Danger of Desire

by Graves, Tacie

  “Yeah, just let me finish moving my stuff into this bag and we can go.” I said, trying to hurry so that I could get us out of my bedroom.

  I threw in a pair of handcuffs, a mini pepper spray, grabbed my wallet, and then moved my gun.

  When he noticed that last move, I could swear I heard him let out a little breath. It was as surprised as I’d ever seen him.

  “Expecting trouble over dinner, Pet?” he asked, taking a step towards me.

  “It was feeling lonely,” I said, “I took pity on it.”

  I tried to move away inconspicuously, but stumbled over a basket of laundry. Donovan caught me before I could actually fall, and I flinched a little at the contact.

  “Pet,” was all he said as he set me on my feet.

  “Thanks,” I said and tried to smile. “I guess I should take that as a sign to clean. Would suck to be caught by a bad guy because I tripped over my laundry.”

  Donovan didn’t smile back he just tilted his head and looked at me.

  “Thinking I’m a bad guy now, Pet?” he asked quietly.

  “No! Of course not,” I tried to backtrack. How do I always get myself into these situations? “You’re a good guy. Regardless of all the stories,” I laughed as I babbled. “I was just thinking of the office and all the crazies… you know. I seem to attract my fair share of nutters.”

  And right now I sound like one of them, I thought grimly.

  “Let’s go eat,” I said, “I’m starving.”

  I avoided the laundry pile this time and headed to the living room only to find my way blocked by a serious faced Donovan.

  “I asked you what was wrong this afternoon, and you said nothing. I’m going to ask you again. What’s wrong, Pet?” he asked.

  My brain was scrambling around trying to find something to say—anything to say—that wouldn’t ruin everything. If I told him the truth, I’d probably never see him again, and I couldn’t stand that. Maybe I could just…

  “Don’t even try it, Darcy Allen,” Donovan cut into my thoughts. He looked angry. Donovan never looks angry. And he used my whole name. Shit.

  “I don’t know what to say, Donovan.” There. That at least was completely true. “There isn’t anything wrong.” Sad, pathetic, and in need of therapy, yes… wrong? Not technically.

  He stepped closer to me, and I stepped back again, reflexively.

  “See?” He said. “You’re doing it again. Every time I get close to you, you step away.” He sounded perplexed, like he’d never had a woman step away from him before. What am I saying? He probably had never had a woman step away from him before.

  “It doesn’t mean anything…” I said defensively.

  “Oh, I think it does,” he said quietly and he took another step towards me.

  I forced myself to stay where I was, unwilling to give in to my instincts that were screaming to get away, far away, that this was dangerous. I knew that Donovan wouldn’t hurt me, though, and if by letting him get close I could avoid further conflict, then close it was going to be.

  He didn’t say anything, he just looked at me, and time began to dilate, seconds seeming like minutes and minutes seeming like hours. I felt my heart begin to pound, and my skin tightened and prickled. I could feel the heat from him again, and it was addictive—euphoric—and all I wanted was to wallow in it, letting it run through my veins, burning away all the loneliness and fear and leaving only the raw desire and love that I felt for him.

  The impossibility of it was more than I could stand. I couldn’t help it. I stepped back.

  Suddenly Donovan growled deep in his throat and I had the random thought that maybe I had misjudged the situation and I should’ve run while I had the chance, but before I could move I was pinned against the wall, Donovan’s glorious heat pressed against me, his face bare inches from mine.

  “Don’t run away from me,” he growled, gray eyes dark and dangerous. “I don’t like it.”

  I couldn’t speak—could barely think—and I simply shook my head at him, trying to make him understand that it wasn’t him I was running from.

  He must’ve seen something in my eyes because he dropped one arm to my side, and pressed his forehead into the wall beside my face. “God, Pet, I’m sorry. I must be crazy,” he whispered.

  “No,” I finally managed to say, “it’s not you, Donovan. Really, it isn’t.” I leaned my head forward until my face nestled in the crook of his neck. I could smell the scent of him, and feel his pulse, and I rubbed my cheek against his faint whiskers reveling in the rightness of him but torn because he wasn’t mine, and would never be.

  A thoughtful look passed across his face and he stared deeply in my eyes, looking for an answer to a question only he knew. My barriers were down, burned away by his heat, and I was afraid of what he was going to see, so I closed my eyes.

  “If it isn’t me, then why? Why have you gone so far away from me?” He asked bringing his hand up to cup my face, the calluses hard against the softness of my cheek, his thumb tracing my bones. “I came back from New York and Jasper said you’d changed, but I didn’t—I couldn’t—believe him. But he was right… you’ve faded… you’ve gone away from me, and I don’t know how to get you back.”

  There was pain in his voice along with his confusion. He wasn’t a man accustomed to not being in control, and he was floundering, trying to find a way—any way—to fix what he saw as a problem.

