“I dressed for you,” she whispered. “I came here to find you. I had to see you. I had to know if…” His hand slid down her arm, trailing fire, and Erin took a deep, quick breath. “Nick?”
“I would never hurt you, Erin.”
He wouldn’t, Erin realized with an assurance she didn’t quite understand. Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she knew with instincts she’d never used before, just exactly what it was that Nick Slade wanted from her. And what shocked her even more was the fact that she wanted the same thing from him. She wanted him in a way she couldn’t begin to understand.
She lifted her lips in silent invitation. In the instant before his mouth crushed hers, Erin heard him groan, a low, deep, growling sound that reminded her of a wounded animal. Then she thought no more as his mouth moved against hers. Without thinking, Erin parted her lips, welcoming him inside. She felt his hesitation for one split second, then suddenly he was in, his tongue exploring, ravaging, conquering her mouth in masterful possession.
Erin’s legs trembled, and she clung to him for support. He trapped her body to his, letting her know just how much he did want her. He was lean and hard and tough, and he made her feel utterly feminine. Utterly helpless, and deeply aroused. Erin heard another groan, a softer, more desperate sound this time, and realized that it was coming from her own lips.
The sound seemed to excite Slade even more. He lifted her as easily as if she were a doll and turned her so that she was backed against his car. He pressed against her, moving his hips so provocatively against hers that Erin thought she would die from the feel of it.
“I need you,” he said in a deep, desperate voice. “I need to feel—”
The urgency in his tone tore at any control Erin might have been struggling with. His lips were forceful and demanding, yes, but there was something else behind his relentless passion. Other emotions that seemed even more desperate, even more dangerous. The longing and the loneliness she sensed deep within him were more powerful, more threatening than the sexual attraction roaring through her like a steam engine.
“Nick…” she whispered, tingling excitement racing through her. She tunneled her fingers in his short hair, trailed the back of her hand down his face. One finger curled around his dark glasses. “Please,” she begged softly, “let me.”
He stiffened, pulling away from her so abruptly that Erin might have fallen if not for the car behind her. He took several steps back from her, distancing himself as quickly as he could, and disappointment overwhelmed her.
“That was a mistake,” he said, gazing down the alleyway. Erin thought she had never seen an expression so bleak, so defeated. “There’s no excuse. Not after—” He broke off in self-loathing, lifting his hands to gaze at them in disgust.
How could she have been that stupid? Erin wondered. And irresponsible. She’d practically thrown herself at him, and he…well, he’d made his intentions perfectly clear. He didn’t want her. At first maybe, but not now.
Erin turned away, gazing into the night. She felt cold, lonely, and she wanted nothing more than to go home, to shut herself off from the darkness closing in on her once again. How had she ever thought the night exciting and beautiful? It was cruel and frightening and much, much too deceitful.
“I should be going,” she murmured, shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat.
He glanced at her then. “I’ll take you home.”
“I came in a cab, I can leave in a cab,” she snapped.
His mouth thinned as he stared down at her. “Look, I think there’s something we need to talk about.” He looked tired, she thought, her heart going out to him in spite of herself. How could she still care about him? she asked herself in despair. After everything she’d learned about him, why did she still want him with an almost unbearable longing? “Get in the car, Erin.” He opened the car door and in defeat she slipped inside.
How very much she wanted to see his eyes at that moment, to gaze into the very depths of his soul and see…What? What would she see in Nicholas Slade’s soul? Darkness, she thought. Darkness and despair and intense loneliness.
A mirror of her own soul, perhaps. An echo of her own bleak emotions that made her want to reach out to him, in spite of the darkness, in spite of her fears. Or maybe even because of them.
He started the engine and they roared through the dark streets toward home. For several minutes they rode in silence, then his voice broke into the stillness like a quiet explosion. “Damn it, Erin, why didn’t you tell me you were going there?”
“Maybe I didn’t tell you for the same reason you didn’t tell me about Megan,” she defended. “Maybe we both should be a little more honest with one another from now on.”
“What is it you’re asking?”
“Were you and Megan—”
His expression hardened and stopped her. “There was nothing between us. I barely knew her. I’d seen her at that club a few times, and I’d warned her away from the place, just as I did the others.”
“You mean…the other victims?”
“Yes.”
Erin felt as if someone had just punched her very hard in the stomach. The breath left her lungs in a painful swoosh. “You mean…my God…are you telling me you knew them all? All the dead women?”
He began to speak, his tone expressionless. “A lot of young women go into that club looking for…God knows what. They have no idea the trouble they can get into. So I warn them to stay away.”
“What kind of trouble?” Erin asked.
He turned his head and stared at her. “Your worst nightmare kind of trouble.”
Slade cursed under his breath when he saw her violet eyes widen in terror and the shadow of suspicion cloud them. She didn’t believe him, didn’t trust him, and who could blame her? He hadn’t been honest with her about anything. At that moment, in spite of Delaney’s warning to the contrary, Slade had the almost overpowering urge to tell her everything. To tell her how Simone had died and how Megan had died. To tell her that all the deaths had been his fault in one way or another.
