Carnal Sin

another, and she had no choice but to give in as she tumbled over the edge of ecstasy. She could no more turn her back on Rafe than she could forget who and what she was.

If it was wrong, she would deal with the fallout. She’d always faced head-on the consequences of her actions. Today would be no different. And if there was a tomorrow …

Slowly, they came down off their sexual high. One minute or one hundred minutes could have passed and neither would have surprised Moira. Silently, Rafe set her on her feet, unwrapped the hotel soap, and washed her body. Tenderly, methodically. Her nerve endings raw from their near-violent union against the wall, the seductive massage relaxed her, comforted her, warmed her heart as the hot water soothed her skin.

Rafe kissed her almost reverently as he washed and rinsed her. He sat her on the edge of the tub and kneeled. She leaned against the edge of the wall and he brought her foot up and washed it, a symbol of what she meant to him. She almost panicked, not wanting anyone to love her, for it would surely end in disaster.

But looking into his blue eyes, her fears washed away, at least for this one perfect moment in time. She believed they would survive, that she could love again, that Rafe was the one for whom she was willing to risk her heart, her sanity, her life.

For the first time in seven years, she didn’t want to die.

“Moira-” Rafe began as he turned off the water.

“Shh.” She put her finger to his lips, then her lips to his mouth. “I’ll remember this moment for the rest of my life.”

She stepped from the tub, and dried off.

“Who whipped you?” Rafe asked quietly.

She often forgot about the scars on her back, mostly because she couldn’t see them. But they had been hideous for years. Though fading with time, they’d never be completely gone.

“The first time I ran away my mother found me. I was sixteen, scared and stupid. She-” She cut herself off, shook her head. She left the bathroom and grabbed her only clean clothes from her backpack. She’d have to shop, find a laundry, or go home tonight.

“Moira,” Rafe said, then remained silent until she turned around.

He had on his jeans and nothing else, and he was the sexiest man on the planet. His dark hair was wet, curling at his neck, water dripping down his body. He hadn’t shaved, and looked dark and almost unapproachable.

She knew what he wanted and shook her head. “It was a long time ago.”

He met her eyes, wouldn’t let go.

Just thinking of it, she felt foolish and very afraid, even though Fiona hadn’t been able to find her for seven years, not until Moira walked into her territory. Moira didn’t want to remember the past, even as she lived with it every day.

“Your fear is going to get you killed.”

Rico had forced her to face her fears so she could survive whatever came her way. But the dungeon … she had never really overcome it. She’d pretended, for Rico. But deep down, she knew her survival was a miracle. It certainly had nothing to do with her.

“My mother locked me in a dungeon for a week. In Ireland, a castle. It was cold and moldy, and she sent in monsters to-” She stopped herself again.

Rafe stepped forward. “I will never let anyone hurt you like that. I would die first.”

She whispered, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

He tilted her chin up. “I wish I could tell you don’t be afraid. I wish I could take your fears away. But I’m here for you, for us, and I’m not going away.”

Moira tried to push aside the hope that filled her, knowing that something was surely going to ruin this- something or someone. But she felt lighter, as if she might have a chance to survive this supernatural war.

Rafe took her into his arms and held her tight. Several minutes later, he said, “We should go to the police station before Detective Nelson busts down the door.”

“First-” Moira bit her lip. How did she ask this? After what they’d shared this morning? She blurted out, “Rafe, I need to know about your vision.”

“Vision?”

“At Wendy’s house. When we were downstairs. You had a vision-I know you did. You were out of it for a good minute. You have to trust me, Rafe. And I have to trust you. I want to. Just tell me the truth.”

He stepped back and stared at her. She prayed he wasn’t trying to come up with a lie. Then he said, “It wasn’t a vision.”

“Then what was it?”

“A memory. And not mine.” He leaned against the desk and crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Remember when I told you about the memories I had about Father Tucci and Father Salazar? Anthony thought they had something to do with what Dr. Bertram was doing to me in the hospital while he kept me in the coma.”

“Of course I remember.” It was through those memories that Rafe had unlocked the key to defeating the demon Envy. They had also nearly killed him.

“This was similar to those memories. When Fiona held me captive, they wanted information from me. I don’t think they realized that I have the memories of those who were murdered at Santa Louisa.”

Moira didn’t know what to say. What Rafe was suggesting sounded impossible … yet she herself had seen the death imprint of Craig Monroe. “Like a death imprint?” she conjectured.

“When you told me about what happened in the alley, I began to wonder if the same thing could have happened at the mission. The priests had been drugged and were hallucinating. Their most horrible memories became very real to them, as if they were living through their worst trauma over again. They tried hard to purge the evil thoughts from their minds, unable to live day-to-day with the frightening images. The coven wanted to drive them to murder, and the way to do that was forcing the priests at Santa Louisa to relive over and over the evil acts they had witnessed, the violence that sent them for help in the first place. And if they were reliving that violence while I was there in the chapel-I don’t know, it sounds crazy, but … as soon as we opened the door last night, I smelled something familiar that I couldn’t identify, and I had the flash-a memory. It was like I was Samuel Ackerman. He never told anyone what awful thing happened to him in his past that brought him to Santa Louisa, but now I know. I know the truth.” His voice hitched.

She stepped toward him, put her hand on his chest, felt his heart beating much too fast.

“It was awful-I can’t-”

“Rafe, please tell me. Don’t keep it bottled up inside. Isn’t that why those poor men suffered? Because they suppressed everything until it drove them insane, with the help of witchcraft.”

Rafe closed his eyes, not wanting to tell Moira the truth. But didn’t she deserve it? And she was right. If he didn’t explain to someone, it would drive him off the edge. “Father Samuel was a parish priest here in Los Angeles.” Rather than fighting it, Rafe allowed himself to remember. It gushed forth from the deep recesses of his mind.

“Samuel Ackerman called Susan his sister, but they weren’t blood-related. They were raised together in foster care and lost track of each other after Samuel turned eighteen and went to college. Susan came back into his life-he never knew why. At first, he was overjoyed at finding his foster sister and having a family. She had two daughters, and Samuel doted on them. Wanting a family was one of the reasons he’d turned to the Church. Sadly, when she attempted to steal consecrated hosts from his church, he discovered the truth about his sister: she was an occultist. He went to Susan’s house to confront her and witnessed a shocking ritual where his sister was engaged in black sex magic. A Luciferian rite, pure evil.” Rafe could see the orgy Susan and her coven had shared with a vile demon. But the demon gave them strength and power, and they grew hungry for more. The addiction to power was far deadlier than drugs. Rafe would try to block the abominable memories from his mind, but feared they would disturb him for the rest of his life. “Samuel saw the chalice and remembered hearing about such a thing from a very old priest at his seminary. It was like a tether for demons, what you call a psychic leash. He didn’t know what it was for, but knew it was important to Susan’s rituals. The next day he stole the chalice and went to visit William and Tessa Burns, a couple who had devoted themselves to learning about occult practices after their son disappeared with a coven.

“They knew the chalice was evil, but they didn’t know what to do with it. They reached out to St. Michael’s