Touched by Darkness – An Urban Fantasy Romance (Book 1, The Sentinel Series)

by Catherine Spangler

  “You are not responsible for Doris’s passing,” he said in a low voice, and she wondered if he was a mind reader.

  Needing his strength and warmth, she leaned against him. She felt the slight hesitation before his arm came around her. Its reassuring weight was enough to get her through the rest of the service.

  * * * *

  “What a day,” Kara said later, as they walked across the grass to her house.

  The memorial service had been followed by a get-together at Doris’s house. Neighbors and friends had brought enough food to feed the entire Texas National Guard. Damien made impressive inroads on the food, while managing to stay close to Kara. It was stressful being in the house where she’d found Doris, talking to the family and dealing with the curious stares and whispers aimed at her and Damien. She was glad when they were able to leave.

  The sun was setting and the temperature dropping. The chill seeped through Kara’s wool pantsuit. “Did you pick up anything?” she asked.

  “Not even a glimmer. If the Belian was at the funeral home or the house, it was well shielded.”

  “Belle Williams didn’t look very good,” Kara commented. “She must have had a chemo treatment yesterday.”

  “Did you notice her legs? Very nice for a woman her age.”

  “She square-danced for years, until her husband died…the Belian has nice legs,” Kara said slowly, remembering the vivid images from last night.

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

  “Belle is on our short list of suspects.” Kara turned to look back at Doris’s house. Soon it would be sold, and her things would be distributed among her children. Kara couldn’t shake the soul-deep sadness. And she missed Alex. Nothing was right in her world. “God, I need a drink.” She felt, rather than saw, Damien’s gaze swing to her.

  “We can do that.”

  She knew his mega-rapid metabolism allowed him to drink large quantities of alcohol, while she could drink herself into oblivion—which sounded damn good right now. “I don’t want to go to Jim’s Tavern,” she said with a shudder. “Let’s just go to the Quik-Stop drive through and get something to bring back here.”

  “Fine.” He had the measured tone of someone trying to soothe an upset or deranged person, but she simply didn’t care.

  She insisted on driving, so they took her truck and bought a twelve-pack of Shiner Bock, which she also insisted on paying for. She didn’t bother to change her clothes when they returned, just grabbed two beers, popped the tops, and gave one to Damien.

  She plopped onto the couch and kicked off her pumps. Damien was wearing that killer black suit, this time with a silver-and-black striped tie. He set his beer down to take off the coat and tie and drape them over a dining room chair, then retrieved the bottle and settled in the big chair.

  She had a fourth of her beer downed before he took his first sip. His eyebrows lifted when she slugged another fourth in one long gulp. “You know, you didn’t eat anything at the reception.”

  “Ask me if I care.”

  He didn’t respond, but she thought she saw his lips twitch as he raised his beer to his mouth. He took a healthy swig, his powerful throat flexing as he swallowed. He’d released his hair from the tie, and it was loose around his shoulders, a stark contrast against the white dress shirt. With the sharp angles and lines of his face, tempered by the sensual fullness of his lips, he looked like a god. Watching him made her a little giddy.

  “Besides, you ate enough for the two of us,” she muttered in an attempt to divert her wayward thoughts.

  “Yeah, there was some great food there.”

  She almost laughed at the reverence in his voice. He might be an all-powerful Sentinel, but he was such a guy. And what a guy—with all the right parts, slot A fitting perfectly into slot B. Damn, her thoughts were definitely unruly.

  She drank more beer and pondered her reactions to Damien. Part of it was the sexual attraction that raged between them when they were in close physical proximity to one another, and that was nothing more than chemistry.

  Yet even when there was distance between them, when she was away from the mind-clouding hormonal surge of the Sentinel-conductor link, she had lingering thoughts of Damien. His honor and integrity, his compassion and strength, his gentleness and easy affection with Alex—his basic goodness—all combined inside a gorgeous face and body to form one hell of a package.

