Taken by Sin

CHAPTER TWELVE

Isabelle had found peace. A tenuous peace, anyway. Last night she’d slept in Dalton’s arms, and the dreams had stayed away. If she’d known all it was going to take to keep the demons of her nightmares away was sleeping with Dalton, she’d have done that a long time ago.

This morning was the first time she hadn’t woken in a haze, or with the remnants of her nightmares still with her. She’d woken with a gorgeous, sexy man slumbering next to her. Her body cradled against his, her butt nestled up against him, had been the most pleasant wake-up call, especially since Dalton woke up hard.

Morning sex was an amazing thing. Warm, half asleep, he’d roused her to full wakefulness by sliding inside her, stroking her breasts with one hand and her sex with the other until she cried out and arched against him in an amazing orgasm. They’d showered together afterward, had breakfast, then Dalton said he wanted to work with her out back on weapons and strength training.

All in all, it had been a damn fine day so far, even if Dalton was a bit quiet.

Men. Who could figure them out. She was happy and she wasn’t about to start questioning every little thing. They worked companionably together, Dalton teaching her some basic moves. She was lithe and learned quickly. It wasn’t like he intended to drop-kick her across the yard, so she came at him head-on, kicking like he taught her, though she couldn’t imagine coming that close to a demon, or what possible use any martial arts training would be on a demon. But Dalton explained it had more to do with honing her physical and mental reaction skills. He didn’t expect her to fight a demon one-on-one.

After they’d worked themselves into a decent sweat doing the physical stuff, they took a break, had a drink, and Dalton brought out the weapons. Lasers, sonic guns, rifles, swords-amazing things, from the ancient to the high-tech. She was riveted while he explained how everything worked.

The day wasn’t even as hot. After the storm the night before last, the heat had lifted. Of course it was still hot as blazes, but not as humid, and there was even a breeze. Every little bit helped. She felt so much lighter now. Was it the weather or something else? She decided it was the weather. After the hellacious heat they’d battled the past few days, this weather seemed like fall and it made her happy.

But really, it was probably the sex. Isabelle smiled.

“You make me nervous when you smile at the weapons.”

Her gaze lifted to his and her smile widened. “Actually I was thinking about sex.”

“Oh. In that case, keep smiling.” He winked.

She laughed and he held out one of the lasers to her. “You have to be careful with these.”

Her eyes widened. “It’s loaded?”

“Yes. And the trigger is an easy pull. It doesn’t take much to set it off. But I want you to get a feel for it because it’s heavy and bulky.”

He laid the rifle in her hands. He was right. It was heavy. She lifted it and, as Dalton showed her, she laid the butt against her shoulder and aimed for the trees at the back of the yard.

Shoot him.

She stilled, blinked, turned to Dalton. “Did you say something?”

“No.”

She shook her head.

Kill him.

She closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness swept over her, a blanket of evil wrapping itself around her. It was like darkness cloaking her, touching her, fingers caressing her hand, willing her to do something she didn’t want to do.

Pull the trigger. Kill him.

“No. I won’t.”

Dalton was right there in front of her. She wanted to scream at him to get out of the way, but her voice wouldn’t work.

He’s going to hurt you. Kill him before he can.

She refused to listen to Tase’s voice. He was behind her. She could feel him, his presence so real she felt the heat coming off him. She shook her head, the tears in her eyes blinding her. She lifted the barrel of the laser, pivoted and pulled the trigger.

“Leave me alone, damn you.”

A blue stream shot from the barrel of the rifle.

And right into Dalton.

No. No. That couldn’t be. Dalton had been on the other side of her.

Dalton fell to the ground and Isabelle dropped the rifle.

Oh, God, what had she done?

She heard Tase’s laughter in her ears, wanted to cover them to drown out the sound of his evil.

That’s my girl.

No. She hadn’t done this, had she?

But she had.

“Dalton!”

She smelled burning flesh and nausea rose into her throat. She forced it down, dropped to her knees in front of him. His eyes were closed, his shirt torn, a large dark hole in his stomach where she’d-

She’d shot him. With a laser. Dear God, he was dead. He had to be dead. No one could survive that. She looked for blood but there was nothing but a deep, dark hole in the middle of his stomach.

