Wendy turned and ran, as fast as she could with so many people everywhere. She headed straight for the exit door, but someone grabbed her arm, spinning her around. She landed hard against Digger’s chest.
“Hey, lassie. Where ya headed to so fast?”
She shoved away from him, only to see Dante closing in. She swiped the tears from her cheeks. She obviously wasn’t getting away.
“Wendy. Let me explain,” Dante said when he caught up. Digger still had a hold of her upper arm.
She turned and looked up at him, her eyes narrowed. “You told me you were out of town on business,” she said, her voice low, her teeth gritted. “Just let me go. It’s over.” She jerked her arm from Digger’s grasp, and thankfully he let her go. “I’ve dated a lot of assholes in my thirty-seven years, but I don’t put up with liars.”
“He’s ’ere on business, lass,” Digger said. “He didna leave town, but we’re not here for pleasure.”
She made a scoffing sound. “Looked like he was getting a hell of a lot of pleasure with Candice.” She turned her glare on her friend. “I swear to God, you better not have known who he was.”
Candice shook her head, her eyes wide. “Never saw him before tonight. I swear.”
Dante closed his eyes for a moment and let out a slow breath. When he opened them, he looked into her eyes but didn’t say anything. If she were the type of person to try to read another’s mind, she’d say he was hurting as much as she was. But that just couldn’t be the case. She knew what she’d seen.
“Take her home, Dant,” Digger said.
Dante looked at his friend, and Digger nodded. “We’ll drive her to our place, and then I’ll come back here and meet up with Evan.”
Wendy pressed her lips tight. Who did these men think they were? “Maybe someone should ask what I want to do?” she blurted out as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not going anywhere with this lying assh—”
The hard, loud techno music resumed, drowning out her last word, but she was pretty sure they knew exactly what she’d said.
Without warning, Dante stepped up to her, cupped her cheeks in his palms, leaned down, and kissed her. Softly. Just a brush of his lips against hers. She raised her hands and fisted the lapels of his jacket, wanting to push him away, but she couldn’t. He smelled too good. Tasted too good. God help her, she loved the bastard.
He skimmed his lips along her jaw and up to her ear. “Please hear me out, my sweet. I have so much to explain.”
She shivered, and a soft whimper passed her lips. She had to remember why she was mad. “You lied to me.”
“I know. It was necessary, though.”
She leaned back and looked into his eyes. Could there be any truth in what he and Digger said? But then why was Candice in his arms?
“Come to my house so we can talk.”
She started to shake her head, but he cut off her refusal. “If you don’t like what I have to say, you can leave. I will call you a cab myself.”
She hesitated only a moment before nodding. She was so weak. But he’d better have a good excuse. A damn good one. Right now, she couldn’t fathom what it might be, but she wanted so badly for there to be one.
He glanced at Digger and tipped his head toward the door.
“Hey!” Candice cried as they started to walk off. “I’m coming with you.”
Wendy stopped and turned toward her friend with a shake of her head. The poor woman looked upset, but Wendy didn’t back down. Candice had hurt her too many times to count. If this was in any way her fault, she feared their lifelong friendship was over. Candice shook her head and turned away, disappearing into the crowd.
Wendy let Dante take her hand and lead her down the long corridor to the front of the building, and then they stepped out into the cool night air.
The big African American bouncer came up to them—the same man who’d just let her into the club less than fifteen minutes before. “Leaving so soon?” He aimed the question at Digger.
Dante tried to wrap his arm around her shoulder, but she sidled away. If she were to keep a clear head and not fall for his seduction, she couldn’t let him touch her.
“Aye,” Digger said. “I’ll be back in a bit.” He handed the slip to the valet. “Dante needs to work some stuff out with his girlfriend.”
Dante scowled at Digger, but his friend didn’t seem to notice.
Wendy crossed her arms over her chest. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a guy I slept with who lied to me.”
