Free Dark Fire by Christine Feehan

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 wanned. 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