  One that was becoming harder to resist. And maybe she shouldn’t even try. Gulping the rest of her beer, she rose from the couch. “You ready for another one?”

  “Sure.” He drained his bottle, handed it to her.

  In the kitchen, she leaned against the sink, staring sightlessly out the window. She knew she was navigating treacherous waters, at a time when she was vulnerable. Her life was off course, everything she’d worked for threatened, and now she had inexplicable, dangerous feelings. They were probably just the result of the upheaval in her life. Yet, didn’t she deserve some happiness, however fleeting? Deciding the answer was yes, she got two more beers.

  She rejoined Damien in the living room, sipped the second beer more slowly. Her thoughts returned to last night’s conduction, and to something that had nagged at her since then. “You didn’t kiss me,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Last night. You didn’t kiss me during the conduction.”

  She’d caught him off guard, judging from his expression. “Kara—”

  “Don’t give me some bullshit answer! I asked a simple question. A straightforward reply would be nice, for a change.”

  His jaw tightened. “No, I don’t kiss my conductors. It makes things too personal, raises…expectations.”

  Ah, emotion, commitment. She understood Sentinels couldn’t get involved with every one of their conductors. But many took mates and had families—to propagate the species, if nothing else, as she had just learned. Yet she sensed there was something else underlying Damien’s isolation.

  “Does this have anything to do with what happened to your parents?”

  The pain flashed across his face before he could hide it. Then he schooled his features into an unreadable expression. “That has nothing to do with any of this.”

  But she knew it did. He had done the same thing she had, she realized. His pain from his personal loss had been so great, he’d shut down emotionally. In that regard, they were kindred souls. Both wounded spirits.

  She was so damned tired of being wounded.

  She was on her feet without a conscious decision, her legs carrying her to Damien of their own volition. His eyes flared, but before he could react, she leaned down, trapped his face between her hands, and kissed him.

  He jerked back as if he’d been burned. “What the—”

  She pressed her fingers against his mouth. “Shut up. This isn’t a conduction, Damien, where you can keep your distance by claiming it’s for a higher cause. There’s no Sentinel and conductor business tonight. Right now, we’re just two people who need one another.”

  He grabbed her wrist, pulled her hand from his mouth. “That’s the alcohol talking. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  It wasn’t the beer—she could drink at least three before she got tipsy. She felt as if she’d made a monumental decision, had already taken the leap off the cliff. She couldn’t go back now, didn’t want to go back.

  So she reached for her wings and took control of the fall. “The hell I don’t! You keep telling me that life goes on, that we do have free will in some things. Well, I’m choosing to live. I guess you’re going to hide behind your Sentinel heritage, instead of facing life head-on. You’re a coward, Morgan.”

  Anger sparked in his eyes. “You know that’s not true.”

  “Really? You’re letting the past dictate your life, and you’re refusing to let yourself feel. I’d call that cowardice.”

  Maybe her words were the pot calling the kettle black, since she’d done exactly what she accused him of,
but at least she had finally been willing to take the leap. And her wings seemed to be working just fine.

  “You don’t know anything about my life,” he said, and started to move her back so he could stand.

  She shoved him hard, catching him off balance, and he fell back into the chair. “I know you’re a man, with feelings and needs, just like any other human male. And I’m assuming you want me. So kiss me, damn it!”

  Not giving him another opportunity to protest, she grabbed his head and kissed him again. She felt his resistance, his hands coming up to her shoulders to push her away. She angled her head, teased her tongue between his lips. Please, she thought, please, please don’t reject me. She needed this right now, needed to feel alive and maybe cared for, even if only for one night.

  As if again reading her mind, his hands cupped her shoulders, and she sensed him wavering. With a groan, he took command of the kiss, began ravishing her mouth with devastating finesse. Dear God, he kissed every bit as good as she had fantasized, and then some. With a little hum, she crawled on his lap, straddled him. Felt him leap to life between her legs, the immense hardness of him pulsing against her.