Frantic, her hands shaking, she touched two fingers to the side of his neck.

A pulse! She felt a pulse! Weak, but it was there.

She had to get help. She swept her hand over his forehead.

He looked so pale.

“I’m going to get help, Dalton. I’ll be right back.”

Don’t die. Please don’t die.

She didn’t want to leave him there alone, afraid he’d die while she was gone. But she knew she couldn’t help him. She pushed off the ground and sprinted to the main house so fast her lungs burned by the time she flew through the front door. Georgie must have known from the look on Isabelle’s face that something was wrong. She grabbed a tapestry bag from the kitchen counter. “Don’t talk. Let’s go.”

Fueled by panic and concern for Dalton, Isabelle nodded and they ran down the path back to the cabin. She was certain she was going to find Dalton already dead by the time they returned.

She’d shot him. How could she have done that?

Don’t think about that now. Save him. Don’t let him die.

She should have told Georgie to call 911. Dalton needed an ambulance, not a voodoo priestess with a carpetbag. Where were her brains?

She flew through the house and out the back door, skidding to a halt when she saw him.

Dalton not only wasn’t dead, he was sitting up.

She dropped to her feet next to him. “You need to lie down.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not fine.” She reached for his middle, but he grasped her wrist.

“I said I was fine.”

“Let me.” Georgie moved in and Isabelle stood.

“I’m okay, really.”

“What happened here?” Georgie asked.

“I shot him. With a laser.”

Georgie lifted her gaze to Isabelle, then back at Dalton.

“It was an accident,” Isabelle added. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” Dalton said, his voice calm and even. “I’m going to be fine.”

Georgie turned to her. “I’m going to bring him in the house. Go grab a pot and boil me some water.”

Isabelle nodded and ran inside to start filling the pot with water, the whole time lifting up on her toes to peer out the window to see what Georgie was doing. She had Dalton on his feet and was helping him to the door. Isabelle ran to open it. They came inside, and she was heading toward the bedroom when she noticed they weren’t following.

“In the kitchen is fine,” Georgie said.

She didn’t understand this. The wound was the size of both her hands. He should be in the hospital having major surgery, not sitting at the kitchen table.

By the time Isabelle had dragged the pot out of the bottom cupboard, washed and rinsed it and filled it with water, then set it on the stove, Georgie had removed Dalton’s shirt and was inspecting the wound.

“I need more light, Isabelle. Can you find me a lamp?”

“Sure.” The kitchen only had an overhead light, so Isabelle pulled the lamp from the living room and set it on the table, plugging it into one of the floor outlets in the kitchen. Georgie was bent close over Dalton. Dalton was watching Isabelle. He actually looked pretty good, all things considered. He should have been in shock, and pale, but he looked dark. Tan. Normal. Completely different from how he’d looked before she’d run up to get Georgie.

The water was boiling, so Isabelle took the cloths Georgie gave her and soaked them, pulled them out with tongs, and set them on the clean cutting board to cool a bit before handing them to Georgie.

“This isn’t bad at all,” Georgie said after washing Dalton’s stomach.

“Are you serious? That hole was huge. It was a laser blast and he was only a foot away from me, Georgie. I had to have hit major organs.”

Georgie looked up at her. “No, Isabelle. It’s not that bad.”

Georgie stood and went to the sink to wash her hands. Isabelle leaned over the table, then frowned as she examined the hole.

There … was no hole. It was closed, a small puckered wound the only evidence of what she’d done.

“You don’t even need stitches,” Georgie said to Dalton with a satisfied smile, then handed Isabelle a tube. “Keep it clean, put this antibiotic cream on it to ward infection away.”

Still puzzled, Isabelle nodded, then lifted her gaze to Georgie. “I don’t understand. It was much worse. Did you-”

Georgie laid her hand on Isabelle’s arm. “No, chère. I didn’t.” Georgie looked over at Dalton.

Isabelle shook her head. She didn’t understand this. Not at all.

