“While I’m getting settled here,” she called from the bathroom, “why don’t you go on downstairs and get yourself checked in. I’m sure you’ve managed to get the suite next door,” she mumbled under her breath.
“No. I’ll be staying here,” he said absentmindedly, looking out the window at the bustling street below.
Kerry dropped her makeup bag onto the smooth granite counter and looked at herself in the mirror. “Is he crazy?” she whispered to her own reflection. She stormed into the living room to ask him the same question. “Are you crazy? You’re not staying in my room with me.” Her body trembled with outrage, and as much as she hated to admit it, some excitement. She crossed her arms in an effort to quiet her shaking limbs.
He didn’t even turn around, just continued staring out the damn window.
“I can’t very well protect you while staying in another room at the hotel.” His voice was irritatingly calm. When he finally turned around, she noticed he’d taken off his stupid sunglasses. “I’ll sleep out here on the sofa,” he said, gesturing to it. “Besides, I don’t sleep much anyway. I’m really more of a night creature.” A smile spread slowly across his face as he closed the distance between them. “Don’t worry, princess. You’ll be perfectly safe.”
His hulking frame loomed largely in front of her, and she felt positively tiny. She never felt tiny. Ever. Would every single encounter with this man bring a new sensation? Kerry’s tongue darted out, nervously licking her lips. Her breath caught in her chest, and her heart raced wildly. She brushed that pesky stray lock of hair off her face and struggled to keep her expression neutral.
When Kerry opened her mouth to protest, Dante placed a fingertip on her lips and shook his head slowly. She sucked in her breath, and her body shuddered faintly at the exquisite effect of his touch. Sweet, honeyed warmth radiated from her lips, flickered over skin, and flashed through the rest of her body. Did every woman feel this way when a man touched her? Is this how it’s supposed to be?
God, she hoped so.
Kerry’s eyes fluttered closed as he gently stroked her bottom lip with his thumb, and his fingers brushed her cheek. The vision of the fox floated gently into her mind. Its amber eyes glowed brighter, and with every featherlight stroke, exquisite pleasure rippled through her body. Too tired to fight it and exhausted from years of isolation, she allowed herself to give in. Eyes closed, she leaned into his hand and surrendered to the seductive sensations swirling through her.
She didn’t know why he could touch her this way. She didn’t care. All she knew was that she never wanted it to end. As if he’d read her mind, Dante held her face with both hands and stroked her cheeks softly. He treaded lightly over the virgin flesh. The rough texture of his fingers against her soft skin created delicious friction.
“You have nothing to fear from me,” he said. The sound of his voice washed over her, enticing and erotic. He leaned in, and his breath blew hotly against her ear. She moaned softly in response, sinking deeper into the sweet honey of his touch. She hung there, blissfully succumbing to it, until one word floated into her mind and ripped her from the soft sensations. Princess.
Her body stilled. Her eyes flew open, and she launched herself away from him.
“What the fuck?” she whispered through trembling lips. She backed away blindly and nearly fell over the large armchair. He didn’t move or try to come after her, but kept his expression neutral. Dante stood there as though speaking to her with his mind was a totally normal thing to do.
“Did you just—?” She stammered helplessly and pointed at him accusingly. “Say something, for Christ’s sake! Don’t just stand there looking at me like I’m crazy.”
He stayed stone still. His deep amber eyes stared back at her as he held her in his unrelenting gaze. She stood her ground, hands planted firmly on her hips, waiting for him, daring him to deny it. The silence that pulsed between them seemed almost palpable. She wanted to scream and pound him in the chest, make him tell her she wasn’t crazy—and then she heard it.
Yes.
That one word slammed into her mind. His lips hadn’t moved, but she had heard him. One word. She never thought that one word could ever sound that loud.
The son of a bitch was telepathic.
She had heard of telepathy but never personally experienced it. Her whole life had just gone from weird to completely fucking nuts in a matter of minutes.
