CHAPTER SIX
Isabelle was floating, sinking into a blissful, dark silence. She felt weightless, as if she were sailing on a cloud in the moonless sky, no destination in mind. Nothing in front of her, nothing behind her. She reached out, sensed only misty, cool air surrounding her. She’d never felt more at peace.
Until she landed with a hard thud, jerking her out of her sense of well-being. She moved, but was restricted by walls on each side of her. She tried to find her bearings, but it was so dark she couldn’t see. Where was she?
She couldn’t move. Not an inch on any side.
She was trapped. She raised her arms above her head, but felt nothing. No handhold. The coolness around her evaporated, her sense of air cut off. Something fell on top of her. She inhaled, breathing in dust, dirt as it rained on top of her in a fine, unending mist. It coated her skin, her lungs, as it continued to pour in on her. Despite covering her mouth and nose, she couldn’t hold it back as the downpour of dirt continued, filling up the tiny hole she was trapped in, burying her to her ankles, her knees, her hips, wedging her in this grave.
“Help me!”
No one answered.
Dalton didn’t answer. He wasn’t there. She was alone. Panic hammered at her and she began to shake. She clawed at the sides of the hole. More dirt fell in, trapping her arms at her sides. Now she couldn’t cover her mouth and she breathed in dirt. It filled her nostrils, poured into her lungs, choking her. She couldn’t breathe.
Oh, help me. Someone, please.
She was dying, smothering, unable to suck in life-giving oxygen. They were burying her alive and no one would ever find her. She opened her mouth to scream, but the scream was empty, silent, filled with dirt. As consciousness faded, she heard their laughter, their voices. Dark, evil, twisted.
You’re ours, Isabelle. We control you. Your air, your breath. When you die, you will still be ours. You cannot run. You cannot hide. You cannot put us off forever. Your soul belongs to us.
Isabelle shot up in bed, her mouth open, nothing coming out but a panicked rush of air as she fought for breath, fought for the scream that wanted to erupt but couldn’t.
In the half darkness she saw a shape to the side of the bed. Panic rushed at her, her body filling with heat. She pushed away, ready to run.
“Isabelle.”
Dalton’s voice was low, soothing, as he reached for her hand. “Isabelle, it’s me. You’re here, in your bed. You’re all right.”
She couldn’t catch her breath. Sweat drenched her body, her clothes, the sheets around her. She couldn’t speak, fought to control the overwhelming nausea. Dizziness made the room tilt. The dream was still so real, she was caught between it and the darkened bedroom.
“Breathe, honey. Slow and easy. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
Dalton’s voice helped. She did as he instructed and the dizziness began to fade. But this time, she kept the dream in the forefront of her mind, refusing to let it disappear. She wanted to remember, even though the thought of it made her throat constrict.
She shivered. “I’m all wet,” she managed, her voice still hoarse. She could still taste dirt in her throat, shuddered at how real it all was.
He smoothed his hand over her hair. “You were sweating. I heard you moaning, came in to check on you. You were thrashing around on the bed. I debated whether to wake you …”
“I’m glad you did. I need to take a shower.” And brush her teeth. And gargle. She had to get the taste of dry earth out of her mouth.
“Do you want me to come in with you?”
Yes. No. She didn’t want to be alone, but knew she had to do this by herself. She refused to become dependent on Dalton. “I’ll be fine.”
He nodded. “I’ll wait right here for you.”
“I’ll only be a few minutes.” On shaky legs, she slid off the bed, grabbed some clothes and slipped into the bathroom. She turned on the water and while it warmed up, scoured her teeth and used mouth rinse. Feeling immensely better after that, she hurried through her shower, washing off the sweat coating her body. True to his word, Dalton was still in her room when she came out. In fact, he was making her bed.
“I changed the sheets. They were drenched.”
“Thank you. For that, and for hearing me, for waking me.” She turned her head as a low rumble sounded off in the distance, followed by a flash of lightning.
“Storm’s coming,” Dalton said in reply.
She nodded, shivering as goose bumps prickled her skin.
“Let’s go sit in the living room for a while.”
“What time is it?”
“About four A.M.”
She tossed her damp hair over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Dalton. I don’t sleep much these days.”
“Don’t worry about it. Neither do I. Come on.”
He went into the living room and sat on the sofa. Isabelle hesitated. For some reason she needed the contact of Dalton’s body but felt uncertain asking for it.
Dalton patted the cushion beside him. “Sit with me.”
Relieved, Isabelle curled up next to him and pulled her legs behind her.
“Do you remember the dream?” he asked.
“Yes. This time I forced myself to stay in the here and now, to remember. At first I was floating, like on a cloud or in space. It was wonderful, very freeing. But then I fell, plummeted into a hole or a grave, and dirt came raining down on top of me. I couldn’t crawl out, and more dirt came in, choking me. I couldn’t breathe. I was being buried alive.”
