Inferno (3 page)

He didn’t see any harm in answering her truthfully. Change was coming and the more
were
who knew about it, the better. Even lone ones could be of help in the coming struggle if what they feared came to pass—if the
Venificus
were successful and brought the Destroyer of Worlds back to this realm.

“When our enemies are defeated. Again.”

“Who’s your enemy, Dante?” She looked confused, alarmed and suspicious all at the same time.

“Like I said, I’ll tell you all about it. Just not here.”

“How can I be sure you’ll tell me the truth? You might be one of the bad guys, after all.”

“Am I? Wouldn’t your highly trained nose be able to tell?” She seemed to consider that, then moved in to take a delicate sniff of him. “You’re right. You don’t smell evil at all. Not entirely good, but definitely not evil. You’d have to be a hell of a mage to hide that kind of thing from me.”

“It’s good you realize that. Mages can fool us all. However, I am not a mage. I am what you see.”

“Your kind and mine don’t get along all that well.” She seemed to be having fun playing devil’s advocate with him. “So how do I know I can trust you?”

“Because all creatures on the side of light should be warned.”

“And how do
you
know
I’m
one of the good guys?” She fingered his lapels, regaining some of her composure as the music changed and they moved more slowly. He edged her toward the outer ring of the dance floor, into the shadows.

“You’re not the only one with a good nose, sweetheart.” He dipped his head, daring a kiss. He licked the seam of her lips, coaxing them to open. When she let him in, he wasted little time, taking full advantage of her yielding lips to stake his claim on her mouth, on her very breath.

She tasted divine. Wild, free and of the earth. Temptation made flesh. Dante had never fucked a
were
. He’d been around them from time to time—more so in the far past when they’d fought side by side. He’d not had much exposure to them in recent years except for his adventure with the
were
lords. He hadn’t known they were so full of life and light. He hadn’t known their females contained such passion in their lithe, lovely bodies.

She pulled away with a little moan of delight and a teasing smile. He wasn’t quite ready to let her go. He grew aware of their surroundings and knew this was not the place for what he had in mind.

“Come back to my place.” It wasn’t much of a question, more like an order. Luckily, she seemed to be on the same page.

Her head tilted in a cute way as she thought about it. “If I do, will you want to bite me?”

“Undoubtedly. I’ll make you come so hard, you won’t even feel the prick of my teeth. And I’ll only take a little. You have my word of honor you’ll come to no harm.”

“Your word of honor, eh?” She seemed to consider that. “I suppose you’re the old-fashioned type to whom his word really is his bond, right?”

He dipped his head in acknowledgment of her words. “Not only that. Duncan will be watching both of us for the slightest misstep. Believe me, you do not want to mess with a knight.”

“He was a knight?”

“Was and still is,” he confirmed. “And that’s all you’ll get from me on that subject unless and until he chooses to let you in on his little secret. It’s his call and I respect that, but surely you can sense the power around him. It’s so pure, it’s almost kind of pretty.” She chuckled as she looked over at Duncan dancing across the room with two lovelies.

“I smell it. I don’t see it as clearly as you apparently do. To me he smells like pure fresh air.

Like the full moon on a sabbat. Like everything good in this world and beyond.”

“Yeah, that kind of sums him up in a very
were
way. To me, he looks like a mixture of remembered sunshine and blessed moonlight, the rarest of vintages and the hum of angels singing. Damn, I need a drink if I’m waxing poetic about Duncan.” He laughed at himself, though every word he’d spoken was true. Duncan’s power was all these things and more and it would keep him on track while he learned his way through this new crisis.

“All right. I’ll go home with you, but you should be warned—” she stepped back from him and trailed her finger down his chest teasingly, “—I bite back.” They left the club shortly thereafter. Dante couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into Megan. He had to get her home and in his bed in the shortest amount of time possible. He ached to be inside her.

His fangs dropped just thinking about tasting her blood while he possessed her body, making her scream in ecstasy as he drank from her.

Distracted by his unusual desire for a mortal, he wasn’t as attentive to his surroundings as he should have been when they exited the building. A car screeched around the bend of the parking lot as they headed for his vehicle parked in a dark corner of the lot.

