Forbidden Passion (29 page)

Emotions welled in his throat, the flames dancing higher and higher around them, clawing at his shoes, at the chair, at her feet. He frantically untied her, grabbed her from the chair, and carried away from the circle of flames.

 
He had to save her. Had to.

 
But the knife had punctured her heart, blood soaked her blouse and body, and she wasn’t breathing.

 
He eased her down onto the floor, leaned over, and started CPR, trying desperately to breathe life back into her. One, two, three—he did the chest compressions, praying, begging God to save her.

Over and over he performed the motions, blowing air into her lungs, but she lay limp, stiff, her body turning colder and colder by the second, her skin paler as the blood drained from her body.

Precious minutes passed, dragged by, rolling into half an hour, and slowly reality returned. Aboveground, the floods poured through the streets, but the silence in the cave was ominous and eerie.

He dragged Marlena into his lap and rocked her back and forth in his arms, emotions suffocating him—rage, grief, anguish.

He’d never loved anyone before, never had a connection or needed anyone in his life. But he loved Marlena and his son.

And now they were dead because of him.

Shock immobilized Dante, a deep-seated rage choking him. There was no reason to kill his unborn child, not unless the child had some kind of power Zion feared.

“Marlena, I’m so sorry,” Dante whispered into her hair. “I’m so sorry.”
          

 
He clutched her to his chest, rocking her back and forth, unable to release her. Pain and sorrow wrenched his gut. He couldn’t believe his child was gone, that he would never be born. That he’d failed again.

 
That he’d lost any chance of having a family of his own, someone who might love him, demon and all.

 
Moisture trickled down his cheeks and dripped onto her limp body.

 
Even worse, Marlena had died hating him.

 
He howled out his pain, grief and emotions overwhelming him, then stroked her hair from her face and swallowed hard so he could speak. “I was sent to kill you, Marlena,” he whispered. “I was only thirteen, and it was the initiation for our pack of demons.” He rubbed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. Her skin was already cooling, her body so still that he wanted to shake the life back into her.

“They wanted me to kill you. It was part of my initiation, but I couldn’t do it,” he mumbled. The vicious scene played before him like a camera on rewind. “You were so young, even younger than I was. I’d done bad things before, things they made me do when they tortured me. Things I thought I was supposed to do. It was our way of life. To hunt and to kill.”

He dropped his head forward and held her tightly, willing the time back but knowing it was impossible. If only he hadn’t been so stubborn, had called for help.

Maybe called his brothers.

Marlena might be alive and he might have stopped Edmund.

Grief overwhelmed ‘him, and he lay down beside her and pulled her into his arms. He’d never let her go.

“That day, I said no to the demons. I saved you and then I left them. I went undercover for months, hiding out. I lived in isolation for years.”

He touched her stomach, an intense pain ripping through his gut. Only now he bad killed his own child, because he hadn’t been able to protect him and his mother.

Rage erupted inside him, overpowering his grief.

He had to avenge their deaths.

Zion was responsible.

He tenderly stroked Marlena’s hair, his heart wrenching, then pressed a long, slow kiss to her lips. They lay there for what seemed like hours, him holding her, unwilling to let her go, drinking in her scent, memorizing every inch of her, every moment they’d shared together, every sweet and wonderful thing about her.

Choking back sorrow, he finally released her, then ‘stood. But his grief ebbed and flowed, an entity that would never end, fueling his thirst for vengeance.

He’d fought for his independence, had sworn he never needed anyone. Not the demons who’d raised him, the brothers who claimed they wanted a reconciliation, or Marlena.

The woman who might have loved him.

Until he’d crushed that love with the truth of what he was and what he’d been.

Vengeance was his only friend now. He would get it, then to hell with whatever happened to him.

But he didn’t have the power to vanquish Zion alone.

He needed his brothers and their combined powers. He didn’t know if he could trust them, but he had to take the chance.

He couldn’t leave Marlena here, though. The demons, the vampires, might find her and feed off her, so he picked her up and carried her through the tunnels to his house. Her limp body lay in his arms, her skin growing colder by the minute, until he laid her on his bed.

“I’ll be back for you,” he whispered, then pressed a kiss to her lips. “I won’t let Zion get away with this. I swear to you, I’ll make him pay.”

And if his brothers had already joined Zion, had had anything to do with Marlena’s death, he would kill them and bury them with his father.

Zion laughed as he watched his son Dante mourn over the woman. His grief would soon turn to anger and the need for revenge.

Dante was, after all, his son.

Edmund’s spirit drifted from the body and floated in front of him, a series of glowing particles and ectoplasm that shimmered in the stunning darkness of the night.

“I obeyed your commands, Master. Please give me life again,” Edmund pleaded.

Zion merely laughed. “You failed to bring me my son.,,

Edmund’s ghostly form shimmered and fluttered. “But I killed his demon child.”

“Yes, but you should have continued to make new demons for me instead of killing the bloodborn ones. Defying me in any way is unacceptable.” Zion raised his hands and flung them at the ghostly form, then issued his

demands.
      
-

“You will be sent to the lowest realm of the underworld and live in the fiery pit of hell forever.”

“No!” Edmund screamed.

With one flick of his hand, the sentencing was done, and Edmund’s spirit disappeared into the underground.

Zion smiled in glee and gathered his minions around him to prepare for his sons. He called upon Father Gio and instructed him to send all the elements out with their weapons.

The war had begun.

