“Who are you?” Dale demanded as he grabbed her arms and pinned her against a parked SUV.

“I remember only darkness, pain and your scent.”

The woman wriggled away, lifted a hand to his face. Sexual energy jumped between them at the brush of her fingers. “Strong and courageous, is your heart, yet lonely and hurting … so much pain.”

Dale lost all sense. Crushing her against him, he fisted a hand into her hair and kissed her hard. She responded back with a moan, her tongue tangling with his.

And then she began to struggle and nipped him on his lip, hard enough to draw blood. Dale jerked away in shock.

His mind fogged. Closing his eyes, Dale fell into a dizzying vortex. When he opened his eyes, the woman had vanished into the shadows, making him wonder if she wasn’t a dream.

Or his worst nightmare.

BONNIE VANAK fell in love with romance novels during childhood. After years of newspaper reporting, Bonnie became a writer for a major international charity, which has taken her to destitute countries to write about issues affecting the poor. When the emotional strain of her job demanded a diversion, she turned to writing romance novels. Bonnie lives in Florida with her husband and two dogs, and happily writes books amid an ever-growing population of dust bunnies. She loves to hear from readers. Visit her website, www.bonnievanak.com, or e-mail her at bonnievanak@aol.com.

Demon Wolf

Bonnie Vanak

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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To Robyn Lees. Strong, courageous and spunky, you fought the good fight to the end and inspired us all.

You’ll live forever in our hearts.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Extract

Prologue

Nicaragua, 1990

The Contra war was over, except no one had told these guys.

The crack of bullets and rattle of machine-gun fire echoed through the mountains of northern Nicaragua. Lieutenant Junior Grade Dale “Curt” Curtis crouched down behind a scarred oak tree and signaled to his men to wait. Heavy green and black greasepaint disguised their faces and the green camouflage uniforms blended in with the surrounding scrub.

Intel said nothing about fighting in this region. Could be a local turf war, but the sounds of that artillery to his seasoned ears warned this was a heavier engagement. Dale pulled his boonie hat low, scanned the terrain and cursed the godforsaken ass who’d assured them this area was safe to cross. But they were SEALs and accustomed to shifting gears.

He and his team of six operators had finished a successful op near the border. Now Dale had to figure out how the hell to get his men out of what was supposed to be uninhabited, safe terrain.

Motioning to his men to stay back, Dale crept through the jungle, making no noise. Four of his operators were norms. Then there was himself, a Primary Elemental Mage whose powers could blast through this jungle like a firebomb. And Etienne “Wolf” Robichaux, a Cajun from Louisiana, who was also a Draicon werewolf. Like him, Etienne used his powers sparingly around others.

The sickeningly sweet stench of decay assaulted his senses. Dale belly-crawled up a small rise, to a ravine and peered over. Revulsion and horror punched him.

Flies buzzed around a dozen naked bodies lying atop each other amid the dirt, grass and leaves. Women. Men. His stomach threatened to spill out the MRE he’d eaten.

In his five years as a navy SEAL, he’d seen his share of horrors. But this... The way the little group clung to each other, as if providing comfort in their last terrified moments, made him sick with anger.

A small whimper caught his attention. Dale raised his weapon and crawled down.

A black puppy, barely alive, hidden by the corpses. Dale’s throat tightened. The little guy hadn’t wanted to leave his mistress.

Or maybe it wasn’t a dog. He called for Wolf on the radio. When Etienne arrived, the werewolf studied the dog, his eyes furious.

“It’s a wolf, sir. Not a dog.”

Stunned, Dale glanced at the corpses. “Your people?”

“Not Draicon. Our young don’t shift until they reach puberty. I’ve never seen this species before.”

Like Mages, there were different classes of werewolves.

“Who are they?”

“I don’t know.” Etienne wiped a trickle of sweat from his face, smearing the green and black greasepaint. “These carry a deeper, richer scent.”

“This place smells of darkness. No wonder the intel was screwed up.”

The sounds of battle ceased. Dale glanced around and made a decision. “Take the pup, head west and lead the men out of here. Use that nose of yours and flush out the smells of gunpowder, avoid the fighting at all costs.”

“Curt...”

“It’s not human. Whoever did this isn’t human.”

Etienne’s jaw tightened. “All the more reason for me to stay with you, sir.”

“I’m right behind you. I’m not leaving this area for some naive civilian to stumble into and get killed.”

“If you ward it with magick, you’ll drain your powers,” Etienne warned.

Dale gave a cold smile. “You have no idea of the extent of my powers. Now go.”

As soon as his men had passed, Dale lifted his hands, closed his eyes and began a low chant. The magick shield would prevent humans from entering the area, and save them from meeting the same fate as the wolves.

Slightly drained, he opened his eyes, and turned to leave. A low growl rumbled behind him.

The wolf was as large as a small Shetland pony. Sleek black fur stood on edge. Dale remained motionless, his gaze never leaving the creature.

Not even when the wolf opened its mouth, showing fangs as sharp as dinner knives....

* * *

Her world had shattered. Nothing mattered anymore. Her parents, her pack, they were all dead.

Simon, her little brother, whom the demons promised to spare in exchange for her slavery to them...dead, as well. The demons had lied.

She was only eleven, but already experienced in her powers as wolf. In wolf form, Keira stumbled through the undergrowth. Rage and anguish blinded her to everything. Soon the demons would return and force her to do their bidding.

