Dante's Fire (9 page)

“When I was young and came into my powers, I was reckless. Angry. The first time, I struck out at the attackers of a young girl with too much force.” His lips tightened. “I killed him.”

She kept quiet, hoping to offer her own comfort by the light caress of his hand over her back. “He deserved it.”

“Perhaps. But it was against the rules. Afterward, my father came to me in a dream. He said I must always obey the balance of life, and never take justice into my own hands. That is for God to decide. Rule number one is ironclad. I am not allowed to take a life, not matter how I feel. I began to work harder to control my anger and I’ve never slipped again.”

Selina wondered how he lived with the violence and hurt on a daily basis. Yet, there was so much gentleness in his touch, in his eyes, in his heart. Tenderness rose up like a wave and drowned her. “It’s so much responsibility to take on,” she murmured. “So much pain to experience on behalf of healing others.”

He jerked back. His fingers tightened around her shoulder and he let out a shaky breath. “Thank you,” he said softly. The gratitude on his face broke her heart. As if he’d never come in contact with someone who understood.

“What are the other rules?”

“I can only save one woman at a time, and I never know when the healing process is complete. Usually, I’m connected with the woman until she reaches a point she no longer needs me. I sense when she needs me, and I’m able to appear by her side, wherever she is.”

“So you don’t choose to come for these midnight visits?” she asked carefully. “You’re automatically dragged through some sort of time travel tunnel?”

“A bond forms at the time of rescue. My duty is to stay with her through the healing process.”

Humiliation cut through her. She didn’t know why the idea of him not choosing to come to her sliced deep. Like she was some type of mercy project for him.
Duty
. Dear God, was this all it was to him? Her muscles stiffened and she began to pull back.

“Selina, no, you misunderstand.” He caressed her cheek. “I go because I
want
to. Your pain calls to me, and I’m only pulled in because I need to be close. Don’t you understand? As much as you think you need me, I need you more.”

A fierce need rose up inside of her, swallowing the fear and hesitation. She wanted him. Craved him. His words and his heat seemed to burn her alive, until the only thing to slake the emptiness was him.

He was a modern day superhero who saved women from the crippling fear of their own sexuality. He never asked for anything back. What expense had that been to his soul?

Selina reached up and pulled his head down to hers.

She kissed him, learning the taste and texture of his lips. They sipped at hers with a pure gentleness that rocked her soul. He let her set the pace, but his patience only pushed her need for more. She slipped her tongue between his lips and entered.

He groaned and met her halfway. Their tongues tangled together, the heady taste of him assaulting her senses. Fire thrummed through her veins as his hands slowly slipped underneath her t-shirt to touch the bare skin of her belly. She sucked in her breath at the feel of his roughened fingers, inches away from the burning heat between her legs. Those hands coasted upward to her breasts, brushing against her hardened nipples with light strokes. Selina arched and cried out for more, nothing in her vision except the man in front of her, with his dark eyes and delicious touch and gentle heart.

He cupped her breasts in both hands, rubbing, massaging. Her nerve endings hummed and her arousal twisted higher. This was a simple exchange of giving pleasure, and she sunk deep into the release, letting her body take over while her mind finally surrendered. He nibbled on her bottom lip, soothed with his tongue, while his thumbs flicked the tip of her nipples and coaxed them to grow tighter and harder.

Selina wrapped her arms around him and hung on. His skin felt like steel encased in satin as she ran her fingers over his back and the muscles rippled. "More," she whispered. Urgency and the heady sense of freedom pushed her onward. "Please."

"You okay?" He asked the words through gritted teeth. Power surged over her - he wanted her. This was more than just a man helping a woman release her demons. He wanted her on a basic level of a man to a woman, and she gloried in the knowledge.

"Yes. Touch me. Put your mouth on me."

He muttered a curse and slid her shirt up. Lowered his head. Licked the hardened tip of her breast with slow, careful strokes. Liquid fire pulsed between her thighs in sheer demand. As if he knew she was ready, he opened his mouth and took her nipple between his lips and sucked.

"Dante!"

His other hand slid down her belly, hooked under the elastic of her panties and settled over the tight curls. Wet and pulsing for his touch, she opened her thighs in an unspoken invitation, confident she could stop at anytime. But she didn't want to stop, needed to feel his fingers inside of her, just once...

He lifted his head from her breasts. "Look at me."

Eyes glazed, waiting for his intimate touch, she obeyed.

His voice oozed over her like hot caramel in sensual demand. "Me. Only me. Not them."

"Not them."

He slid one finger into her tight heat. She cried out at the delicious sensation and liquid warmth rushed to greet him. He muttered in satisfaction as he drew his finger in and out, teasing the tight bud as sensation squeezed every muscle in her body. His name broke from her lips as he moved over her, inside her, bringing her closer to blessed release.

"Let yourself feel, sweetheart. Let me give this to you."

His thumb rubbed over her clit as his fingers worked their magic. Selina poised on the edge of the cliff, sensations wracking her body and pushing everything out of her mind except the promise of sweet release.

He thrust a third finger deep inside of her. Then delicately squeezed her clit.

Selina cried out as the orgasm took hold. Her body convulsed with sheer ecstasy. He helped her ride out the wave, murmuring endearments as she gave it all over to him. Then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in tight to his body. Selina slumped over him. Tears leaked down her cheeks and she trembled in his embrace.

He pressed kisses in her hair and let her cry, a mixture of release so intense her insides felt cleansed. As she drifted toward slumber, she whispered her last words.

"Please don't leave me tonight."

