"Yes," he answered honestly. "Superheroes probably have some of the worst dreams because they live with evil. But I don't consider myself one of them."
"Who do you think you are?"
In the middle of the night, with the woman he loved pressed to his side, he allowed himself to share the jagged pieces of his soul. "I think I was born with special powers I didn't learn to control until I was older. My father and I had the gift of fire. My mother was a normal human, but when she was killed, I inherited the ability to appear when someone was in trouble. I have no control over that part. But I used my calling for fire to mark evil in plain sight." He took her hand and pressed her open palm against his lips. "Is that a wizard? A superhero? Or just a plain man trapped with a power he can't ever deny?"
"I don't know," she said. "And I don't care. You save people. You care. You make a difference. Isn't that what matters?"
Was it? Was it enough? Not enough to call her his own. He belonged to the world, and appeared at its whim. She'd never be able to settle with a man who lived in the dark, in other women's bedrooms. A man who walked with secrets during the day. She deserved a man to bring in the light of day, make her happy, and give her everything. He wasn't enough.
Yet, he loved her anyway.
"I have to go."
"You never told me the final rule."
Her voice was sleepy, husky, and he longed to take her mouth and pleasure her again, until she sobbed his name and those sexy little hitches of breath echoed in his ears. Dante tamped down on his lust and gave her the only thing he could now.
Answers.
"The final rule is simple. I'm not allowed to make love to any of the women I heal. It is against the law, and violates the boundaries. I'm able to touch. Kiss. Bring pleasure. But not for myself. All of these things must only be done with true intention of healing, and only for her."
He waited for her disgust. Her sharp, indrawn breath, and her distance. Instead, she laid a hand on his arm. "I'm glad you told me," she said softly. "You stayed with me when I asked. You helped." She paused. "Thank you for everything."
Raw pain shot through him. He was nothing to her either, just a man who able to help her overcome the nightmares. Hadn't he learned long ago that nothing was real? Just a misty image of fantasy he happened to live in.
Dante nodded, rose from the bed, and walked away.
Her voice made him pause. "Promise me you'll be back."
Dante shook his head. No. She'd tear him apart if he saw her again. He sensed the rising strength coming back, the slow process of healing from time, gentleness, and patience. "You don't need me anymore, Selina. I must free you now."
She sat up in bed, eyes lit with fury and determination. "I need to see you again. Promise me, damnit. Promise you'll come back one more time."
His mind and heart fought viciously. His mind lost. "I promise."
Dante's spirit lifted at the thought of one last visit. Then he would release her.
"Dude. You're killing me. I am so pulling your man card."
Dante glowered at his friend and took a sip of beer. He'd been too jacked up to go home and try to sleep. Images of Selina haunted him, so he called Chase, who was in the middle of a hot encounter and damned if the guy didn't extricate himself just to babysit him.
Chase groaned and snapped back a neat shot of whiskey. Besides being wicked smart, he drank like a fish and had never nursed a hangover. In Dante's mind, he was some sort of human superhero dedicated to the pursuit of pleasure without pain. He pitied the women in his trail who had fallen for him, since his friend had never looked behind. Chase's gaze was trained firmly ahead. Maybe it was his crappy past. Maybe it was his genes.
Maybe it was something he had yet to understand or explore yet.
"Why did you leave?"
Dante waved his hand in the air in dismissal. "I had no choice. I told you before the rules are made for a reason. I can't break them."
"Why not? Because your father came to you in a dream and issued a decree? What if Selina is meant for you? You've been in love with her for two fucking years, Dante. What if she's meant to be your soul-mate?"
"We've gone over this. I'm not meant for soul mates. I visit strange women in the middle of the night. Care for them. Touch them. I'm eating dinner one moment, and the next, I'm zapped into a dark alley. What do you want from me?"
"For you to try. You've been a martyr too long buried in a mailroom. This Daniel/Dante shit is too much for any of us. Tell her the truth. Hell, she'll find out you own the company, you can promote her, and everyone will be happy."
Dante grit his teeth. His fingers clenched around the neck of the bottle. "Screw you, Chase. She's more than that. Remind me why I called you again?"
White teeth flashed in the shadows of the pub. "Because I'm the only who will tell you the truth. And not to get all lovey dovey, but I love you, man."
His anger drained. Dante rubbed his face and let out a half laugh. "God knows why."
"Because you save them."
The simple words tore through his heart. For a brief second, the humor and sarcasm drained away and Dante gazed at a man who'd almost lost his sister to sexual violence. The memory of that night they'd met flashed before him.
The back alley of a nightclub. The stench of garbage from the dumpsters. A half drunk teen pushed against the wall while two men groped her. Ignored her nos. Stripped and humiliated her in a torrent of filthy language that still caused his blood to run cold.
He'd marked them in a fit of fury, noting her young age, barely able to restrain himself from going too far. He'd bent to pick her up in his arms when Chase ran into him, fists flying, trying to protect his younger sister who he'd tracked down at the club.
The fight was vicious, but he stench of burning flesh and screaming voices broke through his trance. It was then Chase saw the men on the ground. And for the first time, Dante experienced a strange connection with another man, as Chase took in the violent scene before him.
And slowly smiled.
"Did you do this to them?" Chase asked.
Dante nodded. He prepared himself for endless questions. Confrontation. Rage and suspicion.
Instead, Chase gently picked his sister off the ground, who was curled in the fetal position and softly sobbing. He tucked her beneath his chin. "What do I do?"
Dante stared. It had never happened this way before and he wasn't prepared. He'd never met another person who witnessed a scene and even pretended to understand. "I heal her. It will take time. The men will be marked for life, and will never be able to commit another crime against women."
Chase nodded. "Tell me what you need."
"Nothing. Bring her home. Stay with her. Talk. Be there. It will be hard. I'll visit her when she needs me."
"Good." He turned. Stopped. "What's your name?"
"Dante."
"I'm Chase."
He took his sister home. Over the weeks that followed, Dante visited Brittany many times. She was strong, resourceful, and battled through the attack with a fierceness that seemed to run in the family. One night, Chase ended up coming in from the living room where he kept watch. The two of them began to talk, long hours into the night, and an unbreakable bond formed.
In a way, Dante sensed fate had stepped in. Perhaps in another time and place, they were brothers. There was a connection he'd never felt before. Dante took him under his wing, trained him, and Chase carved out his own niche, becoming indispensible and his right hand man. Now, they were equals and shared something even greater than blood.
The choice and respect of friendship.
Dante returned to the present, watching his friend throw back another shot of whiskey. "Chase?"
"Yeah?"
"What the hell am I going to do?"
His friend grinned. "Tell her the truth. Take a shot. But tonight? Just drink."
Dante laughed and raised his glass.
Chapter Eight
SELINA re-checked her appearance in the bathroom mirror before walking into the Waldorf Astoria. The lush Manhattan hotel was perfect for wining and dining. From the hand cut crystal and china, to the lush carpet and glittering chandeliers, opulence was the key word.
Time to meet William Forrester with her team to try to close the deal. The papers were immaculate; the property was prime. They were in competition with two other firms, but she believed Inferno had the best deal and the best team.
She hoped so. This promotion was everything she'd worked for.
Selina took a deep breath as she stared at her reflection in the empty ladies room. The conservatively cut black suit and white blouse allowed no weaknesses to show. Chunky diamond studs winked in her ears to show Forrester she made money. Lots of money. Her bruises had faded enough to cover flawlessly with make-up. With her severe chignon, her eyes still seemed shadowed, but the night with Dante and her dinner with Daniel elicited a faint healing light. Selina clung to the promise.