Magick skimmed her fur, pinged off her muzzle. Light, good magick. She shook her head and growled and loped toward the source.

A tall man lifted his hands to the sky and chanted. He was clad in uniform, his face disguised, and the metallic scent of weaponry clung to him. Rage engulfed her. How dare he violate her people’s final resting ground?

Blinded to everything except the red haze to hurt as she hurt, she stalked forward and growled.

The man fingered the gray metal weapon and she charged.

Knocking him down, she leaped on him and raked a sharp claw over his arm. But the man made no move to fire the weapon.

Confused, she backed off, watching warily as he stood. Their gazes met and she felt an odd connection, as if this powerful man of magick understood.

He regarded her quietly, sadness in his gray eyes. “I won’t hurt you. I will not return evil for evil, for whatever was done to your people is making you react.”

A giggle sounded nearby. Keira tilted her head, fear curling in her stomach. The demons were returning for her. Pure evil had infiltrated the region and it would never die. But this man who’d refused to hurt back, he was good. She sensed it.

She lowered her head, pawed at the ground and hit him with her muzzle, urging him to leave. The man’s mouth narrowed.

“I won’t leave you here alone.”

Keira growled and head-butted him again. The man seemed torn, and glanced toward the west. She knew if the demons found him here, they’d enslave him, as well. He must not remember her, or he’d return. She sensed it.

So she bit him. He yelled and looked down at the wound, blood trickling with her saliva, saliva that carried the memory spell the demons infused into her. By the time he looked up, she was gone, fleeing into the forest toward her captors, vanishing from the man’s sight and memory.

Giving him time to escape to safety.

While she charged forward straight into hell.

Chapter 1

If he discovered her true identity, the powerful Mage would kill her.

From across the bar, Keira Solomon studied her quarry. The glass of white wine gripped in her trembling hand rattled against the polished wood counter. She ignored the flirting drunk to her right and riveted her gaze to Lt. Commander Dale Curtis.

The navy SEAL commander of Team 21 sat by himself, his expression as lonely as she felt. Keira’s heart went out to him, knowing she was the reason for his turmoil.

Careful, she warned herself. If you let him get under your skin, you’re a dead woman. She concentrated on the man instead of her feelings, gauging how to approach him.

Though he looked no more than thirty-eight, the Mage was hundreds of years old. The commander had taut, angular cheekbones, a chin carved from granite, tempered by a full, wide mouth. His thick black hair, silvered at the temples, did not touch his starched collar. He looked like a powerful man of strong character, unaccustomed to compromise. But his most striking feature was his piercing gray eyes, shaded by thick, dark brows. Those eyes could become hard and unyielding, coaxing a confession out of the most tight-lipped prisoner, or turn seductive with promise, charming a woman into his bed.

She’d discovered all this about the man from listening to gossip in public haunts like this bar.

A severe khaki uniform hid a body firm with muscle that was now layered with deep scars. Keira knew the depth and width of each mark, knew how he’d endured, tight-lipped, as each one lashed his skin. And she knew the depth of his screams when the agony she inflicted became too much to bear when the Centurion demons forced her to hurt him.

No other man had survived such torture. Past victims had died from the force of her claws. Centurion demons had enslaved her to torture others. Now she had a rare chance to break free, because the man she’d tortured was strong enough to vanquish the demons for eternity.

“Hey, sweetie.” Obviously determined to get her attention, the big, barrel-chested drunk put a paw on her arm. “Lemme buy you another drink.”

Giving him a look of utter disdain, she pushed her glass aside. “No, thanks. I don’t accept favors from gorillas.”

The man narrowed his eyes as his companions chortled with laughter. “Ain’t no ape.”

“Okay, then. Chimp shifter.” She gave him a singularly sweet smile. “I can’t quite tell, but you all smell the same.”

“Bitch.” The shifter scowled. “I should drag you out to the parking lot, show you the meaning of respect. Flat on your back, your legs spread.”

Demon blood surged. Keira held up a hand. Like flicking a switchblade, her claws emerged, each a razor-sharp talon. Ape Boy’s eyes widened as she gouged the bar’s surface. “Care to try?”

The men pushed away from the bar and fled. She sighed.

“I hate having to do that,” she muttered to no one.

One day, she wouldn’t have to worry about the demon blood inside her. The key to her freedom lingered temptingly close, but it wouldn’t be easy to fool him. Curtis’s piercing gray eyes could see straight inside her, and discover who she really was.

And if that happened, no point fearing the demons capturing and enslaving her once more.

Because Curtis would have at her first.

* * *

Ladies’ night at the paranormal Dive Bar.

Once a month, Tom dropped the magick shield blinding humans to the bar’s presence. He announced two-for-one drinks and the human women streamed inside as if he’d offered marriage proposals to millionaires.

The custom was for regulars, who liked human women warming their beds once in a while. Tom’s bar was a short distance from Little Creek, home to SEAL Team 21’s elite Phoenix Force in Virginia. When in town, the secret force of paranormal SEALs crowded the seats.

Dale ignored the chatter around him. He sipped his beer, waited for his burger.

Scar tissue pulled and stretched uncomfortably, reminding him of a body no woman wanted to see naked. While in the hospital, his sometime girlfriend had visited. Melissa had taken one look at the blood and bandages and left.