Dalton put his arm around her and drew her closer to him. She didn’t mind that at all, still chilled despite the warmth in the room.
“When it felt like I was dying, I heard their voices.”
“Whose voices?”
“The Sons of Darkness. Tase, the one who was their leader.”
“What did he say?”
“Something about how I belonged to them, and they control everything about me. That even in death, I would be theirs, including my soul. And that’s when you woke me.”
Dalton arched a brow. “That’s pretty intense.”
“Yeah.”
“No wonder you were in bad shape.”
He smoothed his hand down her arm and back up, settling at her nape to massage the tension nestled there. She shivered, but this time it wasn’t from being chilled.
“It’s better now. Thank you for sitting with me.”
He looked down at her. “Are you ready to go back to sleep?”
“No. I’m pretty much done with sleeping for the night.” The thought of closing her eyes again brought about vivid images of being closed in, of dirt pouring on her, of being unable to breathe. She couldn’t sleep anymore. She might not be able to again for a long while. “You can go back to bed if you want to. I’ll be fine out here.”
“So will I.” He shifted so she could slide into the crook of his arm. She felt sheltered there, and he wrapped his arm more securely around her. She drew her knees up to her chest, settled, and finally relaxed. She could almost fall asleep this way, except Dalton kept moving his hand up and down her arm and shoulder, and slid his fingers into her hair to massage her head. The sensations he evoked had her wide awake and wired, her emotions and physical reactions tuned into him completely.
“Are you deliberately trying to provoke a response from me?” she finally asked.
“Huh?” His voice sounded lazy and tired. He even yawned.
“Never mind.”
“What are you talking about?”
She sighed, staring at the darkness through the front window. Normally after a dream like the one she’d just had, the dark would scare her, but sitting in the pitch-black room with Dalton didn’t bother her at all for some reason.
“You’re touching me.”
He didn’t stop, his fingertips gliding over her arm. “Does it bother you?”
“Yes and no. I’m just trying to figure out your intent.”
“I’m relaxing you.”
“I’m fine.”
“True enough. You haven’t gone all demon on me.”
She snorted. “So do I get a cookie?”
“You’re a bit of a smart-ass, Isabelle.”
“So I’ve been told. And you didn’t answer my question.”
“What question?”
Men. Always talking in circles to avoid answering. “Are you trying to provoke the demon?”
“Maybe. The demon is part of who you are. You can’t avoid it forever.”
She shifted, facing him. She could see his face despite the darkened room. There was enough gray light sifting in from the moonlight that she could read his expression. But she couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or he was dead serious. “Won’t waking up the demon part of me alert the Sons of Darkness to our whereabouts?”
“I don’t think so. Because as Georgie said, there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to mix it up with the Sons of Darkness again. You’re doing a fine job of fighting their attempts to find you. I don’t think bringing out your demon side is going to alert them.”
Easy for him to say. He wasn’t having the kinds of nightmares she had, the feeling that the demons came for her every night, took her somewhere, had power over her. She started to pull away, not liking the direction this conversation—or his intent—was heading.
“Don’t.”
Her gaze shot to his. She wished there was more light so she could see his eyes. “Why?”
“We need each other.”
She didn’t understand that. She knew why she needed him—right now he was all she had, a lifeline to grasp on to. Otherwise, she’d be facing this nightmare alone. But why did he need her? “What do you mean?”
He hesitated. “I have to prove to the Realm of Light that there was a damn good reason I ran off with you.”
Things were becoming more clear. “You saved my life that day. You weren’t supposed to, were you?”
“No.”
She didn’t know why it had never dawned on her before. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to think about the possibility to voice it. “You were ordered to kill me, weren’t you?”
“Yes.”
She let that soak in for a second, though for some reason the knowledge didn’t surprise her. She was a demon now. She had become a threat to the Realm. It made perfect sense for them to want her dead. What didn’t make sense was why she still lived. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because for a second that night, when you looked right at me, I saw you. Not the demon. And I saw something in you that I—I saw something in you that was still human. That was worth saving.”
Dalton really did save her life that day in Italy. He’d not only rescued her from the Sons of Darkness; he had traded in his life with the Realm in order to keep her alive. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I did what I thought was right, Isabelle. The others didn’t know you like I did. They didn’t see what I did. I made a choice.”
“You made a choice that cost you your career, your friends.”
“The hunters are—were—my friends, yes. Still are, I hope. We’ll get this thing with you figured out. Once we do, they’ll understand. And we’ll make it right with them.”
He made it sound so simple. Isabelle didn’t think it would be that easy. He had broken some policy or one of their sacred laws or something. Surely there would be consequences. She didn’t want him to be hurt because of her, because of what she was. “I’m sorry.”
