DarkInnocence (8 page)

An involuntary smile tugged my lips up into a full grin.
He’d wanted me. “I could help out if they’d let me.”

He brought our clasped hands to his mouth. His soft, warm
breath washed across my skin before his lips pressed to flesh. His silent
acceptance and support, something I’d never truly had until him, made my heart
go all blubbery and vulnerable.

“Have you talked to Ella about this?”

“Only a million times,” I said in exasperation. “She keeps
throwing the fact that I pass out at the sight of blood against me, as if it
makes me weak. I drew the short straw with the family genetics, I guess. I
never showed much interest in weapons, not like Ella. I remember this one time
when I was three and she was eight, I had a nightmare. She ran into my room,
two Silverstone blades at the ready. I never even saw her move. The next thing
I knew, my stuffed penguin was ripped out of my arms and pinned to the wall
with a knife. She was eight and she speared the thing right between the eyes! I
cried for like, weeks.”

Dante chuckled.

I slapped his arm. “It’s not funny!”

He caught my wrist and pulled me into him. “It’s kind of
funny. I can totally see Ella as a little girl, all badass and sassy.”

I laid my head on his chest and listened to his pounding
heart. “My father doted on her like the sun shone out of her ass. Me, not so
much. Even though I was blonde and green-eyed, I was the black sheep in the
family. Couldn’t throw a punch. Didn’t want to play with knives. Guns gave me
hives. No matter what I did to compensate for those shortcomings, it wasn’t
enough.” My voice lowered. “He’d pat me on the head, turn me away and tell me
I’d make a good hunter’s wife one day. Eventually, I settled into that role and
stopped trying.” I shook my head, hoping to rid myself of the memories. “Hey,
you want your package?”

He searched my eyes and as if he knew I needed a
distraction, nodded. “Sure. But please tell me you put on some clothes before
you answered the door looking all sexy and rumpled in my shirt.”

I winked as I got out of bed. “What you see is what he got.
The delivery guy asked for my number.”

Dante shook his head. “You’re evil.”

The moment I returned to the room with the heavy box, his
entire demeanor changed. The soft lines around his mouth hardened. His nostrils
flared. Something scary and dangerous filled his eyes.

“Put the box down, now.”

My smile fell and the tips of my fingers tingled. Panic
nipped at my skin. “What is it?”

Dante ripped the covers off his lap and sprang out of bed,
not caring in the slightest he was naked. I handed him the box and stepped away
from the crazy, swirling energy radiating from his skin. I’d been wrong earlier
when I’d said Eli’s otherness was feral. Dante, who must have a hell of a lot
of control, blew feral into a new dimension.

“I smell blood,” he said, as if that explained everything.

I put my hand out behind me, searching for the wall I backed
in to. “What do you mean?”

He studied the box from every angle. “Who dropped this off? There
isn’t any postage on it, no return address.”

“A company, Express Delivery. That’s what the guy’s shirt
read. Courier services don’t use postage.”

“Why don’t you go on into the bathroom, take a shower or
something while I open this.”

Yet again, I was being treated like a child. Not anymore. I
stiffened my spine and jutted out my chin. “I’m staying.”

He glanced at me and drew in a deep breath. “Although you
look very badass right now asserting your will, you’ve got this deer-in-the-headlights
thing going on. Your skin’s pale and if you pass out and hit your head, I’m not
gonna feel real good about that.”

“Don’t treat me like a child.”

“Babe, I spent several hours with my mouth between your
thighs and my fingers in your pussy, trust that I don’t view you as a child.”

His words pushed back the fear and I wondered if he’d
planned it that way. “Just open the damn box,” I snapped.

“Stay back, okay?” Carefully, he unpeeled the tape and
lifted the flaps on the box. The second the seal was broken, the smell hit me.
Death. Kind of sweet, kind of sour, a lot rancid. Whatever was in the box had
been dead a while.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Dante growled and pulled out a piece
of paper dotted with splotchy red stains.

I spoke with my hand covering my mouth and nose. The scent
was so awful I could taste it on the back of my tongue. “What’s in there?”

“A skinned animal, cat I’d guess by the size and shape of
the skull.”

Horror filled me. “No.”

“Yes.”