No Mage female wanted him. No human, either, even if she didn’t sense he was a powerful Primary Elemental Mage who could fry her to ashes with a single flick of his finger.

Dale knew he was better off alone.

“You okay, Commander?”

Tom always called him by his title. Dale nodded. It had been the ultimate bitch of a day, back at work only ten days after two long months of mandatory medical leave. Paperwork piled to his nose, submerged in long meetings, most of his team deployed to dispatch a last-minute threat overseas. Only Ensign Grant “Sully” Sullivan remained at base. Chief Petty Officer Sam “Shay” Shaymore was in North Carolina, training in close-quarters combat with SEAL norms—human navy SEALs. He’d taken his new wife with him.

Dale relaxed into a smile as he thought of the much younger Shay. Last month the SEAL had married his girlfriend. Dale had proudly escorted the fatherless Kelly down the aisle. A wedding he’d never forget, as he was glad to see the two Mages declare their love in a lifelong bond. Those two had rescued him from the dark, dank basement where he had only memories of pain and blood.

And the scent of a woman...he could never forget.

Across the bar, Sully flirted with a pretty, slightly tipsy blonde. The woman rested her hand on the SEAL’s arm, giving him a suggestive look. Someone was getting something-something tonight.

Dale hoped Sully remembered to glove before love. A half-human bastard faced a lot of hardship in the real world.

Children. Setting down his beer, he closed his eyes. One regret he’d had in his eleven-year marriage. Kathy hadn’t wanted any. The Mage had used one excuse after another and finally, she just left, but not before admitting she’d been sleeping in another man’s bed.

You’re a good man, Dale. But you’re never around, not when I really need you.

Deep inside, he still craved a home life, a wife and a family. But what woman would want him now, his body looking like a road map to hell?

Someday, maybe, he’d find someone else. But first, he’d find the demon wolf responsible for scarring his body and when he did, that shape-shifter would pay. Such evil must be eradicated before innocents got hurt. Dale would do so gladly, sending the SOB straight to hell.

Tom slid a steaming burger, with fries piled high, before him. “Here you go, Commander. My treat.”

“Thanks, Tom,” Dale said, surprised.

“No, thank you, sir. If not for you...” Emotion shadowed the man’s face. “What you did to free those kids, sacrificing yourself, hell, we’re all grateful to you. I’ve got five kids and the thought of them enduring what you did...”

The cougar shifter’s spine stiffened. “I’m proud to call you a friend. You’re more than a SEAL. You’re a damn fine officer and gentleman.”

Holy hellfire, the man actually saluted him. Uncomfortable with the praise, Dale nodded. “No thanks necessary.”

A few of the bar’s regulars studied him like a moth pinned to a corkboard. Damn, all he wanted was a burger, not this scrutiny. Dale began to eat.

The brunette next to him spoke. “Come here often?”

Once in a while, against the ladies’ room wall, pushing deep and hard, a woman’s long legs wrapped around his thrusting hips. Dale nodded.

She gave a sultry smile, red lips moist and pursed. The tight blue dress clung to a body that had caught quite a few glances from the bar’s male occupants.

“You’re a SEAL.”

Wonderful. Human frog hog. He swallowed a bite, shrugged.

“My second cousin’s best friend is a navy SEAL.” Now she slid over, her long red nails on his forearm. “I adore you guys. I can’t thank you enough for what you do for our country, to keep us safe. You’re so brave and strong, and I’d love to demonstrate my appreciation.”

Hollow words, spoken by a woman who just wanted to bang a SEAL. Maybe one time he’d accept her offer, follow her home and show her the alternative meaning of hooyah. Not tonight. Tonight he felt every single one of his 420 years.

The woman’s nose wrinkled as she studied his right arm. Dale automatically moved to hide the jagged gash. “That’s a nasty scar. Did you get it in combat?”

No, I got it, and a rash of others, when I was tied up in a basement and tortured by a wolf’s claws. Care to know more?

Appetite turned to dust, Dale slid his plate back. “Thanks, Tom.”

Clear disappointment showed on the woman’s face as he pushed back his stool. She turned to her right, engaged a member of ST 21’s support staff, the vampire enthralled with the woman’s long neck.

Nice night for a quick bite, Dale thought in sour amusement. Like every human here, she would recall only a pleasurable buzz the next day, assume it was alcohol-induced.

As he went to leave, a familiar scent hit him. Not the floral perfume of the human women, nor the heavy cologne of the males pursuing them. Something deeper, richer, more fragrant.

It reminded him of crushed autumn leaves, the burning richness of smoke on a hearth, the musky scent of pure...sex.

Dale whipped his head up, a memory pinging.

Her.

There, across the bar. An ebony-haired woman, a wineglass before her. Eyes blazing with fire and life glanced up. His gaze fell to her right hand.

Each finger was a sharp black talon.

Shock slammed into him. And pain. Distant memories...knives over raw flesh, biting back the screams that rose in his throat. Salt water dripping onto the fresh gouges, searing his skin with her tears.

He’d been tortured and left for dead, and recalled only flashes of memory. But that scent, it wound around him in an erotic ribbon, and pulled tight. His body hardened, blood pulsing to his groin.

Bleeding from a thousand cuts, the pain so deep he couldn’t breathe, and that scent filtering through the agony, turning his cock to steel. Forgetting the pain, wanting nothing more than to roll her beneath him, spread her wide and drive hard into her soft, wet flesh.