He also had the almost overwhelming need to tell her who and what he was, and to let her fear drive her away from him and make her run for safety.
But Slade knew he wouldn’t do it. Couldn’t do it. Because his desire to keep her in his life was now the greatest compulsion of all.
He saw her take a deep breath, then their gazes met briefly before she looked away again. She gazed out the window. “You accused me of becoming obsessed with Megan’s life, and maybe I have. But do you know why, Nick? Do you know why I feel I have to do this one last thing for her? Because I abandoned her. Just like our mother did. I left her here all alone because I couldn’t face the nightmares anymore. She begged me not to go, not to leave her, but I did. I left her and I never came back.”
“Is that when you moved to L.A.?”
“It was right after I graduated from NYU. I wanted a new start somewhere without the memories. I wanted to put the past behind me, but what I found out was that it didn’t matter where I went or how hard I tried to forget. The nightmares were always there. The monsters of my past followed me everywhere. No matter what I did, no matter how many times I destroyed them in my books, they kept coming back. Do you know what it’s like to always live in the shadow of your past, Nick?”
Her words cut through the ice he’d built around his resolve. “Do you know what it’s like to always live in the shadow of your past?” He gazed at his scarred hands gripping the steering wheel, and for a moment all he could see were the raging flames, that inferno roaring through decaying wood and rotting fabric to claim a life he had once loved more than his own. He didn’t need the marks on his hands to remind him of his torment. The scars inside his soul were even deeper, uglier, still raw after all these years.
He pulled the car to the curb in front of Erin’s apartment and shut off the engine. He sat staring out the windshield, still seeing the wall of fire that had separated him from Simone, still hearing he
r screams echo somewhere inside him. He hadn’t been able to reach her through the blaze. He hadn’t been able to save her, and because of that, the guilt would never go away.
He’d accused Erin of being obsessed, but so was he.
Beside him, Erin spoke softly, her gentle voice a balm to his wounds. “There are so many other unanswered questions in my life. I’ll never know what happened to my mother, why she left us, or why she never came back. I think that’s the reason I’ve never been able to put the past to rest. Why I still have nightmares about my childhood. Because I don’t understand why it had to happen.”
“And you think if you find out what happened to Megan, it’ll make her death easier to accept?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “It has to.”
“But what if you’re wrong? What if you find you can’t live with the truth?”
“What could be worse than not knowing?”
“A lot of things,” he said grimly. “A lot of things could be worse.”
She shrugged. “Maybe. But at least I won’t have to wonder anymore.”
Slade saw her look up toward the apartment again. He saw her shudder. And he wanted suddenly to pull her into his arms and never let her go. Was it her loneliness, the despair in those violet blue eyes that drew him as no one ever had before? Not even Simone, who had haunted his dreams for years, had made him feel this way. But it was Erin who haunted him now. Erin he wanted now. Erin he needed with an intensity that took his breath away. Erin, whose innocence soothed the savageness of his black soul.
He wanted to touch her again. Wanted to glide his fingers through the radiance of her dark hair, to whisper kisses along her smooth white neck. He wanted to draw her into his arms, cling to her until the fiery images inside his mind were smothered, condemned to nothing more than cold, lifeless ashes.
But he didn’t touch her. Didn’t dare. Because if he touched her now, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to let her go.
“When I close my eyes,” she whispered, “all I can see is her face and all I can hear is her voice, begging me not to leave her. But I did leave her, and I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
Erin turned her face away but not before Slade had seen the tears slipping down her cheeks, and without thinking, he was touching her, pulling her into his arms, holding her close. His battered hands smoothed her hair as she cried quietly against his chest.
Slade closed his eyes. He had no right to be touching her with hands that had seen so much blood, wreaked such destruction. He had killed the emotions inside himself a long time ago. The Mission had changed him, made him a part of the darkness he sought to destroy.
He had no right to hold a woman like Erin, but he couldn’t let her go. Not now. Now when he had found the one person who needed him almost as much as he needed her.
His lips touched Erin’s hair as he felt her tremble in his arms. And for the first time in years, he wished he could be something other than what he was.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Erin sipped hot tea and huddled inside the afghan Nick had dug out of the closet for her. She knew she should lie down and try to get some sleep, but the moment she closed her eyes, the nightmares would be on her again.
Megan’s dead, she repeated to herself. She can’t come back. Then why do I keep seeing her? Erin asked herself desperately. Why do I keep hearing her?
Because you’re crazy, a little voice taunted her. You’ve always been crazy. Why else would you write those horrible stories?
“What kind of person would be drawn to the thing that frightens her the most?” she whispered.
“Feeling better?”
Erin jumped slightly at the sound of Nick’s voice. He’d been so quiet since they’d come back that she had almost forgotten he was there. She tried a smile, but it fell flat. “I’m okay,” she said.
But she wasn’t okay, and they both knew it. Erin looked away from his too-perceptive stare.
You’re obsessed, Erin, she told herself.
“You’re exhausted,” he said. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”
“I can’t.”
