Demon Wolf

by Bonnie Vanak

  She raised her brows. “Wow, you are more cougar than I’d thought. Meow much? Want to get into a catfight? No dice, sweetie. Just take Dale out and show him a good time. He deserves a nice night out.”

  Melissa smirked. “I plan to show him a very good time. Just like all the other nights we’ve spent together, when we woke to greet the dawn.”

  “Melissa, let’s roll. Now!”

  Breath caught in Keira’s throat as he escorted her to the door. He was so...handsome and charming. Couldn’t that twit see beyond the scars to the stunning man who bore them? Dale did deserve better. Much better than a gold-draped phony who only wanted to use him to clamber up the Mage social ladder.

  Melissa scurried down the steps to the waiting limo. At the door, he turned and gave Keira a stern look. “Behave.”

  As he started out the door, Keira called out. “Dale!”

  He turned and she made hooting sounds, scratching at her chest.

  His face scrunched up into such a boyish, carefree grin, her heart leaped. Then the polite mask dropped again. “Don’t wait up for me,” he murmured. “And don’t eat all the popcorn.”

  The door softly closed behind him.

  * * *

  Formal balls were never his forte, but he usually enjoyed the chance to socialize and mingle. And dance. Not tonight. Tonight his thoughts constantly drifted home to Keira.

  Dale sat at his table, watching the tableau, as Melissa danced with the admiral. An orchestra played on a raised dais as couples swirled on the dance floor. Sparkling crystal chandeliers reflected the brilliant jewels worn by the women. Candles adorned tables holding silver fountains of the finest champagne.

  The ballroom glowed like fairy lights, he thought whimsically, wondering where that thought came from.

  Then he smiled. Keira. She’d turned on his imagination like a spigot.

  Most of the people who knew him commented how well he looked. Even cagey old Byrne remarked he was putting on weight, looked much more relaxed and fit.

  All thanks to Keira. None to Melissa.

  For two years, he’d shared Melissa’s life and her bed. They’d been intimate and he’d introduced her to his family. And she knew what he was, probably targeted him because he hailed from an old, established and powerful Mage family, yet never told him she was a shifter. Oh, he’d sensed something slightly different about her, but he’d dismissed it, always too much focused on other matters like work to pay attention to his private life.

  Dale understood Melissa’s reasons for never telling him. Wishing to discreetly blend into the human world, many paranorms hid their identities, even from other paranorms.

  He could forgive the omission.

  But he couldn’t ever trust her again.

  Honesty was a value Dale cherished with those in his life, because as a SEAL and a paranorm, lies were necessary to protect lives.

  Those under his command knew his strict rules about honesty. Be honest with me. If you mess up, admit it. Better an admission than trying to cover up the truth because he would find out and the consequences were not pleasant.

  He needed a woman in his life who held those same values. A woman without secrets, a woman who told him the truth and left nothing hidden.

  Suddenly he grew weary of duplicity and false smiles and social climbing. Dale longed for home, his sweatpants and faded T-shirt and beer, not champagne and starched uniforms.

  He made his apologies to the admiral and other dignitaries. Melissa was stiff as he kissed her cheek good-night, but upon leaving he saw her flirting openly with an attentive, politically influential lieutenant.

  A very human lieutenant.

  Dale watched them, an amused smile quirking his mouth. “Good luck, buddy,” he murmured.

  Thoughts of Keira’s monkey sounds kept the smile on his face.

  It was past midnight when the cab pulled in front of his house. Light shone from the den halfway down the hall.

  Curled up on the leather sofa, Keira ate popcorn, a dreamy expression on her face.

  Dale tugged his tie loose and dropped beside her. She glanced up. “Home so early? You okay? They didn’t wear you out, did they?”

  “Never been one for stiff, formal events. Besides the company’s much better at home.”

  She gave a shy smile.

  “I told you not to eat all the popcorn.”

  “And when did I ever listen to you?”

  Dale shrugged out of the jacket, tossing it over a chair. Keira raised an eyebrow.

  “What’s this? Mr. Starched Shirt Meticulous, actually throwing his clothing around? Hope you don’t expect me to hang it up for you. What do you think I am, the housekeeper?”

