Demon Wolf

by Bonnie Vanak

  Her own sleep remained restless and edgy.

  Nights brought on erotic dreams of Dale making love to her in a pure white bed, his big body moving over hers. She woke trembling, perspiration covering her skin, her heart thudding in erratic beats and her body tight with longing.

  With the money he’d given her, Keira bought a massage table and new equipment. She paid extra to have the table delivered by late afternoon to an empty upstairs bedroom.

  The bedroom was big, with two large windows and a western exposure to catch lots of sunlight. The walls were painted a lemon yellow, except for one mirrored wall. The mirror would reflect the white light and aid in the sessions, she decided.

  The room had no furniture, which was very odd. But perhaps he’d planned to renovate.

  She opened the walk-in closet and saw several boxes. Curious, she knelt down and opened one.

  Baby clothes. Chest tight, she combed through them, removing an adorable little pink dress. A lump rose in her throat. Had Dale planned this room as a nursery? Had he lost a child?

  With great reverence, she closed the box, then shut the door and smudged the room with sage to cleanse it of sadness.

  That night when he arrived home, she was fixing dinner. The front door slammed and the sounds of opera filled the air. Like each night, as soon as he came home, he turned on the CD player in the living room.

  Dale entered the kitchen, carrying a bouquet of fresh yellow daisies. Wearing a hat and a stiff-looking uniform, he looked quite handsome and very military. Even his shoes were mirror bright.

  Cellophane crackled as Dale handed her the bouquet. “I’ve been buried in meetings with brass the past two days and it’s been nice to come home to a real meal.”

  Keira buried her nose in the daisies to hide her smile. No one had ever given her flowers before.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He shrugged. “It’s a small gesture to show my appreciation.” He did not smile. The rigid navy commander returned.

  Remnants of a price tag were still on the clear wrapping. The flowers were a gesture, a meaningless one. Keira pushed aside her small disappointment. It would not ruin her joy of the moment. She tore off the cellophane, found a vase in the cabinet and filled it with water, then put the daisies inside and placed the vase on the table. “After dinner, we’ll start on your first session.”

  Dale shook his head. “I have a report to write. I’ll eat in my study.”

  “The work can wait. This can’t.”

  His brows drew together as his mouth thinned. The navy commander didn’t like being ordered around. Tough.

  “Unless you’d like more imps in your office, chewing on your report and your computer cables and who knows what else.”

  “You cleansed my house.”

  “But you’re the conduit, the reason why they’re attracted here. This—” she spread her arms wide “—is only a house.”

  He broached the distance between them, his eyes steely gray. “You’re accusing me of being a magnet for demons.”

  Keira didn’t back off, even as he got close enough to kiss her. “Yes.”

  He closed his eyes, his shoulders going rigid. Guilt washed over her. Dale Curtis had a normal life before she’d dug her claws into him, literally. He could work all night and never have to worry about an imp tearing apart his papers.

  “I’ll offer you a compromise. I’ll serve your dinner in your study, and you can work and then at ten, you come upstairs for your first session.”

  Dale’s eyes flew open. “I don’t compromise.”

  “Fine. Then I’ll leave, you can be overcome by demons and you won’t have to worry about paperwork anymore.”

  Holding her breath, she watched to see if her bluff worked. His jaw tightened so hard, she could have used it to pound nails. Finally he nodded. “I’ll be in my study.”

  As she exhaled a shaky breath, he warned, “I don’t believe in magick stones and herbs and all that feel-good stuff. This isn’t going to work.”

  Keira gave him a serene smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll use some of my magick relaxing potion on you and you’ll be skipping down the hall and tossing flowers everywhere. Works like a charm.”

  “What are you, a witch?”

  “I’ve been called much worse.”

  Chapter 8

  Her client was not very cooperative.

  At first, he’d refused to change into more comfortable clothing. When he finally did and entered the room she’d set up for therapy, he frowned.

  “Not this room. It’s off-limits.”