In a fraction of a moment, Dante caught the flash of peroxide blonde hair as a woman’s arm shot out the window of a gleaming black, late model Porsche. What set his internal alarms to clanging in warning was the fireball poised in her hand.

She was a mage and a powerful one at that. She lobbed her missile at his head, and Dante ducked for cover as streaks of sickly ochre fire rained down around him. He didn’t understand. It should have dealt him a glancing blow at the very least.

The woman in the Porsche called her magic and launched once more. Dante was pinned between two vehicles and the brick wall that ran along the back of the parking lot. He’d stared death in the face before and knew this time it would claim him.

Then, in an unexpected blur of motion, a
were
wolf in the dangerous and magical half-shift form bounded between him and the female mage. The blast hit the wolf square in the chest. Dante heard himself shouting as he raced to catch her, even as the Porsche squealed away.

Megan fell into his arms, singed fur covering her muscular body. She was unconscious but breathing as he cradled her to his chest.

A shadow fell over them, and Dante bared his fangs in a fierce snarl. No one would touch her again. No one.

Thankfully, it was only Duncan.

“Ease off, friend. Mortals are coming to see about the commotion. We must leave. Is she…?”

“She lives.” Dante’s voice rasped out over roughened vocal cords and fangs lengthened in preparation for battle.

“Let’s get her someplace safe then.”

Dante wouldn’t allow Duncan to touch her. It was unreasonable, he knew, but his fragile temper wouldn’t allow it at the moment. He stood with her in his arms. Her body shifted to human form, even as he rose, her pale flesh gleaming in the moonlight. She was hurt badly. He would see to her survival if he had to move heaven and Earth to assure it.

“Open the car door. You drive.” The terse words were all he could get out through his elongated teeth and fierce anger. The anger wasn’t directed at Duncan. Rather, it was meant for the woman who had done this—and himself.

There was little doubt in his mind that Megan had deliberately intercepted a strike meant for him. The little fool. She’d probably saved his life, but at what cost?

“I know it’s bad when you allow me to drive.” Duncan tried to make light of the serious situation as he ushered them into Dante’s car. Luckily they’d taken the big Mercedes tonight in anticipation of having a few ladies with them later. How differently things had turned out from their original plan.

All they’d wanted was a night of carousing and good fun. It had changed in an instant. Two instants, actually—the first being the arrival of the sexy little
were
wolf and the second, the subsequent attack by a mysterious blonde in a hot car. Duncan wondered if the two events were somehow related. He wasn’t a big believer in coincidence.

The wolf girl had secrets. There was no doubt of it in his mind. Was she in league with the woman who’d just lobbed killing blows from fifteen yards out? That was powerful sorcery, and it had been aimed directly at Dante.

If the two women were working together, why would Megan put herself in the path of danger to save his life? Or was a more elaborate ruse yet to unfold?

Duncan would keep watch, as was his duty, and try to keep an open mind. Dante was more special than anyone knew and it was Duncan’s task to keep him safe for the battle ahead. If the other side managed to take him out in the early rounds—or worse, to turn him to their cause as they’d been trying to do for centuries—it would be a tragic and dangerous turn of events.

“Where are we headed?” Duncan asked once they were out on the open road. It was essential to put as much distance between them and the threat of danger as possible. The girl was in bad shape. She needed medical—and magical—attention.

“Home.” Dante was growling. Something Duncan had never heard him do before. Come to think of it, he’d never seen Dante react so strongly to a female of any kind before. Something was definitely strange with this situation, yet Duncan would be damned if he could put his finger on exactly what it was.

“Are you certain that’s wise?”

“Home, Duncan! Fast.”

Well, that was clear enough. Duncan applied his foot to the gas pedal, watching the mirrors carefully for any sign of pursuit. He also kept a magical eye out. He’d arrived in time to taste the flavor of the blonde’s magic. If she was anywhere near them, he should be able to tell, regardless of how strong she was.