“You, of all people, should know that the world is full of surprises, and not everyone is who or what they seem to be.” His voice, calm and even, shattered the silence of the hotel room.
He sounded so nonchalant that Kerry wanted to punch him in the nose. Before she could batter him with questions, they were abruptly interrupted by a loud knock at the door, which elicited a yelp from Kerry. Dante cursed under his breath but kept his penetrating stare trained on Kerry. For a moment neither moved, but when the persistent visitor knocked a second time, Dante reluctantly stalked over to answer the door.
He peered through the keyhole. “Who is it?” Dante barked.
“It’s Arthur, Kerry’s representative from the agency,” he snapped impatiently. As if everyone on the planet should know who he is. Typical Arthur. “Open the door!”
Kerry smirked and shook her head as Dante opened the door for him. His mouth was set in a grim line as he looked down at a visibly annoyed Arthur, who stood all of five foot seven and couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred and fifty pounds. The man hadn’t had a carb since the new millennium. His perfectly coiffed salt-and-pepper hair glistened with sweat, and the look on his face was one of flat-out annoyance.
Arthur removed the silk handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed at his forehead, while giving Dante the once over. “You must be the bodyguard.” He gestured up at Dante with his handkerchief before stuffing it back into the pocket of his linen blazer. “Kerry sent me a text about you.” He looked Dante up and down, nodding his approval. “Well, you certainly are big. Probably put the fear of God in people by looking at them.” He sniffed. “You’re also gorgeous,” he said with a look Kerry had seen far too many times. “Do you ever do any modeling?”
“What? No,” Dante sputtered.
Kerry covered her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.
A huge smile cracked Arthur’s face as he did nothing to suppress his amusement at Dante’s reaction. “What’s your name, handsome?”
Dante narrowed his eyes. “Dante Coltari, President of Inferno Securities.” His voice was quiet but carried strength behind it that no one would question.
“Arthur Lovegood.” He offered a well-manicured hand to Dante. “Do you shake hands, or are you like our girl?”
Dante didn’t move, and his features darkened. “Our girl?”
“Jesus.” Kerry let out an exasperated sigh and went over to break things up before Dante beat the shit out of him. “Dante,” she said, stepping between them. “This is my rep from my agency, Arthur. Arthur, this is Dante, er… I mean Mr. Coltari.” She fumbled over her words like some love-struck teenager, and the laughter in Dante’s eyes told her that he enjoyed it.
“Dante will do just fine,” he said with a curt nod. He stepped aside and reluctantly allowed Arthur to make his way into the room. “Nice to meet you… Artie.”
Arthur winced and cast Dante a lethal look that he usually saved for rival reps. “It’s Arthur, but you can call me Mr. Lovegood,” he snipped and without a second glance settled into one of the large armchairs as if he owned the place.
Dante closed the door with a bit more force than necessary. Kerry didn’t need to touch either of the men in the room to figure out what they were thinking. Dante positioned himself in front of the door in his Terminator pose as Kerry made herself comfortable on the couch. She kicked off her shoes and tucked her legs up under her, shedding all formalities. This day, and her life, had gotten weirder by the second, and until today she hadn’t thought that was possible.
“So, Arthur, to what do I owe thi
s pleasure?” She tried to keep her voice light, but despite her best efforts it still belied her weariness.
“There’s been a change of plans, darling. We’re shooting at a different house tomorrow. Here’s the new location information.” He pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket. Kerry reached out to take it but ended up with a fist full of air. Dante had beaten her to it.
Kerry made a scoffing noise. “Excuse me. That is for me unless you plan on standing around in your underwear tomorrow.” While the comment was meant to be a jab at Dante, it backfired because all she could do now was picture him in his underwear. Great.
He shot her a skeptical look and opened the envelope.
“You’re fast too.” Arthur made a short sound of approval. “That is rather impressive. Most fellows as big as you don’t move that swiftly.” He pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his forehead again.