“Wendy, I’m—”
“Save it. I’m going home. This was all a mistake.” She took off down the street, heading in the direction of her apartment. She knew she needed to cool off before she dealt with him. Her emotions were too all over the place for her to think straight.
Dante grabbed her arm and hauled her back under the bright lights of the front of the club. A line of patrons stood against the wall, the front few watching the byplay. Wendy growled and tried to pry his fingers off her arm, but he held tight.
“Stop it,” he said. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”
“And you weren’t out on the dance floor? Staring into her eyes. And you were going to—Grrr. Let go of me before I call the cops.” She tried to twist out of his grasp but couldn’t.
“You’re only going to hurt yourself,” he said, keeping his voice low.
“Help me,” she said to the bouncer, who stood looking on with amusement. When he was of no help, she turned her pleading gaze on Digger.
“Give the boy a chance, lass,” he said. “He didna do this to hurt ya. He cares for ya.”
She stopped struggling because there was something in Digger’s tone that got to her. He sounded—and looked—sincere. But then, he might just be sticking up for his friend.
The valet pulled up with a two-seater Corvette and held the door open. Dante kept hold of her arm, slipped into the passenger seat, and pulled her down on his lap. She did everything she could to keep from leaning back into him, melting against his sheer size and heat. By the time the short ride into Queen Anne to Dante’s house ended, her back hurt from remaining so stiff.
Digger pulled the car right into the garage and shut the door behind them, killing the car’s deep rumble with a flick of the ignition. “I’m assumin’ you donna need a chaperone for this?”
She shoved the door open and climbed out, desperate to get away from Dante’s clean scent, his beautiful body that seemed to surround her. That was when he obviously noticed her skirt—her very short, tight skirt—and he raised his eyebrows as his gaze traveled up her body. The blouse was low-cut and the same green as her eyes, the skirt black and clinging.
“What did you do to yourself?”
Her mouth dropped open, and her hands fisted at her sides. Wasn’t this where a guy trying to get back into her good graces would compliment her?
He climbed out of the car and shut the door. Through the open window he said to Digger, “Call me if something comes up.”
Digger nodded and hit the button to raise the garage door, then started the engine. “Lock up and keep tight.”
Dante nodded and stepped back so Digger could leave. When the garage door was firmly shut once again, and they were alone, he turned back to her.
“You do not need to wear makeup. You’re much too beautiful to cover yourself in that goop.”
An indignant huff was her only reply, but something soft and tender shifted in her heart. She firmed her resolve and gritted her teeth. “Start talking, Dante. You’ve got five minutes to convince me you’re not a lying, cheating asshole.”
He pulled open the door to the utility room and punched in the code for the alarm system. At the same time he tisked his tongue. “Such language.” Then he held out his hand for her to join him.
Instead of placing her palm against his, because that would be beyond stupid at that point, she brushed past him and went into the kitchen, stopping at the counter. “Talk. Time’s ticking.”
“Give me one extra minute,” he said and disappeared down the hall. She heard a door opening, and she assumed he was hanging up his jacket.
Pressing her fingers against her forehead, she told herself, again, that she needed to be strong. Be firm. And if he didn’t have one hell of a good reason, she was leaving. End of discussion. End of relationship. End. End. End. Dante wasn’t any better than any other man she’d been stupid enough to give her lonely heart to.
When he came back into the kitchen, she said, “I’m waiting,” and crossed her arms over her chest. When his gaze narrowed at her chest, she looked down to see her breasts pressed up, nearly overflowing the low-cut blouse. She dropped her arms to her side even as a flush of embarrassment and...oh, hell. Just the way he looked at her made her tingle all over.
He cleared his throat and opened his mouth, but then snapped it shut.
She raised an eyebrow. “What happened to Mr. Debonair? Mr. Smooth-talker? Mr. Seduce-me-into-sex-on-the-first-date? Hmm? Cat got your tongue? Can’t come up with some slick line I might believe?” Her tone was nasty and filled with venom. It was all self-preservation, because all she wanted was for him to give her a good excuse she could believe, or at least pretend to believe.
