Dante's Fire

by Jennifer Probst

  Her breath came short and ragged and she gripped the edge of the table to fight the oncoming panic attack. When she managed to speak, her voice sounded high and squeaky. "Where did you get that tattoo?"

  "This one?" He pointed to the symbol on his left arm. A glimmer of rage shimmered in those beady eyes, then was quickly masked. "Ah, you know how teens get. Got it on a dare from my buddy one drunken night. Figured I'd keep it as a reminder not to do stupid things."

  The mantra played over and over, as she stared at his arm, mesmerized. What was she going to do? Dear God, what would have happened if she went to his condo? But Dante said that after the symbol was marked on them, they couldn't hurt any other woman. Had Forrester ever tried?

  "You like it, darlin? Do tattoos turn you on?"

  Her stomach clenched. She forced her gaze up to meet those calculating eyes and decided to cut her losses. How could she close the deal with him? How could she work for the next few months closely with a man who attacked women? She needed to get out of here.

  "Excuse me, I have to go."

  "Not yet." His hand reached out and snagged her wrist. Selina yanked her arm back at the feel of his skin over hers. "Walk away from me now and you'll pay. I'm going over your head. Telling everyone you're a lousy negotiator. Wanna change my mind? Come with me now."

  Temper bit back fear. All the frustration and rage from the attack flowed freely and she leaned over in a venomous challenge. "You wanna play games with me? How about you tell me the real way you got that tattoo?"

  His eyes widened in shock. Then lowered his voice to a hiss. "I don't know what games you're playing, but I'll tell you this. You're done."

  "And so are you. Do you like hurting and threatening women? Or do you just like getting burned?"

  He jerked down his shirtsleeves to quickly cover the mark. A sheen of sweat gleamed on his forehead. "Bitch. No one threatens me. You have no proof. But I'll make sure you pay for that remark."

  "Go to hell, Forrester. That's where you belong."

  Selina rose from the table on shaking legs and hurried out the door.

  ***

  Tom, Gary, and Ed waited for her when she got back to the office. A bottle of Dom Perignon chilled in a bucket on the conference table with the good crystal flutes taken out for special celebrations.

  "Did he sign?" Tom asked.

  Her heart pounded as she fought for an answer. How could she tell them what she'd seen? How could she let them know Forrester was a rapist, when she had no proof? Her only proof was a superhero that marked attackers and visited women late at night while wearing a mask?

  Dear God, they'd lock her up in the loony bin. After they fired her.

  Selina grabbed for control and decided to bluff like she was in the world series of poker. "Not yet, boys. But we're close."

  Their groan of disappointment humiliated her. As the silence settled, she watched them exchange glances. She knew her team well. A lecture was on its way and she wasn't going to like it. Selina stiffened her back and mentally prepared.

  Tom stepped up. "Umm, Selina, can we have a word with you?"

  "Of course. Let's grab some coffee and keep the champagne on ice for later."

  They retrieved their mugs and brew, and sat around the small conference table in her office. She kept her face and fingers relaxed as she studied her them. "What's up, guys?"

  Tom cleared his throat. "We're worried about you. Ever since the mugging, you've been a bit off, and we completely understand why. But something seems wrong with the Forrester deal. Why did he want to talk to you in private?"

  She ached to tell them the truth but needed a bit more time to wrap her head around the episode and decide how to handle it. "He wanted to go over some last minute details. Wanted to haggle on the price. Honestly, Tom, I think the guy wanted to just bust my balls. If I had them."

  They laughed. "But you couldn't close it?"

  Ed's shrewd question threw her off, but she told the truth. "No, I couldn't close it." The men waited in silence. "I want one more chance. Give me a few more days. If I can't get him to close, I'll put Tom in charge of the negotiations."

  Tom raised a brow. "What about your promotion?"

  She swallowed her sickness and pasted on a smile. "Getting Inferno to close is key - you all know that. If the team leader can't follow through, the others need to step up. That's fair."

  A wave of silent relief seemed to pass over the table. "Deal?" she asked.