He hadn’t been merely tortured, but humiliated and debased, getting turned on, and then feeling something raking cold claws over his warm flesh....

This woman had something to do with those long, dark hours in the basement.

Dale went preternaturally still. The woman stared at him, wide red mouth parted in apparent shock. Then she slipped off the stool and fled.

Not so fast, he thought grimly. Dale raced after her. In the parking lot, against a parked SUV he caught her. Dale grabbed her arms, pinned her against the vehicle. The scent faded, leaving only the exotic smell of expensive perfume. But he hadn’t imagined it. Wasn’t going crazy.

“Who the hell are you?” he roughly demanded.

Fear clouded her gaze. “Not hurt, not hurt,” she whimpered.

Gentling his voice, he loosened his grip. “Who are you? I remember only darkness, pain and your scent.”

The woman wriggled away, lifted a hand to his face. The velvet of her voice stroked across his senses. Sexual energy jumped between them at the mere brush of her fingers. “Strong and courageous is your heart, yet lonely and hurting...so much pain.”

Dale lost all sense. He lowered his head and did what he’d lusted to do all those long, anguished hours in the dark after he’d been turned into a pitiful, whimpering shell of a man.

Crushing her against him, he fisted a hand into her hair and kissed her hard. She responded back with a moan, her tongue tangling with his in a fury of erotic heat.

And then she began to struggle and nipped him on his lip, hard enough to draw blood. Dale jerked away in shock. Son of a...

His mind fogged. Closing his eyes, he fell into a dizzying vortex, where memory was once more a clouded dream. When he opened his eyes, he was alone.

The woman, if there had been a woman, vanished into the shadows. Just like before, he could not recall her, making him wonder if she were a dream.

Or his worst nightmare.

Chapter 2

The moon hung like a silver nickel in the sky.

Hovering in the woods, Keira waited for Dale to arrive home the next night.

Other houses on the street showed signs of life. Lights flicked on. Children ran around their backyards, and then ran inside as their mothers called them in for supper.

Or their mothers threatened to zap them inside. It was a paranormal neighborhood, after all.

Hiding in the shadows, she felt a pinch of deep melancholy. She’d adjusted to loneliness during the infrequent intervals when the demons gave her brief freedom so she could find new men for them to torture. Keira had beaten the demons. She’d refused to associate with anyone, refused to give them new victims, but stalled them by promising them new ones.

They found one on their own. This last time had sliced off a piece of her heart. Dale Curtis had taken her spirit and turned it inside out. She’d almost killed him. And then, a miracle happened.

The commander’s friend had arrived in the house where Curtis was being held prisoner and chanted a cleansing spell to vanquish evil. The spell had sent the demons temporarily to the netherworld and freed her, as well. But in a few weeks, as they always did, the Centurions would use their bolt-hole to this world and break back in.

Then the real fun would start. They would find her, find Curtis and force her to torture the SEAL once more, maybe until he died. The demons would steal all his strength and courage and become solid entities, able to taste the pleasures of the flesh once more.

Keira touched the valise containing the silver armband, which enslaved her to the Centurions. When the demons had vanished unexpectedly, the bracelet unlocked, freeing her from their spell. Only by enslaving herself to another could she escape them.

And Lt. Commander Dale Curtis was the only living person with enough power and courage to destroy the Centurions. She had to overcome her personal fear of seeing him again if she wanted to achieve her goal.

For twenty-three years she’d lived under the demons’ control. No more. Emotion clogged her throat. Dale Curtis looked thin and haggard. The demons had sapped his strength, his vitality. If she didn’t help him recover soon he’d weaken and die.

She needed him strong, needed his resources to find and destroy the demons’ bolt-hole and imprison them forever in the netherworld.

Crouching down, Keira watched the commander’s house. Beneath the light of the nearly full moon, she waited hopefully, and wondered if this brave man would be the one to kill her captors and finally set her free.

* * *

Another day of keeping the world free of paranormal terrors. At least free of the terror of paperwork.

Hell, he was so tired, he could barely function. Dale looked forward to a cold beer, a quick sandwich, a little light reading and then crashing. It was a lonely life, but right now, he preferred it that way. No complications or interference.

Yet as he drove home from the ST 21 compound on the base, Dale imagined a loving woman greeting him at the day’s end. Someone who rushed to the door, eyes lighting up as he walked inside, the good smell of a delicious dinner cooking in the oven.

Instead of always coming home to an empty, silent house.

Dale snorted. He cherished his privacy. He didn’t need a woman in his home, rearranging his life, turning things upside down.

Especially now, he needed to be alone to recharge and recover.

As he turned onto his street, he saw a white Lincoln parked in his driveway. He parked next to it, cut the truck’s engine. His front door was locked. Once inside, he tossed his keys into the antique candy dish on the hallway table and relocked the door.

Someone was home to greet him, after all.

A light glowed down the hall. Mage instincts went on alert. He narrowed his eyes, took a deep breath and headed into his study.

“Nice of you to break in,” he told the gray-haired man sitting in shadow.

“You’re late.”

Vice Admiral Keegan Byrne, pillar of support for SEAL Team 21 and a powerful Primary Mage, toasted him with a whiskey glass filled with amber liquid. Dale glanced at the built-in wood bar against the wall. The bottle of twenty-year-old smooth Scotch malt had been full until tonight.

“Had to finish up paperwork. I’m not asking how you gained access to my home without permission.”