“You have to rest.”
“Why?” she asked, lifting her gaze to his. “Why do you care what I do?”
“Don’t you know?” His voice was rough, untamed, but there was something beyond the edges that captured Erin’s attention, that made her eyes flood with tears. There was something in his voice that she hadn’t heard in a very long time. Maybe ever.
He sat down beside her on the couch, and without thinking, Erin slipped her hand into his. She stared down at their linked fingers, noticing again the strength their union seemed to create.
“I can’t stay here tonight, Erin.”
“I know. You have work to do.”
“That’s not why and you know it.”
Her hand trembled in his. “What’s happening to us, Nick?” she whispered.
His expression darkened even more. “Nothing,” he said. “Nothing can happen between us. There isn’t room in my life for someone like you, Erin. I’ve…seen things, done things.”
“You’ve killed,” she said, sensing the truth.
“When I had to. But there’s more. So much more…” His words trailed off in heavy regret. “There’s too much darkness in my life. I can’t ever be free of it. I can’t even see the sunlight anymore.”
Her heart pounded against her breast as she gazed up at him, at the dark glasses that seemed so much a part of him now. “Why? Are you saying—”
“I’m saying I belong to the night, Erin, and nothing will ever change that.” He stood and paced to the window, staring out. “I should go now.”
More than anything, Erin wanted him to stay, but deep inside, she knew he was right. Nothing could happen between them. Not now, not ever. “I’ll be all right,” she said. “I’ll keep the doors and windows locked. And I won’t let anyone inside.”
But the moment the door closed behind him, Erin knew she had never felt so alone. She crossed the room to the window and watched him stride across the pavement to his car. He opened the door and climbed in, but instead of starting the engine, he merely sat there. For endless minutes he remained until finally Erin realized that he wasn’t going anywhere. He was staying there in front of her apartment, guarding her, protecting her. For the first time in years, she could lie down and sleep and know that the nightmares would be held at bay…by him.
He turned his head up toward her window, and for a moment, their gazes clung in the dark. And Erin sensed something stir to life inside her. Something that felt frighteningly like love.
* * *
In spite of Slade’s vigil, the voice called to her again that night as Erin lay sleeping. The strange whisper wove through the veil of sleep, arousing her with visions of a night she had never known before. A tentacle of warm air swirled around her, touching her so intimately she shifted restlessly in her sleep.
“No,” she moaned, denying the dark seduction.
“Yes…”
The wind moved over her, touching her lips, her neck, her thighs…. “Nick,” she murmured.
For just a moment, the seductive wind seemed to howl in rage. Then the voice whispered inside her, Not him. Never him. You belong to me. I’ve been waiting for you, Erin.
“Who are you?” she breathed.
Don’t you know?
“Yes,” she said. “I know.”
Feel me, came the command. Open your eyes and see me.
Her lids fluttered open, and Erin lay in the darkness of her sister’s bedroom as that nameless, faceless entity spoke to her very soul. The voice imprisoned her, seduced her, made her want desperately what she had always feared the most.
Boneless, drifting on the wind, Erin rose up and walked into the living room to stand before the French doors. There was a shadow on the balcony, a dark silhouette that made her breath catch. That made her heart pound in terror and a strange, dark excitement.
Open the door, Erin. Open the
door and invite me inside.
Erin’s hand trembled on the knob. Emotions warred inside her, but she couldn’t fight the command that bade her turn the knob, pull back the door, welcome that dark, familiar figure into her home…and into her soul. The metal slipped beneath her fingers. She gripped the knob tighter, turning…
Yes! Almost there. A little more…
She turned the knob, and the door blew open with such force that Erin staggered back. The wind rushed inside, tangling her hair, ripping at her nightgown as she stood staring at the man standing in the doorway. For some reason, she couldn’t make out his features, but she could see his eyes. They were glowing silver in the darkness.
“Say it,” he demanded in triumph. The beauty of his voice flowed over her, seducing her to obey. “Say the words, Erin!”
She moistened her lips. “Please come—”
“Erin!” The sound of another voice stopped her cold. It wasn’t a whisper this time, but a voice that called to her through the layers of fog surrounding her mind. Someone pounded on the front door, and the sound became louder, clearer, more urgent as the other voice began slipping away in a whirlwind of fury. “Open the door, Erin! Let me in!”
“Nick?”
She still stood facing the open French doors. The wind raged around her, fast and furious, as the silhouette on the balcony began backing away, fading more deeply into the night. Suddenly Erin was released from the spell. Just as the front door burst open, she collapsed to the floor, half in a daze, shaking with fear.
Slade stood in the doorway, looking for all the world like a demon spawned by the darkness. He strode into the room, his leather coat open, his dark glasses revealing nothing but reflected moonlight. Erin took all this in with only a minimum of awareness. She tried to draw herself up into a ball, tried to hide her partial nakedness from a gaze that was no less penetrating because it was hidden.
Quickly Slade removed his coat, knelt beside her and wrapped it around her shoulders. He stared at the balcony doors. “What happened?”
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