Her Soul to Keep

Delilah Devlin

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transferable.

It cannot be resold, shared or given away because that will be considered an infringement on the copyright for this work.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the Delilah’s imagination and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Her Soul to Keep
Copyright © 2011 by Delilah Devlin
Edited by Layla Chase
Cover by April Martinez

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission by the author, except for brief quotations for review purposes.

To anyone who thinks “the one” is out there, waiting…

He just might be.

Her hips swished beneath a short, flirty skirt, drawing his gaze like iron filings to a magnet. The splash of large pink flowers on white stood out like a beacon in the darkness. Beneath the hem stretched a pair of nude legs, toned, nicely curved at the ankles. Perfectly made to lightly clasp a man’s waist as he slid into moist heat…

He suppressed a low, rumbling growl from the beast rising inside. Something he rarely bothered to do in the squalid dens he roamed most nights. The creature lurking deep inside was a sexual animal, a lustful, ravenous host who found partners only too willing to let him feast. But this woman was different. Her soul was pure. Her mind unawakened to the darkness.

He followed her as she left her apartment, sticking to the shadows, ducking into stairwells when she looked behind her as though checking if someone followed. A frown marred her smooth brow, and her lips tightened. The clip of her heels on the pavement quickened.

Shoulder-length, fly-away brown hair bobbed across the tops of slender shoulders. The creamy skin of her exposed arms and legs swung in a rhythm that his heart picked up and matched, beat for stride.

Feeling more than ever like the true predator he was, he tamped down the shame that burned like battery acid in his stomach and continued stalking the woman who walked more briskly now along the darkened sidewalk.

When she turned onto a crowded walkway, her shoulders sank and her footsteps slowed as she relaxed.

She believed herself safe now as she mingled with others strolling along the promenade.

Little did she know, but her “spontaneous” decision to leave her apartment had been at his suggestion—a message telegraphed with tantalizing snippets of the smell of the fresh salt air, the caress of a soft breeze, and a glimpse of sensual pleasure.

She hadn’t heeded her own natural inhibition. Hadn’t paused to check the clock and note the waning evening hours.

Instead, she’d made her decision, wriggled into a sexy little skirt and snug pink tee, slid her feet into strapless sandals and bounded down the stairs, ready to kick off winter’s gloom in an unseasonably warm spring night.

He’d made sure she didn’t glance even once at the clock or the calendar resting on the bureau in her foyer. Nothing would trigger a fleeting memory.

And while he’d provided himself the opportunity to see her, he’d decided days ago he wouldn’t use his persuasive gifts to bring her straight into his arms.

Tonight, he wanted to savor a natural seduction.

She paused along the gangway that followed the curving street through a long, outdoor strip mall. At the bottom of one set of stairs leading into a seafood restaurant, she lifted one foot, planting it on the first paved step.

As he drew back the suggestion that had led her here, her brow furrowed, and she shook her head. Her foot slipped off the step and slowly settled beside the other.

In a blur of movement no human would detect, he slid in behind her. “Did you forget something?” he murmured, careful to keep his tone innocently inquiring.

A gasp escaped, and her head jerked to the side then tilted up to meet his gaze. Her eyes widened, and then slid over his shoulders before rising again. “You frightened me.”

The frown that bisected her brow amused him. She was annoyed and not bothering to hide it.

Her eyes narrowed. “I know who you are.”

Viper jerked imperceptibly. His heart tripped, and then thudded dully again. She couldn’t mean what he thought. “I doubt that. If we’d met, I would have remembered,” he lied, giving her a rueful twist of his lips. More of a smile than most ever saw.

Her head shook, sending her fine, dark hair shivering silkily across her cheeks.

The urge to tuck her hair behind her ears was almost irresistible. He curled his fingers and stuffed both hands into the pockets of his faded jeans. “Who do you think I am?”

Gaze narrowing, she hesitated. “I’ve seen you before. At one of those Goth clubs. You’re the manager.”