“You need a better security system, Dale. An infant could bypass that alarm.”

“An infant armed with electromagnetic current. Did you fry the panel again?”

Byrne grinned. Dale sighed. Another visit from the electrician.

“Help yourself to more Scotch. Just don’t take my beer.”

Running upstairs in a light jog, he headed to his bedroom, removed the trident, the fruit salad and the insignias from his khaki shirt. Then he stripped and tossed the uniform and undershirt into a white wicker hamper. As he walked toward the closet, the dresser mirror showed the image he’d tried to avoid.

Dale approached, staring at his body for the first time in two months.

Reddened scar tissue raked over his chest, muscled torso, arms and long legs. Razor-sharp claw marks began just below his throat, continued down his belly, ending at his groin, and dwindled out at his thighs and calves.

A remembrance of white-hot pain surged through him. Dale braced his hands on the dresser, hissing through his teeth.

Jerking open a drawer, he sorted through folded shirts and found an old, frayed Virginia Tech T-shirt. Another drawer held gray fleece pants.

When he returned to the study, Byrne remained motionless, the glass of Scotch untouched. He steeled himself. If the old man wasn’t here to socialize, it meant one thing. But he’d let the admiral set the pace.

Dale fished a beer from the minifridge, tossed the cap into the trash and took a seat in front of the fireplace. He knew Byrne would take his time.

Finally Dale gave him a pointed look. “Why are you here?”

“Have you used your powers since leaving the hospital?”

Stretching out a hand, he summoned the current simmering inside. Dale flung it at the fireplace, igniting the logs. “Happy now?”

Understanding and something deeper, and wiser, filled Byrne’s gaze. “I wasn’t talking about toasting marshmallows, Dale. I meant on assignment.”

Surprised, he sipped his beer. “I joined my men on that op to extract Dakota and Kelly. I’m a paper pusher now, not an operator.”

“Maybe it’s time you took off with your boys, joined a mission to evaluate their tactics and skills in the field. Spend quality time, jaw with them, get to know them again.”

Suspicion filled him. “What’s the deal, Keegan? You lost faith in me ever since I got carved like a Thanksgiving turkey?”

Silence.

Anger slowly rose. “That’s it, isn’t it? You think if I were deployed more, I’d have fried my attackers’ asses? Never mind the nine innocent children’s lives at stake. You think I wasn’t strong enough to beat the demons.”

“Were you?”

Dale set down the beer, his hands shaking. “Screw you, Keegan.”

“I’ll leave that for the wife.” The admiral set down his barely touched glass. “Dale, we’ve known each other for a long time and I have to say this. I’m concerned about you, son.”

He hissed out a breath. “I’m not your son. I’m CO of the finest SEAL team in the United States Navy and a 420-year-old Mage.”

“And I have enough years to make you look like a baby sucking on his momma’s tit. Dale, you’re losing touch. I’ve had reports of you being distracted, short-tempered and restless. I don’t know if it’s a residual effect of what happened to you in that basement, or something else.”

“Reports from whom?”

“Your team.”

“Renegade? A sulky SEAL denied leave because Shay was on his honeymoon and I couldn’t afford another man out?”

“No,” Bryne said. “All of them. The entire team. Even Robyn Lees, the new ensign who thinks you can do no wrong.”

Dale sat back, trying to hide his shock. “Nice of them to tell me.”

“They’re worried about you. You’ve changed.”

Almost afraid to ask, he groped for his lost composure. “You said it was my time in the basement or something else that’s affected me. What’s the something else you think is wrong?”

“A woman.”

Dale raked a hand through his short, dark hair and laughed. “No woman’s gotten to me.” Or would want him, the way he looked. “I’m trying to catch up after being out so long. I had a difficult time healing in the hospital.”

“You were almost dead when Shay and Kelly found you.”

Temper rising, Dale straightened up. “Are you lecturing me on how I should have been smarter, knowing the waiting children were a trap? Maybe you should shake the demon’s hand, pin a medal on his chest for catching me off guard.”

Admiral Byrne gave him a long, level look. “If I found the son of a bitch who did this to you, I’d tear him apart with my bare hands. And then toss him to your team to deal with the remains.”

The quiet—but strong—statement made Dale sit back.

“The boys worship you, Dale. They don’t want another commander. They need you, but they’re reluctant to say anything to your face because lately, you’ve been difficult to talk to. You’re a damn good leader, a smart operator, a fine Mage and a close friend. So I’m saying it for them.”

Byrne leaned forward, hands on his knees. “Get your shit straightened out, Dale. Get help from a private psychiatrist or a navy one. Or I’ll assign a mind-melder to you.”

Holy hellfire. A mind-melder, diving into his deepest memories, turning him into a whimpering mess when he barely managed to hold it together now? He didn’t trust the shrinks, either.

“I don’t need a witch doctor,” he said, taking a long pull of beer, ignoring Byrne’s scrutinizing look.

“You’re too thin and haggard. Take a vacation, go see some sights...get laid and then come back and get help.”

Nearly spitting out his sip of beer, he sputtered. “You came all the way from D.C. to tell me to have sex?”

A faint memory surfaced. Sitting in Tom’s bar, a beautiful, mysterious woman staring at him. The memory became fog on glass. Damn it.

Lazily swirling the amber liquid, Byrne snorted. “Sure as hell didn’t come here for this. Damn, twenty-year-old Scotch doesn’t taste the same when you’re 1,500 years old.”