Duncan’s magic was of the fey realm. No mortal mage should be able to fool him once he’d identified a unique magical signature.

“She’ll be all right, Dante. Her light is strong and pure.” Duncan spared a moment to reassure his old friend about the wolf girl’s chances of survival.

Since Duncan’s release from the fey realm, Dante had proved himself a man of honor, once again fighting on the side of light. Duncan respected that. He respected the man Dante had become, though he hadn’t trusted him at first. Duncan had laid a trap for Dante, feeding him his potent half-fey blood to both heal him and test him. Duncan held the key to Dante’s continued existence. If he ever stepped over the line into darkness, Duncan could destroy him.

They’d left Montana together, both aware of the need to renew their bonds of friendship. Trust would come in time and in fact, Duncan was already far down the road to trusting Dante. The bloodletter hadn’t changed much over the centuries. He’d been a good man before he’d become immortal, and his basic goodness had never been suspect.

He might have become more dour—more introverted and solitary—but that was to be expected when one lived so long and so alone. Dante had no mate. He’d never found the fabled One most of his kind searched for. The One woman who, legend said, would be able to share his mind and complete his soul.

Duncan had seen it a few times during his last sojourn in the mortal realm. There was nothing more beautiful than the magic of two souls joined in love. He hoped one day Dante would find that.

Hell, if he didn’t know better, he’d wonder if the woman lying injured in his arms wasn’t the One. Dante’s reaction was certainly violent enough. He was uncharacteristically possessive and quick to anger, and he wouldn’t let anyone near her.

Weres
and bloodletters didn’t mingle. Oh,
weres
and immortals had worked side by side in the distant past to defeat the armies of darkness. However, these days they kept themselves separate and distinct.

So it was unlikely he was witnessing such a true mating. Still…Dante’s unreasonable reaction gave him food for thought.

Dante had always been something of a rebel. He never seemed to do anything the easy way. His life had been one crisis after another. Not an easy road and not one of his making. Only now did it come clear—there had most likely been
Venifucus
infiltrators behind most of the tragedies that had followed Dante d’Angleterre throughout his long life.

They’d killed his beloved brother. They’d been behind the death of a mortal mage who’d been a close friend and tricked Dante into a vendetta that lasted to this day. Most recently, the mortal mage named Patrick Vabian had tricked him into helping hunt down and attack an innocent young Priestess. Vabian had preyed on Dante’s simmering need for revenge against the
were
wolves that had killed his friend. Thankfully, Dante had come to his senses in time to foil Vabian’s plot and prevent her murder.

Dante fought against the
Venifucus
at every turn, yet they continued to pursue him, hurting those he befriended and those he loved. It was no wonder he’d become a hermit, not allowing anyone to get near him.

Duncan had vowed to look after him while the half-fey blood Duncan had given him still enhanced Dante’s already formidable power. Duncan wouldn’t let darkness overtake Dante d’Angleterre. Not while there was breath in his body.

He drove directly to Dante’s brownstone. It was one of many residences Dante owned and maintained for his personal use and it had every protection an immortal could wish for. Duncan was certain no one had followed them the traditional way and fairly certain no magical means had been able to track them. They’d be safe here while they sorted out what to do with the woman.

He pulled the car up to the curb, and Dante was out like a shot, the wolf girl held close in his arms. Duncan shut off the engine, secured the vehicle and followed close on the vampire’s heels.

But Dante wasn’t waiting for anyone. He used his powers to fling the door open before him as he stalked through the house to the bedroom directly above his subterranean resting place. It was the master bedroom. The one he kept for show. It was decorated to his tastes and contained some of his belongings. He used it and the attached master bath when he came upstairs after dark. It helped maintain the fiction that he was just a regular guy should anyone come to call.

Not that he let just anyone inside his home. No, Dante was a regular hermit, holed up alone the majority of the time. Duncan was changing that. He didn’t think it was good for Dante to be so solitary.

Oh, he went out to hunt every once in a while. A man had to eat, after all, but he didn’t linger.

He barely even talked to his prey anymore, he’d confided to Duncan after one particularly long night spent reminiscing and drinking.