  “There are no other empty rooms.” She tilted her head. “Unless you wish to do this in your study?”

  He looked at her as if she’d suggested painting his man-cave pink and decorating it with stuffed animals.

  Scented candles burned on a table she’d lugged up the stairs. Colorful crystals were arranged around the ring of glowing candles and the slow, steady beat of a drumming circle played on the portable CD player. Keira had brought the daisies into the room as well, and turned off the harsh overhead lights.

  Dale took one look at the massage table and shook his head.

  “If I lie down on that, I’ll fall asleep. I have to finish that report after you finish your New Age mojo crap.”

  Keira refused to let his gruff insult sway her. She knew he was scared, and hiding it.

  “Falling asleep is good. I want you to relax. Take off your shoes and lie down.”

  He climbed onto the table and stretched out, stiff as a wood casket. No, don’t think of coffins and death. She cleared her mind of negativity, thought of a field filled with sunflowers lifting their heads to the sun’s caress, a cloudless blue sky and walking barefoot through a lush field of soft grass.

  She glanced at her patient. Dale folded his arms across his chest.

  “It smells like a flower bed in here,” he grumbled.

  “Lavender and rose. Aromatherapy.”

  He gave a derisive snort.

  “Why are you so opposed to this? You’re a Primary Mage. Magick runs in your veins. You need to stop and smell the roses once in a while.”

  “I’m a SEAL commander first. I don’t stop to smell the roses because the enemy probably planted an IED in the flower bed.”

  “IED.” She experimented with the unfamiliar word.

  “Improvised explosive device. One caught one of my SEALs off guard in Afghanistan. He was killed.”

  Her heart wrenched again. Dale had dealt with the worst of humanity as well as demons. “The bomb blew him up.”

  Dale sat up, his gaze suddenly guarded. “No, a fire demon burned him to death.”

  And suddenly she made the connection. Dale wasn’t an ordinary navy SEAL and neither was his team. They were fighting both human and paranormal enemies.

  He watched her carefully. “You’re not supposed to know that, but if we’re going to work closely together, there is no way of avoiding it. I’ll have to scrub your memories when you leave my employment.”

  If I live long enough, she thought.

  “I’ll start with a session of reflexology.” She started to remove his socks and he bolted upright.

  “Leave them on.”

  “It works better on bare feet.”

  “I never go barefoot.”

  Then she remembered. He’d been barefoot in the basement and the demons whispered to him that his feet were next—her claws would gouge his soles so deep, he’d be crippled for life.

  “Forget the reflexology. We can work on that later. Let’s try aligning your energy centers. Lie down. All I’m going to do is use the crystals.”

  Keira selected a large lavender crystal and started to wave the stone over his body, but he remained tense, his aura so dark she could barely see it flickering in the dimmed light. She set the stones back on the table. “I’m going to leave the room for a minute. I want you to remove your shirt and lie on your stomach.”

  Dale raised himself up on his elbows. “Why? More
woo-woo crap?”

  Irritation surged, but she kept her voice calm and even. “Woo-woo massages. Can’t be beat for getting those stiff upper lips in the navy to relax. You’ll enjoy it. Trust me.”

  The look on his face told her this man had not trusted anyone in a long time. She knew his scars, knew the length and depth of each one. They were all on his torso and belly and arms and legs. Not his back.

  She walked out of the room, doing some deep breathing herself. Dale was one stubborn man.

  When she returned, he was lying on his stomach, head cradled in his folded arms. His shirt lay folded neatly on a nearby chair.

  She hesitated. The last time she’d faced this man on a table, she’d been a wolf, her sharp claws gouging out his flesh. Quivering, she stared at him.

  Calm down. You’re in control. Think calming, peaceful thoughts.

  A field of sunflowers, lush grass against her bare feet...

  She stared at the strong muscles of his back and something stirred inside her. A grass field...lying in the grass, Dale’s strong, naked body covering hers as they made love...

