided it wasn't something I ever wanted to try again." She shrugged, trying not to wince when her ribs protested. "Unlike you, I've never had a family. I'm used to being on my own and working things out for myself. I've always had to learn everything the hard way. It's different for you. You had a life, a family. You know what love is."

"I cannot imagine myself with a man ever again," Syndil said sadly.

"You have to try, Syndil. You can't just withdraw from the world, from your family. Some of it has to be up to you. Ellen always told me to play the cards I'm dealt, not wish for another hand. You can't change what happened to you, but you can see to it that your life isn't destroyed by it."

Listening from the kitchen, Darius vowed to himself that the group would play in the city where that garage owner lived sometime soon, and he would pay him a visit. Still, this was the first time he had heard Syndil talk to anyone about what had happened to her, and he felt a sense of great relief. If she could talk to Tempest, perhaps they both would benefit from the experience.

He could feel weariness beating at his little redhead. Her body was sore, and shock was exhausting her. He knew she had jogged much of the distance she had managed to put between them, and she'd had no money for food or lodgings. He didn't want to interrupt the women, but Tempest was visibly sliding down into the sofa cushions when he glanced at them from the doorway.

Syndil realized it at once. "I will talk to you when you are more rested, Rusti. Thank you for sharing your experiences with me, a virtual stranger. I think you managed to help me more than I did you." She waved at Darius as she exited the trailer.

Darius glided toward Tempest in his silent, intimidating way. "You are going to bed now, honey. I will not listen to any arguments."

Tempest was already lying down. "Does anyone else besides me ever get the urge to throw things at you?" She sounded drowsy, not combative.

Darius hunkered down beside her so he was at eye level with her. "I do not think so. If they do, they do not have the audacity to tell me."

"Well, I think throwing something at you is the only way to go," Tempest told him. Her eyes were already closing, and her voice was weary and sad despite her heavy words.

Darius stroked the wealth of red-gold hair away from her face, his fingers soothing her scalp. "Do you? Maybe tomorrow might be a better time to try it."

"I have a very good aim," she warned him. "It would be easier on you if you just quit giving me orders."

"That would ruin my reputation," he objected.

A smile curved the corners of her mouth, emphasizing the thin red cut at the side of her lip.

Darius resisted the impulse to lean down and find that small cut with his tongue. "Go to sleep, baby. I am going to do my best to take away some of your soreness. Before you fall asleep on me, I made you an herbal concoction that will help you rest better."

"Why do I feel as if you're taking over my life?"

"Do not worry, Tempest. I am very good at managing lives."

She could hear the laughter in his voice, and an answering smile found its way to her mouth. "Go away, Darius. I'm too tired to argue with you." She settled deeper into the pillows.

"You are not supposed to argue with me." He focused on the glass on the counter in the kitchen. It floated from there to his palm easily. "Sit up, honey. You have to drink this whether you want to or not." He slipped his arm behind her back and lifted her so that he could press the glass to her lips.

"What does it taste like?" she asked, suspicious.

"Drink it, baby," he instructed. She sighed softly. "What's in it?"

"Drink, Tempest, and stop giving me your sass," he ordered, practically tipping the contents down her throat.

She coughed and sputtered but managed to get most of the herbal mixture down. "I hope there were no drugs in that."

"No, it is all natural. It will make you sleep easier. Close your eyes again." He placed her back among the pillows.

"Darius?"She said his name softly, drowsily, and it seeped into his soul and tightened his body to an urgent ache.

He reached above her head to the shelf of candles his family made, searching forests and marshes for the ingredients that would produce the aromas they needed. "What, honey?"

"Thank you for coming after me. I don't know if I could have gone through it again." She was so tired, the words slipped out, revealing far more than she would have willingly disclosed.

"You are very welcome, Tempest," he acknowledged seriously. Darius gathered a few candles, and turned off all lights, plunging the motor home into darkness.