  Grinning, he kicked off the polished dress shoes. He slid close, grabbed a fistful from the bowl. She looked startled, but did not move away.

  “What’s this?” He pointed to the screen.

  “Black Swan.”

  He gave her an incredulous look. “You like romance movies and chick flicks. This is a dark drama about a ballerina who takes on the role of Odile from Swan Lake and how it twists her mind. It makes Psycho look like a comedy.”

  “It’s a musical. Has music in it.”

  Giving an amused look, he munched on the popcorn.

  Keira was fun and carefree. She made him feel comfortable, relaxed and, hell, he was enjoying himself for the first time in months. Then she gave a small sigh as the strains of Swan Lake played. “What was the ball like? Was there lots of dancing?”

  Dale ate another kernel. “I didn’t dance much.”

  “Afraid to show your two left feet in their very polished, shiny shoes?”

  “Actually, I’m a good dancer with the right partner.” He finished his handful of popcorn. “Didn’t see one there tonight.”

  She sighed again. “I love watching dancers. Just wish I had...”

  Keira fell silent.

  He wiped his fingers on a paper towel. “Tell me.”

  “It’s stupid.”

  “Try me.”

  Glancing up through her long, dark lashes, she set down the bowl and wiped her hands. “No one ever taught me to dance. Not the formal, elegant dances like the waltz. Always imagined what it would feel like to sweep across the floor. I thought it must feel like flying.”

  She looked so dreamy and wistful, his heart gave an unexpected tug. Dale stood, pushed back the coffee table and chairs, clearing a space. Then he pulled her to her feet. “Come.”

  At her puzzled look, he added, “I’m going to teach you to dance.”

  She felt good in his arms. A perfect height, the top of her head reaching his nose. Scents of citrus and sunshine filled his senses, chasing away memories of Melissa’s heavy perfume.

  Keira gazed upward, uncertainty in her eyes.

  He gave his first real smile of the night. “Trust me.”

  Slowly, he showed her the steps. She matched his pace and they swept around the den. Laughing, she followed his lead, matching his stride perfectly. As the music ended, she gazed upward in sheer adoration.

  Dale stood still, amusement shifting to a stronger, deeper emotion.

  “You’re staring at my mouth,” she breathed.

  “Because I keep wondering what you’ll taste like. I’ve been wanting to do this for some time now.” He cupped the back of her head with a strong hand. “Slow and easy. Relax, sweetheart. I’ll take it slow and easy.”

  Lowering his head, he kissed her. His mouth gently covered hers. Keira’s lips felt soft and warm beneath the pressure of his own. Slowly he teased her mouth to open to his, toying and nibbling with her lower lip until she finally yielded.

  She stiffened against him, her breathing ragged, her heartbeat erratic and pulsing as he pulled her closer. Then she sighed beneath his mouth and wound her arms around his neck. She felt warm and soft in his arms, her mouth pliant beneath his. She tasted like sweet raspberries and buttery popcorn, and her mouth was hot silk. Dale deepened the kiss, his erection pulsing. Never had
he been this swiftly attracted to a woman, never had he felt such exhilarating bliss in a mere kiss.

  He wanted more, needed more, his body aching and demanding. But he sensed her innocence and confusion twining with blossoming desire. When she pulled back a little, he abruptly released her.

  Hunger washed through him as he studied her mouth, swollen from his possessive kisses.

  He wanted her badly and, judging from her delicate flush of passion and darkened pupils, she wanted him, as well.

  “I think I’ll call it a night,” she whispered, eyes huge in her heart-shaped face.

  Dale tapped her pert nose. “Sweet dreams, Luminaire.”

  As she left, he collapsed on the sofa, rubbing a hand across his face, filled with desire and dismay. He was falling fast for Keira Solomon, the most unlikely woman he’d ever met.

  And he still knew little about her.

  But soon, he’d find out. Because the rules had changed. He’d let Melissa onto the base, never dreaming she was a shifter. The woman held more interest in his family’s power than the team. But what if she did want something much more dangerous?