  Her own body’s response was immediate, her breasts swelling, wet heat flooding her lower extremities. Damien knew—his senses were too keen to miss her reactions. Still kissing her, he let his fingers tease against her crotch for a brief moment, then swept his hand up to cup her breast. She reciprocated by cupping him back, only much lower, and it was like throwing gasoline on a fire. Need and heat exploded between them, and things got a little crazy.

  She jerked his shirt open; he unbuttoned her jacket and unsnapped her bra. They couldn’t get enough of each other, kissing and touching, the fire now a roaring inferno. She got his belt unbuckled and his pants unzipped. He groaned as she freed him and wrapped her hand around his hard length.

  Wildness flared through her, along with an intense craving for physical and emotional intimacy. She slipped down to kneel before the chair. Damien had given her back her humanity, and she wanted to revel in it. She wanted to take him to the depths of an intimacy he’d been avoiding. To let him know what she had just learned herself.

  That it was good to feel again.

  * * * *

  As Kara knelt between his splayed legs, Damien knew what she was going to do. He was too far gone to resist, could only watch as she looked at him with those luminous gray eyes, as she lowered her head and took him into her mouth.

  Then sensation decimated all rational thought—not that there had been much during the past moments of sensual frenzy. Moist warm heat stroked him, as silky auburn hair tantalized the inside of his thighs. All he could do was lay his head back and take the exquisite torment.

  Until it was almost too much, and he was on the edge of exploding. He wanted Kara along for the ride, so he stopped her, pulling her up with him as he stood. She tried to protest, but he swung her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom, then stripped off the rest of their clothing. Bits of mental clarity returned, but he ignored the clamoring warnings.

  He shouldn’t be indulging in this, couldn’t be what Kara deserved and needed. Yet he’d been alone and isolated for so long, he couldn’t step back from this. It was like letting the wind loose and then trying to corral it, or attempting to stop a tidal wave. He knew on some level that giving in to his feelings would damn him, but he was determined to taste paradise before he burned in Hades.

  He needed this too desperately to take his time with Kara. Placing her on the bed, he feasted on her like a starving man, his mouth flowing over satiny skin. She didn’t seem to mind, arching against him, trying to touch him in return. There was no talk, just her sweet moans, and the pounding of his heart.

  Her breasts were as sensitive as he remembered, only this time he got to taste them, to swirl his tongue over her nipples, and hear her breath catch. With hands and mouth, he got to map the curve of her body, the texture of her skin, as he moved down her.

  He discovered she had a tiny gold ring in her navel—which was sexy as hell—and that she was a true redhead. Her natural feminine scent beckoned, and he lowered his head to kiss her intimately. He focused on giving her pleasure, vaguely aware of her fingers tangled in his hair, of the breathy sounds she made. He hurled her over the edge, savoring the way she cried out his name. He slid back up, his own need now taking center stage.

  “Damien,” she whispered. She pulled his head down and kissed him fervently. Settling between her legs, he took her wrists and pressed them against the pillow, and began sliding inside her.

  “No.” She wiggled free and pushed against his shoulders. “Lady’s choice, Morgan.”

  With a groan, he allowed her to shove him onto his back and straddle him. “Kara, you’re going to—” he groaned again as she lowered herself over him, sheathing him to the hilt. “—kill me.”

  She smiled wickedly, began to move, way too slowly. “Oh, I think you’ll survive.”

  She was right, although at one point, he felt certain he’d died and been shot like a rocket into the heavens. But then, as he gradually returned to terra firma, he knew he’d survived very nicely.

  * * * *

  Sara Thornton checked her appearance in the corroded wall mirror in the small space that served as a foyer. She wasn’t sure tonight was a good idea, but she hadn’t had much of a life since David— she blocked the thought before it could complete itself. Had it only been eight weeks? Sometimes it seemed like it had happened an eternity ago, while at others, it felt like only yesterday that he’d gone off to fish in the Blanco River, and never returned.

