Forbidden Passion (11 page)

The life of a demon. A killer. A man without mercy. Demonborn.

You’re evil
, the voice inside Dante’s head whispered.
Embrace it and follow your destiny and your powers will grow exponentially.

Father Gio’s words resurfaced as~ he stared at the girl’s dead body. Yes, he was evil. And he recognized it now in the signature of this killer.

Only true evil could torture a woman this way and leave her exposed to the elements, her body crumbling to ashes, skin melted away, muscle and tissue exposed, bones poking through the black skin.

“Two victims in two days,” Hobbs said in disgust.

Dante nodded. “He’s hungry for the kill. He enjoys it. And he’s going to escalate.”

But what was his motive?

The thrill of the kill? Did he personally know the victims? Did he have something against women in general?

Or was this a sacrifice, a test, to please Zion?

He knelt and examined her neck, searching for the puncture marks he’d seen on Jordie’s neck. There they were. Jagged teeth marks. Just as with his first victim, he’d bitten the woman’s carotid artery and watched her bleed out. This time he’s also carved an S into her chest with a jagged knife.

He’d changed his MO slightly.

Which meant he was escalating.

Marlena was so agitated by her visit with Sam Larson and his wife that she went back to the lab to drown herself in work. Work had cured her anxiety the past few years, had given her a purpose, had become her obsession.

She had to fall back on it now, or she’d give in to temptation and call Dante.

After the old sheriff’s cryptic warning, she wasn’t sure she wanted to talk to him just yet.

An hour later, she finished logging the results of her interviews for the day, her nerves on edge as she left BloodCore. Dr. Raysen and Dr. Sneed had left hours before, but she’d stayed, hoping to find something more specific about the blood samples. Two disturbed her the most—the samples from Vincent and Quinton Valtrez. Both law enforcement officers, brothers, and both with strange genetic abnormalities.

But what did they mean?

Perhaps she’d ask Sneed and Raysen to examine them tomorrow. Fatigue knotted her shoulders, and she glanced outside. Night had fallen, and the wind was picking up again. She needed to get home before the clouds unleashed the snow the newscaster had promised this morning.

Evening shadows danced across the parking lot as she rushed to her car, and she scanned the lot in case Gerald was watching. A car’s lights shimmered on a side street, and she jumped into her car, locked the doors, started the engine, and sped onto the street. Tremors started deep inside her, and she checked the rearview mirror, then breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t spot anyone following.

Her tension mounted as she drove up the mountain to her house. She didn’t like the fact that one of her patients might have killed a local girl. That he had left her ring on her doorstep.

A shiver ripped through her, and she cranked up the heater, but no amount of heat could erase the fear threatening to consume her.

The traffic was minimal on the winding road, the isolation making her search the woods and trees as she chugged up the gravel drive. The wind whistled through the towering oaks and pines as she climbed from her car, dry leaves swirling around her feet, the hint of a brewing storm pervading the air.

Anxious to be inside by the fireplace, she tugged her coat around her and ran up the steps to her porch.

But her heart jumped to her throat when she spotted another small package on the floor. Just like the other, the box had a bright red bow. A quick glance told her there was no card, no address, nothing to indicate the sender.

She didn’t have to open it to know that the killer had struck again. Her chest constricted, and she backed up against the porch and scanned her yard, terrified the killer was watching her.

Then she heard a noise from the house. Someone was inside.

Dante had checked in with the search party, and although they’d discovered evidence of vagrants and teenagers in a couple of cabins in the mountain, no one had found Daumer.

He took photographs of the latest victim’s body to study later, searched for footprints around the scene, but the killer had obviously covered his trail.

Unless he possessed some kind of power that allowed him to walk through air, to orb, or to shapeshift into a creature that could fly. All were possibilities that he couldn’t share with the others on the team.

His cell phone buzzed, and he grabbed the phone and checked the caller log. Marlena.

His pulse began to pound as he connected the call, beating even faster when he heard her irregular breathing.

“Dante.
.
.1 think there’s been another murder.”

“There has been,” Dante said. “I’m at the crime scene now.”

“Oh, God.
. .“
She choked back a cry. “He may be at my house.
. .
inside.”

Holy fuck. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “but I hear someone in the house.”

“Do not go inside, Marlena. Get into your car and wait for me. I’ll be right there.” He rushed to tell the crime team where he was going, jogged to his car, and sped away.

Dammit, he should have posted someone to guard her house twenty-four-seven.

He should have stayed with her himself.

He flipped on his siren, barreling around a minivan crawling along the highway, swerved to avoid hitting an oncoming trucker. Precious minutes dragged by, his heart pounding.

Finally he veered onto the gravel drive to Marlena’s. He checked the area as he raced up the drive and screeched to a stop outside her house. The wind whipped violently through the trees, the dark storm clouds nearly swallowing the waxing moon.

He scanned the front of the house, but he didn’t spot Marlena. Dammit. He checked her car, but didn’t see her there either. Where the hell was she?

Adrenaline surged through him as he cut the lights. Then he spotted the silhouette of a man climbing through the attic window. Cold fury bled through his veins.

Had the killer done something to Marlena?

The heat in his hands began to flare up, the itch to punish the man with a dose of his own medicine eating at him. One fireball. Two. He could send the man up in flames in seconds.

But Marlena might be inside, and he had to restrain himself. Had to hide his powers from the humans.