A small cry of alarm escaped Rusti's throat. "Turn on the lights. I don't want them off."

"I am lighting candles for you, and you are not alone, honey. No one can hurt you here. Just relax, and let that drink take effect. You will fall asleep, and I will do what I can to ensure that you wake up without so much pain. If you like, I can bring the cats in to keep you company."

"No. I'm always alone. It's safer that way," she murmured, too far gone to watch her words. "I take care of myself and answer to no one."

"That is what you used to do before you met me," he corrected gently.

"I don't know you."

"You know me. With the lights on or off, you know me." He bent once more to brush his mouth lightly in her hair. Her heart nearly stopped, then began to pound. "Tempest, leave off all this unnecessary fear. I would never harm you. You can trust me. You feel it in your heart, in your soul. Lights do not stop bad things from happening. You know that, too." But he lit the candles anyway so that the soft glow would reassure her and the aromas would soothe her.

The herbal drink he had given her was beginning to take effect, her eyelids growing too heavy to hold up. "Darius? I hate the dark. I really do." Still, she drifted with his tide, not asking herself why she felt so safe and comforted with him when she was so uneasy with the rest of the world, when he was not even human.

He stroked her hair gently, silently giving her a small mental push toward sleep. "The night is a beautiful place, Tempest. When you are feeling a little better, I will show you."

His hands were soothing, and she relaxed beneath his caressing fingers, breathing in the aromas of the candles. Darius began a soft chant. It was not in English; she had never heard the language. The words seemed to seep into her, brushing like butterfly wings in her mind, and she wasn't sure if he was whispering them out loud or not.

Darius continued the chant long after he was certain Tempest was in a deep sleep. Only then did he lean down and inhale the fresh scent of her to take into his keeping. His mouth moved over her temple, the lightest of contacts, then feathered down to her swollen eye. His tongue bathed the bruised tissue with the healing agent of his kind. Finally, after so long a wait, he could find the tempting corner of her mouth and lave the cut with his tongue. He took his time, enjoying his work, holding her mind with his, continuing the chant to keep her asleep.

His palm moved down her throat, then slid across her shoulder, taking the robe with it, leaving soft, satiny skin bared in its wake. His tongue found the edge of a nasty bruise and traced it down over the swell of her breast. Tempest moaned and moved restlessly, fighting the layers of the hypnotic trance. She was strong, her mind oddly different, hard to control when he was indulging temptation and using his energy to heal.

Darius was intrigued and puzzled by her difference from other humans. In all the centuries of his existence, he had never run across a mortal's brain pattern like hers. Because of their earlier blood exchange, it was easier to stay in the shadow of her mind, their bond stronger than before. And he was also beginning to realize the enormity of his own emotions, of the consequences of his actions and of binding her to him with the ritual words.

Tempest was no ordinary woman he was simply sexually attracted to. It went far beyond that, far beyond the boundaries he had previously accepted in relationships. His allegiance had swung completely to this one small woman, even above his own people, those he had protected, hunted for, killed for, led through centuries of turmoil and change.

Darius sighed and lapped gently at a huge, colorful bruise on Tempest's rib cage. He knew he would protect her first above all others. He traced the delicate line of her jaw. What was it about her that made him feel more loyal to her than to his own family, his own kind?

In her mind he found great courage and a tremendous capacity for compassion and understanding. He studied her body, so fragile and delicate, so perfect. With a little sigh he pulled the edges of her robe together and brought the blanket up to her chin. He sent himself seeking outside his own body and into hers, a feat he had rarely attempted on a human. It required far more concentration than with one of his own kind.

He found each bruised internal organ and slowly repaired them from the inside out. He was becoming intimate with her mind, with her body, like a lover, though he had not yet shared her body or mind in the way he wanted.

Darius.

His sister's mental call to him brought him back to his own body.

What is it?

he responded.

I sense your hunger. Go hunt. We will look after Rusti. Do not worry, brother. She will be safe with me. Only you.

