Dante's Fire(8)

 

As a man.

Selina swallowed hard and concentrated on her coffee cup. A low chuckle  echoed in the room at her obvious surrender but she refused to  acknowledge it. She couldn't take a change in their relationship right  now. Between the after effects of the assault, and her strange nightly  visitor, Selina couldn't handle the idea of her steady friend Dan  suddenly wanting more. No wonder she was beginning to compare them.  Their looks and build were similar. Of course, she doubted poor Dan was  masquerading as a nightly superhero with the power of fire.

She so needed some therapy.

Selina tried to make light of the moment. "I have plenty of weaknesses. Ever see me devour a cupcake in under three seconds?"

"Loving dessert could never be a weakness. I think your biggest issue is championing lost causes."

Her eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"

"You like the Mets. That's scary."

She gasped. "Unfair! Their time just hasn't come."

"Don't think it ever will. How about when we do the company pool for the  Triple Crown horse race? You always pick a fifty-to-one shot."

"I want to make money."

His lip quirked. "You pushed for Inferno to buy the Eastwood property and no one has been able move it for over a year."

She tilted her chin up in sheer defiance. "That's gonna sell. The place  is an artistic gold mine, and his mother is in a nursing home. He  desperately needed the money, and eventually we'll make up for the loss  of profits."

This time, his lips curved into a full-fledged smile. "See, I rest my case. You're weak, but in only one place: your heart."

That part of her anatomy stuttered, paused, and restarted with a  vengeance. How did he know so much about her? Sure, they had daily  conversations, but never saw each other outside of the office. Yet, he  seemed able to look straight past the surface and see her completely  bare.

No. She would not deal with these odd emotions right now. The last thing she needed was more confusion.

She forced herself to sound casual. "Well, thanks for the support."

"No support. Just truth." He paused and cleared his throat. "I don't  know the details of the mugging, but I do know it takes a long time to  heal. I had a similar experience when I was younger."

She leaned forward with curiosity. "What happened?"

Darkness stole over his face. His features seemed carved from stone.  "Someone I loved was killed. For a long time, I didn't know how to  handle it. I lashed out, angry at the world, angry at my weakness. I  finally realized in order to be strong; we have to allow ourselves to  feel the grief first. The rage. The helplessness. Then we can heal."

As if they shared the same soul, pain shuddered through her body,  imagining him as a boy watching someone get hurt. Someone he couldn't  help. "Is that how you got your scar?"

Dan touched his face. A lifetime of memories flickered in his eyes.  "Yes. I had nights I didn't think I could handle because of the  nightmares."

The words drove deep. Him too. Maybe she wasn't so alone after all, but  like most bad things, people kept them locked inside and refused to  share. Suddenly, he reached over to her. His finger trailed down her  bruised cheek with so much tenderness tears stung her eyes. "But I  learned something important. Scars aren't a weakness, Selina. They're  signs of strength because we survived."

The truth struck her full force. Her hands gripped her coffee mug as she  struggled to process this new energy between them, this intimacy that  made her suddenly ache to have his arms wrap around her and hold tight.  To feel his hands stroking while his lips took hers.

She froze, waiting for him to do something, waiting for him to do  nothing. Last week she might have made the move. Might have. But now?

His hand dropped.

"I better go." His gruff words broke the spell. He dumped the paper cup  in the garbage and headed toward the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes. See you tomorrow."

She watched him walk away and wondered if she'd ever be the same person again.





Chapter Five



"No!"

Her cry shook through him as Dante hushed her sobs and took her in his  arms. The first few nights he kept his distance, and only allowed  himself to hold her hand. There were stringent rules regarding building  back a woman's trust. Selina was especially vulnerable only because of  her strength, and her ability to push past barriers she regarded as  weakness. He wasn't surprised her dreams were worse than most, since she  dealt with many of her fears within her subconscious.

