Dante's Fire

by Jennifer Probst

  Slowly, he reached out and ran his fingers down her hair. Traced the line of her jaw. Then lowered his head.

  His lips touched hers, feather light. Warm, soft lips molded to hers. The clean male scent of him swam around her and she longed for more. She opened her lips; her feet steady on the ground, her heart pounding, excitement and anticipation tingling her nerve endings. And--

  Fabric tearing; fingers hurting; pain; violation; fear.

  The image attacked without warning. Selina stumbled back a step, her arms automatically coming up to ward him off. Daniel kept still, giving her the space she needed, his face calm and impassive as if he was used to women freaking out after a polite goodnight kiss. He didn't even know about the truth of the attack, believing she was only mugged and not assaulted.

  "I'm--I'm sorry," she tore out. "I can't--"

  "Stop. Selina, look at me." She forced herself to lift her head, humiliated beyond belief. Dark eyes stared back into hers with a gleam of patience and desire he didn't try to hide. As if he realized the truth behind the story she told everyone, understanding flickered over his face. "It's okay. I'm not going anywhere. Go upstairs. I'll wait right here until I see your light go on."

  She nodded. "Thank you."

  He smiled and motioned her in. Selina climbed the steps, unlocked the door, and made her way up the staircase. When she was safely in her apartment, she turned on all the lights and looked out the window. He stood by the taxicab, staring up at the lace curtains, until he saw her wave.

  He waved back, climbed in the cab, and left.

  With methodical movements, Selina went through her bedtime ritual. Changed into her pajamas, brushed her teeth, turned on the television, and propped up on her pillows to watch late night entertainment.

  The screen swam before her as the tears burned and released. She sobbed with frustration at her inability to enjoy a kiss or a touch from a man. Would she ever be the same again? She turned out all the lights, flicked off the TV, and buried herself under the blankets.

  Time ticked by with a painful slowness. Sleep eluded.

  Now she knew why she'd kept Daniel at a respectable distance for so long. Not because he worked in the mailroom. Not because they ran in different social circles. Evidently, her heart had always known the moment she spent alone time with him, it would reinforce the fact he was special. He made her laugh. He made her feel good about herself. He made her feel safe.

  And he was hot. All through dinner, she ached to touch him. To feel those carved lips slipping over hers. She already knew he'd be a patient, thorough lover. Those dark eyes held a sensual promise of the things he'd do to her when they were finally alone in a bedroom. She ached for more, but a simple kiss had her running for shelter. He didn't seem bothered, but Selina had to tell him what happened. He never pressed for more details regarding the mugging. If she wanted to continue this relationship, she needed to tell him the truth.

  Despair leaked through her. Tears burned her lids, and a raw, aching emptiness reared up and swallowed her whole. She ached for safety, warmth, and tenderness...

  "I'm here."

  Chapter Seven

  THE deep, gravelly voice cut through the darkness. Selina flung back the covers and turned.

  Dante sat beside her bed. Dressed in black, with the fabric mask covering his face, he seemed like a superhero-gone bad. But he was hers. A deep longing rose inside of her for more of this man. More knowledge, more connection, more of...everything.

  "Dante?"

  "Yes, sweetheart?"

  "How do you get in my apartment?"

  He laughed, and the memories of Daniel's laugh beckoned. She pushed the guilt aside. Dante was a mythic figure of the night. He didn't belong in the day, or to reality. She'd stopped searching for logical answers. Selina just knew she needed him.

  "Magic. Why are you crying?"

  She swiped her cheeks. "I feel like an idiot. I can't stand for anyone to touch me. I don't think I'll ever get past this."

  Dante reached over, took her hand, and rubbed her cold flesh between his warm fingers. She relaxed and surrendered to his presence. "You're letting me touch you right now," he said.

  Her face flushed. "That's different. It's a friendly touch." Selina tried not to fidget. "I meant sexually."

  "Date tonight?"

  "None of your business."

  He laughed again. Then tipped her chin up. "You've been violated. This is a normal process and it takes time. It takes trust. But I can help you, if you'll let me."

  "How?"