Georgie gathered up her supplies and left, but before she did Isabelle saw the frown Georgie had cast at Dalton.

Throughout it all, Dalton had stayed quiet. After Isabelle saw Georgie to the door, she walked back into the kitchen and pulled up a chair across the table from Dalton. Less than an hour ago she’d blown a hole the size of both her hands in his stomach. Dalton had looked near death.

Now, the hole was closed and he looked plenty healthy.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

He shrugged. “I heal fast. I told you I was going to be okay.”

She cocked a brow. “You must think I’m really stupid.”

“No, Isabelle. I don’t think you’re stupid at all.”

“Then do you want to tell me what happened out there?”

He reached for her hand. “Maybe you should tell me what happened.”

Okay, fine. They’d go there first. She owed him that, since she was the one who’d shot him. But then she wanted answers. “I don’t know. I had the rifle in my hands. Then I heard Tase’s voice. He told me to shoot you.”

Dalton leaned back in the chair. “So you did?”

“No! I fought it off.”

“Fought what off?”

“Him. The urges. His influence.”

“What influence?”

She inhaled, sighed. “It’s hard to explain unless you’re the one feeling it. But I’ll try. It’s like he crawled inside my head and became part of me.”

“Like he was controlling you?”

“Sort of. He kept talking to me, telling me to shoot you, to kill you. That I shouldn’t trust you, that you were going to hurt me.”

Dalton frowned. “Then what happened?”

“I saw you step in front of me, right in front of the barrel of the rifle. And I heard Tase’s voice behind me. I was so frustrated and so afraid I wanted to make him go away. So I turned around and fired. I thought I was aiming the laser at him.”

“I was behind you.”

She looked down at her hands, then swept her gaze back up to him. “I know that now. I didn’t then. I saw you in front of me, not behind me.”

“He manipulated you.”

“I know.”

“Tase wasn’t really there. I didn’t see him.”

“He’s in my head.”

“And he’s making you see things. He’s messing with your mind.”

“I guess I’m not getting stronger. I’m getting weaker.” Defeat hung like a weight around her neck, making it hard to breathe. She was beginning to think she wasn’t going to win this battle.

“He’s a strong demon, Isabelle. He’s hard to fight.”

“And I’m not powerful enough.”

“Between the two of us, we are.”

“How can you say that? Look what he just did to me, what he made me do, how easily I fell under his spell. And he’s not even here. What happens when he finds us, Dalton? It’ll be just like Sicily all over again. He’ll make me his.” She stood and turned away, paced, her mind awash in things she didn’t want to think about, but could no longer deny.

Dalton came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “I won’t let that happen.”

She pulled away and turned to him. “Oh, really. And how are you going to stop him? Tase is a demon, Dalton. So am I. You’re only a human.” She paused and stared at him.

“Or-are you human? Does a human recover from an injury like what you suffered today?” She reached out, traced her fingers along his stomach, where there was barely a visible scar now. “Even as we’ve been talking you’ve healed further. In another hour you won’t even be able to see that wound.” He didn’t respond.

“Dalton. No one heals like that. I thought you were going to die.”

He tilted his head and gave her a disbelieving look. “I think maybe you panicked. It wasn’t that bad.”

If there was one thing she hated, it was being patronized. “You had a huge hole in your middle. I could see inside it. You should have been unconscious. You needed major surgery.”

“But as you can see, I’m fine.”

“Yes, I see. It isn’t right.”

He smiled. “You don’t want me to be fine?”

She pushed at him, fury and frustration making her entire body vibrate. “Goddammit! There’s something not right about this and you know what I’m talking about. You almost died out there, Dalton! I saw it, you know what happened. My heart nearly stopped when I saw how deep that wound was. I’m not delusional. So don’t blow smoke up my ass and tell me I didn’t see what I did. I know what I saw then and what I see now. Nobody heals this fast. Nobody. Now explain it to me and quit treating me like I’m some simpleminded idiot that you can divert with pretty clouds and ridiculous explanations.”

He looked at her, silent for a few moments before saying, “I can’t.”