The command came out before he could censor it, more from jealousy than from fear that anyone in their group would choose to harm Tempest. When his sister laughed softly, the hauntingly beautiful notes brushing in his mind, he cursed at himself for revealing his lack of control.

Shut up, Desari.

He said it without rancor, his voice a blend of mesmerizing sorcery and affection.

How the mighty have fallen. I notice that man of yours keeps you ona tight leash, he retaliated.

You need to feed, Darius. Even the cats can feel your hunger. I will, all by myself, watch over Rusti.

Darius sighed softly. Desari was right. He couldn't afford to start the cats fussing; they could wake the dead if they got upset enough. He rose reluctantly. He didn't want to leave Tempest, for he sensed the nightmares lurking not far from her, but he padded to the door, where Desari waited on the other side.

He stepped outside and inhaled the night, allowing the wind to carry him information about creatures hidden in their dens, about human prey in the vicinity. Sasha and Forest pressed close to him, rubbed up against him. He felt their sharp concern. Darius automatically reassured them he would hunt, would feed. He stretched, loosened his muscles, and began to run, shape-shifting as he did so. The two cats flanked him, eager to hunt. The band would move on soon in order to make their next scheduled performance, but while in a town, the leopards had to eat meat provided for them by their Carpathian companions. Despite the ample prey all around them, the cats were forbidden to hunt except in the wilds, which was partly why the troupe tried to camp often in remote forests, parks, and preserves, allowing the leopards to utilize their natural skills, keeping them happy.

Darius's frame contorted, stretched, a muzzle lengthening and rounding as he bent, sinewy bands of muscles sliding to cover his body. Like stiletto blades, claws extended, then retracted until he needed them. His spine lengthened and became extremely flexible, shoulder blades widening themselves, giving him greater lateral balance. Padded paws allowed him to run silently. Black fur rippled, itching for a moment as it spread to cover the rapidly converting framework of muscle.

The leopards were always quick, agile, cunning, and extremely dangerous. Often the hunter of a leopard became the prey. Of all the cat species, they were the most intelligent. Their brain development, Darius knew, was often compared to that of porpoises, and he had firsthand knowledge, centuries of it, of their ability to reason. But as always, when they went on a hunt together, Darius directed them.

Sasha and Forest preferred to hunt from tree limbs, leaping onto unsuspecting prey from above. As a young child Darius had learned patience from their species. Now he, too, could wait and watch, remain completely motionless and silent or creep without detection through forest or jungle, stalking, belly to ground, inch by inch, with incredible muscle control. When he pounced, he did so with incredible swiftness, like those from whom he had learned the art. Early on, however, it had become apparent to him that, predatory as male Carpathians were, he could not afford to stay long in the body of a leopard, an untamed and instinctive killer, without destroying, rather than simply feeding from, his "prey."

Leopards used their long, sharp canines to grab, hold, puncture and tear. Their razor-sharp claws could slice through flesh like a knife. Though clever and bold, incredibly intelligent, they had quick mood swings that made them highly unpredictable. Still, their minds were always working, always meeting a challenge. Male Carpathians were far too close to the species to feed in precisely the same manner, to subdue the predatory beast raging within themselves while in the body of a leopard. It required the man, with his code of honor, his knowledge of right and wrong, rather than the law of the jungle, to feed without killing.

Darius had great respect for leopards, knowing they were every bit as dangerous as he was, and he never lost sight of the wild traits in himself or in the cats. They were both silent, unseen predators, and when they went bad, just as his own species could, they became the devil incarnate.

Right now, with the night enfolding him, with the scent of fresh game abundant, he felt the joy of the hunt, for many years the only pleasure he had known.

Leopards were normally solitary hunters, but centuries ago Darius had learned to summon various cats together so that he might study the skills he needed. As a child he had not been strong enough to hunt alone, so he had developed his mental abilities before his brawn. And that had helped him stay sharp, hone his ability to mentally force compliance even as he acquired the skills of the hunter.

