Kiss of Crimson(67)

Tess didn‘t realize she was crying until Dante reached out and wiped away her tears. She shook her head, voice strangling in her throat. ―I left home that same night. I came out here to New England and stayed with friends until I was able to finish school and get a fresh start.‖

―What about your mother?‖

Tess shrugged. ―I never spoke to her again, not that she cared. She never tried to find me, and I was glad for that, to tell you the truth. Anyway, she died a few years ago of liver disease, from what I understand. After that night—after what I did—I just wanted to forget everything.‖

Dante gathered her close again, and she didn‘t fight the warmth. She burrowed into his heat, drained from reliving the nightmare of her past. Speaking the words had been hard, but now that they were out, she felt a sense of liberation, of sagging relief.

God, she was so exhausted. It seemed as though all her years of running and hiding had caught up with her at once, pulling her into a deep fatigue.

―I swore to myself that I would never use my ability again, not on any living thing. It‘s a curse, like I told you. Maybe now you understand.‖

Tears stung her eyes and she let them fall, trusting that she was in a safe harbor, at least for now. Dante‘s strong arms were wrapped around her protectively. His softly murmured words were a comfort she needed more than she could ever have imagined.

―You did nothing wrong, Tess. That human scum had no right to live as he was doing. You dispensed justice on your own terms, but it was justice. Never doubt that.‖

―You don‘t think I‘m... some kind of monster?

That I‘m not much better than him to have killed him like I did, in cold blood?‖

―Never.‖ Dante lifted her chin on the edge of his hand. ―I think you‘re courageous, Tess. An avenging angel, that‘s what I think.‖

―I‘m a freak.‖

―No, Tess, no.‖ He kissed her tenderly. ―You‘re amazing.‖

―I‘m a coward. Just like you said, I always run away. It‘s true. I‘ve been afraid and running for so long, I‘m not sure I can ever stop.‖

―Then run to me.‖ Dante‘s eyes were fierce as he held her gaze. ―I know all about fear, Tess. It lives in me too. That ‗seizure‘ I had in your clinic? It‘s not a medical condition, not even close.‖

―What is it?‖

―Death,‖ he said woodenly. ―For as long as I can remember, I‘ve had these attacks—these visions—

of my last moments alive. It‘s hellish beyond imagining, but I see it as if it‘s happening. I feel it, Tess. It‘s my fate.‖

―I don‘t understand. How can you be sure of that?‖

His smile was wry. ―I‘m sure. My mother had similar visions of her own death, and my father‘s too. They happened precisely as she envisioned them. She couldn‘t change what was to happen, or turn it back. So I‘ve been trying to outrun my own end. I‘ve been running from it forever. I‘ve kept myself insulated from things that might make me want to slow down and live. I‘ve never permitted myself to truly feel.‖

―There‘s danger in feeling,‖ Tess murmured. Although she could not begin to imagine what kind of pain Dante carried within him, she felt a kinship growing between them. Both alone, both adrift in their worlds. ―I don‘t want to feel anything for you, Dante.‖

―God, Tess. I don‘t want to feel anything for you either.‖

He held her gaze as his lips slowly descended on hers. His kiss was sweet and tender, something reverent. It broke down all of her walls, the bricks of her past and her pain tumbling away, leaving her naked to him and unable to hide. Tess kissed him back, needing more. She was cold to her bones, and she needed all the warmth he could give her.

―Take me to bed,‖ she whispered against his mouth. ―Please, Dante... ‖





CHAPTER Twenty-three



Chase entered his Darkhaven residence from around the back, thinking it best not to alarm the whole house by coming in through the front, seething like an animal and covered in blood. Elise was up; he could hear her soft voice in the firstfloor living room, where she and some of the community‘s other Breedmate females had gathered.

And he could smell her too. His senses were heightened from the rage still boiling through him—the violence he‘d delivered—and the feminine scent of the woman he desired more than any other was like a drug shot directly into his vein. With a feral snarl, Chase turned in the opposite direction of his sister-in-law and headed for his private quarters. He kicked the door shut as he entered, his hands working furiously at the zipper of his jacket, which was ruined with the human‘s spilled blood. He tore the jacket off and threw it to the floor, then pulled off his shirt and discarded it too.