Dante unfolded the note and scanned the page. His jaw ticced
and the hand he held at his side curled into a fist.

“Kyle,” he read the letter to me through clenched teeth. “I
hear you fucking her, tasting her, trying to make her yours. She’s mine and I
will have her. Consider this gift a warning, next time you’ll be the skinned pussy—dead
and bleeding in a box. Regards, Mr. Restricted.”

I slid down the wall and collapsed to the floor.
Automatically I pulled my legs up to my chest and held on to my calves.
“How…how does he know what I call him?”

“He wrote, ‘hear’, like he’d been listening to us.” Dante
crossed the room in three large strides and ran his hand around the window’s
frame. He moved the curtains to the side, took the time to methodically move
his fingers down the length of the fabric.

Dante froze. “That sick asshole.”

“What’d you find?”

“A transmitter.” Pinched between his fingers was a tiny
little black dot. “Who knows how long it’s been here. I never picked up
anyone’s scent in my house.”

I closed my eyes and felt ill. He’d listened to us, heard me
climax time and time again. The things I’d moaned, the way I’d come unhinged
had been meant for Dante only. Knowing someone had listened to, probably got
off on, one of the most erotic experiences of my life, made me feel cheap.

“I think I might be sick,” I mumbled.

“You and me both. The courier, what do you remember about
him?”

I swallowed the extra saliva pooling in my mouth. “I
remember everything. I could sketch him if you wanted, but honestly you should
just run his license plate. That’ll give you more information.”

Dante raised a brow. “How long were you out there talking to
him?”

“A few minutes, not more than three. I, ah, have an eidetic
memory,” I said softly and hoped he didn’t think I was a freak.

“Say that again?”

“A photographic memory. I see or hear things and I remember
them. He parked his van in the driveway, I saw the plate.”

He stared at me.

“You think I’m a freak now, don’t you?”

His brows knit. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” He went to
the bed and bent to pick up the sweats I’d very slowly pushed down his thighs
earlier that morning. He pulled them on before crouching in front of me. He
took my jaw between his thumb and forefinger. “How long do you remember
things?”

“Forever. It’s hard to explain, but I’ve got all these
compartments in my head. Years. Months. Weeks. I could recite the very first
book I ever read to you, sing the first song I ever heard.”

Something dark filled his eyes and when I tried to pull
away, he held me firm. “Lizbeth, how much do you remember of that?”

My eyes grew hot. I flexed the hand she’d methodically
broken. Cold sweat pricked my skin. “All of it.”

He let go of my chin and pulled me into his arms as if he
could shelter me from the horrors that lurked in my mind. “I’m so sorry. If I
could take those images away, I would, in a heartbeat.”

“What are we going to do about Mr. Restricted? And, how’d he
know your real name? That’s really creepy.”

“The deed to the house is in my real name, with a little
digging, it wouldn’t be hard to find the information. Short-term, we track this
company down and get all the details we can. Let’s talk to Ella, see if she or
Julian have uncovered anything. Long-term, though, we teach you how to defend
yourself. I think we should start that tonight.”

“Defend myself how?” I asked.

“The basics, hand-to-hand, some weapons training maybe.
We’ll start slow and work our way up. I’ll do my damndest to make sure you’re
not without protection, but I’m not stupid. Spending every second together
isn’t feasible.”

Excitement and something else I couldn’t name rose to the
surface. “Even though the house sucks, Ella and Micah have a pretty sweet setup
at the fortress. Training mats, punching bags and lots of weapons.”

“It’s settled then, I’ll set it up with Micah for this
evening.”

He rose and grabbed the box, hopefully taking it somewhere
to get rid of it.

I chewed on my lower lip and spit out his name before I lost
my nerve. “Dante?”

He stopped in the doorway and looked back at me. “Yeah,
babe?”

“Thank you.”

He cocked his head to the side and his brows crinkled. “For
what?”

My heart went pitter-patter. “I don’t know. For believing in
me, I guess. You’re the first person who thought I might be capable of
defending myself. No one’s ever given me the chance to prove I was more than a
pretty face.”

His face softened the way it did sometimes when he stared
deep into my eyes. “You’re beautiful yes, but so much more. To me, you’re
everything.” He walked out of the room and left me staring, belly warm, at the
spot where he’d just stood.

