Forbidden Passion (19 page)

Dante clenched his jaw but cradled her in his embrace, then lapsed into a silence that tore at her. The walls he was erecting stood between them like mountains she feared she could never cross.

She knew the killer was still out there, that there were other monsters. And poor Brenda was dead now at the hands of the madman…

But lying in Dante’s arms enabled her to forget them for a moment, to forget the pain and grief, the guilt, to allow herself to feel pleasure.

So she closed her eyes and fell asleep, praying that at least for tonight, the nightmares wouldn’t return.

But Dante’s refusal to discuss his family worried her. Something bad had happened to him in the past, something that had left him scarred and bruised, unable to trust.

Something he didn’t want to share.

He obviously had his own monsters and nightmares to deal with.

Another thought niggled at her. If Vincent and Quinton had supernatural powers, did Dante? Was that how he’d been able to run so fast that day? How he’d been able to escape the demons?

Zion roared his displeasure as he stared into the fire where the Seer had used her magic to give him a vision of his son Dante in bed with the woman.

Dammit. Dante was weak like the others.

If Vincent hadn’t killed him when he was a mortal on Earth years ago, he would have raised his sons in his image and now they would be a team, as it should have been.

“She does not know what he is,” the Seer said. “Or that he was sent to kill her the day her family was destroyed.”

A slow smile curved Zion’s demonic mouth. “Then she must find out. But the timing is important. I will use it to destroy their bond.”

“It may be too late.” The Seer’s eyes turned a molten lava color, her sharp intake of breath sending alarm through Zion.

“What do you see?” he growled. “Did she conceive a child from his seed tonight?”

The Seer bowed and nodded. “The magical child is within her.”

A thunderous roar ripped from Zion. “Not for long. When the female realizes she’s carrying a demon child, the spawn of the Dark Lord who belonged to the demon family who stole her own family’s life, she will do away with it. After all, this woman’s goal is to destroy evil.”

And if she didn’t rid herself of the child, he would do it for her.

The woman had to die tonight.

He smiled and zipped his pants, the exhilaration of sex still rippling through him as his gaze homed in on her naked flesh.

Fucking her senseless had been the last thing on his mind when he’d seen her. Instead he’d hungered for the sweet taste of her blood and imagined watching her body light up in flames.

 
Time to get the party started now. Time to let the world know that he had power.

 
He grabbed her by the ankles, huffing out a breath as her limp body jerked in an attempt to rouse herself and fight.

 
With a bitter laugh, he dragged her across the charred and parched land, the jagged rocks and crumbled pebbles scraping her naked skin.

 
Skin that would soon scent the air with its acrid odor, an odor he craved as he craved the fire.

 
He settled her into the heart of Devil’s Canyon next to the lone tree with its gnarled, bare branches and scaly trunk, a fitting place to leave her.

 
“Please let me go.” She stirred and kicked at him, but her feeble attempts were childlike and pitiful, sweet music to his ears.

 
He yanked her arms behind her and tied them to the tree, then spread her legs and tied them to stakes in the ground, posing her for all the world to see what a whore she was.

 
“Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

 
He barked out a bitter laugh. “You have to die.”

 
“No,” she cried. “Please don’t do this..

 
He hissed. “You used your fleshy body to entice me. That’s a sin.”

 
“But you liked it!” She struggled against the bindings, kicking and pawing at the dirt like a dog. Obviously her demonic powers hadn’t kicked in yet. He was in time.

 
The bad blood hadn’t yet overcome her, not as it had him.

 
He raised the knife, jabbed it to her chest and smiled as her scream of terror pierced the air. With one quick flick, he carved the Satanic S in her chest, his body stirring with bloodlust as her blood began to flow and drip down her flesh.

The red, sticky life force drained from her and soaked the ground as the life faded from her. A smile curled his lips over his teeth as he removed a small can of lighter fluid and doused her and the tree. Methodically, he removed a pack of matches from his pocket, struck one, then lit a branch.

Grimly, he watched the frail limbs burst into flames, mesmerized by the beautiful orange and yellow colors as they blended together. Heat radiated through his fingertips, the thrill of being alive made more potent by the fire.

Flames erupted, shooting upward and spreading, engulfing the tree, the wood crackling and popping in a small explosion. The smell of burning skin filled his nostrils, drugging him with pleasure as her skin began to sizzle.

The fleshy white turned a reddish brown in seconds, her hair swirling as it ignited. Smoke curled upward in a sea of gray, floating toward the heavens, boasting of its victory. He reached out and pressed his finger into the flames, watching in fascination, savoring the euphoria engulfing him.

Below, the underworld rejoiced and chanted his name.

He held his hands up in victory.

Dante left Marlena sleeping, grabbed his phone, and punched in his deputy’s number. “Did you find Daumer?”

“No,” Hobbs said. “I called in a couple of deputies from the county and they’ve been combing the woods but so far nothing.”

“Keep looking. And let me know if you find him.”

Dante disconnected the call, then sat in the chair beside Marlena and watched her sleep, his body coiled like a viper’s. When she’d asked about his family and his past, he’d wondered briefly if she suspected what he was. If his blood tests had given him away.

But she wouldn’t have slept with him if she’d known the truth.

Her description of the creature she’d seen in front of her car still disturbed him~ If it had been Zion, he was closing in on him. Had found out where he lived.