Other than Angelique, she didn’t have friends or anyone she could count on. She’d always been on her own. No one had her back, so she’d relied only on herself. And she’d never made sacrifices for others. She had always been too into making sure her own needs were met. She didn’t understand why Dalton had given up so much for her.
“Why are you doing this, Dalton? For me?”
He didn’t answer for a while. She waited, not wanting to push him.
“I know how much it hurt you when I read your mother’s diary. I saw it on your face that day on the yacht.”
She remembered that day so clearly, seeing Dalton with her mother’s diary in his hands, knowing he’d read it, that he knew her secrets, knew her own mother thought her evil … She’d never wanted anyone to see that. “I wanted to burn that diary but I couldn’t.”
“It’s good that you didn’t. It gave the Realm insights into who you are.”
She snorted. “Even I don’t have those. And all it did was give the Realm ammunition to use against me.”
He shook his head. “Not true. It’ll take time for you to realize that the Realm is not your enemy. That’s why I’m doing this for you. My taking your diary was a catalyst for a lot of bad things happening to you. I felt responsible. I figure I owe you.”
She shook her head. “You don’t owe me anything. The Sons of Darkness would have found me, anyway. You’ve said so yourself.”
“Yeah. They probably would have.” He looked at her, and it was growing light enough now that she could see his eyes. Like mirrors. Beautiful, and truly open to her. “But I hurt you.”
Her lips lifted. “No, you didn’t hurt me. I did more damage to myself than you ever could.”
“How?”
“Self-hatred is a powerful weapon, you know.”
He swept her hair away from her face. “You have nothing to hate yourself for.”
She laughed. “I’m part demon, Dalton. I tried to kill my sister.”
“No … you didn’t.”
“My claws were at her throat. I raised my hand to strike. I—”
She realized then that she was remembering. Every thing. Including that moment when Dalton stopped her, when he told her he’d take her away. When the human side of her had come back, because she had forced it out. Part of her had wanted to come back long enough for him to see it.
“You remember that night in Sicily, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
Dalton had seen it. The human part of her had wanted to live that night, had wanted to triumph over the demon inside her. She hadn’t wanted to hurt Angelique—God knows she’d hated hurting her sister. She hadn’t wanted to be a pawn of the Sons of Darkness. That wasn’t Isabelle. She was a human being. Not a demon. She carried a demon’s blood inside her, but that’s not who she was—not who she wanted to be. She refused to let them turn her into one of their slaves.
Besides, Dalton had sacrificed everything for her. She couldn’t let him down.
“You’re right,” she finally said. “I have to fight this—fight them. They can’t win.”
He nodded. “And I’ll fight with you. For you.”
She grinned, hope surging for the first time. “Like my own personal knight in shining armor.”
He laughed. “Trust me, honey. I’m no knight. And my armor is kind of tarnished.”
“Even better. I hate perfection. Makes me feel inadequate.”
“So we’re two imperfect people struggling together.”
“That works for me.”
He went quiet then. The whole room was dead silent except for the two of them staring at each other. She studied his face—almost too beautiful for a man’s, and yet rugged and angled in all the right places. But it was his eyes that captured her. They always seemed to study her, as if he could see inside her soul. It was both comforting and disconcerting at the same time. She wasn’t used to being examined this way, and yet she couldn’t help but enjoy being looked at by him. What woman wouldn’t?
Isabelle was in awe of this man who would give up so much of his own personal freedom, the life that he was comfortable in, for someone he knew so little about. It still didn’t make sense to her. Why would he do that when she could give him nothing in return?
Unable to help herself, she reached up and palmed his cheek, let her hand slide down, shivering at the contact of her skin against the stubble there. His expression turned wary and that made her smile.
“What are you doing, Isabelle?”
She didn’t answer, instead leaned into him, lifting her face to his. She remembered what it was like to kiss him. It was fireworks and magic and volcanoes with melting lava. When he kissed her and touched her, she forgot everything except what it was like to be a woman.
She wanted that right now. While it was the human Isabelle fully in charge, not the demon side of her taking control.
And the human Isabelle knew exactly what she wanted.
Their lips were only inches apart, and Dalton didn’t seem to be going anywhere, just studying her cautiously. Of course he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to make the first move, either. So she’d have to do it.
She didn’t mind. She leaned in and brushed her lips across his, felt the tingle in her toes and other points in her body, felt warmth sweep through her as she moved her mouth over his. She sighed against him, laid her palms flat against his chest and deepened the kiss.
He tasted of orange juice—they’d had some when they first came out here to the sofa. She licked along his bottom lip, savoring the oh-so-male flavor of him, a spicy yet sweet scent that drew her to him like no man ever had before. The fact that he wasn’t grabbing her and tossing her under him on the sofa was even more appealing. It made her want to take charge. She held his shoulders and climbed onto his lap, straddling him.
