Dark Melody (Dark Series - book 12)

by Christine Feehan

  “I am a wandering musician. That is the truth, honey — a poet who has found his missing heart. I have long been without it.” It wasn’t simply the words he said, it was the way he said them, with hunger in his eyes.

  “Do you love playing?”

  “It is who I am,” he replied thoughtfully. “When I pick up my guitar, it is a part of me, like my arms. The notes and the words are somewhere deep inside me and they just flow out. I was born with this ability, a great gift bestowed on me.”

  His humility surprised her because he was usually very confident, so much so it bordered on arrogance. But not when it came to his extraordinary talent.

  As much as she was enjoying walking with Dayan, she was already exhausted. She became aware of the way her heart seemed to struggle to find the exact rhythm of his. She smiled up at him as he bent down to swing her effortlessly into his arms. “You really can read my mind, can’t you?” The sound of her own voice was more of an invitation than she would have liked.

  “Of course.”

  “Do you have to be touching the person?”

  “No. I was not always touching you when I was reading your mind. And I have never touched Lisa. It is easy to read the thoughts of mortals.” He said it casually, so comfortable in her presence, he didn’t think to censor his words. In the short time they had been together, he was already thinking of them as one, a partnership, life-mates rather than two separate entities.

  Corinne’s arms were clasped around his neck as he carried her through the night back toward the house where he and Cullen were staying. “Mortals? That implies all kinds of things, Dayan. Why would you use a word like

  mortals?

  Aren’t you mortal?”

  Chapter 6

  There was a long silence while Dayan listened to the sounds of the night, the murmur of the wind as it whispered to him of secret things. “Sometimes, honey, it is better not to inquire too closely into things you might not want to know about. I used the word

  mortal

  when another might have been a better choice. Are we not all both mortal and immortal at the same time? If you were to die, you would leave a part of you behind here on this earth, yet you would continue in another life elsewhere.”

  “You believe that?”

  “Absolutely,” Dayan answered solemnly, knowing she needed reassurance. For a brief moment he stopped walking to bury his face in the warmth of her neck, inhaling her scent. “Wherever you are, Corinne, you will never be alone. I will always be with you.”

  At once the fragrance of her, the reality of her, rose up to overwhelm him, and just that fast he was battling the demon inside. It rose sharply, swift and furious, fangs exploding in his mouth, the male Carpathian demanding he complete the ritual and bind her to him. She was his savior. The keeper of his soul. Light. Colors. Without her, there was only an empty, barren existence he could never return to. Never endure. Her pulse beat beneath his mouth, her life force ebbing and flowing with a dark richness he craved, he

  needed.

  Red flames flickered and danced in the depths of his black eyes as he fought the demon.

  Sensing danger, Corinne held herself very still, her arms cradling his head to her. She was aware of his great inner struggle, although she understood nothing of it. His body trembled for a moment, and she felt his mouth moving erotically, back and forth over her soft skin. Her fingers crushed his silky hair, rubbing at the strands in agitation. What was it he needed from her? Sex?

  No!

  The word shimmered in her mind emphatically. His voice gentled.

  Not just sex, my love, I need to make love to you all night. I need to bind us together for all eternity. I do not know how to tell you these things so you can understand, but it is as necessary to me as breathing.

  There was such intimacy in the way he spoke to her, in the tenderness of his voice as much as in the way he could communicate, mind to mind.

  I need you

  so

  much, Corinne,

  he sighed against her pulse, his breath warm and intimate; so

  much. ‘

  There was something very dangerous in him — she could feel it in his enormous strength, in the possessive way he held her — but his need was so great, she couldn’t think straight, couldn’t think to deny him, not even for her own self-preservation.

  The answer was shimmering in her mind, in his mind.

  I want to be whatever you need.

  There were no words spoken aloud, yet he heard her acceptance of him, of his differences, of his wild, untamed nature. It echoed in her mind and in her heart. He murmured her name softly, his sacred talisman to guide him back from the precipice of danger, the whisperings of madness she could not hope to understand.