  What if Melissa had been a snake, lying in wait to prey upon his staff, his SEALs, hoping to destroy them by using Dale to gain close access?

  He couldn’t endanger his team. Dale fished his cell from his trouser pocket and dialed Stephen, who answered on the first ring.

  “Report, vamp. And don’t tell me it’s past your bedtime or you’re too busy having breakfast in bed with a blonde.”

  “Actually, I was dining on a blonde in bed,” the vampire deadpanned. Then he drew in a deep breath. “I have intel for you.”

  “Report.”

  “Not over the phone. This needs to be delivered in person. Tomorrow morning. I’m in New Orleans, but I’ll catch the red-eye. Be at your house around noon. Long as you don’t have any demons lurking in the corners. Had my fill here in Naw’leans.” The vamp’s Southern accent came across strong and thick.

  Stephen hated demons and had tangled with a few nasty ones.

  Dale smiled. “No. No demons here. Not a hint of one.”

  Chapter 16

  Keira could not sleep, thinking about that kiss.

  Tender and yet passionate, it cranked all her hormones into overdrive. Temptation had called her to fist her hands in his dress shirt, pull him closer and then see where the night led them. Worldly when it came to life’s evils, she was totally innocent in bed. She wanted Dale, wanted to finally taste passion.

  But she couldn’t make love to this man she’d nearly killed.

  Not until he knew the truth. Keira had dealt with too many lies and too much deception to save her skin. If she were finally to be intimate with a man, she wanted Dale. And she wanted nothing but honesty between them.

  Somehow, she had to tell him who she really was....

  Finally she drifted off. And dreamed.

  Vermilion. The color of death was vermilion, sharp and biting. Vermilion, dripping from a platform in the room’s center, cold and dank.

  She put a hand against the wall to steady herself, but the room kept swaying.

  “Admit it. You ripped him open.”

  “Not me. I did not...”

  “You—”

  “I am innocent....”

  “Are you saying you did not torture those young men? You have done worse, much worse, with your claws.” Behind Dale, the demon giggled and clapped.

  “Please...”

  “You let them bleed to death. You watched them scream and writhe in pain. You did it. You tore them open. The demons were bystanders. You did it all.” His voice became deadly calm. “You tortured me. You left me to die in the dark, alone. In agony.”

  “Never kill. Never. I care, I care about you, Dale.” Her voice dropped to a bare whisper.

  He said nothing, only studied her with his cold, dead gaze. Members of his team formed a horseshoe around him, a tight little group. All the SEALs were clad in battle gear, their expressions hard and cruel.

  They wanted a pound of her flesh for the torment she’d inflicted on their beloved leader.

  Dakota, the Draicon werewolf with the deep blue eyes, spoke in a loud, booming voice. “Keira Solomon, I find you guilty of the deaths of all your past victims. Guilty of attempted murder of a U.S. Navy lieutenant commander.”

  “Guilty,” each SEAL echoed.

  “Sentence?” Dale asked them. He looked at Keira, his full, sensual mouth turning hard with resolve. “There can be only one sentence for such evil. Death.”

  * * *

  Keira stared into the mirror as she combed through her damp hair. Showering failed to rinse away lingering wisps of last night’s horrible nightmares.

  She still felt slick with sweat, a film of guilt coating her. Maybe today, she’d work up the courage to somehow tell Dale and have nothing stand between them.

  Nothing to prohibit them from becoming lovers.

  The comb stopped halfway through her hair.

  How could she tell him? Dale needed her to find the demons and needed her guidance in vanquishing them. Telling him the truth risked expulsion from his life, or worse.

  Male voices sounded in the kitchen. They sounded serious, official. Deeply worried, she twisted her long, damp hair into a bun. She dressed in a pair of black trousers, strappy sandals and a long-sleeved blue shirt.

  In the kitchen, she saw that Dale stood near the sink, gazing out the window, a mug in his hand. The delicious scent of hazelnut coffee filled her nostrils. Amusement mingled with apprehension. Finally, he knew how to make his own coffee and make it right.

  He turned and offered a warm smile. “Good morning.”