Viper suppressed a grin, relieved her clouded mind hadn’t jumped to the right conclusion. She was talking about Dylan’s club. “I’m just filling in for a friend at The Cavern until he returns home. I have no ambition to run his place permanently.”

“The Cavern,” she nodded. “That’s it. It’s a strange place. I did a piece there about young Goths and the rise of Sanguinarian blood rituals.”

“You’re a writer then? Or are you a television reporter?” he asked, knowing full well she wrote a column for the social section of the
Seattle Times
.

Her casual shrug belied the fact she was serious about her work. Ambitious even. The social section wouldn’t encompass her ambition long.

He’d always loved that about her. She kept her eyes on the prize and rushed headlong wherever her curiosity and drive led. An excellent quality for reporter, but one that had spelled disaster for him.

But then, she didn’t remember any of it. Hadn’t learned her lesson, because he’d needed her to remain safe.

“You know, they have a dress code here,” she murmured, eyeing his black leather jacket and T-shirt, and then letting her glance slide quickly down his legs before rising again. A faint blush tinged her pale cheeks.

Viper’s eyelids dipped. “I’m not planning on going inside. I was waiting for someone.”

“Lucky girl,” she said softly, then shook her head again. “It’s not like I have reservations or anything, and I’m not dressed for it either. I’m not really sure why I stopped…”

His glance panned the line of people waiting patiently for their numbers to be called by the restaurant hostess who roamed outside, jotting names on a clipboard. “Doesn’t look like my friend is planning to show. Would you like to go somewhere else?,” he said quickly, not wanting to let her go just yet, needing to milk the moment in order to convince her to stay long enough to build a little trust.

Time stretched between them. Her gaze flitted down the row of well-lit shops, still open with people walking leisurely along the covered walkway. A soft evening mist muted the glare of the streetlamps, as well as the sounds of the people passing them by as they stood at the bottom of the steps leading into the trendy restaurant.

“I promise I don’t bite,” he added, fighting the urgency building in his body to keep his words light and casual. “We can just take a walk. Find a cup of coffee, if you like.”

He wanted her to say yes without any of his extra “persuasion.” Wanted her to choose him of her own free will.

A long indrawn breath lifted her chest, and she gave him a small, tentative smile. “There’s a Starbucks at the end of the strip.”

Warmth seeped into his chest. And although he knew tomorrow he’d pay a heavy price, he needed this night with her, whether it ended in her bed, as he hoped, or not. Simply standing this close, feeling the warmth of her body and breathing in her fresh, sweet scent flooded his body with joy.

Viper tugged his hands from his pockets and crooked an elbow, feeling a little foolish for the old-fashioned gesture. These days he acted with reckless arrogance around the opposite sex. His manners felt a little rusty. Unnatural.

She didn’t seem to notice, as her hand slid around his forearm, her fingers lightly resting atop the distressed leather. Through the barrier he shouldn’t have noted the heat of her hands, but he did. His blood stirred with pleasure, and he fought to keep the muscle she touched from tensing.

“Shall we?” he asked, and then stepped out, shortening his natural stride to allow her to walk comfortably beside him.

She made a feminine sound as she cleared her throat. “You haven’t even asked my name.”

It’s Mariah, my love.
“You haven’t asked mine,” he murmured.

Soft, rueful laughter floated around him. “True. I’m not like this. I don’t let strangers lead me around.” She ducked her head, perhaps to hide the new blush staining her cheeks. “I’m Mariah Cohen.”

To halt the automatic response, he pressed his lips tight. Tonight, he wasn’t Viper. “I’m Daniel Vacarro,” he said softly and held his breath. Would the name niggle at her memory?

“Daniel. Not Danny?”

He gave an exaggerated shudder.

She laughed again. “Not manly enough?”

He narrowed his glance and arched a brow.

“See?” she said, a smile curving her soft, plump mouth. “We’re already getting to know each other.”

His gaze darted upward to catch a hint of amusement in her sparkling eyes. He gave a gentle snort. “Are you always such a smart ass with complete strangers?”