She rested her hip against the counter and crossed her arms. “Bullshit. You mean you don’t want to.”

At least he had the good sense not to answer her. She was right.

“How the hell can you heal so fast, Dalton? And don’t tell me it was Georgie’s magic. She already said it wasn’t her.”

Dalton sat down and leaned back in the chair and tapped his fingers against the tabletop. Now he wouldn’t look at her.

“Trying to come up with a plausible explanation?”

He continued to look away from her.

“You won’t tell me, will you?”

He dragged his fingers through his hair. “Isabelle, I can’t. This is complicated.”

“All this bullshit about you wanting me to trust you. But you can’t trust me with your secrets. And it must be some powerful secret for you to be able to recover like that.” She pivoted and walked out of the room.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“You can’t go out there by yourself.”

“Watch me.”

“I’ll go with you.”

She was out the door, slamming it behind her before he could finish the sentence. And then she ran, needing distance between them.

She didn’t go up to the main house; instead, she deviated halfway and headed toward the dock. Dusk cast a gray cloak over the orange ball as it sank into the water. She sat on the old dock, feeling it sway under her body as she found a spot and watched the water undulate the boats anchored there.

Thankfully, he didn’t follow.

But it was quiet here and she had time to clear her head and think about Dalton and what had happened. She felt safe here, no warning signals blaring in her head that she was in any kind of danger. And thankfully, no voices.

It was dark. Fireflies danced around her, over the water, flitting in and around the trees on the other side of the lake. Carefree, they twirled around and up into the sky, then zoomed back toward land again, their yellow blinkers lighting the way like a beacon in the night.

She could use a beacon because she felt like she was fumbling in the dark, when instead she wanted clarity, to be able to fly around without a care or a thought other than the breeze blowing through her hair.

Sadly, unlike the fireflies, she was grounded, her mind muddled with thoughts of Dalton. She was beginning to wonder exactly what kind of man he was. First that strange glow surrounding him when they made love, and now the almost Superman healing ability. Who was her supposed savior, anyway?

She’d followed him blindly because he’d saved her life in Sicily. But what did she really know about him? And what were his motives in sparing her? What was in it for him?

And what was happening to her? Tase seemed to be gaining a foothold in her mind more and more. She wanted to be strong, yet she felt like she was weakening. She didn’t want to be weak. She didn’t want to give in and become one of the demons again. She’d rather die.

She felt more isolated than ever, and no one here would give her answers. She massaged her temples, wishing she could talk to Angelique. She missed her sister. Angie would know what to say to make her feel better. She’d help her reason this out, and maybe come up with some logical explanations for what was going on here.

Then again, nothing had been logical in her life since she found out she was part demon. Why should this situation be any different? She already felt like an alien in this foreign body. Why not add a glowing, self-healing lover to the mix?

She sighed and stared across the water, realizing the fireflies weren’t going to give her any answers. She was tired. But she couldn’t face Dalton.

He didn’t trust her. And now, after all this time, she no longer trusted him, either. He had a secret. A big one. And he refused to tell her what it was.

So where did that leave them? Where did that leave her?

Alone, as usual. Right back where she’d started.

Kill him.

She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to acknowledge that voice. She was stronger than the specter trying to invade her mind.

You shouldn’t trust him. You have to kill him before he kills you.

How long before Tase succeeded in making her do just that? She’d almost killed Dalton today. Maybe next time Dalton wouldn’t be so lucky.

She might not trust him, but she cared about him, would never want to hurt him. He’d saved her life in Italy, and maybe she didn’t know why, but she owed him for that.

She had to get away from here, away from Dalton, where she couldn’t hurt him or anyone else.

She stood and headed down the walkway, careful to keep her gaze on the house. Dalton hadn’t come out, but he might any minute. Once she moved past the house she ran like hell, figuring it was only a matter of time before he’d come looking for her and not be able to find her.

He’d come after her. She didn’t want to be found. It wasn’t safe for Dalton with her there. Not after what she’d done today. Things were out of her control, more so now than ever before. The demon in her was coming out, growing stronger, and it was dangerous.