Dante stalked through the tunnels, the anger in his dark soul stirring fantasies of death and torture, of destroying his father and watching his body turn to ashes and fade into the ground.

Excitement heated his blood at the thought.

The memory of Marlena’s cold body in his arms and an image of what his child would have looked like surfaced, adding to his guilt, yet intensifying his primal need for revenge.

He’d never thought he’d ask his brothers for help. But the time had come to either join with them or fight to the end.

He punched in Vincent’s number, his pulse clamoring as he waited on a response. Five rings later and he had to leave a message.

He threw the phone on the seat of the SUV with a, vicious curse and drove toward his place. He needed to hunt. To kill. To taste the blood of a demon as he had so many times before.

The dark beast within him hungered for flesh, for blood and death and destruction.

He parked at his house, stared into the dark woods beyond, and knew there were demons in the midst hunting as well. Some hunting the animals, others who would feed from the town if not stopped.

The evil pulled at him, beckoned him to venture into its erotic abyss, to take what he wanted without question. To vent his pain on others as he’d been taught by the demons.

Moving on instinct, he shuffled forward into the deep recesses of the woods. The snow and wind whirled around him, the clouds threatening another downpour. The elements were probably laughing now, enjoying themselves as they wreaked havoc on the land and forest. The sound of the creek rising to the east roared through the night, promising destruction to the town.

He blundered on, the scent of a wild animal driving him, the smell of blood, a demon and the sound of werecreatures beckoning.

He belonged here in this tangle of lost souls and spirits and evil cravings.

Not in a home with beautiful Marlena or a child. But God help him, he’d wanted that.

His legs buckled, and he sank to the snow-packed ground and howled his fury and anguish. Somewhere close by, he heard laughter echoing off the mountain.

His father’s hideous laughter.

No, he didn’t belong with Marlena or a child of his own.

But dammit, he wanted them with every ounce of his being.

Only he’d lost them forever.

And his father was celebrating his victory as pain racked him senseless.

But suddenly a noise erupted through the fog of his grief.

He lifted his head and inhaled the scent of a human in the woods. An innocent.

His dark, baser instincts surged to life, the blood roaring in his head. He stalked toward it, the rage eating at his soul spurring him forward. The need to vent, to remember the man he used to be when caring about a human was not part of him, when he didn’t feel, when he didn’t know this kind of grief and loss, overwhelmed him.

He had to drive away the pain. Remember what he was.
         

Who he was. What he was meant to be.

What had been drilled and beaten into him for years, that he was a demon, a killer. He needed to draw on those lessons so he could tap into his demonic soul.

That demonic part of him would bolster the strength he needed to kill his father.

He kicked snow and brush aside, waded through the overflowing creek, stalked through the forest. A vulture was feeding on the dead carcass of an animal, then he heard noises—voices—floating to him in the wind.

“It’s spooky out here,” a young girl said in a shaky voice. “Come on, Jon, let’s go back.”

“No, it’s raining. Let’s sneak into the cave and we’ll have some privacy.”

Stupid teenagers. Any demon in the area could attack them and chomp them to pieces in seconds. Him included.

The girl spotted him, then gasped and jumped behind the boy, clutching him with blood-red fingernails. The boy’s eyes widened, but he squared his bony shoulders as if he was ready to fight for his girl. “Sheriff?”

Her innocence reminded him of Marlena as a child and resurrected his humanity. “Get out of there,” he shouted.. “This area is dangerous.”

The young couple scurried away in fear, and he turned and stalked back toward his house. He wouldn’t waste time on any of the smaller demons tonight. He wanted Zion.

His message light was blinking when he let himself inside. He grabbed the handset and checked the number.

Vincent.

A minute later, Vincent spoke. “Dante?”

Dante pinched the bridge of his nose and gasped for a breath as he connected the call. “We have to destroy Zion.”

“What happened to Marlena? Quinton had a premonition that she died.”

He choked back emotions. “He killed her. Zion used Raysen to kill her.”

A tense second, stretched between them. “Meet me at my house,” Vincent said. “I’ll call Quinton and tell him to come. Together we can bring Zion down.”

Dante’s throat thickened as the image of Marlena dying taunted him. “Just give me the address. I’m on my way.” If Vincent or Quinton was lying to him, he’d kill them then. But first he needed to know where to find his father.

Vincent gave him GPS coordinates, and Dante hung up and rushed to his SUV. He started the engine, then scrubbed at his eyes as he tore down the mountain. His entire life spread before him in an array of sickening images. His life with the demons, with Father Gio and the elements when he was young. The torture and the brutal exercises they’d forced him to endure. The battles and hunts for innocents to be sacrificed.

The fights with opposing demons to prove his strength.

The day of the, initiation. Father Gio ordering him to kill Marlena. Her mother screaming at the demons to let them go.

His first sliver of humanity surfacing when he’d seen the fear and youth and hope in Marlena’s eyes.

Being with her had almost made him feel human.

His hands .gripped the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, and sweat beaded his skin as he fought to keep the car on the road. The creek running beside the road was overflowing, flooding the street, and cars were already stranded along the highway. He flipped on the radio and tensed at the news report. “The residents of Mysteria are being asked to evacuate to higher ground. There are reports of two deaths already from flood-related accidents, the subdivision on the east side of town is half under water, and the weatherman has predicted that more floods and tornadoes are on the way. But Mysteria isn’t the only town having problems. A hurricane is due in the Gulf, and California has reported an earthquake—”