She remembered feeling so powerful not so long ago. Where had all her vigor gone? The Sons of Darkness had promised her …
They’d promised her a lot. And then they’d abandoned her. She was completely human again, no traces of the power she’d wielded a short time ago. Just like so many other times in her life, she felt used and discarded. She bit back a laugh. How gullible was she, anyway? Was it stamped in big neon letters across her forehead? Hey, everyone, victimize me!
“Isabelle.”
She jerked her head up at the sound of Dalton’s voice. “What?”
“Let’s go.”
She nodded and followed him out the door, sucking in huge breaths of hot, humid air. She glanced up at the palm fronds adjacent to the big house. They weren’t flapping. No breeze at all. The smell of the swamp made her wrinkle her nose. They walked down the front steps and Dalton led her around the side of the big white house, along a well-worn path of dirt and flagstones, then across the lawn.
“Where are we going?”
“There’s a cabin separate from the house. We’ll stay there. It’s quieter, more remote. It’ll give us more privacy.”
“It’s great that we have a place to stay.”
“It’s not exactly the Ritz-Carlton, but I think you’ll like it. And it’s quiet.”
Whatever. The last thing she needed was more time alone with her thoughts. Or her nightmares. A big house filled with people would have been a nice distraction.
And how far were they going to walk, anyway? The path seemed to wind on forever, skirting near the edge of the swamp. There were probably alligators lurking just under the surface of the murky water, sizing her up for their next meal. Low-hanging moss whapped her in the face as they traversed the narrow trail; the trees seemed to be alive and reaching for her. Her skin prickled like she was being watched, though she didn’t see anyone on the porches of the few cabins they passed by nor was anyone outside. She felt like Alice, only this was no Wonderland. It was just freakin’ creepy.
Yeah, and maybe she needed to start sleeping at night, before her delusions started hitting daylight. Though her demons weren’t really delusional, were they? They were real.
Dalton finally led her down a gravel path toward a small, one-story cabin near the water’s edge. Cute, if a bit rustic-looking, all dark wood like a log cabin. Tall trees surrounded the place and there were some bushes along the porch and a few hanging pots with flowers and greenery spilling over. Still, it was small. Really small.
“We’re both staying here?” she asked as they stepped up onto the porch.
“Yeah.” He turned the knob and pushed open the door.
Not locked. That made her feel oh, so secure. Dalton flipped on the light, then stood out of the way while she walked in.
Okay, so it wasn’t so bad. All warm polished wood with area rugs, rustic furniture, a fireplace, a tiny kitchen, and two small bedrooms with a connecting bath. Even a claw-foot tub that sat underneath a shuttered window. It was cozy and quaint. Maybe she could relax here. Her suitcase sat on top of a quilt-covered bed.
“Unpack, then I’ll show you around.”
She jumped at the sound of Dalton’s voice, his breath sliding over the back of her neck. She whipped around to face him.
“Jesus! How do you do that?” she asked, tilting her head back to look into his face.
“Do what?”
“Sneak up on me. I didn’t even hear you.” She looked down at his feet. He wore those thick boots, and on a hardwood floor it wasn’t like they were stealthy. Did he float on air or something?
One side of his mouth lifted, as if he found scaring her amusing. Dickhead.
“It’s my job to walk without noise. Sorry. I’ll stomp in the future.”
“You do that.” She waited, but he didn’t move. “Is there something else?”
His gaze was intense as he studied her face. The tiny bedroom suddenly got smaller, her breathing grew shorter, and her senses decided at the wrong damn moment to come alive. She had way more on her mind, crises to deal with-sexual attraction was going to have to go to the bottom of the list. Or even better, completely off the list.
Now tell that to her body, which suddenly decided to warm and moisten in all the most inappropriate places. Dammit.
“Well?” she asked, hoping her surly attitude would get rid of him before she did something really stupid like kiss him. Body contract, passion, to touch and be touched … it all sounded really good at the moment. And totally catastrophic at the same time.
“No.” He pivoted and walked the short distance from her room to his and closed the door behind him.
Isabelle exhaled, sat on the bed, and rubbed her temples, trying to massage away the dull pain that seemed to constantly seethe in her head.
She was tired. So damn tired she wanted to cry. It made thinking so much harder, and she knew she needed to start engaging her brain if she was ever going to drag herself out of this mess.
She missed Angelique, needed her sister’s counsel, her warmth, more than ever. But she could no longer turn to Angie, could no longer count on her sister to help her.
She slid onto the bed, turned to face the window, watched the bend and sway of tree limbs as a breeze picked up. So giving, so flexible, so adaptable.
She’d never been able to do that, had been rigid in her goals and what she’d gone after. Like an unyielding tree branch, she’d snapped. It had destroyed her.
Her eyelids were so heavy. She yawned, fought sleep, knew what waited for her there. But maybe she could get five, ten minutes. If she was lucky, the dreams wouldn’t come.
Maybe the demons would stay away. She thought of all the wonderful things in her life, thought of her mother and how sweet she’d been when Isabelle and Angelique were children. She thought of Angie-her sister’s smile, how they’d played together as kids. She thought of every single positive thing she could, hoping it would help keep the monsters away as she slept.
She’d no sooner drifted off than they came for her.
Dalton stayed in his closed room long after the five minutes it had taken for him to unpack.
Coward.
Yeah, some tough demon hunter he was. He could kick ass with the best of them. He feared nothing.
But he couldn’t face one woman.
One minute in a small room with her and he’d been toast. Not that this was the first time he’d noticed it. But there was definitely something different about Isabelle, and it was more than just being attracted to her. Every time he stood close to her, every time she gazed up at him with her gold-flecked green eyes, every time he breathed her in, it was like being struck by lightning. He felt it-he felt her-all the way through his bloodstream, from his scalp down to his toes and all the important parts in between. It was like she’d entered his senses, his nerve endings, twining around inside him.
Yeah, way more than physical attraction, though heaven knows that was there, too. She made his dick hard, and he was a master at ignoring women, had been doing it a damn long time.
He couldn’t ignore Isabelle.
So what was it about this woman-this flawed, screwed-up woman-that made him want to fold her in his arms to protect her one minute, and throw her down and fuck her brains out the next? What made him want to drag his mouth across hers, to bare her body, to touch and kiss and lick every part of her, to bring out the passionate side he’d witnessed only once but craved to see again?
Did he think that was going to save her? He knew damn well it wouldn’t; in fact, it would only complicate things even more. He had to be her friend, not her lover. He might have to hurt her, not care for her, in order to save her.