  Okay. Not so peaceful or calming. Summoning all her discipline, she focused on her task. He needed healing. She held the thought in her mind.

  Keira changed the CD on the player.

  Dale raised his head, his brows drawn together. “You like classical music?”

  “No, but I know you do. You play it every night when you return home. This is to help you relax.”

  She removed a bottle of lavender lotion from her woven basket and poured a small amount into her palms, rubbing them briskly.

  Hovering just above the strong muscles of his back, she hesitated. So masculine and rugged, Dale Curtis was chiseled marble. The rich scent of lavender permeated the air, slicing through the thick vanilla, cloves and cinnamon.

  Dale’s eyes began to close.

  “Just relax,” she whispered. “Don’t think. Don’t talk. Breathe. And relax. Let me remove all your cares.”

  Her fingers smoothed the lotion over his skin. The man was a little thin, but his back was ridged with muscle and sinew. Keira’s hands quivered as she stroked over his back, working the lotion into his thirsty skin.

  The camouflage pants hugged his taut buttocks. She worked the lotion into his skin, kneading stiffened muscles and sighing with pleasure as she touched him. He reminded her of a marble sculpture, masculine beauty at its finest. Every time she stroked over his skin, shivers of pleasure coursed through her.

  Then he turned his head and opened his eyes, looking at her.

  “You’re all flushed,” he said drowsily.

  She put her hands to her burning cheeks. “It’s hot in here.”

  His gaze dropped to her breasts, where her nipples stood out like exclamation points against the loose, flowing print dress.

  This time, Keira was the one folding her arms across her chest.

  Interest flared in his expression as his eyes darkened. Dale’s gaze swept down the length of her dress to the hemline ending above her knee.

  “You have very nice legs,” he murmured.

  “I think that’s enough for tonight. It’s getting late and I have to get up early.”

  “It’s not late.”

  She thought rapidly. “I have a lot to do tomorrow. Need to get an early start, find a local greenhouse and buy pants. I mean, plants. Herbs. Rosemary, stuff like that.”

  “You don’t need to fear me,” he said softly. “Keira. Lovely name. Lovely legs.”

  Dale started to raise himself up, then glanced down at his torso. A dark flush covered his cheeks and he dropped back to the table.

  “I’d like to be alone.”

  Her heart dropped to her stomach. He did not want her seeing his scars. A lump rose in her throat. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

  “Tomorrow night, we’ll start on the real work with the aromatherapy and crystals,” she told him.

  “Tomorrow night I’m busy. I don’t have time for this crap.”

  Gone was the camaraderie and the progress she’d made. He’d turned back into himself, shutting her out.

  It’s your fault. Do you really think healing sessions with white light would make up for all you’ve done?

  She closed the door gently behind her on the way out, and then went into her bedroom. All the crystals arranged in a pretty pattern on the nightstand turned dull and lifeless, reflecting her inner misery.

  Chapter 9

  It had been a bitch of a morning.

  First, he’d awakened late and when he’d come downstairs, dressed and ready to grab a cup of Keira’s excellent coffee, he found no coffee. No breakfast, and the dinner dishes still piled in the sink.

  Dale hated disorganization. And in his house, his refuge, the sole place he could exert a little control in a chaotic world?

  Unacceptable.

  He knew she was playing hardball. Ever since the massage five days ago, he kept putting off another therapy session. Blaming the intense training sessions in the new firestorm chamber now that most of his team had returned from deployment, Dale dodged her, returning home late each night and leaving early for the base every morning. Much as he hated to admit it, he did enjoy the homey touches she’d brought into his life, from the delicious coffee to the dinners, to knowing there was someone waiting for him when he walked through the door.

  Even if the someone was nagging him to do things he firmly resisted.

  His housekeeper sat at the breakfast bar, reading a book. She did not glance up.

  “Miss Solomon, I hired you to keep house and make coffee, not read books.”

  She finally glanced up. “You hired me as your personal psi therapist. When you give me an exact time for the second session, I’ll start making coffee again.”

