She was so beautiful, she took his breath away. He watched the way she moved, gentle and flowing, her hips swaying, her long hair cascading like waves of silk down her back to brush around her slender body, drawing attention to curves and hollows. He wanted to carry her off to some secluded spot for all time, out of danger, away from prying eyes. He wanted to listen to her voice for eternity and watch her smile and light up the spaces around her.
At once, even in the midst of her laughing softly into the microphone, seemingly totally bonded with the crowd, he felt the brush of her fingertips at the nape of his neck, and hot flames engulfed his gut and clenched his muscles so that he stood still, shocked at the power of her touch over him. He had spent an eternity feeling empty, a gaping hole in his very soul, so that what little compassion and gentleness he had once experienced had slowly seeped away, lost to him. She had brought back his emotions, his joy in life. He had always thought he might resent the need for a lifemate. He was a solitary hunter, enjoying the animals and nature more than the company of others. But it wasn’t so. Desari was a miracle to him.
There was a soft hiss in his mind, not the standard path Desari’s family unit communicated on but a private, new meeting of the minds. Power. Authority. Male. It could only be Darius. Their sharing of blood had forged a bond, allowing Darius to communicate easily with him at will.
Stop daydreaming. We have a job to do. My sister has you wrapped around her little finger. I notice
you
have not stopped her from pursuing this dangerous career she has chosen. It was you who allowed such nonsense in the first place.
Julian was more than happy to point that out. He was moving around the packed hall, his senses flaring out to read any signs of danger.
It is your decisions that should guide her now,
Darius replied.
Do not attempt to push your failures off on me. It will take much time to undo all the damage you have done with your permissive guidance. I will have to work slowly, without her knowledge, ease her out of this insane notion that she is allowed to make her own decisions.
Julian could not help the humor creeping into his voice. The last thing anyone could do would be to put something over on Desari. She was no fledgling to be pushed around by an arrogant male.
Barack returned to the stage, his long hair pulled back to the nape of his neck, his face unmarked and handsome, his clothes immaculate. Julian sensed Syndil’s presence in the hall, but she had made herself unseen to the human eye. It was Barack, looking sternly toward one corner of the stage, that tipped off her location to Julian. Barack had obviously dragged her there. Julian could tell he wasn’t about to perform unless Syndil was where he could see her every moment. She was sitting on the edge of the platform, slightly behind and to Barack’s right. She looked so sad, Julian felt an instant response, wanting to comfort her. Syndil appeared fragile and worn, a slight figure, almost childlike. Barack must have ordered her presence in such a way that she had chosen to obey him. Julian couldn’t blame him or any of the others for their protectiveness. This was an explosive situation, one not easily controlled. Protecting two women in such a large crowd from human assassins, overeager fans, and vampires was difficult. They needed the women close together where they all could watch over them.
We are not children,
Desari reminded him, taking her bow before the roaring crowd.
And Barack was quite harsh with Syndil. He should be more gentle with her. She didn’t provoke the vampire’s attack on her.
She smiled at the crowd, flashing the famous sexy grin that seemed to stop a few too many hearts for Julian’s peace of mind. Her arm gestured back gracefully toward the two male Carpathians onstage, including them in the standing ovation.
Several females in the front row screamed and waved at the two guitar players, one throwing herself against the ring of security guards, calling for Barack and tossing a pair of red silk panties in his direction. The underwear landed almost in Syndil’s lap. She picked them up gingerly by the tips of her thumb and forefinger, studied them for a moment, then, with absolutely no expression on her face, tossed them onto the neck of Barack’s guitar. To the audience, red panties seemed to fly straight up into the air at him. They roared with delight, coming to their feet once again.
Syndil rose with her casual grace and started off the stage. At once Barack moved, cutting off her retreat. To the audience it simply appeared as if he had stepped away from Dayan with his back to them, his hips swaying provocatively. Several girls screamed louder, trying to rush the stage. Barack played his guitar solo for several chords, the music swelling, cresting like a wave racing toward shore, then crashing onto the sand. The audience was electric with intensity, yet every Carpathian’s attention was on the scene taking place between the male and female.
Syndil glared at Barack, her body rigid with anger. Her eyes blazed at him. “You have no right to tell me what to do or where to go. As you pointed out earlier, you are not my brother. Darius is the leader, and he has not said that I must stay and watch you entertain these adoring women.” She waved a disdainful hand at the screaming row of girls.
“Do not push me this time, Syndil,” Barack warned softly, a growl rumbling deep in his throat. “I do not care what Darius has said or not said to you. You will not leave my sight until I know you are completely safe. In this matter you will obey me.”
For a moment Syndil faced him in silent rebellion. It was impossible to guess what she was going to decide to do.
“Please, Syndil,” Desari said softly, persuasively, “we have an audience. Do not give Barack any reason to go berserk on us.”
Syndil blinked once, her long lashes fanning her high cheekbones. Her large eyes moved over Barack with faint haughtiness. She swung her long hair over her shoulder and seated herself for the second set, her back to Barack. There was something regal about the way she held herself.
Barack finished his guitar solo, his body once more relaxed, but his eyes remained hard and watchful. Desari flashed a quick, relieved smile Julian’s way. Dayan’s guitar joined Barack’s and Desari’s voice soared into the air, bringing the spectators to their feet. Syndil began tapping her foot to the rhythm of the music. It was entirely involuntary, the first time she had responded to their music since the savage attack on her. She had always been musical, easily playing any instrument set before her, usually the keyboard and drums. The group had explained her absence to their fans by saying she had taken an extended vacation and would return soon.
Desari inwardly breathed a small sigh of relief. It was the first sign in a long while that Syndil might find a way to come back to them, to herself. Perhaps her love of music would bring her back. While her mind turned the matter over, her voice continued to keep the audience mesmerized. And it suddenly occurred to her that while she had had family close by all her life, Julian had been totally alone. To guard his brother in the best way he knew, to guard his people, he had been always alone.
Not anymore,
Julian drawled, his voice a purring caress.
As you are my responsibility now, I suppose I have no other choice but to help your brother protect and guide this pack of fools. What I should be doing is hauling your beautiful little butt out of here. The Carpathian Mountains are our homeland. It is where we all belong, not here among so many mortals.