Forbidden Passion (17 page)

 
“I won’t,” he said gruffly. “Tell me what happened. Where are you hurt? Did you hit your head?”

 
He tried to tilt her chin to examine her more closely, but she pushed his hands away. “No. I’m all right.”

 
“What happened?” he asked. “Did Daumer follow you?”

 
She shook her head. “No, but he said the devil, Zion, was in his head, that he wanted him to kill me.” Her voice cracked. “And then in the driveway, through the rain, I saw… I think I saw him.”

Alarm ripped through his gut. “Exactly what did you see?”

Marlena’s eyes darted toward the woods. “He had blood-red lips and claws and he.
.
.he shot fire from his hands.”

Holy hell. She’d just described Zion.

Had he appeared in front of Marlena?

Zion will do anything to get to you
, the Valtrez brothers had said.

Was he going after Marlena to punish him?

Marlena replayed the images of the monster in her head. She had seen a monster, hadn’t she? Some kind of creature with glowing eyes and fire shooting from his paws…

“Let’s go inside,” Dante said in a gruff voice.

She pushed at the steering wheel to get out, but Dante slid his arm behind her back, scooped her up in his arms, and carried her to his house.

Marlena tugged at his arms to let her down. “I’m not helpless. I can walk.”

“Just relax,” he said between clenched teeth. “I still think I should call an ambulance and have you examined.”

“I’m a doctor,” Marlena said. “I’m fine, Dante. I was just spooked.”

But he didn’t release her. Instead he strode to the door, unlocked it, and carried her inside. Marlena’s head was aching, her muscles stiff and sore from the impact of the air bag. He carried her to the sofa and gently placed her on it, but his determined look pinned her down. “Move your arms.”

She rolled her eyes, but bent them to prove she wasn’t hurt.

“Now your legs.”

She sighed in disgust then tried to stand, but swayed, and he cursed.

“I can walk, I’m just shaken,” she admitted as she sank back against the seat with a shudder.

He placed an afghan over her, his jaw tight, his eyes glittering with anger.

Without another word, he turned away from her, strode outside, and’ returned a minute later with an armload of firewood.

She took in her surroundings, aware the walls and bookcase were bare and void of personal items. The sense that they were isolated once again hit her. Sam Larson had warned her to be careful around Dante. And he’d admitted that he dealt with demons.

Was he dangerous to her?

No, he wouldn’t hurt her physically. But emotionally… The wood began to crackle and pop, the scent of burning timber filling the air, the heat emanating from the blaze warming her. The rest of the house was dark, the only light the sliver of moonlight trying to weave its way through the thick storm clouds in the skylight.

But Dante’s sullen silence sent an icy chill through her.

She clutched the afghan to her chest. “Dante?”

He stiffened, his shoulders squaring as he angled his head to stare at her. Her insides quivered at the intensity in his eyes, her heart thundering as she waited on his response.

Instead of answering, he walked to the bar in the corner of the den, poured a glass of red wine for her and a scotch for himself, then handed her the glass.

“How did you know I like red wine?”

The corner of his mouth tilted in an almost-smile but quickly fell back into a tight grimace. “I noticed at your place. Drink it.”

Her hands trembled slightly as she accepted the glass, then she took a sip of the Merlot, grateful for something to soothe her nerves.

He sipped his scotch, then stood in front of the fire again, his shoulders rigid.

“Dante, talk to me.” Marlena pushed the afghan away, then walked over to him and forced him to look at her. “Tell me what’s happening. First two women are murdered, then the old sheriff dies shortly after I ask him about the past.”

Rage darkened his eyes, but another emotion flashed there as well. Fear.

And pain.

Pain she didn’t understand.

“Dammit, Marlena.” His voice sounded tortured as he set his drink on the mantel; then he yanked her into his arms and crushed her in his embrace.

Dante inhaled Marlena’s erotic feminine scent, savoring the sweetness seeping from her. He didn’t deserve to touch Marlena, much less hold her.

 
He was born evil. And just as Father Gio had taught him, evil would never die.

 
In spite of all the innocents he might have saved, that side of him thrived, tempting and alluring.

 
The evil flowed through his blood and soul, dark and hot, hungry to be fed.

 
Yet Marlena buried herself against him as if he was her savior, and he was helpless to resist her. She felt soft and warm and so damn feminine and sexy that his body stirred to life. His hands burned to touch her, his mouth watering for a taste of her flesh, his cock throbbing and begging to find a home between her thighs.

His baser instincts shoved his conscience aside, and he dropped a kiss into her hair. Desperate to be closer, he trailed his hands over her shoulders, down to her hips, and cradled her between his legs. She shivered against him, and he swept one hand up, lifted her chin, and looked into her eyes.

He’d protected her as a child.

He wanted to do the same now. But he wanted so much more…

Things he couldn’t have. Like the taste of her on his lips. The feel of her bare skin against his fingertips. Her body quivering as he swept his tongue and hands over her naked flesh.

Dammit. He wanted Marlena in his bed begging him to fill her.

Marlena’s lips parted, her gaze flicked to his mouth, and her hand swept up his chest. Raw need overwhelmed him, and he lowered his bead and fused his mouth with hers. For a brief second she stiffened, and his gut clenched. She didn’t want him. She knew what he was, that he was a monster.