Dante didn’t look up from the paper. “I need the location information,” he said abruptly. “This isn’t in the French Quarter or the Garden District.” He looked up and cast an accusing look at Arthur. “I should’ve been given this information the moment it changed. Not the day before we have to be there.”
“Don’t get your boxers in a twist, handsome.” He waved his silk hankie in Dante’s direction. “I just found out about the change myself. Apparently the client decided to use this location instead. It’s really not a monumental problem.” He sighed dramatically. “Relax. Have a seat and some civilized conversation.” He motioned for him to sit, but Dante ignored him. He looked as though he wanted to squash Arthur with one hand, and if looks could kill, he would be six feet under.
Kerry frowned and fiddled with her earring. “Well, where is it then?” She couldn’t squelch the anxiety that crawled up the back of her neck and absentmindedly touched it as though she could wipe away the feeling.
Dante folded the paper and placed it inside his jacket. “It’s an old plantation house out on the bayou.” He turned to her, and his features softened. “It will be fine. I’ll call Peter and have him go check out the new site.”
She looked away from him hastily, tucked her hair behind her ear, and turned her attention to Arthur. She could get lost in Dante’s big amber eyes, which seemed far more dangerous than some house on the bayou.
“The bayou? Hold on a second.” She put her hands up, silencing both men. “Do you mean like near swamps where there are alligators and bugs?” Her voice rose and bordered on hysterical. She knew she sounded irrational, but she couldn’t help it. This entire situation had her off kilter and made her more uncomfortable with every passing second. “I hate nature. Talk about cooties.” She stood up, brushed past them, and made a beeline for the bar in her bedroom. “I’m an indoor girl,” she shouted, while wrestling the top off the miniature bottle of wine.
The sound of Arthur’s condescending laughter taunted her from the living room. “You’ll be shooting at an old house, honey. No one’s going to make you swim with swamp creatures.” He looked at his watch, and with a huff, removed his frame gracefully from the chair. “I’ve got to get going. Don’t forget. We’re taking the clients to dinner tonight. Why don’t you and your bodyguard here meet us downstairs in The Carousel Bar at seven o’clock?”
Dante’s features darkened. “What dinner? There was no mention of dinner on the itinerary I was provided.”
“Plans change. Try to keep up,” he said with a snap of his fingers. “See you downstairs at seven sharp.” Arthur sashayed over to the door, but before leaving he threw one last comment over his shoulder. “Remember. Bring Purell if you need to. You’ll have to shake hands and make nice with the clients.”
Swearing under her breath, she emptied the contents of the miniature bottle into a large glass. This whole trip was a mistake. She took this assignment because she had hoped for a few relaxing days in The Big Easy. She figured on a one-day shoot at an old mansion in the Garden District, maybe a ride on the riverboat, and if she really got lucky, a late-night swim in the Monteleone’s rooftop pool.
Now she was going out in the middle of nowhere to be surrounded by alligators. Then, of course, there’s the dinner with clients, which is a different danger altogether. Not to mention Dante, the handsome, telepathic enigma that had her head spinning. She squeezed her eyes shut and drained the contents of her glass.
“It’ll be alright. You’ll be perfectly safe. I promise.” His voice, low and soothing, blanketed her. She turned to find him filling the doorway of her bedroom. He’d once again appeared silently next to her. Arthur had hit the nail on the head. Dante was fast, but he was also quiet.
Kerry let out a short laugh and cast a sidelong glance at Dante. “Yeah, right.” Who would keep her safe from him? He moved toward her, but she put her hand up, stopping him from coming any closer. “Please don’t,” she said through a hitching breath. “I really need to be alone right now, and if possible, take a nap before this insipid dinner tonight.”
She turned her back on him and busied herself, pulling various things out of her suitcase. She didn’t trust herself to look into those big eyes because she may very well throw herself into his arms and ask him to make it all go away. How pathetic. She cringed at her own weakness. She needed to be alone and get her bearings back. She’d been alone her entire life, and solitude was her comfort zone. At the moment, Dante crowded her personal space in every possible sense.
He nodded curtly. “As you wish. No one will disturb you.”