Dalton wasn’t unaffected. She felt that solid evidence as she settled against him. Her gaze drifted down and she admired the hard ridge of his erection against his shorts, her mind awash in all the things she wanted to do with him. But not just yet. She enjoyed where she was and what they were doing. She glanced back up at him and smiled. And still, he stared at her, as if questioning what she was going to do. She didn’t think it required explanation, so she said nothing, instead drifted toward him and kissed him again. He had such a great mouth. Full, yet firm. And he held still while she explored, so she grasped his head and pressed more firmly, surging into him to press her breasts against his chest. She could feel his heart pounding against her.
It took her all of a minute and a half of wonderful kissing to realize he wasn’t touching her, wasn’t kissing her back. She pulled away.
“What’s wrong?”
“We shouldn’t be doing this.”
She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, suddenly mindful of her wanton, oh-so-bold position on his lap. But dammit, he had an erection. It’s not like he wasn’t into this.
“You want me to stop.”
His lips curled into a hint of a smile, devastating to her senses. That smile held promise. “Parts of me definitely don’t want you to stop. Only the logical part.”
She glanced down at his lap.
“That’s not the logical part,” he said.
“Clearly.” She climbed off his lap and gave them both some distance, dragging her fingers through her hair, trying to shake off the effects being so close to him had on her. She grabbed the glass of juice and drained it, then set it down and turned back to him. “I thought you wanted to wake the sleeping demon.”
“Not that way. If your sexual attraction to me makes the demon take front and center, then we should probably—”
“Yes. I understand.” She stood.
“Isabelle.” He grasped her wrist, holding her there.
She looked down at him, equal parts embarrassed and still needy for something she obviously wasn’t going to have. “It’s okay, really. I’m hungry. I’m going to fix us some breakfast.”
He let go of her and she went into the kitchen, needing distance. “I’ll help you.”
She stopped, turned. “Please don’t. I need some space, Dalton.”
“Okay. I’ll go take a shower, then.”
“You do that.”
She turned her back to him and opened the refrigerator, not exhaling until she heard the bathroom door close. She shuddered out a sigh, blinking back the hot sting of tears that broke through and slid down her cheeks despite her best efforts to force them back. She wrapped her arms around herself when she discovered she was shaking.
Idiot.
“Well, you took that rejection well, Izzy.” She shook her head and began cracking eggs into a bowl, needing to keep her hands busy.
Dalton was right. Being together would have been a really bad idea. She had no clue what even happened to her when she fell under one of those weird spells. And if she was going to be with Dalton again, she’d definitely want to be in the present, so she could remember.
All things considered, there were too many strikes against them.
But oh, it would have been so, so good.
Dalton stood under the cool water, hoping it would chill the heat in his body.
Eventually he turned the shower off, realizing he was still on fire. Cold water hadn’t helped. Not that he’d expected it to. From the time he leaned over Isabelle’s bed and shook her out of her restless sleep, he’d known it was going to be tough to remain in this house with her.
Not impossible, but damned hard.
Just like his condition most of the time around her. Pathetic, really. One would think he could control his libido after all these years, but just being around her, listening to the sound of her voice, looking into her mesmerizing eyes, and he was hard as granite and ready to throw her down and bury his cock inside her.
And he’d wager that’s just what the demon part of her was hoping for. Her demon side had a goal: temptation. And he wasn’t going to fall for it. He was the one who had to remain strong, because if he gave in, he wasn’t sure what would happen.
He’d wanted to test the demon side of her, and maybe that had been a bad idea. She really seemed to crave affection of any kind. But was that Isabelle, or the demon?
Maybe he shouldn’t think of her as two entities. After all, she was both human and demon. The confused human Isabelle and the seductive demon were one and the same. He needed to remember that. His goal was to integrate them, not destroy one of them. She could learn to live with and control the demon side of herself, just as Derek and Nic—the other hunters who were part demon—had done.
The key was in figuring out how, because even though he’d like Isabelle to be just like Derek and Nic, she wasn’t. Her demon side was a hell of a lot different from theirs. It was stronger, and the Sons of Darkness knew it. He was going to have to tread lightly, and think before he made any moves.
Which wasn’t easy when living with a beautiful seductress who wanted to have sex with you. A man could only be noble for so long.
He groaned and got dressed, staring at himself in the mirror. It was times like this he missed Lou and the other hunters. Lou would have advice for him, could tell him what to do. How easy would it be to just pick up a phone and call him. He really would like to talk to someone.
Maybe he could get Lou on the phone. He could rewire a disposable cell with an untraceable number, figure out the Realm’s reaction, and at the same time get Lou’s advice on what to do about Isabelle.
Risky, but worth it. He needed to find out if he was walking down the right path with her.
Because the wrong choice could lead to both his and Isabelle’s destruction.