  His mouth moved over the slender column of her neck, touched her ear briefly, while both of them seemed to drown in a rush of molten heat. He could feel her body molding itself to his, responsive, inviting, enticing. She moved restlessly in his arms, and his body reacted with a hot surging of blood, creating a painful ache that would not go away.

  Dayan closed his eyes and gave himself up to the luxury of feeling. His mouth moved up her throat to her chin, nibbled lightly before settling over her mouth. At once there was that curious sensation of the earth shifting beneath his feet, of the ground rocking, falling away from him until there was only Corinne. He felt every sensation — the satin softness of her skin, the silk of her hair, the hot need of her mouth as he took possession. She clung to him as the storm of need and hunger washed over them, as his mind filled hers with his hungry desire, with dark, erotic images and the ever building fire in his blood.

  Her mouth was a silken haven he was lost in, his blood roaring in his ears. Dayan held her tightly, possessively; she was his only refuge after a thousand years of utter loneliness. He lifted his head so that his mouth could drift in a dancing flame of heat and light over her skin back to her irresistible pulse. It beckoned him in an age-old call. She could hear his voice, a soft murmur, a whisper of sensuous command, and her blood quickened, heating in answer. His tongue caressed her skin, his teeth nipped gently, teasingly, erotically, and then she gasped as white-hot lightning arced through her, sizzling, streaking through her blood so that she was on fire. His mouth moved against her and he held her even tighter, fitting her to him almost as if they were making love.

  It was like a dream, hazy and unreal, sensuous and erotic. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Corinne felt weak, unable to move, yet she didn’t want to, cradling his head to her, her hands in his wealth of hair, giving herself up to his hot, seeking mouth. She closed her eyes, the illusion of being made love to so real she could almost feel him touching her intimately. His voice was in her head, and somehow she

  felt

  his desire, the hunger in him, his intense pleasure. She never wanted him to stop. Her fingers slipped from his hair and her hands fell limply to her sides.

  At once Dayan lifted his head, breaking the connection between them. Curiously, she felt warm liquid running from her neck along the creamy swell of her breast. She didn’t lift her heavy lashes to examine the cause, not wanting to break the magical spell of heat and desire. He lowered his mouth to pursue the liquid trail so that her entire body responded, clenching with pleasure. Corinne smiled that he could make her feel so much without any real effort.

  “I left my mark on you.” It was a black-velvet whisper that moved through her body with the same heat as her blood. “I could not help myself.” He nibbled and teased the corner of her mouth until she obediently opened for him. There was a faint coppery taste as his tongue swept inside, claiming her for his own. Before she could give it any thought, he had taken possession of her soul, her body, so that she was no longer a thinking woman, but a living flame of need and hunger.

  His hand came up to cup the weight of her breast, his thumb caressing her nipple through the thin material of her blouse. Flames raced through her bloodstream. His mouth left h
ers, his teeth nibbling her chin, down the side of her neck and along her vulnerable throat so that she arced closer to him. A soft moan escaped her as his mouth nudged the edge of her blouse.

  “We have to stop,” she said softly, not convincing either of them.

  Her heart was laboring far too hard. That, more than anything else, caused Dayan to gain total control of the demon battling for supremacy. He wanted so much to claim her for his own, to bind her to him. He wanted to secure her life by exchanging blood, not simply tasting the essence of what would be his. He needed her, but more importantly, she needed him. “You are right, honey,” he said with deep regret. “Follow my breathing pattern to allow your heart to rest.”

  She was relaxed in his arms, her eyes closed, her body on fire, yet she felt as if she couldn’t move to save her life. She was inexplicably tired, drained. “I need to get things from my house. Medicine. Important things. If we really can’t go back for a while, we’ll need clothes.”