  "Deal," Tom said.

  They bullshitted for a while and the men left her office.

  Selina walked over to the window and stared out at the Manhattan landscape. The city shimmered in a distant fog. Definitely a snowstorm coming. The sky brooded as if not able to make up its mind to spit ice or snow out on the world. Dots moved up and down the street--a mingle of cars and pedestrians all in a hurry to get somewhere.

  The attack had taken a piece of her she'd never truly get back. Dante had helped heal her. But she'd learned something else in these past weeks--a truth about herself she'd hoped for but never truly believed.

  Her strength.

  The world was a painful place. Strangers tried to rip away pieces of an innate sense of security and happiness with no real reason or rationalization. Bad things happened to good people.

  But she'd not only keep surviving, she would flourish. That fight burned inside of her, it was part of her core, and so many other survivors. Yes, Dante was a catalyst to get her through the difficult journey, but eventually, she would've found her own way. With therapy. With time. With the support of friends. She, and countless others, would consistently rebuild whatever was stolen.

  A deep sense of peace settled over her.

  Selina stared out the window, knowing she now needed to make a decision about Forrester.

  The truth would cost her the deal. Was it worth it? How could she work with a known rapist on her team, even for millions of dollars and the chance of promotion? It would be like selling her soul. Then again, did it really matter? Forrester had the mark and couldn't hurt anyone else. Maybe she could salvage the deal after all and strike a bargain with him. Silence for silence.

  But at what price? Her soul?

  She thought about the question for a long, long time.

  Chapter Nine

  That evening, Selina looked around the bedroom. Candles burned and cast soft shadows against the walls, filling the air with the scent of apple and cinnamon. The cheerful yellow bedspread was eased back to reflect clean, white sheets and plump down pillows. The t-shirt and shorts had been replaced by a sheer black lace nightie that cupped her breasts and halted mid thigh.

  The scene was set.

  Now she only needed Dante.

  Her stomach jumped with nerves. He promised he'd come tonight. Would he sense her impending seduction scene and stay away? Or did he ache for her as much as she ached for him?

  Selina settled back on the pillows to wait. He'd helped to slay her demons. He'd shown her kindness, patience, and gave his heart. And she knew she'd always regret it if he left without claiming her completely.

  She ached for his touch. Her orgasm last night had given her freedom, but what about him? When had he ever been able to take for himself, to allow himself to let go of his barriers and pursue only pleasure?

  She wanted to give him a gift he'd always remember.

  Herself.

  "What are you doing?"

  She rose from the pillows, startled by his harsh voice beside her. Selina stared at him hungrily, taking in his familiar black shirt, jeans, and mask. His inky eyes glittered with danger as he met her gaze, but he was unable to hide the gleam of lust from his wall of control.

  "You're here," she whispered.

  His lips tightened. "I told you I'd come. But only to say good-bye. You don't need me anymore, Selina. You have to move on."

  "You're wrong." She reached out to him. "I need you tonight. I need you to make love to me."

  His body visibly shuddered and
she heard a muttered curse under his breath. He took in her skimpy nightie, the candles, and the seduction scene before him. Then shook his head. "No, I can't do this. I told you I've never made love to a woman before who's been hurt. And I don't want to now. You're only asking for this because you feel you owe me something. You've transferred some feelings because I was the one able to get you to accept a man's touch again. It happens often, but you'll get over it."

  He was lying. The truth showed in his locked muscles, his face carved from stone, the hard bulge between his legs. His words were another form of protection, and Selina swore she'd do anything to make him admit he wanted her. As a man to a woman.

  "I don't want to get over it," she said softly. "I want you to finish what we started. I'm not offering my body because I feel grateful, or sorry. So let me make this crystal clear." Selina trembled with the force of her emotions. "I want you as a man. Your body on top of mine, thrusting deep inside of me until I become part of you. Not as a friend, or a healer, or a damn shrink. Get it?"

