by Bonnie Vanak
Holy hellfire, the man actually saluted him. Uncomfortable with the praise, Dale nodded. “No thanks necessary.”
A few of the bar’s regulars studied him like a moth pinned to a corkboard. Damn, all he wanted was a burger, not this scrutiny. Dale began to eat.
The brunette next to him spoke. “Come here often?”
Once in a while, against the ladies’ room wall, pushing deep and hard, a woman’s long legs wrapped around his thrusting hips. Dale nodded.
She gave a sultry smile, red lips moist and pursed. The tight blue dress clung to a body that had caught quite a few glances from the bar’s male occupants.
“You’re a SEAL.”
Wonderful. Human frog hog. He swallowed a bite, shrugged.
“My second cousin’s best friend is a navy SEAL.” Now she slid over, her long red nails on his forearm. “I adore you guys. I can’t thank you enough for what you do for our country, to keep us safe. You’re so brave and strong, and I’d love to demonstrate my appreciation.”
Hollow words, spoken by a woman who just wanted to bang a SEAL. Maybe one time he’d accept her offer, follow her home and show her the alternative meaning of hooyah. Not tonight. Tonight he felt every single one of his 420 years.
The woman’s nose wrinkled as she studied his right arm. Dale automatically moved to hide the jagged gash. “That’s a nasty scar. Did you get it in combat?”
No, I got it, and a rash of others, when I was tied up in a basement and tortured by a wolf’s claws. Care to know more?
Appetite turned to dust, Dale slid his plate back. “Thanks, Tom.”
Clear disappointment showed on the woman’s face as he pushed back his stool. She turned to her right, engaged a member of ST 21’s support staff, the vampire enthralled with the woman’s long neck.
Nice night for a quick bite, Dale thought in sour amusement. Like every human here, she would recall only a pleasurable buzz the next day, assume it was alcohol-induced.
As he went to leave, a familiar scent hit him. Not the floral perfume of the human women, nor the heavy cologne of the males pursuing them. Something deeper, richer, more fragrant.
It reminded him of crushed autumn leaves, the burning richness of smoke on a hearth, the musky scent of pure...sex.
Dale whipped his head up, a memory pinging.
Her.
There, across the bar. An ebony-haired woman, a wineglass before her. Eyes blazing with fire and life glanced up. His gaze fell to her right hand.
Each finger was a sharp black talon.
Shock slammed into him. And pain. Distant memories...knives over raw flesh, biting back the screams that rose in his throat. Salt water dripping onto the fresh gouges, searing his skin with her tears.
He’d been tortured and left for dead, and recalled only flashes of memory. But that scent, it wound around him in an erotic ribbon, and pulled tight. His body hardened, blood pulsing to his groin.
Bleeding from a thousand cuts, the pain so deep he couldn’t breathe, and that scent filtering through the agony, turning his cock to steel. Forgetting the pain, wanting nothing more than to roll her beneath him, spread her wide and drive hard into her soft, wet flesh.
He hadn’t been merely tortured, but humiliated and debased, getting turned on, and then feeling something raking cold claws over his warm flesh....
This woman had something to do with those long, dark hours in the basement.
Dale went preternaturally still. The woman stared at him, wide red mouth parted in apparent shock. Then she slipped off the stool and fled.
Not so fast, he thought grimly. Dale raced after her. In the parking lot, against a parked SUV he caught her. Dale grabbed her arms, pinned her against the vehicle. The scent faded, leaving only the exotic smell of expensive perfume. But he hadn’t imagined it. Wasn’t going crazy.
“Who the hell are you?” he roughly demanded.
Fear clouded her gaze. “Not hurt, not hurt,” she whimpered.
Gentling his voice, he loosened his grip. “Who are you? I remember only darkness, pain and your scent.”
The woman wriggled away, lifted a hand to his face. The velvet of her voice stroked across his senses. Sexual energy jumped between them at the mere brush of her fingers. “Strong and courageous is your heart, yet lonely and hurting...so much pain.”