He stepped toward her, but she backed away and raised her hands to warn him off.
“No way. Don’t touch me. You’ve obviously got no excuse.” Tears blurred her vision, and she gave her head a furious shake. “You made me believe—” Her words cut off when her throat tightened, and a single tear slid down her cheek.
Turning on her heel, she all but sprinted for the front door. She had to get away before she totally lost it. That would be the ultimate humiliation—to let him see how much he’d hurt her.
“Wendy. Wait.” He grabbed her arm as she gripped the doorknob. “I love you.”
Her face scrunched and another tear fell as she jerked from his grasp. “You fucking lied to me!” She shoved against his chest with both hands, knocking him back a step. “And you can’t even tell me why. Would you please just tell me the truth? Why did you break our date? Why were you with Candice? Why did you make me believe in you?” And now he said he loved her. Words she would have swooned to hear just a few hours earlier.
“I was there on business. I was not with Candice, I was only dancing with her. And I need you to believe in me.”
She backed toward the door. Letting him talk her into believing him would be stupid. The most stupid thing she’d ever done. “Don’t touch me. What business can take place at a loud nightclub? You were dancing with a woman you claim to have never met. What—” She swallowed hard. “I don’t want to see you again. Ever. You hurt me, and I’m not going to let you or anyone else walk all over me and make me think they care about me when all they care about is themselves. Never again.”
She turned and jerked open the door. The sight that met her made her blood run ice cold through her veins. And then she screamed in terror as she stared into the open, sightless eyes of a corpse.
At the piercing, hair-raising scream, Dante lunged for Wendy, pulling her to safety. After he’d shoved her against the wall out of the open doorway, shielding her with his own body, something flopped with a dull thud onto the floor. He turned to see Xavier’s body slouched over the threshold, a wooden stake protruding from his chest.
Wendy cried hysterically against his chest, clinging to his shirt as she violently shook and uttered incoherent words. He let go of her, and she screamed again, pulling him back and burying her face against his neck. He pried her fingers out of his shirt and turned away long enough to drag the body into the house, shut the door, and turn the deadbolt, praying no one had seen the body or heard Wendy’s terror-filled cries.
Then he turned back to her, grabbed her face in his hands, and stared into her eyes.
“Forget, Wendy,” he murmured even though she whimpered with each breath she took. “Forget what you saw. Remember only my love. Remember my love.”
She shook in his grasp and curled her fingers around his wrists.
“Forget what you saw. Remember my love. I love you. Forget all the bad. Forget it all.”
Slowly her eyes glazed, and her eyelids drooped. Guilt shot through him, but what choice did he have? When this was over and he could explain everything, she could make a logical decision. Until then... “Forget the bad. Forget the fear.”
When she sagged, he caught her and lifted her into his arms, and that was when he realized how weak he’d grown. He hadn’t fed since they’d had sex, and then it hadn’t been enough to satisfy. He carried her up to his bedroom, laid her on the bed, slipped off her shoes, and pulled up the covers. He’d put her into a deep, hypnotic sleep, so she’d sleep for a few hours if not all night.
When he made it back downstairs, he bypassed Xavier’s body in the foyer and grabbed the portable phone from the end table in the living room. He dialed Digger’s cell. On the third ring, Digger answered, the sound of the club loud in the background.
“Aye, mate?”
“Our slayer left his calling card on our doorstep.”
“What?”
“Xavier.”
“Fuck me!”
He nodded, agreeing with the sentiment.
“Evan was here when I got back, so we’ll be there in a few minutes. Call Gaston and find out what he wants us to do.”
Digger disconnected the call, and Dante punched in Gaston’s private number. This was going to be one long-ass night.
Chapter Ten
Wendy awoke with warmth at her back, a heavy arm over her waist, and a sense of floating on a cloud in perfect harmony with the world. She inhaled deep, and there was no doubting Dante’s sensual scent surrounding her. She smiled sleepily and stretched, arching her back and pressing her butt against his groin.