  His temper broke. With a low growl, he thrust one knee on the bed so he towered over her. The strength and dominance in his aura should have set her into a deep panic, but she trusted this man on a deep level and knew he'd never hurt her. Her eyes widened as he grasped her arm and yanked her in. His breath struck her lips with every deliberate word.

  "You don't get it, do you? I can't belong to anyone because I belong to everyone. How do you think you'll feel when I leave your bed, night after night, to touch another woman? How would you like to be having dinner with me, when suddenly I vanish like smoke and don't return for hours? How would you like to be reminded of the stench of evil every time I come home to you, a memory you only want to forget? This won't help bring us closer. This will only tear us apart."

  "Then I want tonight. Give me that and I'll let you walk away."

  "Why?" He gritted his teeth as he shook her. "Why do you want this so bad?"

  "Because I'm in love with you."

  The calm words caused him to stagger back, a look of devastation on his face. Selina forced a smile at his complete shock. "I'm sure you hear that from many women you've helped. But I mean it, Dante. I love your very soul, and saying I don't won't change anything."

  "You don't know anything about me."

  His emotionless tone broke her heart. "Why don't you tell me?"

  "What do you want to hear? That I watched my mother get beaten, raped and killed? That I was maimed so I could be reminded every day of my inability to save her? That she gave me a gift as she died in front of me - the ability to save women like her, but never enough to stay and fall in love with one woman? I'm a ghost with the power of fire, half in this world, and half in another. You belong in the light, Selina. You don't belong with me."

  Silence descended. She studied the man before her, head bowed. His past had made him; scarred him; changed him. She may not be able to convince Dante they could walk in the light, but by God, the night belonged to him, and she'd make herself a permanent part of his world forever.

  In one swift motion, she removed her nightie.

  He sucked in his breath. Selina knew the glow of the candles bathed her flesh, highlighting the curve of her breasts, her hips, the dark curls hiding her sex. She remained still, letting him drink his fill, gorging on his intense stare that made her feel beautiful and precious and whole.

  "I want you." Her voice trembled. "I want you inside of me, want to become a part of you. Just for tonight." She paused. "Please."

  He closed his eyes in despair.

  Then moved.

  In seconds, he had ripped off his shirt and covered her body with his. She arched upward, loving the hard length of him cradling her soft curves, twining her fingers in his long dark hair. The scent of musk and soap and coffee clung to his skin. His arousal pressed between her thighs and made her instantly wet. He lowered his head until his lips stopped an inch from hers.

  "You belong to me."

  He kissed her. She opened her mouth, reveling in his dark, heady taste as his tongue swirled around hers and claimed her. She moaned as he nipped the sensitive curve of her lower lip, then delved back in to play. Her nipples grew tight and hard, and he stroked her breast with talented fingers that caused ripples of desire to shoot down her body to her pulsing center.

  He tore his mouth away from hers. Pulled back. Quickly shucked off his jeans and his underwear until he was gloriously naked. Then took her breasts in his mouth.

  She panted his name as he sucked and licked and teased. He plumped her breast, tasted her nipples, and circled the aching tips with his tongue. Slowly, kissing and tasting every inch of her skin, he worked his way down her belly, and along the curve of her hips. He nibbled at her flesh, as he pushed her thighs wide so she was exposed to him. Her nails curled into the bed as he sunk lower and blew a hot breath over the damp pubic curls, parting her swollen folds. His hand rested on her belly.

  Pulling at her jeans, ripping the button, rough hands grabbing at her stomach, reaching further down...

  "Wait!" Her mind processed the floating images as her body craved to surrender to her lover. Selina panted for control, as two visuals fought for dominance.

  "It's okay, sweetheart, it's just me." Gentle fingers stroked her belly, her hips, and her thighs. His voice brought her back, anchored her to the bed, and relaxed her nerves. "Just let go and let me pleasure you. Look at me."

  She looked down and saw him lay between her sprawled thighs. The raw intimacy of the scene struck her full force--the depths of her trust and love for the man in her bed. "Dante."

  "That's right, sweetheart. Just me. Not them."