This time, he sat on the bed and held her. The softness of her curves  cradled his hard muscles. The delicious scent of vanilla and sandalwood  rose to his nostrils in drunken pleasure. He buried his face in her  silky hair and rocked her, soothing away her tears and the images of  evil that haunted her.         

     



 

She wore a thin t-shirt and boxer shorts. The sheet had twisted around  her body, revealing a length of bare thigh. Her peach-toned skin was  well muscled, obvious from the strict regimen she kept at the gym. Her  breasts were small but perfect, her nipples poking through the fabric of  her shirt and stabbing into his chest. His erection throbbed in demand,  but he fought for his usual ironclad control.

He had a job to do. Getting emotionally involved with women was a  liability and against the rules. If he intended to help Selina, he  needed to suck it up and stop acting like a horny teenager with his  first lover.

But, God, she was heaven to hold.

Dante took a deep breath, knowing that tonight he needed to push her.  The healing only began with some emotional truth and pain. "Tell me  about your dream, Selina."

She shook her head against his chest and clung to him. "Don't want to."

He smothered a curse and made himself ignore her. God, she was killing him. "I need to know. Tell me every detail you remember."

She hesitated. "It's always the same. I'm happy and safe. Then suddenly  someone grabs me from behind. I try to scream but my lips are glued  together. I try to fight; I try to stab them with my keys like I learned  in self-defense class, but nothing works. I'm too weak. I'm too  stupid."

He winced. A normal reaction. He longed to comfort her as she craved but  knew that would only hinder the healing process. Dante pushed harder.  "Why do you think you're weak or stupid? Those men were stronger than  you were. There were two, not just one. How was a key going to help?"

"My fault," she whispered. "My fault."

"Why? What did you do to make those men want to beat you up and try to rape you? What did you do wrong?"

A sob caught in her throat. "Ed wanted to walk me home. I said no. I was  too strong, too independent. If he had walked me home, I wouldn't have  been attacked. My fault."

His heart tore; shred; ripped. Dante gritted his teeth and completed his  job. For her. "Selina, if you hadn't been on that street alone, they  would've waited for another woman. Maybe a woman who wasn't as strong as  you were, who couldn't get through it. Maybe a woman I wouldn't have  been able to save. And what if they thought it'd be fun to take out Ed,  too? They could have easily jumped him first, and then attacked you.  This is not your fault."

He forced her chin up. He still wore the mask, knowing one glimpse of  the scar would reveal his identity. He was already playing way too close  to the literal fire, knowing in a light bulb moment Selina could piece  together the clues and realize his true identify. Sure, he changed his  voice, and tried to mask his usual scent, but she was smart. It would be  smart to back off.

But he couldn't.

He needed to be here to help heal her. Already, those jeweled eyes  glimmered with tears and grief, but with an inner strength that took his  breath away. Dante looked deep, not allowing her to look away. Slowly,  the realization dawned, the truth of what had happened to her, and the  unfairness of the situation. But not her fault.

Selina broke. She shuddered against him, and Dante knew the wall had  crumbled. First destroy, then rebuild. His mother had taught him well,  and he felt grateful to use his powers to help the woman in his arms.  The woman he'd been secretly in love with for the past two years.

When she was emotionally spent, Dante took the opportunity to lie beside  her for comfort. She needed to get used to a man's touch again in a  non-threatening way, and cuddling in bed was the best antidote to sexual  violence. The layer of trust was already strengthening to a degree he'd  never experienced before. He tucked her close against him and lowered  her head on his chest. Her tight muscles slowly began to relax.

Conversation both grounded and soothed, so he stroked her hair and began  speaking. "Have you ever seen the movie, Happy Gilmore with Adam  Sandler?"

She paused. Dante figured she was trying to figure out the ridiculous  change of subject. "Umm, yeah. It wasn't an Academy Award winner, but  pretty funny." He remained silent, waiting for her to push. "Umm,  Dante?"