Forbidden Passion (12 page)

As if he had to have her.

No man had ever made her feel that way. Sex had always been casual, slow.
.
.
nice. Boring.

With Dante, it would be fast, intense, explosive..
.
and that terrified her.

His tongue pushed at the seam of her lips and she moaned and parted them, erotic sensations pummeling her as he ravaged her mouth with his own. One hand rose to cup her face while the other jerked her hips into the vee of his legs, pressing her heat against an erection that bulged between her thighs.

Her hands rose to dig into his thick hair, her hips rotating to invite him closer, and he massaged her buttocks, groaning into her mouth. Her blood heated to a fever pitch, need and desire spiraled through her in a mind-numbing rush.

Scattered thoughts raced through her head. Another woman had died tonight. The killer had been in her house. She could have died.

Without knowing this…

Dante shoved her up against the porch wall, his big body smothering her, rubbing against her, taunting her with his strength and power.

But Sam Larson’s words echoed through her head.
He’s not what he appears to be. He’s dangerous.

She had to find out what he meant.

Her body ached to have Dante closer, for his hands to touch her, but her mind screamed for her to guard herself.

To protect her heart.

Mustering every ounce of restraint she possessed, she slowly ended the kiss, pushing him away from her.

“Dante we have to talk.
.
.“
She was trembling all over, her legs weak, her self-preservation instinct nearly crumbling.

God help her, she wanted to be back in his arms.

But the killer had brought her into this, and she couldn’t run. She had to help stop him before he struck again.

She couldn’t live with another death on her conscience.

Dante stared at Marlena, his breath heaving. Dammit, he wanted her.

Wanted to tear her clothes off, lay her down on the floor, spread her legs, and bury himself inside her.

But that would be a mistake.

One time with Marlena wouldn’t be enough. And having her more than once would create an addiction.

His hands physically ached as he forced them to his sides. “I’m sorry. You’re right. We should talk. Where’s the trophy the killer left this time?”

 
Marlena tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and retrieved the box from the foyer table. Dante knew there were probably no prints, but he yanked on gloves first, removed the top of the box, and gritted his teeth.

A simple silver bracelet lay inside, crimson splotches of blood dotting the white tissue paper.

 
Marlena folded her arms around her waist as she stared at it. “It’s bloody just like the ring?’

 
He lifted his gaze to hers. “Do you know who it belonged to?”

 
She shook her head, her face ashen. “Do you?”

“I’m afraid not. But the MO was the same, the girl’s carotid artery was severed. He’s escalating though. He also carved an S into her chest .with a jagged knife before he burned her. And he left her in the woods near my house.”

 
“My God.” Marlena sank onto the couch, one shaky hand gripping the sofa arm. “This is personal. He’s taunting both of us.”

 
Which made him even more certain that demons were involved, that these deaths were connected to their past.

 
That the sadistic monster wanted to punish him for refusing to kill Marlena.

 
So how did Daumer fit into the scenario? What kind of demon was he? He claimed he heard voices in his head— was be possessed by the devil?

Frustration knotted Dante’s gut. So far, he’d followed police procedure: used CSI, the ME, organized a manhunt. But none of them had led them to Daumer.

Without an ID, he couldn’t even question the second victim’s family or search her house or belongings. But when the ME identified her, he’d search for a connection between her and Jordie. Victimology might lead him to the killer.

He considered driving back to the crime scene, but CSI would process it, and the ME had taken custody of the body.

Another glance at Marlena, and he knew he wasn’t going anywhere tonight. He had to guard her house.

He’d just have to keep his distance. No more kissing or touching.

If he did, next time he might not be able to stop.

Marlena cleared her throat. “Did you see where the intruder ran? Did he have a car waiting somewhere?”

Dante tensed. He’d wanted to protect Marlena, so he’d kept the truth from her. Now, he might have to tell her to protect her.

“No car. He jumped off the ridge into the river.”

Marlena gasped. “He couldn’t survive a fall like that. Not with the height of the ridge and the frigid water temperature.”

Dante’s jaw tightened. “Marlena, it’s possible he did survive.”

“What?” She licked her dry, parched lips. “How?”

The urge to reach for his hands ripped through her, but she remembered the sheriff’s warning and wanted answers. “Dante?”

He hissed out a breath, adopting his brooding look, a sign he was shutting down and erecting walls to prevent a personal connection between them. “Do you remember what happened years ago in that forest? What you told the police?”

Déjà vu catapulted Marlena back in time. To the monsters who’d stolen her mother’s and sister’s lives and who’d haunted her since.

She had to swallow twice to find her voice. “How could I forget?” she said in a choked whisper. “No one believed me. And as I grew up, I figured they were right. That I had imagined those men being monsters.”

The silence stretched between them, fraught with tension. The implications filtering through the haze of fear enveloped her.

He scrubbed a hand over the dark stubble on his chin. “They were real,” he finally muttered.

At first denial seized her. “No.
.

“Yes,” he said with more conviction. “They were.
. .
are supernatural creatures. Demons.”

She gaped at him in shock for several heartbeats. Real? Demons? Monsters just as she’d thought she’d seen…

“Then you saw them back then, too?”

A darkness settled in his eyes that sent a tremor of terror though her.

