Dalton really did save her life that day in Italy. He’d not only rescued her from the Sons of Darkness; he had traded in his life with the Realm in order to keep her alive. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I did what I thought was right, Isabelle. The others didn’t know you like I did. They didn’t see what I did. I made a choice.”
“You made a choice that cost you your career, your friends.”
“The hunters are-were-my friends, yes. Still are, I hope. We’ll get this thing with you figured out. Once we do, they’ll understand. And we’ll make it right with them.”
He made it sound so simple. Isabelle didn’t think it would be that easy. He had broken some policy or one of their sacred laws or something. Surely there would be consequences. She didn’t want him to be hurt because of her, because of what she was. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Other than Angelique, she didn’t have friends or anyone she could count on. She’d always been on her own. No one had her back, so she’d relied only on herself. And she’d never made sacrifices for others. She had always been too into making sure her own needs were met. She didn’t understand why Dalton had given up so much for her.
“Why are you doing this, Dalton? For me?”
He didn’t answer for a while. She waited, not wanting to push him.
“I know how much it hurt you when I read your mother’s diary. I saw it on your face that day on the yacht.”
She remembered that day so clearly, seeing Dalton with her mother’s diary in his hands, knowing he’d read it, that he knew her secrets, knew her own mother thought her evil … She’d never wanted anyone to see that. “I wanted to burn that diary but I couldn’t.”
“It’s good that you didn’t. It gave the Realm insights into who you are.”
She snorted. “Even I don’t have those. And all it did was give the Realm ammunition to use against me.”
He shook his head. “Not true. It’ll take time for you to realize that the Realm is not your enemy. That’s why I’m doing this for you. My taking your diary was a catalyst for a lot of bad things happening to you. I felt responsible. I figure I owe you.”
She shook her head. “You don’t owe me anything. The Sons of Darkness would have found me, anyway. You’ve said so yourself.”
“Yeah. They probably would have.” He looked at her, and it was growing light enough now that she could see his eyes. Like mirrors. Beautiful, and truly open to her. “But I hurt you.”
Her lips lifted. “No, you didn’t hurt me. I did more damage to myself than you ever could.”
“How?”
“Self-hatred is a powerful weapon, you know.”
He swept her hair away from her face. “You have nothing to hate yourself for.”
She laughed. “I’m part demon, Dalton. I tried to kill my sister.”
“No …
“My claws were at her throat. I raised my hand to strike. I-”
She realized then that she was remembering. Every thing. Including that moment when Dalton stopped her, when he told her he’d take her away. When the human side of her had come back, because she had forced it out. Part of her had wanted to come back long enough for him to see it.
“You remember that night in Sicily, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
Dalton had seen it. The human part of her had wanted to live that night, had wanted to triumph over the demon inside her. She hadn’t wanted to hurt Angelique-God knows she’d hated hurting her sister. She hadn’t wanted to be a pawn of the Sons of Darkness. That wasn’t Isabelle. She was a human being. Not a demon. She carried a demon’s blood inside her, but that’s not who she was-not who she wanted to be. She refused to let them turn her into one of their slaves.
Besides, Dalton had sacrificed everything for her. She couldn’t let him down.
“You’re right,” she finally said. “I have to fight this-fight them. They can’t win.”
He nodded. “And I’ll fight with you. For you.”
She grinned, hope surging for the first time. “Like my own personal knight in shining armor.”
He laughed. “Trust me, honey. I’m no knight. And my armor is kind of tarnished.”
“Even better. I hate perfection. Makes me feel inadequate.”
“So we’re two imperfect people struggling together.”
“That works for me.”
He went quiet then. The whole room was dead silent except for the two of them staring at each other. She studied his face-almost too beautiful for a man’s, and yet rugged and angled in all the right places. But it was his eyes that captured her. They always seemed to study her, as if he could see inside her soul. It was both comforting and disconcerting at the same time. She wasn’t used to being examined this way, and yet she couldn’t help but enjoy being looked at by him. What woman wouldn’t?
Isabelle was in awe of this man who would give up so much of his own personal freedom, the life that he was comfortable in, for someone he knew so little about. It still didn’t make sense to her. Why would he do that when she could give him nothing in return?
Unable to help herself, she reached up and palmed his cheek, let her hand slide down, shivering at the contact of her skin against the stubble there. His expression turned wary and that made her smile.
“What are you doing, Isabelle?”
She didn’t answer, instead leaned into him, lifting her face to his. She remembered what it was like to kiss him. It was fireworks and magic and volcanoes with melting lava. When he kissed her and touched her, she forgot everything except what it was like to be a woman.
She wanted that right now. While it was the human Isabelle fully in charge, not the demon side of her taking control.
And the human Isabelle knew exactly what she wanted.
Their lips were only inches apart, and Dalton didn’t seem to be going anywhere, just studying her cautiously. Of course he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to make the first move, either. So she’d have to do it.
She didn’t mind. She leaned in and brushed her lips across his, felt the tingle in her toes and other points in her body, felt warmth sweep through her as she moved her mouth over his. She sighed against him, laid her palms flat against his chest and deepened the kiss.
He tasted of orange juice-they’d had some when they first came out here to the sofa. She licked along his bottom lip, savoring the oh-so-male flavor of him, a spicy yet sweet scent that drew her to him like no man ever had before. The fact that he wasn’t grabbing her and tossing her under him on the sofa was even more appealing. It made her want to take charge. She held his shoulders and climbed onto his lap, straddling him.
Dalton wasn’t unaffected. She felt that solid evidence as she settled against him. Her gaze drifted down and she admired the hard ridge of his erection against his shorts, her mind awash in all the things she wanted to do with him. But not just yet. She enjoyed where she was and what they were doing. She glanced back up at him and smiled. And still, he stared at her, as if questioning what she was going to do. She didn’t think it required explanation, so she said nothing, instead drifted toward him and kissed him again. He had such a great mouth. Full, yet firm. And he held still while she explored, so she grasped his head and pressed more firmly, surging into him to press her breasts against his chest. She could feel his heart pounding against her.
It took her all of a minute and a half of wonderful kissing to realize he wasn’t touching her, wasn’t kissing her back. She pulled away.
“What’s wrong?”
“We shouldn’t be doing this.”
She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, suddenly mindful of her wanton, oh-so-bold position on his lap. But dammit, he had an erection. It’s not like he wasn’t into this.
“You want me to stop.”
His lips curled into a hint of a smile, devastating to her senses. That smile held promise. “Parts of me definitely don’t want you to stop. Only the logical part.”