  She pushed the thoughts away. She needed to get out—had to get out, before the four walls of the tiny house closed in on her. She couldn’t believe her babysitter hadn’t cancelled, after Wednesday night… Zorro had seen more unusual happenings in the past two months than it had all of Sara’s adult life.

  A knock came on the front door, and she thought it might have been nice if David had gotten around to putting in the peephole he’d been promising for years. But who would have known there was a murderer living in Zorro? She cracked the door to find Luz standing on the narrow cement steps. Opened the door to let her in.

  “Thank you for coming. I thought maybe with what happened with Matt and all, you’d—”

  “I need to stay busy,” Luz interjected. “I need to just keep going, as if….” She shook her head.

  “I know.” Sara closed the door. “I was sorry to hear about Matt.”

  Luz glanced around, her face unusually pale and devoid of emotion. “Where are the children?”

  “Michael’s in his room, and Julie is at the Millers, two houses north of here. She’s supposed to be home by eight. There’s leftover macaroni and cheese in the fridge, peanut butter and jelly on the counter.” Sara hesitated. “You sure you want to do this?”

  Luz’s expression became determined. “Sí. I want to do this.”

  Sara felt a rush of relief. “Okay…good. Well, then, I’ll get going.”

  “Where will you be?”

  “Beth Gonzales and Mary Roberts and me are going down to Gruene for dinner.”

  “To the Gristmill and maybe the Dance Hall?” Luz asked discerningly.

  The lure of a drink called to Sara; she could almost taste the whisky going down. But she didn’t like the knowing smirk on Luz’s face. “Maybe. But I deserve a good time. I’ve been workin’ my fingers to the bone, taking care of these kids and trying to hold things together ever since David went off and drowned.”

  “Of course you do. Go on, and don not worry about los niños. They will be fine.”

  Sara did, grabbing her purse and coat, and feeling a heady rush of freedom as she left her responsibilities behind her.

  * * * *

  Kara stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. Her thoughts strayed to Damien and their love making last night. As soon as they had left the bedroom, she’d felt Damien draw away from her, but she couldn�
��t turn off her feelings or the connection between them so easily. Although they’d slept together last night, because she didn’t want to be alone, he’d been distant and stayed on his side of the bed. It was as if the nonconduction sex had never happened.

  Today it had been all business. They’d visited the three known murder scenes—those of David, Doris, and Matt—and this afternoon, attempted another conduction. Despite the powerful sexual crescendo, they hadn’t been able to garner any more information on the Belian. And again, Damien had immediately distanced himself.

  Kara put on her robe and went into the bedroom. Sitting on the bed, she toweled her wet hair. Despite the myriad concerns nagging at her, she couldn’t stop thinking about Damien. That’s when the realization hit her, with the impact of a physical blow.

  She was falling in love with him.

  Stunned, she dropped the towel. What was the matter with her? Why couldn’t she go for the normal men? Because…maybe she wasn’t supposed to. She’d been born to be a natural conductor for certain Sentinels; her son was a Sentinel. If there really was a divine plan, as Damien insisted, then maybe this was part of that plan.

  She drew her knees up and rested her chin on them. Damn. She had no idea if Damien had reciprocal feelings for her, but if he did, she might never know it. Oh, she knew he cared. She knew it on a primal level, as evidenced by his protective attitude, how he looked at her when he didn’t think she was aware of it. And by the way he touched her, last night and during the conductions, with the same reverence Richard had shown her.

  Damien might never admit to his feelings, even to himself; he would probably never be willing to commit to a relationship. Maybe she should feel hurt, but this wasn’t a high school crush, and she fully understood. She knew Sentinels had to be careful that their conductors didn’t fall in love with them. They carried tremendous responsibilities, and faced very dangerous—and often fatal—situations. All too often, they lost loved ones, as Damien had. She didn’t know if he could ever get beyond the emotional baggage from his past.

  She would have to live with that. Life would go on, and so would she. One day at a time, just as she had done after Richard died. She had Alex to think about, and taking care of him was a full-time job—in addition to her medical career.