She headed toward the swamp and the thick trees, hoping they would swallow her up. She pushed hard, running until her chest ached from the effort, until she was forced to slow, lean forward, and rest her hands above her knees to catch her breath.

She had no idea where she was, and didn’t care. It was so dark outside she felt enveloped by it, yet found it strangely comforting; she was no longer frightened or appalled by the smells and sounds of the swamp. Maybe the demon side of her was growing, coming out, and that’s why she didn’t mind being here in the murky woods.

This place seemed suitable for a demon. It was dark, it was depressing, and it smelled bad.

Honestly, she didn’t care, as long as wherever she ended up was away from Dalton.

She kept walking, heading deeper into the swamp. Wetness seeped into her shoes, and walking became more difficult as she stalked through the thick mud. She had no flashlight, no idea where she was going. After a while she realized she’d become hopelessly lost, and she didn’t mind. Not this time. Not anymore. She was sick to her stomach. She found a thick fallen trunk and sat on it, figuring she was far enough into the woods now that maybe Dalton wouldn’t find her. And she’d hear him if he came for her. She could run then. She’d have to.

She’d never hurt Dalton. The human part of her, anyway.

The demon? Now that part of her she didn’t know at all. And it was obviously the demon that had taken over while she held that rifle. That was the side of her that Tase could so easily manipulate. But how could she let that happen? Why couldn’t she tell the difference between what was real and what wasn’t?

How could she make herself stronger so she could fight it?

What would have happened had Dalton not been able to heal so well?

She knew the answer to that. He’d be dead. And the demon would be in control now. The Isabelle she knew-the only part of herself she really understood-would be gone.

Tears filled her eyes and she used her hands to wipe them away. She had no right to feel sorry for herself. This wasn’t about her. This was about what she was capable of doing, if not now, then eventually.

Dalton shouldn’t have saved her back in Italy. He should have destroyed her like he’d been ordered to do. The Realm of Light was smart about those things. They knew.

She wasn’t worth saving. Good God, there were children back there at the main house. What if she’d succeeded in killing Dalton? Would she have marched up there, laser rifle in hand, and done the same to Georgie, to the men, women, and children up there?

Tase would like that. Destroying the innocent. She’d have been damned for sure. That was what frightened her the most. She knew she could do that. Deep down in the most secret, horrible part of herself that she never wanted to face, but knew existed, she knew that she could kill, that she could take someone’s life without hesitation.

And a part of her would enjoy it.

She clutched her head. “That’s sick. So, so sick. What’s wrong with me?” She tilted her head back and stared up at the low hanging cypress limbs, the mosslike tendrils of fingers reaching out to her. She wished they would take her away, drown her in the swamp.

“Dalton, why did you save me? Why would you do this to me?”

“Because I thought you were worth saving.”

She hadn’t even heard him. In this place filled with heavy roots, sticky muck, mud and water, no one should be able to get to her without her hearing them.

But Dalton had. And she wasn’t at all surprised. She sighed, drew her knees up to her chest and laid her forehead on them.

Defeat settled over her like a heavy weight. She’d tried so hard to put distance between them, and even in that she’d failed. She couldn’t even manage successfully to be noble.

“Go away, Dalton. Leave me alone.”

He was behind her, probably about twenty-five feet or so from the sound of his voice. “The last thing you need right now is to be alone. What the hell were you thinking, coming out this far by yourself? Do you even have a flashlight?”

“No. Do you?”

“No. But I know the area.”

“And I don’t care.”

“Let’s go back.”

“No.” She lifted her head, peered ahead to see if she could figure out where she could run.

“Nowhere.”

“What?”

“There’s no place you can go that I couldn’t find you. Don’t even try it.”

He was so smug about it, too. She’d just bet right now he was smiling, certain he’d won this battle. That a little reassurance and she’d be placated and ready to go back with him. Well, he was wrong. This time he wasn’t going to win. She wasn’t going back to endanger him and the rest of the people he held dear. She planted her feet and launched upright, shooting forward at a dead run. She didn’t even bother to look back because she knew Dalton would be right on her heels. She flew across the water, hoping like hell it would continue to be only ankle deep, because she had no idea how to gauge its depth in this midnight dark bayou. She cleared her mind and focused on pushing one foot in front of the other, keeping her gaze on what was in front of her.

