Her Soul to Keep

by Delilah Devlin

  Their loving was slow, savored, poignant, because this time, they both remembered the many times they’d been here, holding each other tightly at the end. Their kisses were all the sweeter because they knew they’d have to make each one matter.

  He held back, thrusting faster, harder. Sliding a hand between their bodies, he caressed the tiny knot of nerves that shot her ahead of him, so that he could watch her come.

  As her mouth opened around a quiet scream, he let go, joining her, groaning deeply as his body and heart emptied into hers.

  Viper waited until her soft brown eyes fluttered open, and her gaze met his for the last time. Her smile said she forgave him, and she touched his cheek.

  The kiss wasn’t needed, but he wanted her to close her eyes. He closed his as he stole one memory after another, letting them flicker through his mind…

  Their first meeting at the station house where she tried to pry information from the precinct’s PR officer about a drug arrest. She’d spotted Viper and became distracted enough that the exasperated PR guy slipped away.

  The first time they’d made love—that same night. A frenzied, delirious coupling in the front seat of his car when he’d tried to play the gentleman and drop her at her door after their first date.

  Fishing in the sound on a borrowed boat. Only they hadn’t caught a single thing, except a raging sunburn in intimate places.

  Their wedding. Mariah dressed in white and beaming as she’d stood in front of the Justice of the Peace and repeated her vows in an excited rush, eager for the pronouncement that would make her his forever.

  When at last he’d finished, he sobbed once, kissed her closed eyes, and slipped from the bed.

  · · ·

  Lieutenant Moses Brown waited outside, his large frame leaning against his unmarked car. When he saw him, he straightened and flicked away his cigarette. “Thought I might find you here. Need a ride back?”

  Viper slid into the passenger seat, keeping his face turned straight ahead, not allowing himself to look back as Moses pulled away from the curb.

  “Did you let her go this time, buddy?”

  Viper nodded.

  “It’s for the best. Now, the girl can get on with her life.”

  “I know.”

  “We have work to do. With Navarro gone, the natives are gettin’ restless. They think the territory’s up for grabs.”

  “Guess I’ll just have to make a play for it, won’t I?” Viper said, letting his bitter rage bleed through.

  “Damn shame about the missus,” Moses said softly.

  His jaw clenched tight before he spoke. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I understand.” Moses flicked the indicator to turn onto another street. “You sure you didn’t leave any clues? Nothing she might use to connect the dots this time?”

  “I wiped her mind of everything. I’m sure.” Feeling drained, he leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes.

  Then he remembered. The ring. He hadn’t removed it from her finger.

  Chest tightened in a vise grip, he jerked upright.

  Moses’s head swung his way. “You okay? You forget something?”

  The words to tell his friend to turn around were on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he relaxed. Maybe she’d wake up, find the ring and wonder. Without the memories to accompany the golden band, could she really find him?

  The tantalizing thought was just enough to ease him past the sadness he thought he couldn’t bear. Maybe, this time, she’d find him.

  The possibility was enough. A wisp of hope to hold onto. Feeling lighter, he rolled down the window and let the soft, salt breeze whisk away his dour mood. “So, about these natives, Moses. We talking fangs?”

  About the Author

  Until recently, award-winning erotica and romance author Delilah Devlin lived in South Texas at the intersection of two dry creeks, surrounded by sexy cowboys in Wranglers. These days, she’s missing the wide-open skies and starry nights but loving her dark forest in Central Arkansas, with its eccentric characters and isolation—the better to feed her hungry muse! For Delilah, the greatest sin is driving between the lines, because it’s comfortable and safe. Her personal journey has taken her through one war and many countries, cultures, jobs, and relationships to bring her to the place where she is now—writing sexy adventures that hold more than a kernel of autobiography and often share a common thread of self-discovery and transformation.

  To learn more about Delilah Devlin, please visit www.delilahdevlin.com. Send an email to delilah@delilahdevlin.com or join her Yahoo! group to enter in the fun with other readers as well as Delilah: DelilahsDiary@yahoogroups.com

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  An excerpt from She’s All That,

  the second story in the Moonstruck collection

  Moses Brown poured a cup of coffee, grimacing at the black tar slurping into his mug. Still, it might give him a jolt, and after the night he’d had, he could sure use it. He wrinkled his nose, smacked his lips and took a sip.

  A hand slapped his shoulder and he took a bigger gulp than he intended, choking down the bitter brew. He aimed a glare over his shoulder.

  Finny Boone, his partner, grinned. “That pot’s been brewin’ most of the night. You really must be desperate. Just get back?”

  Moses grunted and lifted his cup again. “You get the statement from the liquor store owner?”

  “All wrapped up. The DA’s got everything she needs for a B ‘n E charge. No thanks to you.” Finny’s green eyes narrowed, studying his expression. “Better I don’t ask?”

  Moses hated being cagey with Finny, but some things were best kept on the down low. “Yeah. One of those nights.” The less Finny knew about his other, unsanctioned activities, the better. The last time he’d let a partner enter the dark world, he’d lost him to a vampire’s bite. “Does it look like we’ll get outta here on time?”

