“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.
Chapter Seven
“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 he
ad. 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 aro
und 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.”
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