  I can show you how to trust a man's touch again. I won't do anything you're uncomfortable with. But you need to learn to let go, to surrender. Do you trust me?"

  Selina nodded. "Yes." This was the man who had saved her, helped her night after night, and held her hand while she cried. Yes, she trusted him on a basic level she'd never experienced before.

  "Very well." He stood up, and with one smooth motion, stripped off his t-shirt.

  Her mouth fell open in shock. He was beautiful, lean and muscled, with a flat stomach. Dante reached over and pulled back the sheet, revealing the simple t-shirt and shorts she normally wore to bed. Selina hesitated as her belly clenched in fear. Embarrassment at being exposed made her squirm inwardly. She couldn't remember the last time she was in bed with a man, let alone in her grungy clothes and not a piece of lace in sight. At least she had brushed her teeth.

  She waited for him to climb into bed and prayed she wouldn't act like a scared virgin.

  "Invite me in."

  His command was dark, seductive, and demanding. Her skin prickled as awareness trickled through her. He never moved, never blinked, just stood before her like a gorgeous vampire from the night.

  Her lower lip trembled. "Why?"

  "Because this is your choice. Every move I make, every touch, is because you allow it. Your body and surrender is a gift to me. You have all the power, Selina."

  And as simple as that, some of her confidence was restored. He'd never push her to past her comfort zone. She trusted him.

  She inched aside to make room. He climbed into bed wearing only a pair of low riding jeans and the black mask. His bare feet brushed her leg as he re-arranged the covers and settled close. Then with slow, deliberate movements, he placed his hands around her waist and pulled her towards him.

  She sucked in her breath as heat singed her. God, he was deliciously warm and hard, his bare chest pressed against the flimsy cotton of her shirt. Her nipples rose on command and an itchy, unsettled ache throbbed between her thighs. One hard thigh wrapped around her leg so she was snuggled tightly around every inch of him. Her head spun at the feeling of safety, like a warm cocoon protected her. She relaxed inch by inch against him.

  "Okay?" His breath stirred the tendrils of her hair against her ear.

  "Yes." A few heartbeats passed. "Now what to do we do?"

  Amusement laced his voice. "You're definitely a planner. This is it for now. Just relax."

  His command allowed her to obey. Selina drifted in sensual heaven as he held her. After a few moments passed and she felt more relaxed and unpressured to touch him or make conversation, her muscles reached a new level of release she hadn't felt since the attack.

  Then the feeling turned.

  Her heart sped up as she became aware of the length of his body pressed against hers. The delicious scent of coffee and musk drifting from his skin. The sexy sensation of his breath against her ear. The obvious bulge against her leg told her he was aroused, though his level of control was that of a superhero. He never gave any indication he was uncomfortable.

  Selina began thinking of other things. How his lips would taste against hers. How his hands would slide over her naked skin.

  He gave a low, sexy laugh as if he knew her thoughts. "Let's move on now, shall we?" he murmured. Dante slid down a bit. Pushed her hair back. And lowered his head.

  The sensation of his lips against the sensitive curve of her neck made her toes curl. He made hi
s way up to her ear, nibbled on her lobe, as his hands stroked her nape with gentle, talented fingers. A moan rose up to her lips as she gave him further access.

  He took it. His tongue swept down and licked the pounding pulse at the base of her neck. Nibbled over the swell of her breasts. She arched upward. God, she wanted his hands on her swollen nipples, wanted...

  Bra torn, rough hands grabbing, hurting, twisting...

  "No!" She stiffened as the image assaulted her vision and blurred the man in front of her. Instantly, he removed his hands from her body. She fought panic until the sound of her name spoken over and over cut through the fog.

  "It's me. Look at me, Selina." She turned her head and focused on Dante. Dark eyes glimmered with patience, understanding, and desire. "It's me. Not them. Never them again."

  "Not them."

  "That's right, sweetheart." He smiled with encouragement, and then caressed her cheek. "Just me. They can never hurt you again."

  She closed her eyes; afraid she'd never get past that barrier. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

  "No more apologies. A gorgeous, intelligent woman is allowing me the pleasure to lie down with her. Be with her. I'm the lucky one. Don't forget it."