  “Make a list,” he suggested again. He was moving through the night, his arms cradling her effortlessly, his strides long and easy. He was silent as he carried her toward the small house he shared with Cullen. Every now and then he bent his head to brush the top of her silky head with a kiss.

  “I can’t make a list, Dayan, you know that. Some things are private. Lisa might let me get her things, but she would never let you go through her personal drawers.”

  “Then I will buy clothes for you. And makeup, and whatever else you think is necessary.” There was no impatience in his voice, rather a mild male amusement as if mundane things like clothes and makeup were of no consequence to him.

  Corinne struggled to open her eyes to pin him with a smoldering gaze. “I do not need you to buy me clothes. At least I’m willing to take you with me when I go back to the house. Think of it as a concession.”

  He paused for a moment, studying her delicate features. “You do not really want to return to the house.” He made it a statement. His voice was a soft lure.

  She made a supreme effort and caught at the nape of his neck. “You can stop with the voice, Dayan, because I

  am

  going. It’s important. If you want to come with me, you may, but you aren’t going to use your voice to persuade me otherwise. In any case, I know you’ll protect me.”

  “You sound very stern,” he commented with great admiration. “I am certain I am very impressed.” He couldn’t stop the warmth her words produced. She did trust him whether she knew it or not.

  “Kissing you is enough to make a woman weak, Dayan,” she said, exasperated with herself. “It’s bad enough to lie here like a sixteenth century heroine without you teasing me about how I sound.”

  He kissed her forehead again. “You do sound impressive. It was a compliment.”

  They had arrived at the house, and without conscious thought, Corinne waved her hand to open the door. He laughed softly in her ear. “Now that was very impressive. I do not think you do that in front of many people. You are becoming very comfortable in my presence.”

  “Well, don’t flatter yourself. It isn’t you at all. It’s your voice. I like to hear you talk even if you spout a lot of nonsense and macho male rhetoric.”

  He bent his head and found her mouth with his, easily, unerringly, as if it were the most natural, necessary thing in the world. And he made time stop for that brief moment. “It

  is

  me,” he said complacently as he carried her through the door. “And I

  never

  spout macho male rhetoric.”

  Lisa and Cullen sprang hastily apart as they entered. They glanced at one another with small, guilty grins, Lisa’s beautiful face crimson. She looked alarmed to see Corinne lying so limply in Dayan’s arms. “Is she all right?” she asked quickly.

  “Absolutely,” Dayan assured her. “I would never allow anything to harm her.” He was looking directly into Lisa’s eyes, and, as always, she subsided. “Corinne insists the two of you need clothes and makeup from your house.”

  Lisa nodded solemnly. “I was just telling Cullen I will need quite a few things. We should go there tonight before those men come back.”

  “I do not think it is safe, Lisa,” Dayan replied gently, still holding her gaze captive. “I think you should stay here with Cullen while I go and retrieve whatever you need.”

  “With me,” Corinne roused herself enough to say. “You can give the list to me, Lisa.” She pushed at the wealth of hair tumbling around her face. “I’m going too, so whatever you need, I can get for you.”

  “Is it safe?” Cullen asked anxiously, looking at Dayan.

  “Of course it is not safe,” Dayan answered, his words a clear reprimand. “I am certain the house is being watched. Going there is a sure form of lunacy. And we should be on the road already. It is imperative we meet the healers as soon as possible. It is the only way to ensure that Corinne’s heart becomes strong again.”

  “What healer?” Lisa asked, a note of fear in her voice. “I don’t want Corinne anywhere near a quack. I mean it, Dayan. She’s had enough crazy people in her life to last us both a lifetime.”

  Dayan’s eyes remained steady on Lisa’s face. “She did not bring those people into her life, Lisa,” he said quietly.

  At once Lisa’s eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  Corinne shoved at Dayan’s chest hard, furious all at once. “Of

  course

  you didn’t mean anything, Lisa, no one thought you did. What do you want us to do, honey? Tell me and we’ll do it.”