Her head canted as she peered into his face. “We aren’t strangers,
Daniel
. I admit, tonight I feel just a little reckless, but I recognized you right off. We’re just taking a short walk in the middle of a crowd of people.” She flipped her hair off her cheek. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

Viper shook his head. The woman was crazy. But she was right. The only danger he posed tonight was to her sweet, curvy body. His fingers curled over hers, pressing them against his forearm. “This is the place.” He swept her into the coffee shop and halted at the end of a long line.

As the people waiting in front of them peeled away, one at a time, some patting pockets for “missing wallets,” some squinting at the menu board as though they suddenly couldn’t read it, Mariah stood quietly beside him, bewilderment rounding her eyes as the line melted completely away. “This never happens.”

“What would you like?” he deferred to her, hiding a smug smile. So, he’d worked a little of his magic on the other customers.
Bite me.

She placed her order, and then lifted a brow.

“Nothing for me,” he murmured.

“You didn’t come for the coffee?”

“I’m not the addict.”

“Afraid you won’t be able to sleep tonight?”

“Who’s going to sleep?” he muttered under his breath.

Her tongue swept out to wet her lower lip as rosy color crept across her pale cheeks. She let him pull her aside to wait at the end of the barista’s counter. “But you didn’t pay.”

Viper shrugged. “I know them.”

“Right,” she said, her tone indicating she didn’t quite believe him. “Did you wink at the girl or something?”

“Why? Do you think my charm’s irresistible?”

Her soft feminine snort was followed by a slow, dazed shake of her head. “I’m here, aren’t I? And we just met ten minutes ago.”

Viper closed his eyes for a second, trying to keep his memories at bay and just enjoy the moment. She had no way of knowing how much her innocent comment ate at his resolve. They’d met a long time before this night.

Her name was called, and he opened his eyes, catching her gaze.

She gave him a concerned look then stepped forward to claim her cup. “Do you want to stay here?”

The press of warm-blooded bodies around him felt suffocating and far too tempting. “Let’s walk.” Outside again, he raised his face to the warm breeze and drank in the cleansing air. “Sorry about that. I don’t like crowds much.”

“I kind of figured that out. There are tables just down the way. Want to sit?”

He nodded, hoping his sudden melancholy would vanish. He had only a few hours to spend with her, if she let him, before he had to return to his world. He didn’t want to waste a moment thinking about things that could never be.

As she walked, she played with the plastic lid then took a quick sip. Her eyes drifted closed. “Mmmm…this was just what I needed.”

They reached the tables outside another café. Viper chose one at the outer edge of the extended courtyard and pulled out a chair, waiting as she settled before taking his own beside her, rather than across the table. His gaze swept the harbor, noting the glints of moonlight sparkling on the water. For a long moment, he kept his gaze there while he forced himself to relax once again.

She waited, just sipping her coffee quietly while eyeing him above the rim of her cup.

He wondered what she saw. He’d been careful with his appearance. Sure, he wore the same weathered jacket, a plain T-shirt, and jeans. But he’d polished his boots and used a brush instead of his fingers on his long, black hair. He knew women found him attractive, but Mariah wasn’t into dark, dangerous men with sharp-edged features and hungry eyes.

Or at least she hadn’t been.

She lowered her cup. “Are you always this talkative?”

Right. He should at least pretend to be polite, however out of practice he felt. “Does it bother you? My not talking.”

“It’s a little unnerving.” Her glance met his then slid away quickly, but her shoulders tilted toward him. “I expected you’d be hitting on me by now.”

The subtle body language, crossed messages of shy interest and trepidation, set his blood simmering. “Are you disappointed I’m not?”

“Just a little uncomfortable.” She placed her cup on the table and wrapped her hands around it.

“Why?”

“Because I’m tempted to hit on you.” She wrinkled her nose. “I did just say that, didn’t I?

His lips stretched. “Yeah, you did.”

Her head canted as she eyed his mouth. “Are you gay?”