Dark Gypsy

Chapter One

Flight not Fight

"O ushalin zhala sar o kam mangela…"

The fire burned and crackled flaring wildly in harmony to the synchronised voices chanting against the darkness of the night sky. Smoke plumed towards the inky sky in a tall pillar while shadows were cast leaning against the vardo's painted in vibrant scarlet and emerald. Grass had been flattened and prints were left in the fertile rich earth from the feet of many dancers circling the flames. Older members of the community sat on the steps of their wagons or on wooden chairs watching and drinking tapping their feet in time to the rhythm while some of the tribe played instruments vividly strumming on the strings of their guitars or energetically on fiddles and violins. In the background there was a pulsing drumbeat echoing across the din.

"Opre Roma! O manusha khelevan tut!"

"Fyedka! You sit here next to your Grandfather and when you're ready you can apologise to your sister!" A young pretty gypsy lead her son away from the dance and sat him on the wooden chair next to the steps of a regal purple vardo. Her bare legs were tanned and a ruby coloured skirt flowed to her knee's while her thick head of raven curls tumbled down her back held by a yellow headscarf. Around her neck a large amethyst glittered but her eyes sparked dangerously as she tapped the young boy warningly on the nose before nodding at her father - an old man with a silver moustache who held a glass of beer in his hand.

Soon she was lost amongst the fray of the dancers as the fiddle struck up another more addictive powerful note. Fyedka sat alone away from the lure of the sensual music curling his knees up to his chin sulkily watching the colourful figures twirl and glide across the earth. Stupid dancers, stupid sister, stupid mother - he felt a lump rise in his throat threatening to boil over. Next to him his Grandfather lit his pipe and shot him a sideways glance.

"Same when I was your age," The older man commented idly. "Don't worry lad. You'll learn."

Fyedka grunted and scowled as his dark brown eyes landed on his younger sister who was chasing his other brother. Why couldn't he be an only child like his cousin? He brushed aside his dark curls to prevent them from tumbling into his eyes. He hated this party - no electricity, no computer, no phone and no friends. Two whole weeks of nothing but surrounded by relatives and old people. He couldn't even call his friends because no mobiles were allowed - dumb tradition.

Thoroughly disgruntled he picked up a handful of grass and spread it around his knees before shrugging agitatedly in the heat of the combined fire and the hot summer air. Lifting his head he shot a look behind him. Distantly the landscape changed dramatically rising up into high hills and forming peaks at the top of tall ridges. Thick green forests spread into the darkness and density. He'd been warned - no fewer than seven times actually - that under no circumstances was he to enter the forest alone. It was forbidden, practically a taboo among his people. They could run and hunt through all other woodlands but no the ones in this land. In all his nine years he couldn't recall any of his vast family entering it's depths.

Curiosity rose like a viper inside him that hungered for the forbidden fruit. A spark of rebellion brewed from anger and disappointment spread like wildfire and he looked up at his Grandfather - his head was going limp and his breathing was rupturing into gentle snores. Over the noise and merriment of the dance would anyone notice? No…but then they would be angry at him, furious in fact. The thought of his Father's stern face and Aunt's cold disapproval words stung worse than a wasps sting.

Sighing he turned back to the crowd and spotted his sister. She noticed him too and stuck out her tongue before bursting into fits of giggles with his other cousin. Then the two proceeded to run off and weave in and out of the dancers. Clenching his fists together he jumped down the vardo steps resolvedly and turned towards the distant forests and mountain peaks.

He'd show them!

Twenty-Three years later

"I'll have…a sex on the beach please."

"Is that a promise?"

The thoroughly un-amused woman rolled her expression dark eyes before accepting the drinks and muttering a brief curse under her breath. Latino men, ever since she'd arrived they had been hitting on her with cheap shots either hoping for a one night quickie or to try and entice her into their venues. Last night some waiter had marched up to her claiming to know her well and flattered her and her family with compliments before trying to usher them into his restaurants.

