hovered beneath the sweeping brown moss from the live oaks. A coyote howled from the ridge, then the shadow suddenly disappeared as if it had vanished into thin air.
Marlena pressed her fingers to her temple. Was she imagining things, or had someone been in the woods watching her?
The sound of a siren rent the air, and she heaved a breath of relief at the sight of Dante’s SUV screeching to a stop behind her car.
His thick, wavy black hair brushed his shoulders and the wind tossed it around his face when he climbed out. His walk was powerful, intimidating, his scowl deep and harsh.
He withdrew his weapon and strode toward her car, his intense brown eyes scanning the perimeter as he approached, his shoulders rigid as if braced for an attack. With one finger, he motioned for her to roll down the window and she complied.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded, feeling safer now he’d arrived, just as she had as a child. She remembered how easily he’d picked her up and run with her. How she’d burrowed against his chest and he’d hidden her face so she hadn’t been forced to look at the people who’d killed her family.
He cocked his head to the side. “Stay here and keep the doors locked. I’ll search the house and perimeter.”
Nerves clawed at her as he strode toward the porch and inched his way inside.
Senses honed, Dante sniffed the acrid scent of another demon as he entered Marlena’s house. A sulfuric odor permeated the air, and an odd tingling ripped through him as if someone was watching them.
A demon? A spirit?
Papers had been tossed onto the floor in front of the oak desk, the drawers open as if someone had been searching for something.
Bracing his gun at the ready, he sized up the space. A mystical sense hovered in the corners of the old house, and the floor creaked as he walked through the downstairs, searching the rooms. With a trained eye, he quickly noted the homey furnishings that he’d barely noticed the night he’d brought Marlena home—the antique armoire holding the TV, pine kitchen table with fresh flowers in a blue vase, crisp white cabinets—then inched upstairs to the bedrooms.
First to Marlena’s room where a four-poster bed draped with a white lace canopy dominated the space. The white curtains flapped from the heat vent working to warm the old house. Heat speared him, and his cock hardened as an unbidden image of Marlena naked and sprawled on that bed flashed in his head, but he quickly banished it.
Being with Marlena could place her in danger.
Besides, she would hate him if she knew the truth about what he was.
The adjacent bathroom held blue and white towels and a shower and antique clawfoot tub. ‘But both rooms were empty and seemed undisturbed.
He paused to listen for sounds from the other room, but only the whistling wind and creak of the furnace filled the air. He stepped back into the hallway, then inched to the room on the opposite side, a guest room with floral wallpaper that must have been Marlena’s room as a child. Stuffed animals lined a white wicker bookcase, and a teddy bear with gauze wrapped around its leg sat on the bed.
Marlena must have played doctor as a child. As he descended the stairs, he noticed some of the papers on the floor were actually childhood drawings Marlena had made—drawings of the monsters she’d seen that day.
Ugly grotesque red and black creatures that spat fire and dripped blood from their jagged teeth and warped mouths. Creatures that stood over a woman and child and tore their hearts out with fierce claws, then drank their blood as if it was water.
The guilt that had haunted him for twenty years assaulted him like a fist in his gut.
Guilt he’d never expected to feel in his first years with Father Gio. Guilt he’d been taught to suppress.
The kind of guilt that made a man human, not a monster.
But he was both.
Remembering Marlena was waiting in her car, be jogged down the steps, praying those monsters hadn’t
Marlena pressed her fingers to her temple. Was she imagining things, or had someone been in the woods watching her?
The sound of a siren rent the air, and she heaved a breath of relief at the sight of Dante’s SUV screeching to a stop behind her car.
His thick, wavy black hair brushed his shoulders and the wind tossed it around his face when he climbed out. His walk was powerful, intimidating, his scowl deep and harsh.
He withdrew his weapon and strode toward her car, his intense brown eyes scanning the perimeter as he approached, his shoulders rigid as if braced for an attack. With one finger, he motioned for her to roll down the window and she complied.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded, feeling safer now he’d arrived, just as she had as a child. She remembered how easily he’d picked her up and run with her. How she’d burrowed against his chest and he’d hidden her face so she hadn’t been forced to look at the people who’d killed her family.
He cocked his head to the side. “Stay here and keep the doors locked. I’ll search the house and perimeter.”
Nerves clawed at her as he strode toward the porch and inched his way inside.
Senses honed, Dante sniffed the acrid scent of another demon as he entered Marlena’s house. A sulfuric odor permeated the air, and an odd tingling ripped through him as if someone was watching them.
A demon? A spirit?
Papers had been tossed onto the floor in front of the oak desk, the drawers open as if someone had been searching for something.
Bracing his gun at the ready, he sized up the space. A mystical sense hovered in the corners of the old house, and the floor creaked as he walked through the downstairs, searching the rooms. With a trained eye, he quickly noted the homey furnishings that he’d barely noticed the night he’d brought Marlena home—the antique armoire holding the TV, pine kitchen table with fresh flowers in a blue vase, crisp white cabinets—then inched upstairs to the bedrooms.
First to Marlena’s room where a four-poster bed draped with a white lace canopy dominated the space. The white curtains flapped from the heat vent working to warm the old house. Heat speared him, and his cock hardened as an unbidden image of Marlena naked and sprawled on that bed flashed in his head, but he quickly banished it.
Being with Marlena could place her in danger.
Besides, she would hate him if she knew the truth about what he was.
The adjacent bathroom held blue and white towels and a shower and antique clawfoot tub. ‘But both rooms were empty and seemed undisturbed.
He paused to listen for sounds from the other room, but only the whistling wind and creak of the furnace filled the air. He stepped back into the hallway, then inched to the room on the opposite side, a guest room with floral wallpaper that must have been Marlena’s room as a child. Stuffed animals lined a white wicker bookcase, and a teddy bear with gauze wrapped around its leg sat on the bed.
Marlena must have played doctor as a child. As he descended the stairs, he noticed some of the papers on the floor were actually childhood drawings Marlena had made—drawings of the monsters she’d seen that day.
Ugly grotesque red and black creatures that spat fire and dripped blood from their jagged teeth and warped mouths. Creatures that stood over a woman and child and tore their hearts out with fierce claws, then drank their blood as if it was water.
The guilt that had haunted him for twenty years assaulted him like a fist in his gut.
Guilt he’d never expected to feel in his first years with Father Gio. Guilt he’d been taught to suppress.
The kind of guilt that made a man human, not a monster.
But he was both.
Remembering Marlena was waiting in her car, be jogged down the steps, praying those monsters hadn’t
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