Then the admiral gave him one of his paternal, but knowing, looks. “What happened in the basement, Dale? You never talked about it. Who was that woman found with you, the wolf who vanished?”

Emotion squeezed his throat. He sucked in a deep breath. Byrne was right. He had changed, and denied it. His men deserved better. For two months, he’d hidden the truth, refusing to talk about what the demons had done to him.

“I don’t remember. Everything’s a blur. All I remember are smells and pain. The smell of a Roman orgy, this delicate, delicious female scent...and waking up to see Shay and Kelly standing over me.”

And screams tearing from his throat, until he’d fallen unconscious.

“The Roman orgy was the Centurion demons who tied you up to torture you. Shay banished them with a spell. But the woman found with you, you don’t recall her face? Or a black wolf?”

Dale shook his head, the knot in his stomach tightening. “She must be the demon wolf that tortured me. When I find her, she’ll pay. She’ll lead me to the others and I’ll send them all back to hell.”

“Remembering would help, but sounds like they infused you with a classic demon memory spell. Clouds the victim’s brain in case he survives, he can’t recall specific details.” Byrne’s expression sharpened. “So the demons can come at you again, and catch you off guard.”

Right. Like I’d ever let that happen again. “I don’t need you to watch my six. I’m not rushing headfirst into a sitch without knowing all the intel. Got it?”

Byrne’s look remained steady. “I’m not watching your six anymore, my friend. But I am serious. Get help this week or I’m placing you on mandatory medical leave for another two months and it’s going in your record that you’re mentally unstable. Your team needs you.”

The barbed wire knotted tighter in his stomach. Dale squeezed his beer bottle and felt it crack beneath his palm. He set it down, trying to regain his composure. Couldn’t let Byrne see how rattled he truly was. He didn’t trust him anymore.

Hell, he trusted no one. Not even himself.

The doorbell rang. He glanced at Byrne. “What is this? Another well-meaning friend?”

“Maybe a home invader,” the admiral suggested.

Dale headed down the hallway. The double doors were warded with magick, but anything could be lurking outside. A Girl Scout selling cookies or a demon. Or a very human home invader.

After what happened two months ago, he never took chances.

Gathering his powers, he felt the current hum through his body. And pulled open the door

Not a Girl Scout or a demon, but a petite, ebony-haired woman clad entirely in black leather, except for a powder-blue T-shirt with some kind of business logo.

Chaos.

He gave an appreciative visual sweep of his visitor. Very curvy, with long, curly hair spilling down to her waist. She had a delicate, innocent face. Wide, full lips pulled down slightly at the corners, giving her mouth a cute pout. She looked no more than eighteen.

But deep in her green eyes swirled ancient knowledge, and a weariness he’d seen in the mirror these past two months.

Parked beneath a streetlamp was a motorcycle with a very flat tire.

The girl pushed back a lock of hair. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but do you happen to have an air pump? I’ve got a flat.”

Neither the statement nor the soft, pleading words stopped him. It was the look of faint despair in those lovely, but sorrowful, sea-green eyes.

Dale glanced over his shoulder as the admiral strolled down the hallway. “She doesn’t look like a home invader.”

The girl glanced at the very intrigued and curious Admiral Byrne. Panic flared in her gaze and then her expression smoothed out. She ignored the admiral and stuck out her palm to Dale.

“I’m not. My name’s Keira Solomon. I was visiting one of your neighbors two blocks away and my bike went kaput on your street.”

He took her hand and shook it. Memories tugged...the fog temporarily lifting. Pain, so much pain, agony in each muscle, pulling off bone, shredded flesh...and a large black wolf panting in the corner, sorrow flaring in her green eyes, a long, low howl echoing his screams...

The memory died, leaving him grappling for it like a sleeper groping for wisps of a dream. Keegan looked at him, laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Dale? You okay?”

“Fine.” He shook off his hand.

The admiral gave him a thoughtful look. “Have to get home. The wife is expecting me.”

The woman politely stepped aside to let him pass. Suddenly he pushed her against the wall, his palm splayed over her forehead. Eyes opened wide, she stared at Byrne.

Dale remained motionless, watching with interest. The old man hadn’t done a mind-meld in years.

When he pulled away two minutes later, the admiral didn’t look worried or pleased. Just thoughtful. He glanced at Dale.

“She’s a paranorm. Trust her.” Something very old and sorrowful flickered in the other man’s gaze. “She’ll do you more good than you’ll ever anticipate. You both need each other.”

Keira’s wide mouth wobbled precariously. Seeming to gather her composure, she shot the admiral a scathing look as he pushed past her and went down the steps to his car.

Turning to Dale she asked, “Do you have an air pump? Because it’s getting late and I need to hit the road. If you can’t help me, I’ll knock on someone else’s door.”

The knight in rusty armor, he thought. Can’t help you with anything simpler than an air pump. “Come with me.”

He walked to the garage, where he opened a cabinet door and retrieved the pump and a can of instant flat-tire repair. Keira studied his garage. “Very organized. Everything labeled. Military man. I bet you’re the type who irons your underwear and folds it neatly in the drawer.”

He shot her a look, but she smiled at him, mischief dancing in her green eyes. That look turned him upside down. No one had dared to tease him in a long time.