  Her mind emptied. Her muscles loosened. She became aware of her arousal, of how close he was to the throbbing bud needing attention. A wicked smile curved those lips, even sexier since his mask hid the rest of his face. "Lay back, baby. I've been dying to know how you taste."

  His head lowered.

  Selina arched as his hot tongue slid inside her swollen folds and bestowed pleasure. She made little mewling sounds in the back of her throat as he tasted her, played with the throbbing nub, and then slipped his fingers into her wet channel, testing her heat. The orgasm grew closer but he held it back, until her head thrashed against the pillow and she begged for release.

  He slid back up her body and took her lips. She tasted herself on his tongue and heard the rip of a wrapper as he rolled on the condom. Dante paused at her entrance with his long, pulsing length.

  "Not them, Selina."

  She gasped. "Not them."

  "Look at me."

  His gaze drilled into hers with a piercing intensity that crashed past her barriers to seize her very soul.

  "Only me."

  He claimed her. She shuddered as he filled every inch of her in one smooth thrust. He paused, allowing her to get used to the complete invasion. Her fingers dug into his back as the delicious tension seized every muscle.

  "Okay?"

  "Yes." Selina panted. "More."

  He cursed, then moved. Pulling all the way out of her clinging heat, he set a slow, easy pace until her body softened and gave beneath him. For every inch of her surrender, he picked up the tempo, until she squeezed him mercilessly for more, lifting her hips as he brushed and teased the sensitive nub and kept her at the edge of climax.

  She chanted his name as he brought her closer, then reached down between their bodies to rub.

  "Now. Give me everything."

  She climaxed hard and held tight to his shoulders as waves of pleasure crashed over her, through her, demanding everything she had. She gave it all to him in that instant. Her surrender. Her release.

  Her heart.

  His body tightened over hers and he gave a hoarse shout. Then shuddered as he gave his own surrender. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and drifted.

  He made love to her twice more before the weak light of dawn struggled to break through the windows. Each time was more tender, more thorough, and echo
ed every emotion he felt but didn't say. His body told the truth each time he pushed inside her and kissed her.

  "Give us a chance." She whispered the words as he sat up in bed and moved to begin dressing. She refused to cry, knowing it was his final decision. She prayed he could let them both be happy if he trusted her enough.

  "I can't. I won't do that to you. It will never work."

  "But you don't want to try." Temper heated her veins. "You've never even tried to have a real relationship. Why can't you trust me like I do you?"

  He smiled behind the mask, his eyes deep and dark and sad. "Because I love you too much to destroy this."

  Her breath whooshed out of her lungs. "You love me?"

  "I've loved you since the moment I met you."

  The words were strange, as if a hidden meaning lurked behind them, but she had no time to figure it out. She rose and tried to go after him, but he was already dressed and stood by the door. "But you're going to leave. I thought you had guts. Instead, you'd rather hang on to a perfect memory than reach for something real. Something messy and unsure, but possibly the best thing that could have ever happened to either of us."

  His nostrils flared. Agony carved out his face. "Selina --"

  "Don't. Just don't." She fought back the tears, hating to admit defeat. "I love you."

  "I know." His voice reached out across the room and caressed her one last time. "But I won't be back." He gazed at her with a fierceness that shimmered, as if memorizing every inch of her figure.

  Then he was gone.

  Selina sat in the bed, in the empty room alone. And wondered if by healing her, he had broken her forever.

  ***

  He was dying.

  Dante sat in his apartment, staring into the darkness. His apartment was like him. Stark. Empty. Full of shadows.

  The few rooms served a purpose, from the simple full size mattress with no headboard, to the furnishings meant only for survival. A couch. Coffee table. Television. Breakfast counter.

  He slept here. Ate. Watched a few programs. And waited to be sent where he was needed. Why bother with pictures or decoration when no one would ever see where he lived?

  He took a sip of the stinging cognac, hoping to force some warmth into his body. Iciness prickled along his skin and caused a distant numbness, from the outside straight to his soul.

  She'd ruined him.