His arm flexed and pulled her harder against his chest, but his deep, steady breathing never changed.
He loved her. The knowledge infused her with energy and a need she’d never before experienced. Need for his touch, for him to possess her, as if she wouldn’t be whole until he buried himself deep inside her.
Rolling over, she looked into his face. So beautiful. So perfect. And all hers. His bare chest was so very warm where she rested her palm against the flesh over his heart. The heavy beat vibrated against her hand, and she leaned forward to kiss the tender hollow just beneath his Adam’s apple.
He made an, “mmm,” sound and ran his hand up her back under her blouse. She glanced down with a frown, wondering how she’d possibly fallen asleep fully dressed when Dante was stripped down to his black briefs. Had she had too much to drink?
Oh, the poor man, she thought with a naughty grin. The poor, sweet man who took her to bed only to have her fall asleep before they made love. And after he’d told her he loved her, too.
Reaching between their bodies, she laid her palm against his semi-aroused penis. His hips jerked slightly, pressing himself against her, and his cock grew in length and width as it hardened.
She hummed in pleasure as she stroked him and leaned forward, burying her face in the crook of his neck and breathing in his clean, masculine scent. He must have showered before bed. Though the scent of his exotic cologne clung to the bedding beneath her, his skin was clean and fresh. She licked him then sucked a bit of his flesh between her lips.
“Wendy,” he groaned as his other arm moved under her, wrapping around her, and he pulled her flush against his chest, her hand trapped between them against his now solid cock.
“’Mornin’, handsome,” she murmured as she nipped at his neck then moved down to his chest so she could flick her tongue over his flat nipple. He sighed and pressed his arousal into her palm as his nipple puckered and hardened.
“’Morning, my love,” he said in that glorious accent as he speared his fingers through her hair and held her head still while she tortured his chest with tiny nips and flicks of her tongue.
Dipping her hand into his briefs, she wrapped her fingers around him and exa
lted in the surge of power coursing through her. She made him this hard. Only her. Because he loved her. Her heart swelled to bursting. He loved her.
She inched her way down his body, licking, nipping his taut skin, kissing and tasting. When her face came even with his pelvis, she shoved his underwear out of the way and took his hot, silky cock into her mouth as deep as she could.
“Ahhrgh.” His fingers tightened in her hair.
She groaned with the thrill that his lust sent through her. He tasted of sin and temptation. Of everything she’d always fantasized but never thought could happen to her. Her skin tingled, and her pussy pulsed with heat and moisture. She cupped his balls, gently rolling them in her palm, and sucked hard while she flicked her tongue along the sensitive underside.
“Wendy. Wendy.” His hips rose off the bed, and she took him to the back of her throat. He groaned, and she tasted a bit of tangy pre-cum. She wanted more. Wanted it all. She hummed around his shaft, and his cock grew even harder. When she grazed her teeth the length of him, he shouted and jerked away.
With a triumphant laugh, she went after him again, but so fast it made her head spin, she was facedown on the bed, her wrists clasped in his hands, and he slammed into her pussy with a force so hard she almost hit the headboard.
She screamed with pleasure at the onslaught of his hard, pounding pace, his cock hitting and rubbing every hotspot in her pussy. She squirmed, but his body held her in place. His warm breath puffed against her ear with each thrust, his guttural, animalistic grunts of passion spurring her on, making her hotter, needier.
“Dante.” She arched her back to raise her ass in the air and spread her legs wider so he could go deeper. Deeper! she silently begged him. Please!
Dante’s mouth watered, his fangs at full length. Her neck was right there for his taking. She was so aroused he knew if he drank she’d never feel it. Never know. He could drink his fill of her ambrosia-like blood while he fucked her cunt and loved her with all his heart.
No. He couldn’t. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t feed from her without her permission, her compliance. She had to want to give him her blood.
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