  She smiled, the warmth in his eyes allowing her to relax again. Who was this wonderful man who was so patient and kind and mysterious?

  "Who are you?" she asked again. Selina reached out and touched the edge of the soft mask, tracing the outline of his eyes, his mouth, over his dark brows. He stiffened beneath her touch.

  "You don't need to know."

  "I know. But I want to know. Do you help all women who have been hurt?"

  She watched him struggle, deciding whether or not to answer the question. He took the opportunity to begin touching her again, but this time when he caressed her shoulders and the top of her breasts, no image assaulted her vision. Just the tightening of desire for more.

  "Yes. I have no control over where I'm sent. It can happen anytime, but it's usually at night. I'm pulled into the scene. Most of the time, I get there to stop the attack. Once in a while, I'm there too late." Shadows stole his vision for a moment, and Selina glimpsed a deep pain that was a part of who he was. "I help them. Stay with them during the nightmares. Transition them to heal."

  "Do you make love to them?"

  The question popped out of her mouth before she could stop it. Still, she waited for the answer, knowing it wouldn't change her opinion of him. Knowing he would do anything to replace violence with light.

  "No." His gaze burned into hers. "I hold them. Let them get familiar with a man's touch again. Take away the fear. But I've never made love to a woman who needed my help. It's against the rules."

  "Rules? Tell me."

  He hesitated. Selina had a strange feeling he rarely talked to anyone about his abilities or limitations. She waited for him to ignore the question or tell her he couldn't answer. Instead, he spoke.

  "When I was young and came into my powers, I was reckless. Angry. The first time, I struck out at the attackers of a young girl with too much force." His lips tightened. "I killed him."

  She kept quiet, hoping to offer her own comfort by the light caress of his hand over her back. "He deserved it."

  "Perhaps. But it was against the rules. Afterward, my father came to me in a dream. He said I must always obey the balance of life, and never take justice into my own hands. That is for God to decide. Rule number one is ironclad. I am not allowed to take a life, not matter how I feel. I began to work harder to control my anger and I've never slipped again."

  Selina wondered how he lived with the violence and hurt on a daily basis. Yet, there was so much gentleness in his touch, in his eyes, in his heart. Tenderness rose up like a wave and drowned her. "It's so much responsibility to take on," she murmured. "So much pain to experience on behalf of healing others."

  He jerked back. His fingers tightened around her shoulder and he let out a shaky breath. "Thank you," he said softly. The gratitude on his face broke her heart. As if he'd never come in contact with someone who understood.

  "What are the other rules?"

  "I can only save one woman at a time, and I never know when the healing process is complete. Usually, I'm connected with the woman until she reaches a point she no longer needs me. I sense when she needs me, and I'm able to appear by her side, wherever she is."

  "So you don't choose to come for these midnight visits?" she asked carefully. "You're automatically dragged through some sort of time travel tunnel?"

  "A bond forms at the time of rescue. My duty is to stay with her through the healing process."

  Humiliation cut through her. She didn't know why the idea of him not choosing to come to her sliced deep. Like she was some type of mercy project for him. Duty. Dear God, was this all it was to him? Her muscles stiffened and she began to pull back.

  "Selina, no, you misunderstand." He caressed her cheek. "I go because I want to. Your pain calls to me, and I'm only pulled in because I need to be close. Don't you understand? As much as you think you need me, I need you more."

  A fierce need rose up inside of her, swallowing the fear and hesitation. She wanted him. Craved him. His words and his heat seemed to burn her alive, until the only thing to slake the emptiness was him.

  He was a modern day superhero who saved women from the crippling fear of their own sexuality. He never asked for anything back. What expense had that been to his soul?

  Selina reached up and pulled his head down to hers.

  She kissed him, learning the taste and texture of his lips. They sipped at hers with a pure gentleness that rocked her soul. He let her set the pace, but his patience only pushed her need for more. She slipped her tongue between his lips and entered.