Not that good looking Brazilian men were a bad point on her holiday, she thought sipping absently on her cocktail. In fact she was starting to love Brazil with it's scorching hot sun and exotic beaches with crystal clear deathlessly blue oceans and white sand aplenty. Lils and Mika approved too - they'd both spent most of the day either sunbathing or attempting to learn how to surf. A nice family vacation, a nice normal family vacation. Tomorrow maybe she'd try scuba diving? The world was her oyster and travelling was in her blood.

Her fingers briefly skimmed the amethyst jewel at her throat before brushing some of her untameable black hair from her eyes. The bar she was in was pleasant with a gentle hum of background music and an ambience of life and laughter. The open glass doors provided a stunning view of the ocean twinkling under a roof of diamond stars and the cocktails tasted excellent. She eyed the ocean speculatively pondering the possibility of scuba balancing it against a tour of the Amazon. Not all the Amazon of course, a strictly on the beaten track sort of thing but then she'd always been told to avoid the forests - that and insects and other instincts might accidentally rouse her family. No, definitely scuba.

Speaking of family where in the name of sanity was her cousin Monica? So much for a girls night out. Probably side tracked by that Brazilian pool guard from that morning. Rozalija smiled wryly as she turned the sparkly pink umbrella in her fruity beverage. The women in her family had a policy about men - they were like kitchen utensils. You used them, you washed them and then you put them in the drawer until the next time they were needed. Not that they were Amazons - to the contrary most of her extensive family were married but the motto was still tossed around.

Still the idea of sitting by herself all night was far from attractive. Sighing she crossed her legs feeling the material of her skirt flow as it stroked against her ankles. She might as well finish up early and maybe enjoy a night in with her mother and the twins. Making up her mind firmly she downed the rest of her drink in one gulp and slipped off the stool aiming resolutely for the door stepping out into the warm night air feeling a gentle breeze welcome her. Smiling she turned towards the busy street where she could see the faint glow of her hotel complex in the distance. The lure of ice cream was calling…

Until she turned and found herself walking into something extremely solid, immovable and exposed.

"Excuse me," Rozalija said briskly as she went to side step the figure in front of her. However this was fast appearing impossible as suddenly much stronger, hotter hands shackled her wrists in an iron tight grasp that while not being particularly sore definitely gave the quick impression that it would be effortless to snap her wrist off. The once happy tourist felt her bliss disparate until the blood was thundering in ears and her heart was pounding.

She blinked. Before she had unconsciously not even bothered to register who she had made the mistake of bumping into but now she did and she felt heat curdle in the pit of her abdomen. Smoothed tan skin was hid behind a black silky shirt, large hands gently released one of her wrists and a finger under her chin forced her to look upwards. Dark hair billowed in the breeze free from restraint circling harsh masculine features but especially smouldering black eyes that gazed upon her with a predatory hunger.

The instant she looked into those eyes she knew she was not dealing with a mere mortal - that she needed to get out and get out fast. To get her family and grab them on the first plane back to France. She should do something…anything yet her heightened senses although blinded by his presence could sense the bypassing people - never in public! Of all the taboo's that one was the first and foremost.

He bent his head so he could reach her neck. Hands brushed locks of hair from the column of her throat and she felt herself begin to tremble as hot steamy breath climbed her neck and a low compelling voice whispered in her ears dangerously.

"What are you sivamet?"

Rozalija shivered feeling chills climb down her spine as her blood boiled.

The Second Rule - never ever tell anyone without the permission…and since it was a choice between either fight or flight she would have to chose flight and be quick about it since they were so openly exposed. Instincts centuries older than she was overrode her fresh terror and those instincts were to protect - protect the clan, the family and more importantly the teenagers in her hotel room.

She fixed him with a long hard stare feeling a force pulse from within as her eyes fluxed and changed and she felt something simmer under the surface of her persona - something wild and deadly. Molten brown orbs faded until something brighter flickered underneath turning them into the same vivid lilac colour as the amulet around her throat.

Zacarias De La Cruz inhaled the night air deeply.

He had left the solace of the ranches days before to seek some solitude and now he found himself in a popular tourist town not far from the beach swamped with humans. He could smell every lick of their blood, hear every pulse of their hearts and it made his throat ache with thirst. It would be so tempting just to stop, just to let go once and try and sate his hunger…what was one more human to humanity? They could barely control their own lives and why should their species flourish as his decayed?