Don’t think. Don’t panic. Don’t feel.

She wasn’t prepared to be tackled and flung forward into the mud and water. She’d thought she was outrunning him-until his arms wrapped around her waist and they both went down.

She came up furious, kicking and scratching, tearing at him with all the fury she’d held inside. She was angry. Angry at her fate, because she couldn’t eliminate this blood of evil inside her, angry at Dalton because he hadn’t killed her when he should have. And angry at herself, because despite it all, she still cared enough to want to live, to want everything fixed, to want to throw her arms around Dalton and beg him to make it all right.

Dalton bore the brunt of Isabelle’s attack, knowing she was striking out mainly in fear. He’d seen that fear today when she thought she’d hurt him. He knew it wasn’t the human Isabelle who had fired that laser. She’d been manipulated. The human Isabelle had hesitated. The demon in her could have easily taken Tase’s suggestion and fired. She didn’t. Tase had to alter the game a bit so Isabelle shot him. Which meant she was fighting the demon inside her, and she was winning. Why couldn’t she see that? Why did she run? He didn’t want her to hurt herself, and she couldn’t hurt him. Not like this. Now it was the human Isabelle attacking him, and he knew she had to let off some steam.

After several minutes of kicking and scratching, she began to wear down. He let her go at him for as long as it took. He knew what this was like-this pain, fear, and confusion, not knowing who or what you were or whether you could control your impulses.

Been there, done that.

He finally turned her around and pulled her back against his chest, crouching down so she could catch her breath. With his free hand he pulled her hair away from her face. She was dragging in air, shallow and fast.

“Slow down, Isabelle.”

“I feel sick,” she said, her voice hoarse as she wheezed in and out.

“You’re breathing too fast. You need to bring it down.” He breathed with her, loud enough so she could hear his rhythm. She sucked in air, then blew it out, taking it down a notch, trying to match him. “That’s it. In and out, slow and easy.”

When he had her calmed, he stood and lifted her out of the mud and carried her to the bank, then sat and placed her on his lap. She laid her head against his chest, her palm there, too. He felt his heart beating against her hand and closed his eyes, just … absorbing her.

What was he going to do with her? How was he going to help her?

“I can’t do this, Dalton.”

He stroked her mud covered hair. “Yeah, you can.”

She pushed back and looked at him. Her face was a ragged mess of tears, caked mud, and agony. “You don’t understand. You don’t know what I did, what I could do.”

“Yes, I do. And you won’t.”

She shook her head. There was a sadness in her eyes he wanted to obliterate, to make her realize she could change who and what she was.

If he could, anyone could. But he couldn’t tell her that. Not yet. Not when she was so raw. She wouldn’t believe him, wouldn’t understand. And he wasn’t ready.

“They’re getting stronger.” She pushed away, stood, and turned to face him. “I can’t fight them if they take over when I’m sleeping. Or if the demon part of me does.”

He didn’t make a move, just sat on the hill watching her. “You didn’t kill me, Isabelle.”

“I could have.”

“If the demon side of you was so strong, it would have latched on to Tase’s suggestion, found me, and fired. But you fought him and he had to manipulate you to win. You know what that signals to me? Hesitation. Internal battle. The human side of you warring with the demon side. If the demon side of you had taken over, you’d have pointed that laser and fired without a second’s hesitation.”

She flinched at that.

“But you didn’t. You held it there and did nothing until you thought you were hitting Tase with that laser. Your human side is winning this battle, Isabelle. Have any demons attacked since we’ve been here?”

“No.”

“That’s because they don’t know where we are. They can’t fix a signal on you because you won’t let them. You’re stronger than they are. You have more fight and determination in you than you think. Maybe it’s time you start believing in yourself.”

“I can’t.”

