Devil's Tango (Running with the Devil Book 1)

by Claire J Monroe

She heard his words. Knew them to be true, because he had done exactly that. Told her every night since they’d first gotten together. Back then she’d let it go. Naively ignored the statements as a potential truth and instead focused on the romantic gesture of it. That in his undying love for her the only thing that would drag them apart would be a noble, worthy cause. Like his job. Like to protect the innocents of the world. But she’d never believed it’d be a reality. Until it was. And even then she’d refused to believe it’d been some sort of noble calling that’d broken them up, but instead believed it was because of her. That she wasn’t enough for him. That she’d somehow done something stupid that’d made him wake up and see that he could do better than her. So much better than her. She closed her eyes and struggled to control her rising fear. “I… can’t do this again.”

  The vulnerability in her plea gutted him. He felt her pain. Sure as it was radiating off her and flooding his entire system, he knew. He couldn’t leave her wallowing in that gut wrenching, bone crushing pain of loss. Of loneliness. Of insanity that birthed a near suicidal wish to be free of feeling life and loss so… acutely. How the hell had he ever had the strength to walk away from her in the first place?

  The beast inside him raised its head and spoke to him from the place he’d tethered it. Because she is ours to protect and without her we would destroy the world.

  His hands shook with the gravity of that knowledge, but he refused to release her. Instead he held her tighter and tried like hell to figure out how to tell her what she needed to know.

  But it was no use. The beast was right. He would destroy the world to protect her. He would unleash his inner beast to rain all holy hell down on anything or anyone who tried to harm his. But he couldn’t let her go.

  Or release his inner beast.

  He had to rein his beast in or else lose it all. Again.

  Just like he had with his first family. The family whose blood even now stained his hands and soul. No matter how much he told himself he’d been a clueless kid coming into his powers and abilities too young and at the wrong time, nothing would be enough to free him from his sins.

  Whiskey had told him to tell her everything. And theoretically he could. But what good would it do? Yes, she could handle it—of that he had no doubt—but what would it do to them?

  Would she look at him the same knowing how not normal he was?

  How not ‘simply human’ he was?

  That everything she knew about him—including his name—was not the one he’d been born with? That the real reason he’d been given the nickname Tango was because he was a target. To every magic wielding, blood sucking paranormal other creature out there that hungered for true power.

  That vampires, werewolves, zombies, witches, demons, and every other fucking nightmare known to mankind actually existed and that he’d been bred for the sole purpose to fight and kill each and every one of them?

  That he’d had to step away from the paranormal world and go mundane for a spell because his true identity was too well known in certain circles to allow him to live any semblance of a normal life.

  That his alter ego as a government sanctioned assassin was a safer, quieter life to lead than that of a paranormal bad ass who fought and killed demons hell bent on some master plan of world domination.

  Yeah, he couldn’t tell her that.

  Hell, not even his whole team knew that truth. Or the damned-if-you-don’t truth where he actually reported to a different organization than the one his team thought they answered to. That he’d been tasked with infiltrating the mundane military to find and vet new recruits with budding other worldly abilities. All the while he’d been ordered to act as normal as humanly possible to play a role and take down a ring of traitors working against the Republic.

  Normal and mundane enough that he’d met his true mate, married her, and pretended that their life could be normal. Boring. Blissfully predictable with a white picket fence, two-point-five kids, and a dog named, Lily-pup.

  Yeah, right, like simple and mundane for him had ever been destined to happen.

  Which was why he’d told her every night to be prepared for him to leave. For him to simply drop off the map, out of her life, leaving his heart carved out of his chest and on her doorstep as a reminder.

  So no, he hadn’t wanted to come back to her and expose her to his true mission. Hadn’t expected ever to come back and drag her into his paranormal shit. But it didn’t negated the truth. She was his one. His only. The other half of his soul. His other half who was supposed to have been coddled, cossetted, and swathed in so much bubble wrap that nothing could and would ever harm her.

  But shit was what it was. If Fate wanted to play Russian roulette with the fate of the world, then so fucking be it. His girl had been shoved back into his life and he—Donovan Tatum, Gabriel Montgomery, Jackson Fines, Adam Westbrook, Nightshade, Tango, and all the other damn aliases he’d used through his life on this planet—would be damned if he was gonna kick a gift horse in the mouth.

  Madeline Colby Tatum was his. Forever. Always.

  And not a damn thing was gonna change that.

  Including whether or not she knew the truth about him.

  So no, he wasn’t going to tell her he wasn’t and had never been a normal average man. That he had talents. Abilities. That the beast inside him thrived off danger and craved war like mother’s milk. That his hands were bloodied from the countless number of lives he’d taken. That he didn’t regret the justified kills he’d made.

  But he did regret leaving her.

  Had missed her like hell, and would be damned if he was going to let her go again. He was claiming her and taking her with him. Whether or not his real boss, Michael Sinclair, would let him get away with that… well, he’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

  Decision made, Tango tilted her face up to look at him. Her dark blue eyes were bright and red rimmed. “Not letting you go again. You’re mine. The sine to my cosine. Forever and always.”