  “Huh, are you kidding?” Finny waved a folder. “Tonight’s a goddamn full moon.”

  Moses groaned inwardly. “What happened?”

  “Don’t know exactly, but the victim’s pretty rattled. I put her in interrogation room one. Saved her just for you.” Finny’s red eyebrows waggled.

  Which meant that not only was this a full moon case, but the woman was pretty. Finny had been trying to set him up with a girlfriend ever since Sidney Coffey, his former “friend with benefits”, left Seattle with her new lover.

  Finny didn’t get the fact that Moses was okay now. Sure, he’d had a thing for Sidney for a long time, but she was happy with the vampire master Navarro. And Navarro was cool, even if he was a bloodsucker.

  The truth was, not until after Sidney had been seduced away had Moses realized he didn’t really love her. Sidney was smart and funny, and a Molotov-fucking-cocktail in the sack, but he’d recovered way too fast for their relationship to be the real thing. He wished Finny would stop trying to cheer him up. Despite what his buddy thought, his dick wasn’t going to shrivel up and fall off just because he wasn’t getting any ass.

  Eyeing the file, Moses blew out a breath. “The other guys hear any of the woman’s story?”

  Finny winked. “Like always, I cut her off as soon as it got crazy. They were pretty damn disappointed when I herded her away. You know how much they get a good laugh every time one of your special cases walks in.”

  Special cases. Nut jobs was what they really thought. Every one of them, including Finny, wondered what highe
r up he’d pissed off to get the full moon cases. However, there were a few well-placed people inside the force who knew what was really going on in Seattle after dark.

  Moses had been handpicked—after his former partner was turned in front of his eyes. Stifling a sigh, Moses took another shot of high-octane sludge. The sooner he figured out if there was anything to the woman’s story, the sooner he could get some shut-eye.

  “Need any help?” Finny asked, his eyes alight with curiosity.

  Moses shook his head. “Just make sure no one comes in to watch from the other side of the mirror, buddy.”

  Finny shrugged. “One of these days….”

  “Believe me, Finn. You really don’t wanna know.”

  Finny slapped the file folder against his chest and walked away.

  Moses flipped it open, noted the woman’s name and not much more before he ambled down the hall to the room beside interrogation room one. He let himself inside and stood in the dark, gazing through the glass at the brunette with the chalky face, wanting to take her measure before he joined her, wanting to see whether she looked crazy, bored, or like an attention-seeker.

  Eyeing her through the glass, Moses decided she didn’t need to create an elaborate story to get anyone to listen. And she was anything but bored, based on the way her gaze darted around the room. The woman was definitely spooked. And crazy? Well, he’d have to talk to her to figure that one out. Still, he stood on the other side of the mirror, giving her more than a professional perusal.

  Despite her pallor and the pinched set of her mouth, she was a beauty. Melanie Bradshaw wasn’t model-pretty, and she wasn’t Sidney’s hard-edged cute. The woman seated at the ugly gray metal table, biting a fingernail, was delicate—small-boned with an oval face, shoulder-length hair, large brown eyes and lush lips.

  Arousal stirred, and Moses cupped himself, rearranging his dick so that he didn’t scare the little woman half to death when he went inside. She wore dark jeans and a soft brown sweater that molded over her slight curves. As he watched, she pulled down the cuffs to her fingers as though her hands were cold, and then gripped the pendant that rested over her pretty little breasts, a large red stone framed in gold. Her bottom lip trembled.

  No, she didn’t look like a nut job. She looked good and scared.

  Again he opened the folder and flipped through the pages to her statement, scanning it quickly then cussed to himself.

  No, she wasn’t crazy. Not even a little. Melanie Bradshaw had strayed straight into his “special case” zone. She’d had an encounter of the creepy kind.

  And she’d met Viper.

  Looked like he wasn’t going to get any rest until he figured out why.

  · · ·

  As the door whooshed open, Melanie jerked. Her gaze swung toward the person who entered, then widened. When she stood, her head tilted way back. Good lord, he looked like a linebacker—and she’d dated one once who wasn’t half as big.

  The hard set of the man’s jaw had her steeling herself against his derision, for him to ask her why she was wasting everyone’s time with a story so absurd. Then she met his gaze. His dark chocolate eyes held a tinge of something softer, maybe even kindness. Her shoulders relaxed. Perhaps he’d listen. She needed someone to talk to who didn’t look at her like she’d grown two heads.

  His large hand stretched across the table. “I’m Detective Brown, ma’am.”

  “Of course, you are,” she murmured, then bit her lip. Damn, she didn’t mean her statement the way it no doubt sounded. Not the best way to greet a large black man.

  But his mouth quirked up at one corner. Her hand disappeared inside his, and she stared at where their bodies joined. For the first time all night, she felt safe and warm.

  He withdrew first, wiping his hand against his thigh. Was hers sweaty? She’d felt warmth and a little spark when their skin had touched.

  “Ma’am, take a seat.”

