Dance with the Devil

by Angela Dennis

  “How do you feel?” He traced a finger across her cheek, a smile playing on his lips.

  “Good, considering.” She stepped closer, the draw between them impossible to resist. “Thanks for everything. Let me get dressed, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

  He leaned closer, his breath hot against her lips. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  Suddenly uncertain, she took a step back. He took her hand and tugged her forward until she sank against him. “I’m not letting you leave until I know you’re okay.” His smile widened. “Maybe not even then.”

  She took a long swallow, sweat beading on her skin as she pushed him away. Inside the bottom drawer of the dresser, she found a white button-up dress shirt and a pair of boxers. Good enough. She pulled on the clothes, although she could feel his disapproval. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, but I really need to go.”

  “No.” In an instant he was beside her, and she was cradled in his arms.

  She pushed half-heartedly at his chest. “Put me down, Carrick.”

  He ignored her, gently pressing her onto the bed. His calloused fingers smoothed inside the collar of her shirt, sliding across her wounds. “They’re almost healed,” he murmured.

  Jillian met his gaze. The liquid heat in his eyes scorched her blood, pooling in her belly. “You know what I am.” Although it wasn’t a question, she desperately needed to hear his response.

  “I’ll admit you surprised me. I was told the last female black lion had been killed in the Pride wars.”

  She shook her head. “The rumors were slightly exaggerated.”

  He smiled. “Apparently.”

  “Most people consider me an abomination.” Especially her father, she continued silently. Despite his acceptance of the half-bloods, he’d never been able to stomach the fact that one of them had been gifted with such an elevated form, even his own daughter.

  “You should know by now I’m not most people.”

  She didn’t know how to respond, so she stood and adjusted her clothes. “I really do have to go. My friends are probably panicking, and you have to pack.” She glanced down at the boxers she wore. “Can I borrow some sweatpants?”

  “We need to talk about what happened,” he said, moving forward until his chest brushed her breasts. His breath tickled her forehead as he leaned into her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Unable to resist, she smoothed her hands over his thick forearms, over his biceps, and twined them around his neck. “I can’t let you leave,” he murmured. “Not yet.”

  “I’m not sure I’m in any condition to finish what we started.” She laid her head against his chest, savoring his scent. “Give me a few seconds.”

  He laughed, then bent down and scooped her into his arms. “As much as I want you, I’m more interested in why someone was trying to kill you. There’s no way I’m letting you out of my sight until I know you’re safe.”

  “Believe it or not, I can take care of myself.” He raised his brows, so she pushed at his chest. “You don’t know anything about me, Carrick. And you know what they say about assumptions.”

  “I’m not planning on being an ass. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He placed her on the bed and slid in beside her. “Tell me where home is, and I’ll take you there myself. I’m leaving in a few hours; I’ll drop you wherever you need to go.”

  “You can’t be serious. You’re a dominant, probably one strong enough to become Alpha. You step foot on my Pride’s land uninvited and the enforcers will tear you apart.”

  “They can try.” He shifted so his back was against the pillows, hands behind his head.

  “You’re a bartender, not a warrior. Don’t you think that’s pushing your luck?”

  He bristled, his body suddenly tense. “You have no idea what I am.”

  “You’re right. I barely know you.” She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. “And it’s too late for that now. After tonight, we’ll probably never see each other again.”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you walk out of here unprotected.” He sat up, then straddled her hips and placed his hands on either side of her head. “I’ve wanted you since the day I saw you. But I thought you were human. I couldn’t pursue you; it’s forbidden. That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to.” He leaned down and placed a light kiss on her forehead. “I care about you, Jillian. I’ve watched you over the years. You’re strong. You never let anything get you down, and you care for other people in a way I’ve never experienced. This isn’t just lust. If I didn’t have a sworn duty to my Pride, to my brother, I’d follow you home to see what this thing is between us. Enforcers or no enforcers.”

  For the first time in her life, she was speechless. She’d had no idea. Always admiring him from a distance, she’d thought the connection between them was all in her head. But no matter how distant he was, or how often he pushed her away, it had never disappeared. She wanted him with an intensity she had never understood. Yeah, he was gorgeous. But more than that, he was a good man. Over the years, she’d watched him make extra servings of evening meals to give to the homeless in the streets outside the bar. He’d been careful to do it when no one would notice, but she had. It had solidified his place in her heart.

  “We can’t be together,” she whispered. “It’s impossible. There are things you don’t know. Things I can’t explain.”

  “I know,” he replied. “But we have the next few hours, and I want to keep you here with me, safe.” When he kissed her, the world fell away. All that remained was his mouth fused with hers. He was insatiable, and her body and mind exploded with need. He lifted the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head, then cupped her breasts in his hands. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his breath hot against her as he ran his tongue across one taut nipple. Blinded by need, she wrapped her arms around his back to pull him closer. Foreplay be damned. She wanted him inside her. He took her mouth, hot and fierce, and she savored his taste as his free hand slid down her flat belly to tangle in the damp curls between her legs. She cried out when he slipped a finger inside her body, bucking beneath his touch. She tried to push him away, to sit up and wrap her legs around him, but he pressed her against the mattress with his body and buried himself inside her. She writhed against him as he sank deeper.