“I’m not so sure this is a good idea anymore,” I said and
shifted from one foot to the other.

I was dressed in a pair of skimpy athletic shorts with slits
up the sides and a tight sports bra. Months ago, it had been my favorite
running outfit. It was cute with black spandex and pink accents. Now I just
felt naked.

Even though the room was warm, the soft blue vinyl mat under
my feet was cold and made my calves ache. Every time I moved, the mat whooshed.
The sound was accompanied by the faint, probably imagined, sound of tinkling
laughter. Lizbeth fucking with me from hell.

“This is a great idea. Self-defense is important,” Dante
said from where he leaned against the wall.

He crossed his arms over his bare chest, muscles bulging, in
what I’d dubbed his bouncer stance. My pulse sped at the sexual heat in his
gaze, at the formidable way he stood tall and masculine like nothing or no one
could mess with him. He looked right at home. We were in what used to be a
tearoom. Now it was where Ella, Micah and Eli trained. Heavy bags hung from the
ceiling and partially blocked my view of a weight bench, elliptical machine and
a treadmill. Along the walls, shiny swords and long, ragged blades rested in
custom brackets.

I glared at him. “I know the mechanics, isn’t that enough?
Come on,” I batted my eyelashes and ran a finger down my stomach, “let’s go
back to your house and make out some more.”

Dante’s lips twitched as if he fought a smile.

“Stop,” Micah protested. “I do not need the image of you two
together in my head. Bad enough I had to hear details from Ella.”

Heat infused my cheeks at Dante’s slow-spreading, self-satisfied
grin. My sister had a big mouth.

Micah pointed at him. “Wipe that sappy-ass smirk from your
face. I should kick your ass for even going there, you know that? You don’t
hook up with friends’ little sisters.”

The area around my heart grew warm. Micah thought of me as
his sister?

Dante shook his head and snorted. “You could try. Besides, I
should kick your brother’s ass, and I didn’t, so consider us even.”

“He was wasted and I advised him to leave it alone,
obviously he didn’t listen,” Micah defended.

Amusement apparently gone, Dante let his smile fall into a
straight line. “Wasted or not, that was his one free pass. You feel me?”

Micah gave a quick, curt nod of his head. Man speak for, ‘I
feel you’. To me, he said, “Let’s get this show on the road before Ella and Eli
get back from their hunt. She wasn’t happy about this little training session.
When my woman is unhappy, she makes my life a living hell.”

“Where do we start?” I tilted my head from side to side,
loosening the muscles there, and focused on the man—half demon—in front of me.

Micah bounced up and down on the mat. Every time he landed,
little puffs of air squished out from the sides. He jabbed his hand out, his
fist a blur and narrowly missed my face.

“Hey! Watch it.” I batted his hand away.

Micah grinned at me and the sight made me go a little weak
in the knees. Must be some kind of a demon superpower.

“Grabs,” he said. “It’s the most common attack. It’s also
the way your attacker will gain power over you. There are lots of ways to deal
with this, but the best is to let him or her grab you.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s ridiculous,” I said.

“Micah is right,” Dante said and pushed off the wall to take
Micah’s place. My lion circled me. I couldn’t see, but I could feel the heat of
his gaze roaming over my ass. He trailed his finger over my shoulder as he
turned, the caress vanishing after he stroked my biceps. I shivered and tried
to focus on something other than how it felt to have his fingers moving inside
me, mastering my body.

He stopped in front of me. “You let him grab you, it takes
away one of his weapons—his hand—and it allows you to strike back when he least
expects it.”

Dante grabbed my wrist, his fingers closing around the
slender bone and making my arm feel like a twig. His otherness washed over me
and my skin felt electrified. He looked down at me, gaze darting from my lips
to my mouth. I flicked my tongue out before tugging my lip between my teeth. Pride
swelled at the way his lids went half-mast with sexual want.

When he spoke, his voice was low and intimate. “Grab the
hand that grabs you. Next, I want you to step into his body and strike the
eyes, nose or throat—we’ll call those the VAs or vulnerable areas—with your
free arm. If you can’t reach his face, get to the side to avoid his head, then
knee or kick him in the groin or the legs. The body’s natural reaction after
being hit in one of those places is to bring your head down, when he does this
aim for VAs.”