Dale lost all sense. He lowered his head and did what he’d lusted to do all those long, anguished hours in the dark after he’d been turned into a pitiful, whimpering shell of a man.
Crushing her against him, he fisted a hand into her hair and kissed her hard. She responded back with a moan, her tongue tangling with his in a fury of erotic heat.
And then she began to struggle and nipped him on his lip, hard enough to draw blood. Dale jerked away in shock. Son of a...
His mind fogged. Closing his eyes, he fell into a dizzying vortex, where memory was once more a clouded dream. When he opened his eyes, he was alone.
The woman, if there had been a woman, vanished into the shadows. Just like before, he could not recall her, making him wonder if she were a dream.
Or his worst nightmare.
Chapter 2
The moon hung like a silver nickel in the sky.
Hovering in the woods, Keira waited for Dale to arrive home the next night.
Other houses on the street showed signs of life. Lights flicked on. Children ran around their backyards, and then ran inside as their mothers called them in for supper.
Or their mothers threatened to zap them inside. It was a paranormal neighborhood, after all.
Hiding in the shadows, she felt a pinch of deep melancholy. She’d adjusted to loneliness during the infrequent intervals when the demons gave her brief freedom so she could find new men for them to torture. Keira had beaten the demons. She’d refused to associate with anyone, refused to give them new victims, but stalled them by promising them new ones.
They found one on their own. This last time had sliced off a piece of her heart. Dale Curtis had taken her spirit and turned it inside out. She’d almost killed him. And then, a miracle happened.
The commander’s friend had arrived in the house where Curtis was being held prisoner and chanted a cleansing spell to vanquish evil. The spell had sent the demons temporarily to the netherworld and freed her, as well. But in a few weeks, as they always did, the Centurions would use their bolt-hole to this world and break back in.
Then the real fun would start. They would find her, find Curtis and force her to torture the SEAL once more, maybe until he died. The demons would steal all his strength and courage and become solid entities, able to taste the pleasures of the flesh once more.
Keira touched the valise containing the silver armband, which enslaved her to the Centurions. When the demons had vanished unexpectedly, the bracelet unlocked, freeing her from their spell. Only by enslaving herself to another could she escape them.
And Lt. Commander Dale Curtis was the only living person with enough power and courage to destroy the Centurions. She had to overcome her personal fear of seeing him again if she wanted to achieve her goal.
For twenty-three years she’d lived under the demons’ control. No more. Emotion clogged her throat. Dale Curtis looked thin and haggard. The demons had sapped his strength, his vitality. If she didn’t help him recover soon he’d weaken and die.
She needed him strong, needed his resources to find and destroy the demons’ bolt-hole and imprison them forever in the netherworld.
Crouching down, Keira watched the commander’s house. Beneath the light of the nearly full moon, she waited hopefully, and wondered if this brave man would be the one to kill her captors and finally set her free.
* * *
Another day of keeping the world free of paranormal terrors. At least free of the terror of paperwork.
Hell, he was so tired, he could barely function. Dale looked forward to a cold beer, a quick sandwich, a little light reading and then crashing. It was a lonely life, but right now, he preferr
ed it that way. No complications or interference.
Yet as he drove home from the ST 21 compound on the base, Dale imagined a loving woman greeting him at the day’s end. Someone who rushed to the door, eyes lighting up as he walked inside, the good smell of a delicious dinner cooking in the oven.
Instead of always coming home to an empty, silent house.
Dale snorted. He cherished his privacy. He didn’t need a woman in his home, rearranging his life, turning things upside down.
Especially now, he needed to be alone to recharge and recover.
As he turned onto his street, he saw a white Lincoln parked in his driveway. He parked next to it, cut the truck’s engine. His front door was locked. Once inside, he tossed his keys into the antique candy dish on the hallway table and relocked the door.
Someone was home to greet him, after all.
A light glowed down the hall. Mage instincts went on alert. He narrowed his eyes, took a deep breath and headed into his study.
“Nice of you to break in,” he told the gray-haired man sitting in shadow.
“You’re late.”