  Dayan was as gentle as ever, his expression never changing as he continued to look directly into Lisa’s eyes. “I am sorry to cause you pain, Lisa. You love Corinne. I know that. I will be happy to get anything from the house that you need, and I guarantee that no quack ever touches Corinne. We are becoming friends, beginning to trust one another.” His voice was utterly beautiful, a soft melody of words, the cadence pure and perfectly pitched so that they all strained to hear him.

  Corinne framed Dayan’s face between her small hands and turned him to face her. “You are doing something I don’t like.” She said each word distinctly. “Don’t do it again.”

  “You can come with me back to your house,” he said very gently, smiling at her, looking more handsome than she wanted to admit. He could rob her of her ability to breathe. It astonished her just how much he could affect her.

  “Put me down.”

  “Can you stand up without my help?” he asked softly, teasingly, whispering the words against her ear.

  “Of course,” she lied. “And just to set the record straight, Lisa,

  I’m

  allowing him to come to the house with me.”

  Lisa and Cullen burst out laughing. “It looks like it,” Lisa said.

  The house was dark and forbidding, giving off a strange vibration of evil to Corinne. As she looked uncertainly at her home, she began to shake. “Dayan?” She whispered his name, suddenly very afraid.

  At once he leaned close, his arm sliding around her slender shoulders. “Do not worry, honey. I will not allow anything to happen to you. Not now. Not ever.”

  “Something’s wrong, Dayan, I can feel it. Let’s get out of here. Maybe the police should go in with us.”

  “The police will never stop this group.”

  “I don’t care if they can stop them or not. I think the point is not to get hurt right now. If we ask them, they’ll go into the house with us,” Corinne pleaded with Dayan. As she looked at him, she found herself touching his mind. She read his resolve. Dayan was determined, casual about the danger, completely confident in himself. Corinne sighed. “You’re going in there, aren’t you?”

  “Of course I am. You and Lisa need clothes.”

  She caught his arm. “Dayan, forget it. We can shop for clothes. Nothing is worth your getting even a scratch. I don’t like the feel of the house. I think someone is either in there or watching it.”

>   He leaned close to kiss her irresistible mouth. “I think you are absolutely right. The house is being watched. But you are perfectly safe right here.”

  “I’m not waiting here while you go alone. If you insist on being pigheaded about this, I insist on going along. I can do extraordinary things, Dayan. I know I’ll be of some help.” She was not about to let him go off alone again.

  Dayan smiled, his teeth very white in the darkness, making him look like a predator. Why the image flashed into her mind she had no idea, but she shivered all the same. Occasionally she caught glimpses in his mind of predatory wildlife. Weird things, like leopards and night raptors. Swirling images of mist and fog, of lightning bolts and fierce storms. It was all there in his mind mixed up with what and who he was.

  There were images of Dayan as a child with other children, running free in a wild jungle, but alongside him were leopards, savage-looking guardians that seemed to be watching over him. She was uncertain whether she was catching glimpses of actual memories or a jumble of memories and fantasy images. It was a dark world, unsuitable for the poet she thought him. In these visions he was a dark predator running with jungle cats in search of prey.

  Corinne locked those images away to examine later. She was aware that Dayan was not exactly what he seemed. Dayan was a strong psychic with enormous talent. She had no idea what he was capable of.

  “There you go again, honey” — he sounded amused — “scaring yourself for no reason at all. Such thoughts! You stay here while I check to see that the house is not occupied.”

  “Is it?” She was curious as to whether he could tell from a long distance away.

  “Actually, there is no one in the house, but there is one man waiting in the yard just out of our sight. I can read his thoughts. There is another at the back door. He is whistling to himself. A third man is smoking a cigarette across the street, three houses down from yours. If you watch closely you can see the glow of the cigarette, just there, on the porch.” He smiled again, this time without humor. “He is fantasizing quite a scene. I am afraid I cannot allow his twisted dreams to come to reality for him.”