It would be so easy…what did he have now? All his brothers were mated, his duty was done with. What did he have now holding him here in this word of grey and bleakness? He walked through the humans carving a path like a shadow listening to their laughter, their voices and their blood. No…he clenched his fists determinedly - a thousand years or more of rigid control and he would not let it slip now…not tonight.

"I'll have a sex on the beach please…"

Zacarias felt his heart suddenly shudder. His stomach rolled and heaved and suddenly he was blinded by a bombardment of colour seeping into his vision from every pore. The inky blue tones of the sky, the yellow light from the cars and bars, the tanned flesh of the humans, the neon lights and colourful clothing. It stunned him, he felt himself lose his balance and he whipped his head turning around in shock.

A woman….not just any woman either. He could see into the club through the large open windows towards a number of glamorous silver stools positioned in front of the bar. There was a woman sat with her back to him displaying long dark hair that curled and waved uncontrollably down her back. Her naked skin was as tan as any local Brazilian's and she wore sparkly silver anklets and bracelets. Zacarias drank her scent - it was unfamiliar…human yet not quite so.

"Is that a promise?" The barman said suggestively. Zacarias saw red and snarled - not her. Nobody apart from him was permitted to touch her! He didn't even know her name but the pure fury he felt after centuries of neutrality was a strange sensation. Why was she here? Drinking alcohol? Alone? He tried to touch her mind but found himself flung out as though repelled by a concrete wall. The mental push was physical as well as mental and almost found himself sprawled in the street - a sight that might well amuse his brothers but did not provoke the same merriment in him.

She finished her drink alarmingly quickly and slid off the barstool and turned towards the door. Leaving? Good. Zacarias wouldn't let her come back here again. He moved into a shadow becoming invisible to mortal eyes as he watched her savouring the sight of her. She had very expressive dark eyes outlined in black kohl and perhaps without the heels she would have been quite short in height but she was slight of figure. There was a glittering amethyst around her throat and she walked hurried as though wanting to get somewhere fast.

Zacarias moved. He was never going to let her get away. He planted himself right in front of her and towered over her height with ease.

"Excuse me," She said politely intending to side step him. Zacarias felt hunger beat at him desperately, inside him was writhing with agony and need. He had never wanted something as badly as he wanted her and he would not let her get away. Grabbing her wrists he restrained her effectively attempting to be gentle as he titled her chin forcing her to gaze into his smouldering eyes. She was afraid…terrified even, he could hear every beat of her heart like the wings of a butterfly. Bending his neck he brush her hair aside dipping towards her throat and her pulse…the blood was irresistible….at the last minute he forced himself to stop.

"What are you sivamet?" He demanded silkily.

"Get off me!" He felt her struggle uselessly for supremacy against his strength. He growled warningly, he wouldn't tolerate this sort of attitude. Lifting his head he looked into her eyes once more intending to reprimand her but instead he almost dropped his grip on her wrist in surprise. Once her eyes had been dark but now they were a vibrant lilac colour and were slit like the pupil of a cat. He could sense the feral nature present behind the outward display and then abruptly he was roaring as a surge of white hot pain crippled his back. Words were chanted in a foreign tongue and the agony increased tenfold before she released him.

Zacarias sank to the ground - every muscle ached, every breath brought a fresh swell of pain into his lungs and fire climbed down his spine. Darkness swam before his eyes and he snarled brutally trying to fight the sensations of his body but failing as he declined into unconsciousness with a vow that he would find her again. She was running now, running frantically but she couldn't run forever. He would find her if he had to hunt, kill or threaten.

And then the darkness came.

Yeah I've used Zaccy again but this time Rozalija is completely different from the character of my other story. Anyway the little prologue will be explained later and will make sense in the next chapter. For those of you wondering Rozalija is of Romani origin. The Romani's are sort of like gypsy's only more traditional and there will be aspects of that culture in this story. Rozalija's full name is Rozalija Olga Ivanoski and yes she lives in France and has a very large family as you will find out later.

Please keep reading

Daydreamer!x