  Like a well-trained Chihuahua, she plopped into the chair. Not quite so eager now to get this over. She liked his voice—the deep bass, the gravelly texture. As he settled into the chair opposite hers, a metal one that groaned with his massive weight, she couldn’t help eyeing him.

  Well over six feet tall with broad shoulders and a rock-hard chest and abs, he looked mean enough she didn’t think much would scare him. His face was hard too, his jaw square as a bulldog’s, his nose broad and slightly askew. His bald head gleamed beneath the harsh fluorescent lighting.

  “Tell me what went down at the bar, Miss Bradshaw.”

  She stifled a sigh. Again? Tonight had been really long, and she was ready to head home to sleep. “Didn’t you read my statement?”

  “I did,” he said with a firm nod. “But I’d like to hear it from you.”

  She lifted her chin to the mirror. “So your friends can have a good laugh?”

  “There’s no one watching.” His gaze locked with hers. “Promise. Just you and me. Tell me about it.”

  Melanie drew a deep, shaky breath. “All I want is to report a death. A murder.”

  “But there’s a problem….”

  “No body.” She nodded, wrapping her fingers around the amulet. “It’s surreal. Like… spontaneous combustion, but that’s a myth, right? Just an urban legend.”

  He didn’t answer her, but he settled back in his chair, his head canting as he watched her, staring.

  What did he see? Was he one of those people trained to read the truth in her body language? Was she giving him the right signals? Should she glance left or to the right?

  Hell, why did she feel like she was the one in the wrong?

  “The man who bought me a drink. He seemed nice.” In a sort of oily way, but she wasn’t going to speak ill of the dead. She hadn’t wanted to accept the drink, not trusting its contents since she hadn’t seen it poured. Her mama always harped about the perils of men.

  “What were you doin’ in the bar?”

  “It was a club, really.” Melanie blushed. She’d been looking for a hook-up. Desperate for one, actually. Too many lonely, battery-packed nights had finally led her to the snapping point. She wanted to be fucked to within an inch of her mind. Why hadn’t someone like Detective Brown been the one she’d met?

  Taking a couple seconds, she ran a discreet second glance over him. He certainly looked like he could deliver.

  She cleared her throat and hoped like hell he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Now she wished she had a tack in her shoe to crunch down on. Or wasn’t that only good for polygraphs? “I, uh, was thirsty?” And hungry. And so sick and tired of being sick and tired, she’d been willing to see if the cure was sex with something other than the figments in her dreams.

  “Thirsty,” he said, nodding, eyes narrowing. “Did you go there alone?”

  “I told you a man bought me a drink.”

  “But you entered the club alone. The Cavern. Why that place?” He leaned back in his chair.

  Because she’d had dreams about it and wanted to prove to herself that the murky images weren’t based on reality. Only she’d scared herself the moment she’d entered the dance club. Everything had been exactly as she’d dreamed the night before. Or at least the décor was. No way could the rest of what had happened in her dream be true.

  After all, vampires were fiction.

  “I heard about it and was curious.”

  “Doesn’t seem like your kind of place.”

  His gaze swept her, and she felt a tightening in her core. Delicious, really, and completely out of context. “Why does the reason I chose that place matter?”

  He shrugged. “Just tryin’ to get the details, ma’am.”

  “To determine my state of mind?” she asked, lifting her chin.

  His lips stretched, the full bottom thrusting forward. Her glance lingered there, wondering what that lush pout would feel like sucking on her nipple. She swallowed hard. Her gaze leapt to his face.

  “All right.” His gaze sharpened. “So let’s skip to the drink
and the guy.”

  “He was just a stranger.” With a scarily intent stare. “He offered me a drink and motioned for me to take a seat at the bar. I was just beginning to slide onto the stool, when he leaned forward.”

  “Did he touch you?”

  “He pushed the hair off my neck. I jerked back. Then he pulled my hair, forcing me closer.” She shuddered. “The barman was looking away. Everyone around me was laughing. I stomped on his foot.”

  “What did he look like? Did anything seem… off about his appearance?”

  She blinked, remembering something she’d left out of the report on purpose. “Off?”

  “Not natural?”

  Melanie’s breaths shortened. “The club was Goth. It was just… makeup and tricks.”

  “What was, Miss Bradshaw?”

  “His eyes. They were like an animal’s eyes.” She shivered. “You know, when they catch the light in the dark. They reflected. And his teeth. I hadn’t noticed how sharp they were when he first offered me the drink or I’d have turned him down flat. I’m not into weird.”

  “What about his teeth?”

  She blushed, knowing how crazy it all sounded, and wishing this wasn’t the conversation she was having with this very large, very attractive man. “They were sharp. Jagged. The incisors looked like fangs.”

  “Did he frighten you?” he asked softly.

  “Yes!” she blurted, feeling relief because he’d given her unspoken permission to voice it, to let it go. She shivered at the memory. “He wouldn’t release me. And he was getting closer.”

  “What happened then?”

  “A man stepped between us. Kinda cute, actually, but he bared his teeth. They were jagged too. He pushed the man away from me, raised a pointy stick and slammed it into his chest.”