  He stopped and lifted his head, his questioning gaze locked on her.

  “Don’t stop,” she said brokenly. She clung to him, wrapping her legs around his hips, pushing him deeper.

  When he began to move, the friction was exquisite, dancing between pleasure and pain. Pressure built within her body until her skin was so sensitive that the slightest touch made her cry out. She reveled in the sensations, giving herself over to Carrick. Even in her wildest imaginings she hadn’t believed it could be like this. They shattered together, riding a roller coaster of pleasure until they collapsed into the afterglow.

  Jillian pressed an arm across her eyes to block out the sun. They had been sleeping for at least an hour, and thirst had finally forced her awake. Her throat felt like the Sahara. She swung her legs off the bed, feeling the telltale soreness from her injuries.

  “What’s wrong?” Carrick asked, his voice thick with sleep. He rolled toward her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her against him.

  “Nothing. I’m just thirsty.” She stood and pulled on his shirt and discarded sweatpants, then grabbed her phone to check her messages. “I’m going to get a drink of water.”

  He started to sit up. “I’ll get it.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” She pushed him back down. “I’m really stiff. I need to move around. Just point me to the kitchen.”

  With a sigh, he relented. “Take a right and follow the hallway.”

  She watched him for a moment, memorizing the sight of him. He lay strewn across the sheet, the shadow of a beard dancing across his jawline. When she saw the angry scratches running across the hard planes of his chest, she smiled, loving that he wore her marks. She wanted to
join him and scratch him again. Instead, she forced herself to step through the bedroom door.

  She padded barefoot down the drafty hallway, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth. The house was as sparse as the bedroom. It had clean lines, minimal furniture and very little decoration. A reflection of the man himself, it was sharp, to the point and no nonsense.

  She rifled through the kitchen cabinets on her tiptoes, found a glass and filled it with water from the tap before moving into the living room. Drawn to the fireplace, she let her fingers trail across the wooden mantel as she drank. Three pictures stared back at her. She picked up the first to get a better look, and wished she hadn’t. Encased in a hand-carved wooden frame with the word ‘Brother’ etched across it was a picture of a much younger Carrick. He stood with his arm around a shifter she immediately recognized. It was Lucas, the son of the man who had destroyed her Pride. The picture fell from her hand, landing facedown on the mantle.

  Once upon a time, so long ago she barely remembered, she and Lucas had belonged to the same Pride. Her father, Reginald, had been their leader. Then she had been born, the product of one of the most powerful pure-blood lions ever born and an even more powerful witch. Lucas’s father, Anthony, had deemed her dangerous to the Pride from birth, convinced she would be a powerful threat to the pure-bloods. Rumor had it he had tried to kill her in her crib. His hatred of half-bloods, lions born of a pure-blood shifter and another species, was legendary.

  A powerful dominant in his own right, Anthony had been determined to usurp Reginald and purify the Pride. The Pride had splintered. Some were horrified by Anthony’s hatred; others applauded it. Then her mother had died, killed by one of Anthony’s men. The resulting feud had nearly decimated both sides. The Conclave stepped in, splitting the Pride and naming two Alphas.

  The two Prides still shared space on the same island, one full of pure-bloods and the other a mix of both pure-bloods and half-bloods, fighting a battle that would never end.

  She didn’t remember much about those early times. But she knew Anthony had two sons. One, Lucas, had been groomed from birth to take over as Alpha. The other had disappeared when he was barely a teenager and had never been seen again.

  It was crazy. She had to be wrong. No way had she traveled miles from home only to end up intimately connected to one of Anthony’s sons. The odds were incredible. But could she take that risk? There was a price on her head. A big one. If she was right, and Carrick found out who she was, she might never make it back home. What if he already knew, and all this was a guise to make her trust him?

  She didn’t have a choice. She had to get the hell out of here.

  In a daze, she walked into the hall, pulled open the closet and dug through the contents, pulling on the first coat she found. Thankfully, she found a pair of slippers as well.

  Her heart was pounding as she stepped onto the concrete landing. Her pace was brisk, and she didn’t stop until she was out of sight, not wanting to take the chance he might see her from the window. If he pursued her, she would be forced to face the truth. And she couldn’t, not after what they had shared.

  After a few minutes, out of breath, body sore and aching, she leaned against a wrought-iron fence and took in her surroundings for the first time. It didn’t take long to place the posh suburb. She took a deep breath, pulled out her cell phone and called Gareth. He was her best friend from home, and she’d called him as soon as she’d felt the summoning. He was coming to escort her back to the Pride in a show of support. With any luck, he wasn’t far away. They were best friends. He wouldn’t judge. Well, he would, but he’d couch it in support. That’s what friends did.

  When he answered, she relaxed. “Where are you?” she asked.

  “I’m at your house. Where the hell are you?”

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I got caught up,” she said, then rattled out directions. “Can you come get me?”