“Yes. I saw them. I’ve.
. .
seen others since.”

Her body trembled violently, and she stood and began to pace, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. Sheriff Larson’s words echoed in her head again—he’d seen things, things that couldn’t be explained. More deaths after her family’s murder.

The anger she’d felt at Dante years ago churned into a fiery pit in her belly. “If that’s true, why didn’t you come forward and tell them back then? Why didn’t you stand up for me when everyone thought I was crazy?”

He spoke through clenched teeth. “I was trying to protect you, dammit.”

She vaulted toward him, clutched his arms, and shook him. “Protect me by denying they existed?”

“Yes.” He gripped her arms, stilling them, calming her, when she wanted to pound her fists on his chest.

“Don’t you understand?” he growled. “Exposing them as demons, calling attention to them, would only have made them come after you. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“But the authorities could have hunted them down and destroyed them.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “They would have killed anyone who came after them. You don’t know what you’re dealing with, Marlena. These demons are powerful. I was relieved when you and your grandmother moved out of town.”

“But the sheriff.
. .
Larson, he suspected something.”

“You talked with Larson?”

She nodded slowly. “He said that he’d seen and heard things over the years and warned me to be careful.” And to watch out for you. “But he got so upset, he started wheezing, and his wife ordered me to leave.”

Dante’s eyes widened. “His wife?”

“Yes. She acted as if I’d brought danger to the town.”

A curse rolled from his tongue. “Marlena, Sam Larson’s wife is dead. She died fifteen years ago.”

Marlena gaped at him. “No..
.
that’s impossible. I just saw her..

“That wasn’t Mrs. Larson,” Dante said.

“Then who was it?” Marlena whispered.

Dante’s big shoulder lifted into a shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe a demon who has the power to shift into someone else’s form?’

Her legs buckled, and he caught her, then guided her back to the sofa. She dropped her head into her hands, dizzy. She didn’t, couldn’t believe any of this.

She inhaled slowly to calm herself. The minutes ticked by. “How do you know so much about this?” she finally asked. “About demons and the supernatural?”

Tension stretched between them while she waited on a response, his throat working as he swallowed. Marlena clenched her hands, unnerved by his silence.

He’s not what he appears to be, Sheriff Larson had said.

Fear crawled through Marlena, the deep-seated fear of her childhood. “You’re not one of them, are you?”

Sweat beaded on the back of Dante’s neck. Fuck. He’d admitted that demons existed to protect her, but he couldn’t confess the rest. If he did, he’d scare her away from him, and then who would keep her safe?

Besides, he didn’t know if he could stand for her to look at him as if he was a monster…

A bitter chuckle rumbled from his chest as he fabricated the lie. “Of course not, Marlena. The sight of those monsters plagued me, so I researched demons and the supernatural. I.
. .
decided to make it my calling to protect the town.” At least that was a partial truth.

Marlena breathed in relief and clutched his hand, sending heat through him. “You think Gerald Daumer is one of them?”

“I don’t know,” he said gruffly. “It’s possible.” He pulled her to him, so close that he felt her heart racing, felt the blood boiling through his veins and the heat radiating between them. “Either way, you’re in danger.”

When she looked up at him again, he saw the wheels turning in her head. Saw her fighting for that strong independence she carried like a shield.

“Do you think this killer is after me?” Marlena whispered. “That he’s the same one who killed my family?”

Dante stroked Marlena’s back, his breath brushing her hair as he crushed her to him. “I don’t know yet. But I won’t let him get you, Marlena.”

Again, his words hammered reality home, and she clutched him. Twenty years ago, she’d felt safe in his arms. It had been the only place she’d felt safe.

 
She held on to him now, needing his comfort as she had then.

 
And terrified that she needed it.

 
The only thing that scared her more than the monsters was the thought of caring about someone again, loving that person—and having him ripped from her.

But she couldn’t succumb to her need. Not with all this talk of demons and Daumer still on the loose.

 
‘Are you all right, Marlena?” Dante asked.

 
“Yes.” She slowly separated herself from him. “I need some time. All these years I’ve wondered, thought I was crazy, and now to find out what I saw was real. That you knew and didn’t tell me.”

The scars on Dante’s hands reddened as he fisted his hands by his sides. If he’d kept the truth about the demons from her, maybe he’d kept other secrets.

Suddenly she wanted to bury herself in her work. Concentrate on science and research. Things she could explain through concrete data.

 
“You’ve had a rough night.” Dante stood, too, his body rigid, his expression closed. “Go to bed and get some rest. I’ll be down here if you need me.”

Fear squeezed her chest. She needed him now. But she didn’t trust him. And she didn’t want to need him or to think about the things he’d told her.

She wanted to forget her talk with the sheriff, his suggestion that Dante was dangerous.

That her own instincts warned her to stay away from him while her body and her heart screamed to take him to her bed.

 
His thumb stroked her cheek and sent a tingle through her, and her body hummed with arousal. His gaze met hers again, and something hot, bold, primal passed between them, a moment of longing and desperate need.

But she didn’t want to get hurt again. “You can go home, Dante. Go to work, whatever. I’ll be fine.”

“Protecting you and catching this guy is my job,” he said stiffly. “I’m not leaving.”