  Infuriated, he snatched the book from her hands and set it on the counter. “Coffee. Now. That’s an order.”

  She plucked at her colorful skirt. “Does this look like a regulation navy uniform? Ah, think not. You’re not my commanding officer.”

  “I am your employer. Get to work.”

  “Are you willing to do a second session tonight?”

  “No.”

  “Then make it yourself.”

  Keira picked the book up and resumed reading.

  Dumbstruck, he stared at her, feeling everything slip out of his control once more. No way was he consenting to her New Age crap, opening himself up and becoming vulnerable. Hell, every time he glanced in the mirror at his messed-up body, it was a reminder of how helpless he’d been.

  He looked at his watch. Damn it, no time to argue. Today they started training with real flames and he needed his men alert and ready.

  “This kitchen had better be spotless when I return. I expect dinner promptly at seven. As for your unorthodox, unregulated session...” He struggled with his temper. “You can kiss my navy-regulation trouser-covered ass.”

  Keira did not glance up as he slammed the door behind him.

  The drive to the base took forever. He barely muttered greetings to his staff and concentrated on PT, a six-mile run with his men. Dale pushed himself for another mile, determined to prove he was back on top.

  Even though he felt lower than the dirt on his running shoes.

  After a quick shower, he headed for his office, snapping at several staff members who kept asking if he was all right. Would they ever leave him alone?

  He was in a bad mood. Dreams of hot, intense sex with Keira had plagued him all night, leaving him frustrated and edgy. Then he’d woken up to find his house in complete disorder, and a battle of wills waged on the front lines of his kitchen.

  Once ensconced in his office, Dale sat at his desk and stared at the stacks of paperwork. Lt. Ted Morrison, his executive officer, was on mandatory training, something he’d put off while Dale was recovering. Ted had been in charge while Dale was on medical leave.

  ST 21’s new firestorm chamber cost the government a chunk of change and now he had to justify it with form
after form. Keegan was right. He was losing his touch with his men, and needed to get back into the field with them.

  He also needed coffee.

  There was a tapping sound on his door.

  “Come in,” he barked.

  Ensign Robyn Lees entered, a mug filled with steaming coffee on a tray. “Your coffee, sir,” she said.

  Dale gestured to the desk. She set it down and hovered.

  He took a sip and choked. “Sailor, what the hell is this sludge?”

  Ensign Lees raised her brows. “I’m sorry, sir, I usually make the coffee but today Artie made it and...”

  “I don’t need excuses, I need a fresh cup of coffee that doesn’t taste like sewer water. Now!”

  “Are you all right, sir? You’re not acting yourself lately.” Concern etched her pretty, freckled face.

  Damn it, if another person on his staff asked that question, he’d hang them out to dry. Growling low in his throat, Dale flung out a hand. A ball of dark gray energy shot out of his palm, missing the ensign by inches, and smashed into a table, shattering a vase.

  Her eyes widened, and then she hissed at him and vanished.

  Dale stared at his hands. Darkness. Demon darkness, just like Keira had warned.

  He pushed back his chair and stood in time to see a gray tail vanish beneath the credenza.

  Dale got on his knees and peered under the credenza and saw a small gray cat curled in the corner, claws extended, eyes glaring at him.

  All of ST 21’s support staff were paranormals. Robyn was a Halfling, a cat shifter. “Robyn, come out. Please. I’m sorry.”

  More hissing. The cat refused to budge.

  Dale grappled for control. Great start to the day. He was losing control of his temper and had nearly hurt an ensign whose biggest sin was serving lousy coffee.

  Now he had to deal with an angry cat who refused to shift back into her human form. Hell, the way he acted lately, he was lucky his entire staff didn’t start using their powers for protection.

  “Darling, what are you doing on the floor?”

  Startled, he reared up and banged his head on the credenza. Biting back a curse, he crawled backward and stood, brushing at his trousers. A tall, slim blonde stood in the doorway. She closed the door.