  He groaned and met her halfway. Their tongues tangled together, the heady taste of him assaulting her senses. Fire thrummed through her veins as his hands slowly slipped underneath her t-shirt to touch the bare skin of her belly. She sucked in her breath at the feel of his roughened fingers, inches away from the burning heat between her legs. Those hands coasted upward to her breasts, brushing against her hardened nipples with light strokes. Selina arched and cried out for more, nothing in her vision except the man in front of her, with his dark eyes and delicious touch and gentle heart.

  He cupped her breasts in both hands, rubbing, massaging. Her nerve endings hummed and her arousal twisted higher. This was a simple exchange of giving pleasure, and she sunk deep into the release, letting her body take over while her mind finally surrendered. He nibbled on her bottom lip, soothed with his tongue, while his thumbs flicked the tip of her nipples and coaxed them to grow tighter and harder.

  Selina wrapped her arms around him and hung on. His skin felt like steel encased in satin as she ran her fingers over his back and the muscles rippled. "More," she whispered. Urgency and the heady sense of freedom pushed her onward. "Please."

  "You okay?" He asked the words through gritted teeth. Power surged over her - he wanted her. This was more than just a man helping a woman release her demons. He wanted her on a basic level of a man to a woman, and she gloried in the knowledge.

  "Yes. Touch me. Put your mouth on me."

  He muttered a curse and slid her shirt up. Lowered his head. Licked the hardened tip of her breast with slow, careful strokes. Liquid fire pulsed between her thighs in sheer demand. As if he knew she was ready, he opened his mouth and took her nipple between his lips and sucked.

  "Dante!"

  His other hand slid down her belly, hooked under the elastic of her panties and settled over the tight curls. Wet and pulsing for his touch, she opened her thighs in an unspoken invitation, confident she could stop at anytime. But she didn't want to stop, needed to feel his fingers inside of her, just once...

  He lifted his head from her breasts. "Look at me."

  Eyes glazed, waiting for his intimate touch, she obeyed.

  His voice oozed over her like hot caramel in sensual demand. "Me. Only me. Not them."


  "Not them."

  He slid one finger into her tight heat. She cried out at the delicious sensation and liquid warmth rushed to greet him. He muttered in satisfaction as he drew his finger in and out, teasing the tight bud as sensation squeezed every muscle in her body. His name broke from her lips as he moved over her, inside her, bringing her closer to blessed release.

  "Let yourself feel, sweetheart. Let me give this to you."

  His thumb rubbed over her clit as his fingers worked their magic. Selina poised on the edge of the cliff, sensations wracking her body and pushing everything out of her mind except the promise of sweet release.

  He thrust a third finger deep inside of her. Then delicately squeezed her clit.

  Selina cried out as the orgasm took hold. Her body convulsed with sheer ecstasy. He helped her ride out the wave, murmuring endearments as she gave it all over to him. Then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in tight to his body. Selina slumped over him. Tears leaked down her cheeks and she trembled in his embrace.

  He pressed kisses in her hair and let her cry, a mixture of release so intense her insides felt cleansed. As she drifted toward slumber, she whispered her last words.

  "Please don't leave me tonight."

  She fell asleep before she heard his answer.

  ***

  The dream rose from within--the familiar scene unfolding and taking shape in the misty fringes of slumber. Dante fought the image, but his mother's voice whispered, urging him to walk forward, into the fog.

  His mother led him forward through the park with urgency, as if she sensed danger near. Her black hair fell thickly down her back as he gripped her hand and trailed behind, the scents of rotten leaves and musty earth greeting his nostrils. Dante didn't speak, understanding they needed to get to the end of the path as shadows stole over the sun.

  They came out from behind the trees - one, two, three large men. Hats pulled down over their faces. Bulky arms and mean voices as they stopped them in their path. His mother moved like lightning, but they were stronger and faster. They pulled her off the path into the woods while the third one pushed Dante to the ground, his young body useless in a physical fight. He called the power of fire, but the man held his throat in a viselike grip and he struggled for breath, struggled to focus on drawing his senses together and causing a flame. His mother never screamed but he heard low laughter, and ripped fabric. He cursed his inexperience with his gift and called to the gods for help, but the night remained silent other than the grunts of the men.