Vice Admiral Keegan Byrne, pillar of support for SEAL Team 21 and a powerful Primary Mage, toasted him with a whiskey glass filled with amber liquid. Dale glanced at the built-in wood bar against the wall. The bottle of twenty-year-old smooth Scotch malt had been full until tonight.
“Had to finish up paperwork. I’m not asking how you gained access to my home without permission.”
“You need a better security system, Dale. An infant could bypass that alarm.”
“An infant armed with electromagnetic current. Did you fry the panel again?”
Byrne grinned. Dale sighed. Another visit from the electrician.
“Help yourself to more Scotch. Just don’t take my beer.”
Running upstairs in a light jog, he headed to his bedroom, removed the trident, the fruit salad and the insignias from his khaki shirt. Then he stripped and tossed the uniform and undershirt into a white wicker hamper. As he walked toward the closet, the dresser mirror showed the image he’d tried to avoid.
Dale approached, staring at his body for the first time in two months.
Reddened scar tissue raked over his chest, muscled torso, arms and long legs. Razor-sharp claw marks began just below his throat, continued down his belly, ending at his groin, and dwindled out at his thighs and calves.
A remembrance of white-hot pain surged through him. Dale braced his hands on the dresser, hissing through his teeth.
Jerking open a drawer, he sorted through folded shirts and found an old, frayed Virginia Tech T-shirt. Another drawer held gray fleece pants.
When he returned to the study, Byrne remained motionless, the glass of Scotch untouched. He steeled himself. If the old man wasn’t here to socialize, it meant one thing. But he’d let the admiral set the pace.
Dale fished a beer from the minifridge, tossed the cap into the trash and took a seat in front of the fireplace. He knew Byrne would take his time.
Finally Dale gave him a pointed look. “Why are you here?”
“Have you used your powers since leaving the hospital?”
Stretching out a hand, he summoned the current simmering inside. Dale flung it at the fireplace, igniting the logs. “Happy now?”
Understanding and something deeper, and wiser, filled Byrne’s gaze. “I wasn’t talking about toasting marshmallows, Dale. I meant on assignment.”
Surprised, he sipped his beer. “I joined my men on that op to extract Dakota and Kelly. I’m a paper pusher now, not an operator.”
“Maybe it’s time you took off with your boys, joined a mission to evaluate their tactics and skills in the field. Spend quality time, jaw with them, get to know them again.”
Suspicion filled him. “What’s the deal, Keegan? You lost faith in me ever since I got carved like a Thanksgiving turkey?”
Silence.
Anger slowly rose. “That’s it, isn’t it? You think if I were deployed more, I’d have fried my attackers’ asses? Never mind the nine innocent children’s lives at stake. You think I wasn’t strong enough to beat the demons.”
“Were you?”
Dale set down the beer, his hands shaking. “Screw you, Keegan.”
“I’ll leave that for the wife.” The admiral set down his barely touched glass. “Dale, we’ve known each other for a long time and I have to say this. I’m concerned about you, son.”
He hissed out a breath. “I’m not your son. I’m CO of the finest SEAL team in the United States Navy and a 420-year-old Mage.”
“And I have enough years to make you look like a baby sucking on his momma’s tit. Dale, you’re losing touch. I’ve had reports of you being distracted, short-tempered and restless. I don’t know if it’s a residual effect of what happened to you in that basement, or something else.”
“Reports from whom?”
“Your team.”
“Renegade? A sulky SEAL denied leave because Shay was on his honeymoon and I couldn’t afford another man out?”
“No,” Bryne said. “All of them. The entire team. Even Robyn Lees, the new ensign who thinks you can do no wrong.”
Dale sat back, trying to hide his shock. “Nice of them to tell me.”
“They’re worried about you. You’ve changed.”
Almost afraid to ask, he groped for his lost composure. “You said it was my time in the basement or something else that’s affected me. What’s the something else you think is wrong?”
“A woman.”
Dale raked a hand through his short, dark hair and laughed. “No woman’s gotten to me.” Or would want him, the way he looked. “I’m trying to catch up after being out so long. I had a difficult time healing in the hospital.”