  Her mouth parted on a gasp and he swooped in for a hard, claiming kiss.

  When he pulled back she was breathless and clinging to him.

  “Let you go once. Not again.”

  Another kiss and he relished the feel of her body softening against him. The scent of her arousal, the heat of her breath against his cheek, and the pounding of her heart against his chest. Only then did he unleash the tight rein he had on his powers and channel his energy into her, his need to connect to her, to have her, to bind her to him so fully that she’d never again question how much she meant to him. “Never again.”

  It’d been so long since she’d been kissed like this. Like she mattered. Like she was alive. Like nothing mattered but how he made her feel on the inside. Part of something bigger. Important. Special. She was starved for affection and could care less what the consequences of her choices would bring. Sure it wasn’t smart, but why did she always have to be smart? Why couldn’t she just go with the flow and let her body and heart lead the way?

  He kissed her again. And again. Her jaw. Cheek. Mouth. He was everywhere she needed him to be. “Missed you.”

  She couldn’t stop him. Didn’t want to. It felt too right. Like two halves of one whole finally reconnecting and coming together in a flurry of physical sensation wrapped up in fluffy emotional overload. “Yes.”

  “Tell me you want this.”

  She clawed at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. To dig her claws into him. To reassure herself this wasn’t just another hot, scorching dream that would leave her hollow and empty in the morning. That he was real and here and craving to fill that void so deep inside her. “Yes.”

  He gripped her by the hips and lifted her to straddle him. “Tell me you missed me.”

  She tunneled her fingers in his hair and held on for dear life as she ground down against his erection, riding him and rubbing herself against him until nothing else mattered but feeling that connection. To life. To him. To everything that should have been and ne
eded to come again. “Yes. Missed you so… much.”

  A primitive noise rumbled in his chest, like a possessive sexy growl, and suddenly he was up off the floor with her in his arms. “Bed. Now.”

  Oh god, yes. His words were growly and possessive and resonated on that frequency that made her hunger for more. More dirty talk. More graphic words that shut down all rational thought to focus on the only thing that mattered. Feeling her man, above her, his hard chest sliding against hers as he slid so deep inside her that she’d feel every inch of his heart beating, pulsing, deep inside her.

  His fingers dug into her ass, pulling her tighter and tighter against him until her clit was massaged and tormented. With every step he took, fresh waves of want and need surged through her until she was beyond rational thought and melting into a puddle of need. Hot, wet, and aching need.

  In the bedroom, he devoured her mouth with his, driving his tongue deep inside hers as he peeled her arms from around his neck, then dragged his mouth from hers and tossed her on the bed.

  She bounced, legs splayed and eyes glued to him as he stripped off his shirt and stood at the foot of the bed like a six foot three pagan god for her offering. Shoulders, broad and wide gave way to a powerful chest touched by battle scars and the sun. She watched mesmerized as one hand went to the waist of his pants, to the base of a set of abs that made her want to do laundry in the best possible way, then with a flick of long tapered fingers popped open the top button of his pants. Unable to help herself, she stared and licked her lips as the tip of his cock peeked over the top of his boxer briefs.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, his hand dipped down inside his briefs and wrapped around his cock, then eased the hard length from the black cotton hiding it from her hungry gaze. “Get naked. Now.”

  Her eyes darted up to his and her breath caught in her throat. The hunger in his gaze matched her own and suddenly she knew. Knew with such soul deep clarity that he hadn’t been feeding her a line. No man could carry off a look of such longing and hunger mixed with bone deep regret and hunger and still be capable of lying about the reason he’d left. He’d told her every night. Warned her. The only reason he’d leave her was if he posed a danger to her. But he’d come back. When she had needed him most.

  Empowered with this new knowledge, she licked her lips and looked up at him through her lashes. “Not until you swear never to leave me again.”

  He didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. But held her gaze and gave her a slow cocky smile as he stripped in front of her. “I’ll do better than swear.” One knee hit the bed as he bent over her and raised one hand to stroke the side of her cheek, then trail it down her front over her chest, across a nipple, and to the waist band of her yoga pants. “I’ll bury myself so far deep inside you, you’ll never again doubt how much you fucking mean to me.”

  She shuddered with need and raised her ass off the bed as he dragged her pants and underwear off her in one motion. “Fucking me and loving me are two different things, Van.”

  He tossed her pants aside then prowled up the bed, between her legs and skimmed a hand under her raised shirt. He dropped a kiss on her belly, dragged his tongue along a path to her breast. “Not the way I love you.”

  Her back arched against his mouth. “Not enough.”

  “Never enough,” he murmured against her skin. His mouth left a hot trail against her skin and she shuddered with need. Her thighs clenched at his waist, then hips as his hard body slid up hers until the tip of his hot, hard cock stood poised at her gates.

  “Don’t leave me,” she gasped.

  He yanked her shirt off over her head and braced himself on elbows on either side of her head. His hips flexed against her, once, twice, and the tip of his cock teased her entrance. “Never again.” His forehead pressed against hers. “Missed you.” Another surge forward and another hard kiss that stole her breath. “So fucking tight. Damn. Can’t go slow. Want to but… fuck.”