  The ache in my chest grew as I realized there was no way to fix it, and I kissed his throat in a gentle goodbye.

  “I’m sorry Donovan. I just realized that I can’t be the same person anymore. My life is just too complicated.” I whispered, trying desperately not to cry.

  Donovan’s body jerked as if he’d been hit with 1000 volts. He pulled back from me, eyes wide, and his hands clenched on my shoulders.

  “What do you mean ‘too complicated’ Since when is what’s between us ‘complicated’?” he asked, almost wildly. “Have I done something? Hurt you? Made you angry? I don’t understand.”

  “I’m not angry,” I said, and I meant it. “After George Krieger attacked me, it hit me. I finally understood what everyone’s been saying—about the danger, about the job—there’s a price to pay when you do work like ours.”

  Donovan looked horrified and I knew he understood.

  “I knew right then that I was alone. Every time I walked in to a situation like that, or had something go wrong, I had to be alone, or someone else was going to get hurt, too.” I was crying now, tears sliding silently down my face.

  “I don’t want anyone to hurt like that, Donovan,” I finished. “I especially don’t want the people I love to hurt like that.” I took a deep breath and steadied myself.

  “I don’t have the right to ask someone to hurt like that.”

  His eyes got even bigger if possible, and his fingers clenched even tighter. I knew I would have bruises but I couldn’t find it in myself to care.

  “The people you love?” he whispered hoarsely. “You’re pulling away from the people you love so they won’t get hurt?”

  I nodded silently, not trusting my voice not to break.

  “It’s a good theory, Pet, but it won’t work,” he said. “The problem is, you see… pulling away from them will hurt them more than anything else ever could.”

  He rubbed his face against mine, loosening his grip on my shoulders, and rubbing them gently in a silent apology for hurting me.

  “It would be like taking away the sun to prevent someone from getting sunburned; the disease might be unpleasant, but the cure would be deadly,” he whispered.

  He lowered his lips allowing them just to hover above mine.

  “Don’t go away from me, Pet,” he said and he kissed me, his touch so light I could almost believe I’d imagined it. “My life would be cold, and gray, and miserable without you.”

  He kissed me again, harder this time and I felt the traitorous heat spreading through me.

  “I tried to protect you. Tried to k
eep you at arm’s length, but I couldn’t,” he said, his voice gravelly. “I couldn’t stay away.” His hands were scorching me through my jacket and every nerve I had was alive and awash in the glory of him.

  “I knew that you were safe, though, because you didn’t love me. You couldn’t be hurt if you didn’t care.” He punctuated his statements with tiny kisses along the line of my cheek.

  “But now, that isn’t true, is it?” he asked softly, his voice hypnotic. “You think you have to distance yourself from me, you can’t ask me to hurt like that, and you won’t have a relationship with me…” he paused. “ None of those things are an issue unless you love me,” he finished, a triumphant note creeping into his voice.

  I had fallen under the spell of his voice and found myself nodding in agreement before I realized what I had admitted. When I snapped out of it, I sucked in a breath and tried to pull away, but Donovan was having none of it.

  “Oh no you don’t… not now, not when I finally have you where I want you,” he laughed quietly.

  “And where is that?” I asked, a little Irish fire flickering through my overloaded mind.

  “With me, Pet,” he said simply. “Where I need you to be.”

  I looked at him and threw caution to the wind.

  “Why?” I asked, thankful that my voice didn’t quaver.

  “Because I can’t imagine my world without you in it, Darcy Allen,” he answered.

  “You fight the good fight no matter what it costs you. You bring joy and laughter to a dull and dreary world. If something were to happen to you, I would never be the same,” his voice dropped an octave, “I love you—all of you.”

  My world was spinning out of control, and I knew this had to be a dream. Nothing this wonderful could be real. But Donovan’s voice persisted and I kept listening, willing the dream to last as long as possible.

  “I’ve kept my feelings secret for too long, but now the secret doesn’t matter. You love me, and that changes all the rules,” he finished.

  I pressed my forehead against his and tangled my hands in the hair at his nape holding on tightly. I was afraid that if I let go of him he’d disappear and I’d be alone again.

  “I don’t want to be alone, Donovan,” I whispered, pathetically afraid of the admission.

  “Neither do I, Pet,” he whispered back. “Neither do I.”

  The truth of that statement made me feel better about myself, and my needs, and I could accept that we could be there for each other instead of him just supporting me.

  “I’ve got a deal for you, Donovan,” I said finally with a little gleam in my eye.

  “A deal? This should be good… What’s the deal, Pet?” he answered, the sparkle in his gray eyes warming my heart.

  “No more secrets, okay?” I said.

  “And if I agree to this ‘no more secrets’ what’s in it for me?” he grinned down at me.

  “Me.” I answered, and the smile that burst full blown across his face was brighter than the sun.