  Then she noticed a man sitting at the breakfast bar, a glass of clear liquid before him. Chestnut curls tumbled down to his slim shoulders. He wore a rumpled gray shirt and dark circles were under his intense green eyes, as if he’d gone without a night’s sleep.

  Mingling with the strong smell of coffee, and Dale’s delicious scent of fresh air and pine, was the new smell. The bite of whiskey, the burn of hot passion and a metallic scent she instantly recognized.

  Keira stiffened.

  Blood.

  Vampire.

  The man also went still, his gaze tracking her like a predator. Dale, oblivious to the sudden tension, waved at the stranger. “Keira, this is Stephen. He works with my team. Came over the other night, but you were already asleep. Stephen, this is Keira, Luminaire extraordinaire, and my housekeeper. She cleansed the house of demons. And she makes a damn fine cup of coffee.”

  Warmth filled his gaze, but she felt icy cold. Vampire. She’d encountered a group of them while imprisoned by the Centurions.

  Heard them tearing into the victim she’d refused to torture, and he’d died a horrible death, his shrieks stabbing her ears like icy spikes.

  After the vampires, she never fought the demons’ compulsion again. Instead, she’d devised a new method of trying to save their victims.

  “Hello.” Stephen’s gaze narrowed. “You’re the Luminaire.”

  His nostrils twitched. Fear rolled through her. Vampires had exquisitely sensitive olfactory senses. They could smell a wounded person more than one hundred yards away. Some could even detect the slightest defect in a person’s...

  Blood.

  Perspiration beaded her temples, trickled down her back. Panic rose in her throat, sharp and biting. She started to back away. Too late. The vampire stood and rounded the breakfast counter. Sharp white fangs flashed as he hissed.

  “Stephen,” Dale snapped. “Watch it.”

  “She’s no Luminaire. Get her out of my sight.” The vampire’s talons elongated, along with his fangs. His eyes turned bloodred.

  Keira turned and ran into her room, slamming the door shut. She flung herself on the bed and buried her head beneath a pillow, trying to shut out the sounds.

  Shrill screams of agony, sounds of tearing, wet flesh, cackling laughter.

  Sobs wrenched her shou
lders as she cried. Would she ever find redemption?

  * * *

  Dale stared after his housekeeper and then turned to his friend and colleague. “You bastard, what the hell did you do to her?”

  Ashen, the vampire collapsed back on the stool. “Demon blood. She has demon blood, Mage. I can smell it a mile away. The stench...it turns my stomach, burns my nostrils.”

  He picked up the glass of water and gulped it down, wiping his mouth.

  Dread shot through Dale. He set down his mug very carefully. “You’re wrong.”

  “Not about this. Ever. You know how much I loathe demons. Ever since that San Fran episode...”

  “She can’t be a demon. She killed an imp in my house, fought demons with me....” Dale staggered back against the counter, leaning against it for support.

  Stephen stared at the hallway where Keira had fled. “I’m not saying she’s a demon. But she has the blood. Maybe she’s a hybrid.”

  Mind spinning, Dale grappled for explanations. “Like Thad, the petty officer who’s been training my SEALs in the firestorm chamber.”

  “And you know how I can’t stand to be near him, either.” Stephen’s mouth thinned. “But this one, your Luminaire, she’s hiding something big. And the blood inside her, it’s powerful. Dark and evil. Thad’s a puppy dog compared to her. Keira, she’s much worse, a...wolf.”

  Demon wolf.

  The words flashed through his mind. Pain pulsed in his skull, behind his eyelids. Dale pressed a hand to his head. Damn headaches.

  Frustration tensed his muscles. He’d acknowledged the feeling, dealt with it. Sexually, he found Keira desirable, wanted her in his bed. She’d aided him and helped him recover. But his position as ST 21’s commander put him at risk for infiltration by enemies, both human and nonhuman.

  Keira couldn’t remain in his life until he knew exactly what she was....

  “What are you going to do?” the vampire asked.

  “Bring her to base. And have her thoroughly examined.”

  * * *

  After she heard Stephen leave, Dale knocked softly on her door. Keira hastily splashed cold water on her face, dabbed a wet washcloth over her puffy eyelids.