  He didn’t give her a chance to respond, but fused his mouth to hers and slid the tip of his cock in. Then out. Once, twice, and she shuddered with need.

  “Open for me. Yes. That’s it,” he murmured against her lips.

  He was on his elbows, his mouth devouring hers. His chest rising and falling in time with her and brushing the tips of her nipples. His hips, flexing and driving between her legs.

  She moaned as he angled each stroke until he hit all the magical places that’d long since been neglected by his touch. “Van, please.”

  “Take it, baby.” He grabbed her hip and lifted her ass, driving hard inside her until he bottomed out and she shuddered. “Make me come inside you. So fucking deep.”

  “God, yes… please, more… need you,” she moaned.

  One powerful thrust and he slammed home. Again he pulled out, then slammed back in. The bed knocked into the wall and she didn’t care about anything but digging her hands into his ass and propelling him forward to do it again and again.

  Words failed her as the room filled with grunts, groans, and moans of passion that built her higher and higher until her body coiled higher and higher, on the precipice of release.

  “Love you,” he said in a guttural voice and she could hear and feel how close he was to exploding deep inside her.

  His voice triggered something primal that unlocked inside her body and craved what he could give her. No more playing it safe. No more being alone. She wanted him to come deep inside her. She clamped down her muscles and moved against him, taking what she wanted. What she needed.

  “Fuck, can’t stop. Come for me. Now.”

  His command lit the fuse that made her body explode in a ripple of orgasms that left her shaking and gasping for breath, clinging to him as he let loose, thrusting deep, hard into her until he jerked once, twice, then shuddered on a groan with his release. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and held on as he twitched, bucked, and slowed riding out his release.

  “Love you, too,” she whispered.

  Suddenly he shuddered again, then jerked against her again. Her eyes went wide as he reared back and drove into her again, thrusting and delivering another hot pulsing jet deep inside her.

  They stayed locked together, her thighs clutching at his hips, waiting for their harsh breathing to return to normal.

  Breathing almost back to normal, he lifted his head and rested his forehead to hers. She looked into his eyes and saw the swirling emotions in them. There was no way she could let him leave again. No way would she survive being without him again. He was hers just as she was his. They were meant for each other. Had been since the day they’d first set eyes on each other years ago in the coffeehouse at the edge of campus. Two halves of one whole.

  With a mountain of unresolved emotional baggage between them.

  “I’m still mad at you,” she told him in a breathy voice.

  His eyes crinkled as he grinned. “Expected.”

  “And I’m not on the pill.”

  Mirth disappeared from his eyes and they widened. “Not. Expected.”

  “Should have been considering my family betrayed me by keeping you up to date on me.”

  He lifted himself up higher until he could look down to where their bodies were still joined. “They didn’t tell me shit about you.” He looked back up at her. “You’re really not on the pill?”

  “Had no reason to take it. It’s not like I had an active social life.”

  He almost smirked. “So you and the smarmy Brit never…?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Caliv. His name is Caliv.”

  “Smarmy British bastard and answer my question.”

  She flexed her inner muscles. “You know, Van, you jealous is kinda hot.”

  His eyelids fell to half-mast and his hips flexed against her. “Me jealous is plotting ways to kill the Brit for wanting what’s mine.”

  She circled her hips, completely enjoying the massage down below he was giving her. “Normally, I’d be all about letting you do that, but Caliv has been there for me.” She grab
bed him by the neck and pulled him down until they were eye to eye. “When you weren’t.”

  “Define been there for you.”

  He was like a dog with a bone. “No.” She released him and then shoved at his chest. “Let me up.”

  “I like you where you are.”

  “You’ll like me better after I’ve had a shower, dressed, eaten, and hacked into Caliv’s computer to find out what the hell is going on.”

  “You can do that?”

  She gave him an evil smile. “I may suck at relationships with you military types, but I am the second best hacker in the world.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut and eased back off her. “Fuck me that feels almost as good coming out as it did going in.”

  “Gaw, you’re such a man.”

  “You know it.” He kissed her one time before he rolled off her and got to his feet. “Hot water heater in this place sucks. We shower together. Then food. Then you hack.”

  Fifteen minutes later after the world’s most boring lukewarm shower, Maddie was dressed in one of Van’s t-shirts and a pair of panties and carefully making her way out to the kitchen on still wobbly legs. Given the way her thighs felt after their bout of lovemaking, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that she was horribly out of shape and, she smiled to herself, probably going to need at least a dozen super soft pillows to sit on to be able to make through their late night snack.

  By Van’s arrogant smirk, he knew exactly what she was thinking and was enjoying every damn second of her careful hobble to the kitchen counter. He pointed at a pub chair at the counter. “Put a pillow there. Let me know if you need another or to pick you up and put you in the chair.”

  She blushed. “I can manage.” Maybe. “But I’d manage better if you weren’t enjoying my suffering so much.”

  He set a plate of sandwiches in front of her. “I did offer to massage to make it all better. Offer’s still on the table. Say the word and I’ll—”

  Maddie silenced him with a glare.

  He held up his hands in surrender, but kept the grin. “Just trying to be helpful.”