Then she moaned his name and. moved against him, and hunger surged through him. He deepened the kiss, teased her lips apart with his tongue, delved inside her mouth to taste her sweetness and independence. Arousal swelled inside his body, arousal so painful that his head swam, obliterating any thought except the fierce need to take her.

To make her his.

He raked his fingers along her cheek, then her jaw, and tilted her face so he could lick the soft skin of her neck, nibble at the sensitive zone behind her ear. Her breath hitched as she moved seductively against him. Her thigh brushed his, and white-hot pleasure shot through him, heightening his lust. He traced his tongue along her neck, then lower, his fingers literally itching to tear off her clothes.

Passionate,. desperate, he rasped her name. She lifted her chin and her foggy gaze met his. Her eyes were clouded with hunger, need, yet a sliver of fear lingered. His hands stilled as an image of the terror in her eyes the day her family was brutally murdered replayed through his head.

 
His demon family had put that terror there.

 
He knew who had killed her family, and he hadn’t stopped them. Hadn’t turned them in or seen that they were punished.

 
As if to remind him of his place in the world—that he belonged nowhere—the sound of a wolf’s lonely cry rent the air. The lone sound stirred others, and the screech of a pack in hunt mode echoed through the hills.

 
A pack of werewolves. Not the BlackPaws. He recognized their call. This was a predatory pack, one that had come to Mysteria to war with the BlackPaws.

There were others out there, too, the demons who’d entered Earth, passing by the Twilight Guards and threatening humanity on all Hallows’ Eve.

Marlena was searching for a cure for violent behavior, for evil, for a way to eradicate the monsters like him.

But that was impossible. Evil would always survive.

And with the new leader of the underworld, the demon world was mounting in force. Zion had unleashed hundreds of demons into the universe to prey, and more violence and trouble would come.

Dammit. Even if he wanted to kill the beast within himself, to cure the darkness, he needed that monster’s strength and drive to protect the town from others like him.

Marlena’s heart was pounding, the scent of Dante’s masculine body swirling through her like an aphrodisiac. His lips had paved a blazing trail of fiery sensations down her neck, stirring desires and. hungers that needed sating, that made her skin tingle and her insides hum with pleasure.

 
But he suddenly pulled back, and a barrage of emotions warred in his eyes. The intensity sent a shudder through her.

 
For a moment, he looked dangerous.

 
Jaw clenched, he released her abruptly, then spun around and stepped outside on the porch as if he needed to put some physical space between them.

 
Had she done something wrong? Why had he stopped?

 
Shaking with unspent desire and anger, she followed him outside. The wind swirled through her, icy cold and frigid.

 
She wasn’t asking for a relationship, didn’t want to care for someone else and then lose him. She just needed comfort tonight. That was all she’d allow herself. “Why did you stop, Dante?”

 
He leaned against the porch rail, his hands cradling the banister. “Because you don’t know what you’re doing.”

 
She bit her lip, irritated at his condescending tone. “Yes, I do. I’m not a child anymore.”

 
He spun around, his deep brown eyes skating over her with a look that bordered on predatory. “Believe me, I know that.”

 
She stepped forward to reach for him, but he threw up a warning hand. “Go inside, Marlena,” he said gruffly. “You’re in danger, and I have to do my job and find this serial killer.”

 
“That doesn’t mean we can’t be together tonight.”

 
“Trust me, Marlena. Sex with me won’t solve your problems. It will only complicate them.”

Hurt rippled through her. She wanted to be back in his arms. She’d wanted to feel him against her for years. He was the only one who understood her past, her pain, who knew what had driven her to search for a medical way to eliminate violence.

A noise outside startled her, and she scanned the darkness beyond, suddenly feeling naked, vulnerable and exposed, as if an endless sea of eyes was peering through the woods, monster’s eyes watching them.

“I know sex won’t solve all our problems or help us find Gerald Daumer.” She placed her hand on his shoulder, stroked the tension from his knotted muscle. “But I want you anyway, Dante. I want you to help me forget about the demons tonight.”

How could he forget about the demons when he was one of them?

He couldn’t. But he could give Marlena that gift.

Emotions clogged his throat as he yanked her against him. He shouldn’t be here with her now. Shouldn’t get this close.

Caring for her, wanting her was a forbidden passion.

But his body hummed with raw need, and he couldn’t stop himself from holding her or wanting her.

Dammit, she could have died tonight.

First Daumer had attacked her, and now a demon had shown himself to her at his house. A firestarter, an upper-level demon.

And this one might be his own damn father.

He tightened his hold on her, inhaling the sweet scent of her body, desperate to calm the rage fueling his bloodstream. Marlena wasn’t safe with him.

But would she be safe without him?

The image of the Satanic S shot through his mind, then the image of Marlena’s mother and sister’s sadistic murder. The idea that the murderer had left her trophies from his kills, that he might have found Marlena dead like the other girls, ate at his gut.

She clutched his back and tilted her face toward him, and a fierce hunger spiked his heart rate. Knowing she might have died tonight made every bone in his body ache. Stirred every primal desire he’d ever possessed.

“Dante?”

“Shh.” He didn’t want to talk about the demon now. He couldn’t.

He just wanted to hold her and let her warmth rid him of this relentless cold. Wanted to feel her soft body against his hard one. Let her tenderness remind him that he was part human, even if his own soul was lost.

Resistance fled, the intense need to be closer to her overwhelming him, and he cupped her face in his hands, tilted her chin up, lowered his head, and fused his mouth with hers.