She fell asleep before she heard his answer.

***

The dream rose from within—the familiar scene unfolding and taking shape in the misty fringes of slumber. Dante fought the image, but his mother's voice whispered, urging him to walk forward, into the fog.

His mother led him forward through the park with urgency, as if she sensed danger near. Her black hair fell thickly down her back as he gripped her hand and trailed behind, the scents of rotten leaves and musty earth greeting his nostrils. Dante didn't speak, understanding they needed to get to the end of the path as shadows stole over the sun.

They came out from behind the trees - one, two, three large men. Hats pulled down over their faces. Bulky arms and mean voices as they stopped them in their path. His mother moved like lightning, but they were stronger and faster. They pulled her off the path into the woods while the third one pushed Dante to the ground, his young body useless in a physical fight. He called the power of fire, but the man held his throat in a viselike grip and he struggled for breath, struggled to focus on drawing his senses together and causing a flame. His mother never screamed but he heard low laughter, and ripped fabric. He cursed his inexperience with his gift and called to the gods for help, but the night remained silent other than the grunts of the men.

The grip around his throat loosened. Instead of calling on his power, Dante managed a lucky punch that snapped the man's face back. Evil glimmered. The flash of a knife appeared and he knew he might die. "Wanna play, punk? How does this feel?" The blade came down and he turned away. The man slipped and the knife zigzagged across his face, tearing flesh and spilling fresh blood. Agony bit through him and pain rolled over in waves.

Consciousness blurred. Time stopped. When he was released, the men punched each other's arms in victory. Pointed at him. Laughed. He crawled through rotten leaves and found his mother's body. Naked. Bruised. Her face deadly still. Dante sobbed and covered her with the ripped fabric, stroked her face and called for her over and over.

His hands touched blood. Hers. His. Mixed. She was dying. The men's voices became distant. Rage roared and fired in his blood. His vision blurred as the power shook through his body like an answering storm. His hands reached forward toward the men as they walked away, and an ancient curse rose from his lips in a language he only knew from a dream.

Flames burned to life. The men screamed as fire rose from their arms. Burnt flesh simmered in the air as the symbol cut deep and burned into a scar to never be removed.

Sirens rang in the distance. The men ran, cries of agony and confusion rattling in the fall evening. He sobbed as he lay over his mother and she opened her eyes. Dark depths shone with gentleness, calm, knowledge. Her voice rose and wrapped around him.

"It's my time, Dante. I will join your father and be happy. You have found your destiny - your call to power. Women need your help. Find them, heal them, and mark the ones who will burn in hell. This is a gift of great responsibility. Through you, I will be avenged, and you will save many. I love you, my child...I love you."

She slipped away to the gods to join his father and left him alone.

And he knew what he must do. Knew with every act of fire, he would avenge his mother's death. And would heal the innocent.

But he was always alone. Alone, alone, alone...

Dante's eyes flew open. The lingering remnants of the dream throbbed in his head, and he sat up, his hands fisted over his eyes. For a moment, he forgot where he was, until he noticed the soft female body pressed close against him.

Selina.

What had he done? The lines of propriety blurred. He'd never gone as far with a woman he set out to heal. Cuddling, talking, and safety were his main concerns. His usual iron control failed the moment she responded so sweetly, giving her body to him in complete trust. Had he let her down? Had he failed?

Dante shuddered. He wanted to claim her for his own. Instead, he'd brought her to orgasm, watching her face as she shattered in release. The image of her attack had faded from her mind, and he shook with the power to bring this woman to the brink and beyond.

She begged him to stay. He'd only meant to wait until she fell into a deep sleep before disappearing, but the temptation to wrap his arms around her and catch a few hours was too great. Was the dream a sign he had failed to protect her?

"Bad dream?"

Her voice floated up in the darkness and enclosed him in crushed velvet. He breathed in the heady scent of sandalwood and feminine arousal. "I guess we all have them."

"Even superheroes?" He turned and studied her face. Her jeweled eyes held questions. She lifted her fingers to trace the edge of his mask.

Dante wondered if the others looked upon themselves as superheroes. Most of the time he felt battered, alone, and world weary. He couldn't fly, stop bullets, and had no cool gadgets. He was human, not immortal. He knew there were others with different types of magic - men and women who controlled earth's elements, able to help humankind in their own unique ways. Dante had never met them - only knew they existed. Chase had urged him many times to try to search for the others, but how did you possibly do it? Hire a private detective to find hidden superheroes that helped humankind? He wished he could start a therapy group for people like him, and then pushed the thought aside to answer her question.

"Yes," he answered honestly. "Superheroes probably have some of the worst dreams because they live with evil. But I don't consider myself one of them."

"Who do you think you are?"

In the middle of the night, with the woman he loved pressed to his side, he allowed himself to share the jagged pieces of his soul. "I think I was born with special powers I didn't learn to control until I was older. My father and I had the gift of fire. My mother was a normal human, but when she was killed, I inherited the ability to appear when someone was in trouble. I have no control over that part. But I used my calling for fire to mark evil in plain sight." He took her hand and pressed her open palm against his lips. "Is that a wizard? A superhero? Or just a plain man trapped with a power he can't ever deny?"

"I don't know," she said. "And I don't care. You save people. You care. You make a difference. Isn't that what matters?"

Was it? Was it enough? Not enough to call her his own. He belonged to the world, and appeared at its whim. She'd never be able to settle with a man who lived in the dark, in other women's bedrooms. A man who walked with secrets during the day. She deserved a man to bring in the light of day, make her happy, and give her everything. He wasn't enough.