Of all the cats, the leopard could be the most dangerous man-eater, often turning the tables on the professional hunters who tracked them. They were stealthy enough, bold enough to go silently into a camp and drag a victim out, most often undetected. Thus it was necessary to keep Sasha and Forest under control. There were many humans camping and tramping through these woods. The cats knew he hunted the humans, taking his sustenance from them, yet they also knew they were forbidden to bring down such easy prey. At times they were disgruntled and sulky over the standing order. He directed them toward the deer and other fauna in the area, wanting no possible mistakes. Sasha and Forest must feed first so they would be preoccupied with devouring their prey when he hunted for fresh blood.

They moved as a unit, exploring the terrain. Darius scented a small herd of deer feeding tranquilly nearby. Like the mobile radar systems they were, the leopards proceeded silently. Their long whiskers, tapered to fine tips, read air currents and objects, so the cats and Darius could feel their way relentlessly forward toward their intended prey.

Darius chose the target, searching for the two weakest animals in the group. The leopard ordinarily chose the easiest kill, the most unwary, the one that wandered in advertently close to the tree the leopard was utilizing.

Sasha protested with a lift of her lip, but Darius pushed at her mind even as he drove his much heavier shoulder into her as a reprimand.

She reacted with a silent snarl but leapt agilely into the limbs of a large evergreen. Stretching out her long body, she lay motionless, her amber eyes fixed on her prey. The doe moving toward her was older than Sasha would have liked, but Darius was huge, a good two hundred pounds of heavy, ferocious muscle, and neither cat attempted to defy him for long.

Forest circled downwind of the stragglers in the herd toward the deer Darius had selected for him. He sank low into the bushes, his mottled fur blending easily with the vegetation. The doe was wary, lifting her muzzle every now and then, searching the air for a hint of danger. Forest moved an inch, froze, then moved again.

Darius took up a position near the two deer, intending to drive them back if, for some reason, they got spooked, though Sasha and Forest were far too experienced to expose themselves or allow the wind to carry their scent to the prey. Darius further helped by simply stilling the wind, holding it away from the deer until Forest was within a scant foot of his doe and Sasha's prey was directly beneath her tree limb. The big cats exploded into action simultaneously, startling the rest of the small herd. Deer ran in total panic, scattering through the trees, but the two victims remained behind.

Darius left the cats after throwing a warning field around them, creating a dark, oppressive feel to the thickened air that would keep out any human campers or hunters who might wander too close to where the cats were feeding. Sasha and Forest knew the rules, but instincts as old as time had ruled them before their Carpathian companions did.

Darius moved unerringly through the woods toward the human campsite. In his present form he could leap easily over fallen tree trunks or any other obstacle in his path. He reveled in the feel of his ropy muscles sliding under fur. Before losing his emotions he had always loved the night, and now, at long last, he could truly enjoy it, not through dim memories or by touching his sister's mind, but through his own senses. The damp ground beneath his feet, the stirring of nocturnal creatures, the power surging through him, the wind blowing through the trees, making them sway and dance in rhythm. He even reveled in the relentless, aching hunger in his body.

Tempest. She had brought colors into his world. Emotions. She had brought life back to the nearly dead. She allowed him to feel his love for and devotion to his family; it no longer need be feigned, a faint memory of emotion. Now, when he looked upon Desari, his heart warmed. When he saw Syndil, it was through the eyes of compassion, of deep affection.

But what was he going to do about Tempest? She was human. It was forbidden to join with her. Yet he had spoken the ritual words to merge them. He had shared blood with her, and he would again. He knew it. The thought of her taste had his mouth salivating and his body hardening with a savage, relentless ache. She was addicting, her blood sating his terrible hunger as nothing else ever had. He knew, when his body claimed hers, that he would feast on her blood, would crave the exchange between them. The mere idea of her mouth against his skin was unbearably erotic.