As they walked back onto the street to her bike, and he set about fixing her flat, she plopped down on the pavement beside him. “I know this is a paranormal neighborhood. I’m a Luminaire.”

Dale plugged the flat and reached for the air pump. “Witch doctor.”

Keira laughed. “That’s what some call me. I’m a psi therapist who helps paranorms restore their energy balance. Perfectly legit. Your neighbor, Mrs. Henderson, asked me to cleanse her home. Had a little issue with dark energy. And you are...?”

Although the admiral vetted her, Dale still didn’t trust the girl. She looked like a pixie with her wide eyes and petite body, but pixies could be trouble.

“Dale Curtis. Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He filled the tire and checked the pressure. Perfect.

She gave him a knowing look. “You should. I can feel the power emanating from you. I know you’re a Mage, but can’t tell what type. I have power, as well. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Her teasing, melodious voice almost coaxed a smile from him. Damn, how long had it been since he’d flirted with a pretty woman?

“You first,” he told her.

Uncurling her fist, she displayed a tiny ball of white energy. The ball danced in the air and then slowly drifted upward, exploding into a shower of silver sparks. Dale went still. He hadn’t shown his powers to anyone but Keegan in a long time. Truth was, his powers had gone south since the demons kicked his ass. No telekinesis. All he could do was shift into a wolf and toss a current of power strong enough only to light dry kindling.

“Not bad.”

He focused all his energy and summoned a large ball of energy, which danced in his open palm. Bouncing it like a baseball, he sent it drifting upward, and it exploded in a much larger shower of sparks. Blood drained from her face, but she stood her ground.

“Yours is bigger than mine.”

Dale’s mouth quirked at the joke.

“You’re a Mage—what kind?” she asked.

“Primary Elemental.”

“Very powerful. But your aura is pulsing with dark energy. You need deep cleansing.” She studied her hands. “Speaking of cleansing, may I wash up? I took a bit of a spill back there.”

Mistrust flickered inside him, but he stood and nodded. She was such a tiny sprite, what harm could she do? Still, he took her hand and turned it over, his hand practically swallowing hers. Dale felt no darkness or negativity flaring from her, only a deeper, sexual spark igniting between them. Curious, he circled the scrape on her palm.

“You hurt yourself,” he murmured. “Come inside, and I’ll find antiseptic.”

He picked up the air pump and can, put them back in the garage and let her into the house through the laundry room. Dale fished out a brown bottle of peroxide and bandages from a white cabinet. Keira winced slightly as he ran warm water over her hand, then treated it with peroxide.

“You’re very good with your hands, but wow, the dark energy I feel from you, it’s not you. Not normally you.”

Dale glanced at her as he finished bandaging her hand.

“I use psi therapy, light and massage techniques to eradicate negative energy. High-frequency healing energy, using the natural elements. Harmonic meditation to calm the mind and soothe the spirit.”

“Natural elements?”

“The power of the sun, wind, earth, even fire.”

“I don’t believe in any of that ‘woo-woo’ stuff.” He replaced the bottle of peroxide.

“Of course. Because even though you’re a Mage, you’re very much a military man who believes in what he can see. You’re a natural leader, a colonel or a captain. No, not army, not with the navy base so close.” Keira wiggled her bandaged fingers. “Thanks.”

His gaze narrowed. “Lieutenant commander. How did you know?”

“Simple deduction. The flag out front, this is a military neighborhood, although a paranormal one, and...”

Silently, she pointed to the uniforms hanging on the door, still covered with dry-cleaning plastic. “I’m really quite psychic. I have ESPN.”

As she winked at him, Dale cracked a reluctant smile.

“Seriously, I can tell you need cleansing. You’ve been in contact with some pretty nasty demons.”

His smile dropped. He gestured to the mounds of dirty laundry piled high in the overflowing hamper. “That’s the cleansing I need. My housekeeper quit.”

Sally had quit with the excuse to move closer to her grandchildren. They both knew the truth. Dale’s nightly screams had fractured her nerves.

She traced a pattern in the air. “There’s thick tendrils of blackness in your aura, blackness pulsing with the other colors.”

“What other colors?” He didn’t believe in Luminaires, but he knew about auras.

“Deep red, indicating you’re a strong-willed and realistic person and a bright, vibrant red that says you’re a powerful and extremely competitive individual.”

“Bright, vibrant red also means someone who’s very sexual,” he said, enjoying the hint of pink spreading across her cheeks.

“Yes, that, too. And you have other colors as well, but they’re so obscured by the blackness, I can’t tell them apart. You’ve come into contact with great evil, evil that touched you deeply.”

This was too close for his comfort zone. He folded his arms across his chest.

“Hire me and I’ll give you a big discount. Only three thousand dollars in cash.”

“That’s all?” he asked drily.

Keira shrugged. “Work is slow right now.”

“And what do I get from you for three thousand dollars?” He pushed close to her, getting in her face, crowding her. “And for how long do I get it?”

His brazen, suggestive words brought an attractive flush to her face. To her credit, Keira refused to back off or drop her gaze. “You get me, for however long you need me. A week. Or a month, or more, if you desire. I need a place to stay while I’m in the area.”

Dale caught a faint whiff of an enticing scent that wound around his body and yanked hard. Oh, yeah...he desired. His body tightened, blood running hot and thick.

Their gazes met, connected. Something long dead inside him stirred to life. He reached out and with calloused fingers, touched her cheek.