“You were almost dead when Shay and Kelly found you.”
Temper rising, Dale straightened up. “Are you lecturing me on how I should have been smarter, knowing the waiting children were a trap? Maybe you should shake the demon’s hand, pin a medal on his chest for catching me off guard.”
Admiral Byrne gave him a long, level look. “If I found the son of a bitch who did this to you, I’d tear him apart with my bare hands. And then toss him to your team to deal with the remains.”
The quiet—but strong—statement made Dale sit back.
“The boys worship you, Dale. They don’t want another commander. They need you, but they’re reluctant to say anything to your face because lately, you’ve been difficult to talk to. You’re a damn good leader, a smart operator, a fine Mage and a close friend. So I’m saying it for them.”
Byrne leaned forward, hands on his knees. “Get your shit straightened out, Dale. Get help from a private psychiatrist or a navy one. Or I’ll assign a mind-melder to you.”
Holy hellfire. A mind-melder, diving into his deepest memories, turning him into a whimpering mess when he barely managed to hold it together now? He didn’t trust the shrinks, either.
“I don’t need a witch doctor,” he said, taking a long pull of beer, ignoring Byrne’s scrutinizing look.
“You’re too thin and haggard. Take a vacation, go see some sights...get laid and then come back and get help.”
Nearly spitting out his sip of beer, he sputtered. “You came all the way from D.C. to tell me to have sex?”
A faint memory surfaced. Sitting in Tom’s bar, a beautiful, mysterious woman staring at him. The memory became fog on glass. Damn it.
Lazily swirling the amber liquid, Byrne snorted. “Sure as hell didn’t come here for this. Damn, twenty-year-old Scotch doesn’t taste the same when you’re 1,500 years old.”
Then the admiral gave him one of his paternal, but knowing, looks. “What happened in the basement, Dale? You never talked about it. Who was that woman found with you, the wolf who vanished?”
Emotion squeezed his throat. He sucked in a deep breath. Byrne was right. He had changed, and denied it. His men deserved better. For two months, he’d hidden the truth, refusing to talk about
what the demons had done to him.
“I don’t remember. Everything’s a blur. All I remember are smells and pain. The smell of a Roman orgy, this delicate, delicious female scent...and waking up to see Shay and Kelly standing over me.”
And screams tearing from his throat, until he’d fallen unconscious.
“The Roman orgy was the Centurion demons who tied you up to torture you. Shay banished them with a spell. But the woman found with you, you don’t recall her face? Or a black wolf?”
Dale shook his head, the knot in his stomach tightening. “She must be the demon wolf that tortured me. When I find her, she’ll pay. She’ll lead me to the others and I’ll send them all back to hell.”
“Remembering would help, but sounds like they infused you with a classic demon memory spell. Clouds the victim’s brain in case he survives, he can’t recall specific details.” Byrne’s expression sharpened. “So the demons can come at you again, and catch you off guard.”
Right. Like I’d ever let that happen again. “I don’t need you to watch my six. I’m not rushing headfirst into a sitch without knowing all the intel. Got it?”
Byrne’s look remained steady. “I’m not watching your six anymore, my friend. But I am serious. Get help this week or I’m placing you on mandatory medical leave for another two months and it’s going in your record that you’re mentally unstable. Your team needs you.”
The barbed wire knotted tighter in his stomach. Dale squeezed his beer bottle and felt it crack beneath his palm. He set it down, trying to regain his composure. Couldn’t let Byrne see how rattled he truly was. He didn’t trust him anymore.
Hell, he trusted no one. Not even himself.
The doorbell rang. He glanced at Byrne. “What is this? Another well-meaning friend?”
“Maybe a home invader,” the admiral suggested.
Dale headed down the hallway. The double doors were warded with magick, but anything could be lurking outside. A Girl Scout selling cookies or a demon. Or a very human home invader.
After what happened two months ago, he never took chances.
Gathering his powers, he felt the current hum through his body. And pulled open the door