  “Now that’s the best offer I’ve ever had,” he said and kissed me and I knew I would never be lonely again.

  Promises to Keep

  The room vibrated with sound as the door slammed open, and Darcy sat bolt upright on her couch. Her eyes were assaulted by the yellow light streaming in from the hallway and she remembered falling asleep in her living room earlier after yet another very bad day.

  And it didn’t look like it was getting any better.

  The intruder slammed the door again, this time throwing her even further into blindness as her eyes tried to adjust to the extremes they’d been subjected to.

  Darcy’s breath caught in her throat as she felt rather than heard footsteps approaching her in the dark and she tried to gauge what her chances were to reach her kitchen before her uninvited guest reached her. She quickly came to the realization that she had to try for the door instead—there was no way she could reach the kitchen without getting even closer to the threat.

  She gently pushed herself up and out of her blankets, preparing to throw her bare legs over the back of the sofa, thinking she would slide across it and put the oversized piece of furniture between her and whoever this was. She was afraid to consider who it could be—she had rattled a particularly nasty tree earlier—but she knew it was more important to get away. She could worry about who it was later.

  So, one leg—slowly, listening—and then the other. She braced both feet on the floor and lunged towards the door, only to find herself pedaling in midair as a steel band of arm grabbed her around her waist and swung her off her feet. She could feel the muscles ripple as they held her thrashing body harmlessly above the floor and she cried out.

  “Let me go! Let me go you crazy, fucking son-of-a-bitch!” She yelled.

  Darcy knew that her neighbors wouldn’t be coming to save her. She’d chosen this building because of its privacy and security. The walls were thick, and the neighbors weren’t nosy. The perfect apartment… usually.

  “Never.” The voice cut across her hysteria—it was dark, and dangerous, and filled with anger, and she knew it like she knew her own face.

  “Donovan?” She hissed as all her fear morphed instantly into anger, “What in the seven hells do you think you’re doing?!”

  Just as suddenly, her anger changed again as Donovan took advantage of her sudden stillness to wrap a hand around her throat.

  “I could ask you the same thing, Pet,” he growled into her ear. “Imagine my surprise when Jasper called me today to tell me that you’d been dragged out of Parkinson’s house today and left lying in his front yard, while he, of course, got away.”

  Darcy realized that Donovan was truly angry with her, and for once couldn’t bring herself to blame him. He had warned her to stay away from Parkinson, had asked her to let him handle it. He was only going to be gone one day and then he and Jasper would take care of him. She’d nodded and agreed in the team meeting—of course she’d let them handle it!—but Parkinson’s wife was planning on running, and she needed a head start or she’d probably end up on a slab in the morgue. So, Darcy bought her some time.

  Expensive time.

  The voice in her ear continued.

  “I got five calls in as many minutes—you were unconscious, maybe dead, left lying in the snow. Do you have any idea what that did to me?” Donovan’s voice cracked as he spoke, his hot breath bathing her face and neck as she felt the tremble in his arms. “Do you?”

  In two strides he had crossed the room and spun them until she was pinned against the wall, his long leg thrust between hers, lifting her to her toes, keeping her slightly off balance.

  “Knowing that after all this time—after fighting through months of dancing and denial—I might have lost you forever because you can’t follow orders.” Donovan was growling, his frustration a palpable thing, and Darcy couldn’t help but hear the fear underneath the anger—the fear that he’d lost her.

  “None of my men would have pulled a stunt like that. None of them would have lied to me—LIED to me Darcy—about accepting their orders. And not only did you not follow through on our agreement, you went out there with NO BACKUP!” He snarled again, his anger rearing its ferocious head.

  Suddenly, as if a damn had burst letting all his bottled up emotions flood free he put his hands out to either side of her as he leaned in closer. She could feel the heat of his breath against her cheek, as he spoke again, each word gritted out so sharply it could cut diamonds.

  “You are never, never to do that again. Do you understand?”

  He could practically feel the pounding of her heart as Darcy turned her face away, blushing furiously. She looked like she was about to argue the point when he suddenly closed the final few inches between them and covered her mouth with his own. He brushed his lips roughly against hers, and his insistent tongue pushed past her parted lips, his hand grasping the nape of her neck so that she couldn't draw away.

  Darcy’s first thought was to beat the shit out of him—ho
w DARE he tell her what to do?—but at the first contact of their lips she felt a connection snap into place between them. Her heartbeat pounded loudly in her head, and prickly tingles raced across her skin where they were touching, her bare legs held captive against his fully clothed ones, her skin soft against muscles, guns, and leather, and a little voice in her head whispering more, oh please, more, more….

  As the passion became overwhelming, her anger began to elude her; there was only the explorations of Donovan’s mouth, the heat of his presence, and the sounds of her small moans and ragged breathing. She would do anything—anything—if he would just keep kissing her, keep touching her.