He pulled his mind sharply from the vivid picture. Already he had problems controlling his urge to mate with Tempest, to claim her completely. He owed it to her to let her get to know him. Still, she was made for him, his other half. He felt it in his heart, his mind, his very soul. When she grew old, he would choose to grow old with her, and he would choose the dawn. He made up his mind to go quietly from the world when she did.

With that decision came peace. Desari had Julian now, and Barack and Dayan were capable of looking after Syndil. He would have his years with Tempest, long, happy years filled with love and laughter and the beauty of the world around them. He knew that his decision meant that he could no longer seek the restoring solace of the earth. Already he couldn't bear to be separated from Tempest for long. And she needed his protection.

The smell of prey was heavy in his nostrils. A tent rose up in front of him, strung beneath a canopy of trees. Inside a male lay beside a female. The leopard crept stealthily into the canvas shelter, the smell of hot blood rushing through him and the beast within roaring for release. Crouched over the male's strong, healthy body, Darius concentrated on Tempest. That softened the inner predator and allowed him to take his human form, to ensnare the couple with a veil of sleep, of acquiescence. The male turned to him and offered his throat. Darius felt the familiar sharpness of his fangs lengthening against his tongue and bent his head to drink.

The first hint of unease hit him as he closed the pinpricks, ensuring that he left no evidence that he had been there. He shape-shifted, slipping covertly out of the tent before releasing the couple from the thrall of acceptance. The woman moaned softly, turned over, and moved closer to the male for protection. He reacted, even in his sleep, sliding his arm around her waist.

Darius began to move quickly through the preserve, his body low and streamlined, swiftly and silently maneuvering amid the thick vegetation. He paused several yards from Sasha and Forest. The male leopard was still gorging himself, crouched over his kill. Sasha was already in the trees, the remainder of her carcass in the branches, cached for the following day.

He continued on, his mind unexpectedly rippling with nightmare figures. A tall, burly man with huge arms and an intricate tattoo of a king cobra on his bulging biceps. When the muscle moved, the snake's fangs would open wider. Slowly the man turned his head, his grin obscene and filled with triumph. The garage owner who had assaulted Tempest.

Darius thrust his mind sharply into Tempest's. The images were coming from her even in her sleep. Her distress was now so vivid, the broadcast so loud, that the cats behind him picked it up. He heard their familiar, eerie screams and sent them a quick command to be silent, to follow him straight to the camp.

It required his full attention to hold Tempest's mind with his, but centuries of honing his skills stood him in good stead. He soothed her, directing her thoughts away from the nightmare.

Desari already had the trailer door open and stood aside as the huge leopard leapt easily into the vehicle, shape-shifting as it did so. Darius landed solidly on two feet, striding toward the couch. "She is afraid, a nightmare," he stated softly, crouching beside the slight figure, barely sparing his sister a glance. "Leave us."

He knew Desari watched him for a long moment, felt her concern. He was acting totally out of character with Tempest, and it was obvious he had feelings for her. His very posture screamed of possession, of protection.

"She is human, brother," Desari said quietly.

Darius emitted a low, rumbling growl of warning, the sound vibrating in his throat. Desari put a protective hand to her own throat and turned wide eyes on Julian, who had instantly materialized at the door the moment Darius issued the warning. Hastily Desari stepped outside. The tension remained high between her brother and Julian. They could not be considered friends by any means. Both were protective of her, but both were strong, powerful men who went their own way, made their own rules. As a result, their relationship was tenuous at best. Placing a hand squarely on Julian's chest, Desari pushed her lifemate away from the trailer. He responded by wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her against his strong body, his mouth finding hers, at once hungry and tender.

Darius ignored the entire byplay, his attention centered completely on Tempest. Her hair spilled around the pillow, and his hand, of its own accord, moved to capture the thick mass in his palm. His body tightened, clenched in an unrelenting ache. She looked so young and vulnerable in her sleep. Tempest tried to appear tough, but Darius knew she was in need of someone to protect her and share her life. She was so alone. It was in her mind. Sharing her thoughts and memories as he was doing, he discovered the same aching loneliness in her as dwelt deep within his own soul.