In slow motion, I grabbed him back and stepped into him as
instructed. Dante’s body was warm and big. His scent washed over me. Where our
skin touched, heat bloomed and I had a hard time pushing the image of him
between my legs, tongue tracing my labia, flicking my clit, curling inside,
from my mind. Arousal leaked from my core and I pressed my thighs together to
alleviate the ache.

“Naughty girl,” Dante purred into my ear. “What are you
thinking about?”

I shivered at the tone of his voice, at the prickling
stubble against my cheek. God, he could smell that I was turned-on. So not
fair.

I trailed my hand down the rigid definition of his
eight-pack, caressing hard, hot muscles barely contained under his tanned skin.
I leaned into him and pressed my breasts to his chest. I slid my palms over his
shoulders and gripped him tight.

“I’m thinking,” I whispered and fought my grin, “about your
nuts.” I lifted my leg to knee him in the groin.

Deep, rumbling laughter rang out and Dante batted my knee to
the side. He grinned down at me as we circled each other. “Careful, darlin’.
You might not want to injure that.”

I pouted, feigned right and punched his rock-hard stomach.
“Can’t handle a little love tap?”

“Oh, I can handle it,” Dante taunted, caught my arm and yanked.
I slammed into his body and grabbed his hip for balance. Lust darkened the
color of his eyes. “Question is, babe, can you?”

I slid my hand over and around, settling my palm on his
tight, firm ass. “Bring it on.”

“Break it up, you two,” Micah said.

Dante and I stepped away from one other with matching grins.

Micah shook his head but kept speaking, “If an attacker
grabs both arms, get to one side to avoid his head then kick or knee him in the
groin and/or legs until he loosens his grip. Then step in, aiming for the VAs.”

Dante demonstrated by wrapping a hand around each arm and
pulling me close. Our breaths mingled and I tasted mint on his every exhale. I
concentrated on each movement, on the instruction and reciprocated by kicking
his shin. When he dipped, I tapped his throat in a would-be chop if I’d been
serious.

“Very good,” Dante praised and my stomach, already all
fluttery, turned liquid.

We went through a few more scenarios—what to do if an
attacker grabbed me by the shirt, what do if my attacker was at my side and
grabbed my shoulder—with Micah instructing, Dante attacking and me defending.
The places Dante had grabbed throbbed with heat, little remembered pulses of
sensation. Sweat glistened off his chest and I had the strangest urge to lick him
clean.

Dante circled around me, a predator after its prey. My
nipples were tight little beads against my top. I waited, lip between my teeth,
for him to attack. His otherness surrounded me, and I basked in the way it invaded
my skin and burrowed deep. Too quick to see, he stopped behind me and pulled on
my ponytail, forcing my head back.

I sucked in a sharp breath, not out of fear, but out of pure
want. Little pinpricks of pain ran from scalp to my belly, and then lower to
make my knees wobble. Dante’s hot, moist breath caressed my ear. Against my
ass, the hard ridge of his cock teased. I closed my eyes and absorbed every
sensation.

“My girl likes it rough, doesn’t she?” he whispered and I
swear I could have come right there if he’d kept at it.

“Come on, Hannah! You gonna let him talk to you like that?”
Micah asked.

His voice snapped me out of my sexual haze and I fought
back. My struggles, mostly me rubbing against Dante’s body, were half-assed and
weak. Where I tried to duck, he countered by readjusting his hold and oh-so
casually brushing my breasts with his arm. I gritted my teeth and grabbed him
back, my fingers digging into his thick forearm. He pressed tighter and nipped
the back of my neck with his teeth. My pussy pulsed.

“Fight like you mean it!” Micah yelled.

Right. Using more strength, I dipped down and pivoted until
I faced Dante. I kicked his leg—he blocked and gave me a cocky grin that sent
him off-the-charts sexy.

“Come on, Hannah,” Dante purred. “I thought you said you
could handle it?”

I narrowed my eyes. Focused. Hard to do considering how my
heartbeat hammered between my legs. We separated for only a moment before he
attacked. He grabbed my arm, spun and bent me forward so he could press his
erection against my backside. He grabbed the back of my neck and held me
immobile. What would it feel like to have his cocking pushing inside in this
position? Would he be gentle or rough?