She looked so damned defeated, her chin tucked down on her chest, her arms wrapped tight around her middle. It was goddamned infuriating. “Why is it so hard? I believe in you. You’re here because I believed you could be saved.”

Her head snapped up. “Why? Why do you think that?”

He shrugged. “Because I know how strong you are. I saw it in Italy. Your determination, your refusal to quit despite insurmountable odds. Where did that Isabelle go?”

“I don’t know.”

He stood, went to her, lifted her chin so she was forced to look at him. “I want that Isabelle back. Fight for her.”

“I don’t know if I can. I’m afraid, Dalton. I’ve never been afraid before, and I hate this feeling. What if I lose myself? What if I hurt someone?”

“I won’t let it happen.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

He could do more than she thought. “No, I can’t, but I can help you if you let me. I won’t let them get to you. I won’t let the demon inside you take over. I won’t lose you.”

She grasped his arms, laid her forehead against his chest. “I don’t want to lose you, either. I’ve never allowed myself to care about anyone before.” She tilted her head back and looked at him, her eyes clear and guileless. “I care about you. I have all these feelings rolling around inside me, and they’re all centered around you. I think that scares me most of all.”

He sucked in a breath and held it. This was the worst thing that could have happened. He shouldn’t want Isabelle to care for him. But he did. Because he had feelings for her, too. Feelings he had no business having. Not with what needed to happen between them.

Talk about lousy timing. The cosmos had a warped sense of humor sometimes. He tilted his head back and stared up into the heavens, wondering if after all this time he’d found love, only to have to make the biggest sacrifice of all.

He looked down at Isabelle, and everything else went away. He didn’t care that they stood in the middle of the swamp, that it was night, that he should get them both back to the house.

“I don’t ever want you to be afraid to care about me.” He pulled her against him and pressed his lips to hers.

She let out a soft sigh, her lips opening under his. He tasted mud, and smiled against her mouth as he pressed more firmly, sliding his tongue inside to lick against hers. He wanted-no, demanded that she be his. He wouldn’t take anything less.

Something about Isabelle always called to the more dominant, darker side of himself. He stopped questioning it, stopped fighting it, and let it take over.

This bayou, where secrets hid and darkness lived, was the perfect place. He held her and dropped down on the mossy bank, pulling her on top of him, needing to feel the full length of her body stretched out over his. She moaned against him, splayed her hands over his chest as she wriggled into position on top of him, then pulled her mouth from his to stare down at him.

She had the face of an angel, and when her lips curled, the smile of the devil himself. Wicked, tempting him to want things he knew he shouldn’t.

He wanted them anyway.

“I’m covered in mud,” she said, rocking her pelvis against his cock.

“I don’t care. Undress.”

She cocked a brow. “Demanding, aren’t you?”

He tightened his fingers around her hips. “Not much patience. Do it.”

She pushed up into a sitting position, smiling down at him. “You sure change personalities in a hurry, Dalton.” She teased him by taking her time, reaching for the bottom of her tank top and slowly baring her stomach as she lifted it. “Sweet and oh, so gentle one minute, harsh and gruff the next.”

His fingers bit into the fabric of her shorts as he waited, fast losing tolerance. “You gonna do it or am I going to have to do it for you?”

She had started to lift the shirt, but she paused. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like it slower, more like a strip tease?”

“I’m warning you, Isabelle.”

She laughed, the darkness of it so erotic he felt it in his balls, tightening them as if she had squeezed them with her hands. He lifted, arching up against her.

Her eyes darkened. “Okay then, faster it is.”

She pulled off her top and tossed it onto the hill. Her breasts were bare and he reached for them, sliding his palms over her nipples. The feel of the metal piercing her nipples never failed to excite him. Her nipples were hot to the touch and already hard as she leaned into his hands and whimpered.

“Yes. More. I want more of that. Touch me.”

Her words didn’t help his patience. Nor did her hands as they crept over his body, lifting his shirt and smoothing over the bare expanse of his stomach and chest, claiming him in ways that defied explanation. Even with mud clinging to her skin and hair, she was beautiful, his angel with the devil inside. He arched up and pulled her down to him, needing the touch of her lips against his, the smoky fire that churned inside him whenever they connected mouth to mouth.