Still, she was different from him in that she was filled with compassion and gentleness, everything he was not. For all the damage that had been done to her, she had no thoughts of revenge, no bitter hatred, only a quiet acceptance. She also had a firm resolve to stay clear of entanglements, to lead an uneventful, solitary existence.

The patterns of her mind were interesting. She preferred the company of animals. She could understand them easily, their body language, their thoughts. She could communicate with them without words.

Darius inhaled her scent, took it into his lungs, his body, and held it there. She was unique among humans, the way she could read the animals around her. It didn't distress her - she loved animals - but the reactions of humans to her gift were always negative. Darius leaned down to lay his head over hers, beating back the rise of the beast within him roaring for freedom. His every instinct was to claim her irrevocably for all time. His body needed hers desperately. The wild craving for the taste of her was riding him hard.

But she needed rest and care. She deserved some kind of courtship. It was her very vulnerability that kept the beast in him leashed. Darius knew himself well, his strengths and weaknesses. He was as merciless and harsh as the land he had grown up in. He was as savage and relentless as the leopards he had run with. He killed without emotion, without malice, but he killed when he deemed it necessary and never looked back.

Tempest belonged to him. Somehow, and he had no idea how it had happened, a human was his other half. Her soul meshed with his, the jagged edges sealing perfectly together. He knew her body was made for his, that he would find in her the same fire that smoldered within him.

Sleep deeply, honey, with no bad dreams. I will watch over you.

He murmured the words softly in her mind, filling her head with pleasant dreams, with things he remembered from his childhood. The beauty of the savanna, the mystery of the monsoon, the abundance of colors, of animals. He conjured up the excitement of his first hunt with the leopards. He had tried to drop from the branches of a tree as he had seen the older animals doing but had landed feet in front of his intended victim, inadvertently sending it scurrying out of reach. He found himself smiling at the memory, smiling as she was doing in her sleep.

His hand closed over hers. Waterfalls, the magnificence of frothy, foaming water cascading hundreds of feet. Crocodiles, antelope. A pride of lions. With the details came the smells and feel and lulling heat of Africa. He shared it all with her, replacing the terrible events of her day, of her past, replacing her nightmare with something beautiful.

You're a remarkable man, Darius.

He went still. Not a muscle in his body moved. Even his breathing ceased. He examined her face. She had spoken to him telepathically. It was not on the same path used among his family. It was different, more intimate. But it was her voice; there was no mistaking that. Somehow, in her compulsion-and-herb-induced sleep, she was still aware of his presence in her mind. It was unbelievable that a human could have such powers.

He examined her mind again. It was nothing like the human minds he was accustomed to. It intrigued him, its layers and compartments, as if she had things neatly filed and locked away. Perhaps he had been too complacent about her.

You can hear me?

he asked in her mind.

Don't you want me to hear you? Why else are you telling me of all these wonderful places and exciting memories if you didn't want me to hear you?

He again noticed the velvet huskiness of her voice, like a drowsy caress, a lover turning her body mindlessly into his. Did she always sound that way? Did the others hear that sexy, erotic note in her voice?

This way of communicating does not frighten you?

he asked.

I'm dreaming. I don't mind dreaming about you. You're sharing my mind; I'm sharing yours. I know your only wish is to help me sleep without nightmares.

Could it be that simple? Did she believe she was dreaming the whole thing? Darius brought her hand to the warmth of his mouth. He was smiling as he kissed her knuckles. Her hand was still bruised from her fight earlier in the day. Without conscious thought, he stroked his tongue over the dark purple-and-blue mark.

Sleep, baby. Sleep deep, and worry about nothing.

Allow your body to heal. Good night, Darius. Don't you worry so much about me. I'm like a cat: I always land on my feet.

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