  “Ten minutes. Don’t move.”

  She stared at the phone for several moments after he ended the call, knowing she would never hear the end of it. True to his word, ten minutes later a black sports car glided to a stop in front of her. She opened the door and jumped inside. As he pulled away from the curb, she leaned forward to adjust the vents. Hot air pounded her frozen body.

  “I’ll give you one thing, Jillie.” Gareth shifted in his seat, his blond hair brushing his shoulders as he slapped his hand against the steering wheel. “You’re never boring. The first time I’ve seen you in three years, and you’re half-frozen, dressed in someone else’s clothes and reek of sex.” He raised a blond brow. “I’m sure Daddy will be proud.”

  It was a low blow, and she felt it.

  “Nice.” She glared at him. “You’re supposed to be my friend.”

  “I am your friend. That’s why I’m here.” He pulled the car in front of her apartment and turned to face her, concern in his blue eyes. “What have you gotten yourself into this time?” He leaned forward, cupping her face in his hand. “You scared the hell out of me when you disappeared. You could have at least told us where you were. Until you called last week, we all thought you were dead.”

  Guilt tangled with pain as she looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry, Gareth. But I had to do it. You of all people should understand.”

  He released her with a shake of his head. “We love you, Jillie. You could have told us.”

  “No, I couldn’t. If my father found out you knew about any of this, he would kill you. I couldn’t risk it.” She reached across the seat to kiss his cheek. “I love you too, Gareth. I hope eventually you’ll forgive me.”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’ve got your back. I always have, regardless. You know that.”

  A sob caught in her throat, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You’ll never know how much that means. Give me a few hours to process everything, then we’ll talk. No secrets.”

  “Agreed,” he said, but his smile was strained.

  Unable to deal with the swell of emotions, she stepped onto the pavement. She was halfway to the front door when she turned back. “Thank you,” she said through the half-open car window. Gareth nodded, then started the car and pulled onto the street.

  She turned back to the apartment, not stopping until she was locked inside her bedroom. She’d left Gareth a key under the mat the night before, so he wouldn’t have an issue getting inside when he returned. Walking toward the bed, she stripped off Carrick’s clothes, letting them lie where they fell. Naked, she walked into the adjoining bathroom and flipped on the shower, turning the knob until the temperature was so hot that steam danced across the room. She stepped beneath the scalding water and let it stream down her aching body. Then she finally allowed herself to remember. As the water washed away Carrick’s scent, her safeguards crashed. She slid down the shower wall, collapsing in the ceramic tub, and let the water wash away her tears.

  Chapter Three

  An hour later, Jillian had pulled herself together enough to pack. She slammed her bright red suitcase on top of her mattress, and the metal bed frame moaned in distress. What few clothes she had lay on the bed. The money she’d made at the bar went straight to food and shelter; there was little left for much else. She pulled the remainder of her wardrobe from the wire hangers, stuffed it in her luggage and slammed the lid shut. She had to get out of here before Carrick cooled off and came searching.

  The clothes she had worn home lay on the floor near the bathroom. She couldn’t make herself get rid of them. It was stupid, but every time she tried to throw them away something held her back. She wasn’t ready to sever that final tie. Carrick’s scent was still strong on the material. It permeated the room, teasing her senses and taunting her cat. They both wanted Carrick, badly. But she was no Juliet, and Carrick deserved better than to play Romeo. She knew what her Pride was like, and she cared too much about him to subject him to them.

  She
had been mocked and tormented all her life, even after the Pride’s split. The others had teased her because her dark hair and violet eyes made her different. She’d dyed her hair blonde and bought colored contacts so she would fit in, but it hadn’t mattered. When her beast had emerged, they had still called her a freak and tried to kill her.

  Power meant everything in the Pride. As a rare black lion and apparent submissive, she’d been a target, but the teasing and abuse had only made her stronger. As it escalated, she had been forced to defend herself by embracing her beast. Her repressed dominant nature had taken root.

  If they touched her now, she’d tear them apart.

  She tossed the remainder of her shoes into the duffel bag at her feet, then zipped it closed, wondering for the millionth time if returning was the right thing to do. She was powerful enough to resist the Shaman’s siren call. But she couldn’t abandon her two best friends, Gareth and Abbey. They had stood by her side through hell and back. It was time she returned the favor. This was their first Claiming. There was no way she was letting them go through it alone.

  “Damn. You’re still a neat freak.”

  Jillian straightened, wiping away some stray tears. “Some things never change,” she said as she turned.

  Gareth stood inside the doorway. His muscular body nearly filled the small space. He had pulled his golden hair into a tight ponytail, highlighting the sharp angles of his face.

  He walked the distance between them, taking her arms in his hands. “If you’re not ready, we don’t have to leave.”

  Their gazes locked, and the distance between them faded. With a shaky breath, she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his hard chest. He smelled of wood smoke and bourbon. Home sweet home. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her in the silence.

  “I missed you,” she murmured. “Without you, I do stupid crap.”

  He tensed. “Like what?”