Taken by Sin

had those relationships down pat. Men as … men, as sexual creatures, as potential partners … she had no clue how to handle that aspect of the male species.

“Mandy.”

His voice had gone all low and sexy. She jumped off the sofa and ran her sweaty palms down the front of her pants. “I think I’ll go check on our demon.”

She nearly ran down the hall, hoping the breeze it created would quell the heat flaming her body. As she reached the interrogation chamber, she looked at her coat, then grimaced. She probably wouldn’t even need it. The arctic temperatures inside the chamber were just what she needed to cool down her libido.

Bad time for her sex drive to decide to kick into high gear.

And with the wrong damn person. The absolutely wrong damn person.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Isabelle had found peace. A tenuous peace, anyway. Last night she’d slept in Dalton’s arms, and the dreams had stayed away. If she’d known all it was going to take to keep the demons of her nightmares away was sleeping with Dalton, she’d have done that a long time ago.

This morning was the first time she hadn’t woken in a haze, or with the remnants of her nightmares still with her. She’d woken with a gorgeous, sexy man slumbering next to her. Her body cradled against his, her butt nestled up against him, had been the most pleasant wake-up call, especially since Dalton woke up hard.

Morning sex was an amazing thing. Warm, half asleep, he’d roused her to full wakefulness by sliding inside her, stroking her breasts with one hand and her sex with the other until she cried out and arched against him in an amazing orgasm. They’d showered together afterward, had breakfast, then Dalton said he wanted to work with her out back on weapons and strength training.

All in all, it had been a damn fine day so far, even if Dalton was a bit quiet.

Men. Who could figure them out. She was happy and she wasn’t about to start questioning every little thing. They worked companionably together, Dalton teaching her some basic moves. She was lithe and learned quickly. It wasn’t like he intended to drop-kick her across the yard, so she came at him head-on, kicking like he taught her, though she couldn’t imagine coming that close to a demon, or what possible use any martial arts training would be on a demon. But Dalton explained it had more to do with honing her physical and mental reaction skills. He didn’t expect her to fight a demon one-on-one.

After they’d worked themselves into a decent sweat doing the physical stuff, they took a break, had a drink, and Dalton brought out the weapons. Lasers, sonic guns, rifles, swords-amazing things, from the ancient to the high-tech. She was riveted while he explained how everything worked.

The day wasn’t even as hot. After the storm the night before last, the heat had lifted. Of course it was still hot as blazes, but not as humid, and there was even a breeze. Every little bit helped. She felt so much lighter now. Was it the weather or something else? She decided it was the weather. After the hellacious heat they’d battled the past few days, this weather seemed like fall and it made her happy.

But really, it was probably the sex. Isabelle smiled.

“You make me nervous when you smile at the weapons.”

Her gaze lifted to his and her smile widened. “Actually I was thinking about sex.”

“Oh. In that case, keep smiling.” He winked.

She laughed and he held out one of the lasers to her. “You have to be careful with these.”

Her eyes widened. “It’s loaded?”

“Yes. And the trigger is an easy pull. It doesn’t take much to set it off. But I want you to get a feel for it because it’s heavy and bulky.”

He laid the rifle in her hands. He was right. It was heavy. She lifted it and, as Dalton showed her, she laid the butt against her shoulder and aimed for the trees at the back of the yard.

Shoot him.

She stilled, blinked, turned to Dalton. “Did you say something?”

“No.”

She shook her head.

Kill him.

She closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness swept over her, a blanket of evil wrapping itself around her. It was like darkness cloaking her, touching her, fingers caressing her hand, willing her to do something she didn’t want to do.

Pull the trigger. Kill him.

“No. I won’t.”

Dalton was right there in front of her. She wanted to scream at him to get out of the way, but her voice wouldn’t work.

He’s going to hurt you. Kill him before he can.

She refused to listen to Tase’s voice. He was behind her. She could feel him, his presence so real she felt the heat coming off him. She shook her head, the tears in her eyes blinding her. She lifted the barrel of the laser, pivoted and pulled the trigger.

“Leave me alone, damn you.”

A blue stream shot from the barrel of the rifle.

And right into Dalton.

No. No. That couldn’t be. Dalton had been on the other side of her.

Dalton fell to the ground and Isabelle dropped the rifle.

Oh, God, what had she done?

She heard Tase’s laughter in her ears, wanted to cover them to drown out the sound of his evil.

That’s my girl.

No. She hadn’t done this, had she?

But she had.

“Dalton!”

She smelled burning flesh and nausea rose into her throat. She forced it down, dropped to her knees in front of him. His eyes were closed, his shirt torn, a large dark hole in his stomach where she’d-

She’d shot him. With a laser. Dear God, he was dead. He had to be dead. No one could survive that. She looked for blood but there was nothing but a deep, dark hole in the middle of his stomach.

Frantic, her hands shaking, she touched two fingers to the side of his neck.

A pulse! She felt a pulse! Weak, but it was there.

She had to get help. She swept her hand over his forehead.

He looked so pale.

“I’m going to get help, Dalton. I’ll be right back.”

Don’t die. Please don’t die.

She didn’t want to leave him there alone, afraid he’d die while she was gone. But she knew she couldn’t help him. She pushed off the ground and sprinted to the main house so fast her lungs burned by the time she flew through the front door. Georgie must have known from the look on Isabelle’s face that something was wrong. She grabbed a tapestry bag from the kitchen counter. “Don’t talk. Let’s go.”

Fueled by panic and concern for Dalton, Isabelle nodded and they ran down the path back to the cabin. She was certain she was going to find Dalton already dead by the time they returned.

She’d shot him. How could she have done that?

Don’t think about that now. Save him. Don’t let him die.

She should have told Georgie to call 911. Dalton needed an ambulance, not a voodoo priestess with a carpetbag. Where were her brains?

She flew through the house and out the back door, skidding to a halt when she saw him.

Dalton not only wasn’t dead, he was sitting up.

She dropped to her feet next to him. “You need to lie down.”