Kerry looked up just as the bedroom door clicked shut. He’d left her alone just like she’d wanted, but now she had the overwhelming urge to call him back. Kerry let out a sound of self-loathing and frustration at her erratic emotions. She dropped the clothing into her suitcase and shoved it to the other side of the enormous bed, leaving her ample room to curl up in the soft, white bedding. She crawled into the dark cocoon of the covers. Her mind and body were exhausted from the day’s developments, and all she wanted to do was sleep.
Her thoughts wandered to the fox from her dreams and her visions. She longed for the sense of peace that always seemed to accompany it. She saw the gorgeous animal in her dream when she touched Dante. Maybe the huge red fox represented him in her dreams? She had to admit, he was pretty damn foxy in the flesh. Kerry smiled, yawned deeply, and struggled to find the path back to that dream. As she drifted to sleep Dante’s voice rang in her mind. Sleep tight, princess.
“Don’t call me princess,” she mumbled as the dream realm captured her and carried her away.
Chapter 5
The Punisher walked down the dark cobblestone road, paying no attention to the occasional drunken revelers stumbling through the street. New Orleans, even outside of Bourbon Street, had drunks on almost every corner. The Punisher brushed past them with barely a glance in their direction. After several blocks, the desired destination, a tiny voodoo shop, appeared at the edge of the French Quarter.
The Punisher pulled open the old creaking door, and a bell tinkled loudly, alerting the shopkeeper of a new arrival. The Punisher stood silently in the midst of the shop, hands stuffed tightly in the pockets of the long trench coat. The shelves along the walls were lined with hundreds of colorful bottles, candles, statuettes, and crystals—each item tagged and holding the promise of love, money, or power.
Within a few moments, a tall, thin woman emerged from a curtained doorway. Her dark ebony skin stood out in contrast to the white robes she wore. She had a multicolored scarf wrapped around her hair, and long dreadlocks stuck out in various places. She smiled brightly, and her violet eyes twinkled with something that resembled mischief.
“Hello, cher.” Her voice sounded different. She wasn’t Cajun. She had an accent from the islands. “What can I do for ya, darlin’?”
Their customer stood silently for a moment, hoping the memorized words were correct. “From Bourbon to Royal the drinks are sweet, and only the foolish wander down those streets.”
The woman smiled, flashing large wh
ite teeth. She reminded the Punisher of a shark. Wordlessly, she pulled back the curtain and gestured for the Punisher to follow. Once in the tiny room she pushed a panel on the back wall, and a hidden door revealed itself. The woman nodded silently and motioned for her patron to go through the door.
A cold, damp stone room lay beyond the doorway, empty except for an old black man that sat at a wooden table. On either side were shelves. Each held one glass bottle.
The old man gestured to the chair across from him.
“Sit down, my friend.” His voice sounded raspy and matched his crusty appearance. “What do you want from Beaumont?”
The Punisher eyed the old man, whose eyes were clouded completely white. He was probably blind. His wizened arthritic hands were wrapped around an ancient ceramic coffee mug, and his clothes seemed as old and worn as he did.
“I have been told you have a binding spell.”
The old man laughed. It was a dry sound, like fall leaves blowing along the sidewalk. “What, or who, do you wish to bind? Vampire? Shifter? Werewolf? There are many unique creatures that walk this earth.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “But you already know that, don’t you?” He laughed again, and the old wooden chair creaked in protest.
“A shifter.” The words came out harsher than intended and echoed in the cavernous room, but that only served to elicit a bigger smile from Beaumont.
“Of course.” Without looking, he reached behind him, grabbed the bottle from the second shelf, and held it out to the Punisher.
The smooth glass container, no larger than a perfume bottle, looked cool and smooth. The power held inside made the Punisher’s heart pound with anticipation.
“Sprinkle this on the shifter, and you suspend all of their abilities for one moon’s cycle. Get your shifter to ingest in a drink or their food this, and they will be bound in their animal form for all eternity.”
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