He pushed at her shorts, wanting her naked, no barriers between them. She wriggled out of them, stretching flat over his body as she kicked them off, then set to work unsnapping his pants and pulling them down his legs while he drew his shirt off. When she spread her body over his again, he hissed at the heated contact of skin to skin. Her body was always hot, as if she had a fever.

“You’re nothing like a demon. Demons are cold to the touch. You’re like fire.”

Her eyes glazed with a golden shimmer as she took a deep breath, her breasts pillowed against his chest. She pushed against him, sliding her sex along his shaft. “You make me melt inside. Feel me.”

She grasped him with her hand, guiding his cock inside her wet sheath, surrounding him with that molten heat that threatened to make him explode all too soon. He fought the sensation, gritting his teeth as she gripped him in a tight vise of pleasure, then began to rock against him.

His world narrowed to just this woman. It didn’t matter where they were. They could be in a lush bed, sunlight streaming in on their bodies, or this dark marsh, covered in mud, and he still would see only Isabelle, her body over him, her breasts moving as she rode him, her thighs clamped tightly to his, her head tilted back as she sought her own pleasure and gave him the greatest he’d ever experienced.

And as she tilted her head forward and her gaze met his, he realized that with Isabelle it was different because it was much more than physical. He felt her in so many more ways than just being inside her. He was with her, feeling her; he knew her like he’d never known another woman. With her it was easy like it had never been easy before, as if he’d been created to be with this one woman. Where she was dark, he was light. Where he was midnight, she was his dawn.

She smiled down at him, smoothed her hand over his face and hair. “You’re doing it again.”

“What?”

“Glowing.”

He stilled, frowned, not knowing how to stop it. Not when he had all these feelings pouring out of him.

“Don’t.” She caressed his bottom lip with her fingers, then bent down to slide her lips across his. She whispered against his mouth. “Don’t make it stop.” She clenched her fingers against his shoulders and lifted, then slid down his shaft in a way that made him forget about the light pouring from him, made him forget everything but making love to her, taking her to that place where she’d forget, too. He gripped her hips and lifted her, set the rhythm as madness took over.

Isabelle gasped as he held her tight against him and lifted into her with a hard thrust. She rocked back and forth, clutched his arms, and whimpered, her sheath tightening around him. He watched as she came apart and then he couldn’t hold back, going with her. And then he saw it, too: light bursting all around them as he poured forth everything he had. He lifted up to wrap his arms around Isabelle, taking her mouth in a kiss that spoke of everything he wanted to say, but couldn’t.

He held her like that for a long time, both of them sitting up, wrapped around each other. It seemed like neither of them wanted to let go, but he knew they had to.

“We need to get back,” he said, murmuring against her neck, kissing the soft column of her throat. He was still inside her, still throbbing with the aftereffects, and more than ready for round two.

“I don’t want to go back.”

“You going to live out here as a marsh rat?”

She giggled. “Maybe. I do know how to fish.”

“So do the alligators.”

She shuddered. “Dirty trick. Now we’ll have to get dressed and leave.”

“Hot shower. Food. Warm bed,” he said.

“Oh, now you’re upping the ante. That’s not fair.”

“Just stating the facts, babe.”

She sighed. “Okay. I guess we have to.”

They untangled themselves and dressed, then walked back to the cabin where the hot shower felt pretty damn good, especially since this time they took it together. And it took a long time to finish that shower, since washing each other led to touching, and touching led to tasting.

By the time they fell into bed, the sun had started to peek up over the horizon. Dalton growled, rose from the bed, and yanked down the shades. They needed at least a little bit of sleep.

“Dalton,” Isabelle said, snuggling against him.

“Yeah.”

“We need to talk. About you.”

He inhaled. “Okay. We’ll sleep for a while. Then we’ll talk first thing tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she said with a yawn. “I’m holding you to that. Tomorrow.”

He had to think. What was he going to tell her? Or rather, not tell her?

Things were changing between Isabelle and him. He wasn’t sure all those changes were for the better.