“Don’t let him distract you,” Micah said. “He’s nothing but
a big pussy cat.”

I shook my head, couldn’t think beyond wanting—no
needing—Dante to push me to the ground and have his wicked way with me. Instead
of dropping to my knees, I caught my breath and tried to break free. I shoved
back with my ass. Behind me, Dante hissed. The second he loosened his hold, I
turned. I wrapped my hand around the top of his arm, fingers not nearly closing
around the muscle. Instinct took over from there. My movements were fast and
strong. Stepping in close, I shoved my knee into his groin. The moment his head
dipped to mine, I went for a nose strike.

Something crunched. I looked up in horror as a fountain of
dark-red blood streamed from Dante’s nose, down his chin and cascaded along his
chest.

The rusty smell hit me and everything else faded from there.
The room spun. My ears rang. I broke out in a cold sweat. The blood drained
from my head and my vision narrowed to nothing. One minute I was standing, the
next my eyes were fluttering open and Dante was looking down at me in concern.
His nose was red, swollen and thankfully no longer dripping.

“You all right, babe?” he asked.

Pulsing jets of pain rushed through my forehead, and I
lifted a hand to apply pressure. Nausea churned in my stomach. “Shouldn’t I be
asking you that?” I asked in a groggy murmur.

“Already healing but you, my little warrior princess, hit
your head when you dropped to the ground.”

“I didn’t mean to hit you so hard.”

“I should’ve been able to block you. I didn’t expect you to
get all she-woman on my ass and kick my butt. Broken nose aside, you were hella
hot.”

“I broke it?” I grabbed the hand he held down to me. He
hoisted me to my feet and the room spun.

“What in the hell did you do to my sister?” Ella said as she
stormed in the room and threw down the weapons bag she held.

Micah was at her side in a second, his fingers lacing with
hers. He pulled her to stop before she could reach us.

“Me?” Dante said. “She broke my nose.”

I rested my throbbing head against his chest and sagged
against him. I felt too horrible to revel in the fact I’d gotten the drop on
him. He took my weight without question.

“Maybe Ella was right. No amount of self-defense is going to
help me when I draw blood then pass out at my attacker’s feet.”

Micah scratched a hand over his jaw. “She’s got a point.”

Ella, jaw tight and eyes narrowed, tapped her foot on the
floor. “Which is why she never learned and why I said this was a bad idea.”

Dante shook his head. “Can’t shelter her forever. You ever
see a therapist to help you get over the phobia?”

I shook my head and the motion hurt. “I don’t believe in
therapy. I’ve read the textbooks, I know the problem. Did you know fifteen
percent of the population faints at the sight of blood? It’s called a vasovagal
response.”

Half of his mouth quirked up. “I didn’t know that, not until
now.” He brushed his lips across my forehead. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up.
I’m taking you out on a date tonight.”

I perked up. “Really?”

He pressed his lips against mine, pulled away. “Really. I’m
going to run home and get changed, I’ll be back in an hour to pick you up.” He
pressed the tip of his nose against mine, rubbed it back and forth.

“Ella, please tell me we don’t look that pathetic,” Micah
said in mock-disgust.

I grinned and pressed my face against Dante’s chest. Hand in
hand, we walked into the hall, down a flight of stairs and then hooked a left.
He dropped me off at my bedroom and laid a smoldering, toe-curling kiss on me
before he sauntered away.

After an extra-hot shower, I blow-dried and curled my hair.
Something I hadn’t bothered to do in several weeks. I did my makeup, smokey and
dark to contrast with my green eyes, and stood inside my closet for fifteen
minutes trying to decide what to wear. I had no idea where Dante was taking me.

“Just pick one,” Ella said from the other room where she’d
been lounging on my bed, flipping through Micah’s
Guns and Ammo
magazine
when I walked by her several minutes ago.

I sighed. “I can’t.”

Ella walked in, reached around me and pulled a black dress
from its hanger. She shoved it at me, turned and then left.

I looked down at the dress I’d worn to a black and white
sorority party two years ago. It was tight, sexy and showed a lot of skin with
its low-pooling cowl neckline and multiple cross-fabric back. Could work.