He scraped his hair back from his forehead. Dammit. He might need help, might have to contact the Valtrez brothers.

No. not yet. He didn’t trust them.

He was powerful in his Own right. Had never needed anyone before.

But Zion was the leader of the underworld. He possessed powers beyond the imaginable, and had a multitude of soldiers to enforce his commands and wreak destruction.

His cell phone vibrated, and he checked the number and saw it was the crime lab, so he connected the call.

“Sheriff, this is CSI Evans in forensics. Sorry to report this, but that computer showed nothing.”

Another dead end. “Thanks. I appreciate the follow-up.”

A noise outside startled him, and he closed his phone, yanked on his jeans, strode to the den, and checked the door. But everything seemed secure.

Outside, the howl of an otherworldly creature echoed off the mountain, the earth trembled, and rocks tumbled down the ridge like a small avalanche.

Senses alert, he stepped outside, making sure to lock the door, although there was no way a locked door would keep demons at bay. The scent of smoke and demonic blood filled the air, swirling around him in a sensual rush.

He glanced to the left to the top of the ridge and watched the dark clouds hovering over the mountain in an ominous gray as if waiting to unleash a mountain of rain. The earth rumbled, the echo of the underworld chanting that danger was on its way.

Footsteps sounded near the creek, and he strode down from the porch and followed the path into the woods. His body honed for attack, heat seeped through his fingertips, his baser instincts bursting to life.

The scent of the demon faded, drifting away in the raucous wind, although the hollow sound of the demon’s laughter boomed from below.

And when he looked into the clear crystal water, his cold demonic reflection stared back.

His eyes were glowing a bright hot orange, a dark aura surrounding him as if the devil had surfaced from deep within his core to remind him that he was not human. That he shouldn’t have touched Marlena.

But the memory of her lithe body, beneath him, of the passionate, glazed look in her eyes when he’d touched her, taunted him. The beautiful sound of her soft moans and cries of ecstasy filled him with the need to take her again.

The screams of her sister and mother from years ago followed, resurrecting the guilt he’d never overcome.

An image of Zion tearing Marlena’s heart out ripped at his gut, and the animal in him howled his rage to the heavens.

He would stop this killer and Zion, even if he had to die to do so.

A sliver of morning light seeped through the dark clouds and flowed through the ceiling skylight in the bedroom. Memories of making love with Dante returned, warming Marlena and sending a fresh stab of need and desire through her.

Hungry for him again, she rolled over and felt for Dante, but the bed was empty. For a moment, her heart ached as if she knew he’d deserted her just as everyone else in her life had.

Then panic and fear clawed at her. What if something had happened to him?

She threw off the covers, grabbed his shirt, and pulled it on, hastily fastening the buttons. Her pulse racing, she hurried into the den in search of him.

Relief spilled through her when she spotted him sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in front of him as he studied some kind of book.

She touched his shoulder, frowning as he tensed. Obviously this was going to be an awkward morning after. “Don’t you ever sleep?”

“Rarely,” he said matter-of-factly.

She waited for him to look at her, but he remained focused on whatever he was reading. Irritated he was shutting her out after they’d been so intimate, she moved to the counter, rummaged through the cabinet, and found a mug, then poured herself a cup of coffee.

Contemplating the best way to approach the topic of the night before, she blew on the steaming brew. His jaw was set firmly, his gaze focused on the book, his posture rigid and standoffish.

“Dante, what’s going on? Why won’t you look at me?”

His hand rolled into a fist on the table. “We have a killer to catch,” he said in a gruff voice. “I need to focus.”

She tapped her fingernails on the table. “You don’t want to talk about last night?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “No.” For the first time since she’d entered the room, he looked up at her. His eyes were dark and unreadable, the passionate haze from the night before gone completely.

Obviously their lovemaking had meant nothing to him.

Fine. She was an adult. She could have casual sex. It wasn’t as if she was in love with him. But they couldn’t repeat the act or she might lose herself emotionally.

Turning her thoughts back to the case, she warmed her hands on the coffee mug. “Did they find Gerald last night?”

His face twisted. “I’m afraid not.”

She gestured toward the book on the table. “What are you reading?”

He pushed back his chair, his jaw tight. “Brenda Mulligan’s journal. You need to take a look at this.”

She lowered herself into the chair facing him, then sipped her coffee.

He flipped back a couple of pages, then began to read. “I think it was a mistake to trust him, to join the project, but I believed in him. But since the experiment, he’s behaved strangely.”

Marlena scooted forward to look at the page. “What experiment?”

“She doesn’t go into detail. But there might be something here.”

He flipped to another entry. “I’ve been having headaches and experiencing memory lapses. Yesterday I woke up and was in the park. I have no idea what happened to me that night, but I had dirt on my clothes and blood on my hands. My medication must be causing blackouts. Still, I’m worried. We’re both different since the transfusions.”

Marlena curled her fingers around the coffee mug. “Transfusions? Does she mention who administered these transfusions?”

“Not that I’ve found yet?’ He flipped to another page. “She says here that he was going into rages, that she was afraid of him. She mentions her own aggressive tendencies mushrooming. That she was gaining strength and literally tore the door off the hinges in a fit of rage. She was also having violent thoughts.”

Marlena’s grip on her cup tightened. Gerald had complained of hearing voices and having violent thoughts, and it seemed that Brenda had experienced similar thoughts.