So he grabbed his gun, eased open the car door, and shouted at the intruder.

It was pitch-black and he couldn’t see the man’s face, but he suddenly vaulted down the roof and jumped off the house on the side nearest the woods.

Dante ran to the side of the house, expecting the man to be injured on the ground. He’d just jumped from a two story house—he’d most likely broken a leg, if not both of them. He could catch the bastard now and end this.

By the time he reached the side, the bushes were empty and there was no body on the ground. Dammit. The intruder had disappeared into the woods.

How had he gotten away?

Channeling his night vision to search the woods, he spotted a figure running into the forest.

Marlena shouted his name, and he pivoted and saw her stumbling from the house, her hair disheveled, a fire poker in her hand. An image of the other women’s bodies flashed into his head, and a dull ache suddenly shot through his chest. That could have been her…

His breath hitched as he raced to her. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, but he jumped out of the attic window,” Marlena shouted.

“I know, dammit, I’m going after him.”

Marlena paced inside the foyer, checking the windows and the darkness, her stomach knotted in a fist. Had Dante caught the intruder?

Had they fought? Was he all right?

The windows shook violently, the walls trembling with the wind, the furnace groaning. She glanced at the clock, counting the minutes. Outside, the storm clouds thickened and thunder rumbled.

Her gaze shot to that silver package and she thought about how the killer had tortured Jordie and shuddered. Whom had he killed now?

Would she recognize the trophy in that box?

God, she hoped not. Hoped that he hadn’t killed someone else she knew.

That she hadn’t failed again, and wouldn’t have another death on her conscience.

Panic stole her breath, and she walked to the mantel, leaned against it, and forced herself to look at the photograph of her mother and sister, the one of the three of them at the local fair. Another photo of her and her sister wading in the creek. Another of them hunting Easter eggs at a church picnic.

The horrible memories had tormented her for so long that she’d forgotten to remember the pleasant ones. The way her mother used to sing when she baked blueberry pie. The sound of her voice reading Bible stories to her and her sister before bedtime.

The sight of her clutching the gold cross she always wore around her neck as if somehow that cross would protect her.

But it hadn’t, and Marlena had turned inward after that. She’s abandoned faith and turned to science and medicine.

Outside, leaves swirled, and a limb scraped the windowpane with an eerie screech. She raced back to the window and looked outside, searching the shadows and clenching her sweaty hands together.

Fear for Dante suddenly replaced thoughts of her lost family.

Sheriff Larson had warned her that Dante wasn’t what he seemed, that be might be dangerous. Still, her heart pounded with worry.

What would she do if he didn’t come back?

Clutching his gun with a white-knuckled grip, Dante ran through the thick copse of trees, jumping over broken stumps and fallen trees from the last winter storm that had swept through.

Ahead he heard the rustle of trees and bushes and increased his pace, racing past a dead coyote. An owl hooted above; the screech of birds and other animal life reverberating through the forest. The shadowy figure headed up the ridge, and Dante climbed the hill, jogging until he spotted the edge of the river. Rocks~ skittered beneath his boots and pinged into the creek bed below.

The shadow had reached the peak and catapulted itself over the edge into the river. Dante ran forward, skidding to a stop when he reached the cliff, then watched as the shadow disappeared into thin air. He waited for a splash of water, for him to resurface, but nothing.

A string of expletives exploded from his mouth. Dante was a powerful demon. A firestarter.

But this man—demon—had dived off a cliff and virtually disappeared.

What the hell was he dealing with?

Furious that he’d escaped, he turned and jogged back through the woods. As soon as he broke the clearing, he spotted Marlena leaning against the porch rail, looking pale and terrified.

He crossed the yard, stomped up the steps, grabbed her arms, and shook her. “What in the hell were you doing going into that house?”

Marlena gasped. “I thought it was probably Gerald, that I might be able to convince him to turn himself in.”

“Good fucking lord,” Dante shouted. “Whether it was Gerald or not, you could have been killed.”

Marlena straightened her shoulders. “I’m tired of being afraid. No one, absolutely no one is going to run me out of my own house.” Her jaw flexed. “Not ever again.”

He growled low in his throat. He didn’t know if she was brave or just plain stupid. “But you should be scared,” he said between clenched teeth. “You should have trusted me and let me handle it.”

The uncertainty in her eyes tore at him. His adrenaline was churning, his heart pounding, his blood racing. He’d never felt this kind of bone-deep terror before, and he didn’t like it.

Marlena could have died tonight, and he wouldn’t have been able to stop it.

Unable to refrain, he jerked her to him. Her body trembled, her breath hitching, her gaze locking with his, questions brimming.

He ignored the warnings of repercussions screaming in his head. The knowledge that she was forbidden.

Instead, he did what he’d wanted to do ever since she’d returned to Mysteria.

He dragged her into his arms, then claimed her mouth with his.

Marlena’s head spun with confusion, but her body burned with desire as Dante kissed her. He’d been shouting at her, angry, treating her as if she’d been rash, then suddenly he’d yanked her against him and closed his lips over hers.

She should pull away.

She needed to protect herself.

But the past few hours had spiked her nerves, and having his arms around her felt so comforting that she clung to him instead.

His muscles flexed and bunched beneath her fingers; his mouth was bold and swept over hers in a demanding lover’s statement.