Keira’s eyes widened and darkened. Her lush mouth trembled.

Just as suddenly the connection broke. Dale stepped back.

“And why are you in the area?”

“I travel a lot across country. Never been to Virginia before. I like the beach.”

She looked innocent. Guileless.

“What exactly are we talking about? What methods?”

“I combine aromatherapy massage and meditation with crystals to restore harmonic energy and fight evil. Light therapy, massage and reflexology.” At his questioning look, she added, “I work with your feet on certain pressure points.”

“Interesting,” he murmured. He liked the idea of the massages. Maybe this could prove to be worth his time. How long had it been since a woman had grabbed his interest?

“I’ll need you to sign a contract, of course. To protect us both,” she said. Her gaze whipped around the house, so fast he could almost see her mind recalculating like a GPS. It was fascinating and disturbing, because he knew she was pushing him hard to go where he didn’t want to venture.

Hiring Keira would get Keegan off his back. Keegan already voiced his approval of her. She was better than a navy shrink and ten times safer than a damn mind-melder. And much sexier. The surge of sexual interest flared again.

But he’d be damned if he let her try any of her woo-woo techniques. She could clean the house instead, cook his meals.

“I need a live-in housekeeper. You’d have your own room downstairs by the kitchen and I’ll pay you the three thousand and you stay for the month. Come back tomorrow at oh-five-hundred with your contract before I leave for the base.”

A tentative smile. “You sure?”

The hesitant words contrasted sharply with her earlier confidence. She almost sounded like a child hopeful for acceptance. Dale’s curiosity was piqued.

He gave a rueful glance at his feet. “I’m not into all that New Age crap, but my feet could use some pampering.”

“It’s not massage. It’s a technique to free the energy.”

“You’re not going to nibble at my toes? Damn.”

Her mouth wobbled in a tentative smile. Dale chuckled, the sound rusty and grating. Hell, had it been that long since he laughed? “I’m teasing you. I’m not into having my toes nibbled.”

At her widening smile, he added, “There are exceptions, if the mouth happens to be wide, and lush...and a tad crooked.”

The most intriguing blush ignited her cheeks. Keira put her hands to her reddened cheeks as that lovely, wide and crooked mouth parted. “Oh-five-hundred sharp. I’ll be here. I’ll even treat you to coffee.”

She leaped down the steps, marched to her motorbike and with a kick start it coughed to life, and she took off into the night.

For a few moments Dale stood in the doorway, staring after her, feeling something tighten in his chest.

He shut the door and called his neighbor to see if Keira’s story was true. After talking a few minutes, he hung up and then dialed Keegan’s number. “Spill it. Tell me what you saw in her mind.”

“Dale, it’s late....”

“Tell me.”

“I couldn’t get a fix on her memories and who she is, but I’ll say this, you need her. Trust me on this. Do yourself a favor. Let go and don’t question, just go with your gut.”

Right. Last time he did that, his guts almost ended up spilling out on the table where he’d been tortured. Damn, he hated coyness.

“Keegan...level with me.”

“Already have, son. Find yourself help and get straightened out. I don’t give a damn who straightens you out, as long as it’s done. Hire a witch doctor if you must.”

“Already did.” He told the admiral about Keira. “You satisfied now? You’ll get off my back?”

“You’re doing the right thing, Dale.”

He snorted. “We’ll see. I don’t believe in any of that woo-woo shit.”

“Maybe you should. Maybe that’s the only thing that can free you.”

The admiral hung up, leaving Dale to ponder his cryptic words.

He went to the window and stared at the full moon, feeling the itch and pull of scar tissue. Or maybe it was the itch and pull of something deeper.

That wolf that hurt him, if he got his hands on the beast...

Dale went into the kitchen, opened the sliding glass doors and stepped onto his deck. A cool, refreshing breeze caressed his cheeks. He was a powerful Primary Mage, a Mage who could shape-shift into any life form. Right now the wolf called to him, the urge to run wild and free in fur. Closing his eyes, he stretched out his hands and called upon his magick, and shifted into a large gray timber wolf. He ran into his backyard, and leaped over the wood fence, giving a joyful yip as he raced through the woods. Senses filled with the night air, the sights and smells of the land.

Freeing and exhilarating, he relished the feel of leaves and earth beneath his paws. The wolf had no responsibilities, didn’t have to visit a shrink to keep his job. The wolf had no scars, only thick fur. The wolf would never be tied down and helpless and vulnerable.

His wolf had power.

And if his wolf ever got his big paws on the demon wolf that tortured him as a man, that SOB would pay with Dale’s claws.

The wolf grinned as he ran with the night.

Chapter 3

A gentle breeze stirred the American flag hanging next to the front door. Everything about this house, from the bright white paint to the neat black shutters and the truck in the drive, seemed normal.

But nothing was normal, especially not the man living inside.

Keira took a deep breath and steadied her nerves. When the door opened, she gave a bright smile.

“I hope you like your coffee black. Because I took you for a black-coffee guy.”

She thrust a steaming coffee cup at the man in the doorway. Dale Curtis stood military straight in a starched khaki uniform, looking crisp and fresh and undeniably more handsome than a man should look at 0500 hours.

Those scrutinizing gray eyes showed a hint of a smile. “Thanks. Come in.”

Carrying her valise, Keira followed him to the kitchen. Tension knotted her stomach. His older friend, clearly a superior, had done some kind of odd mojo on her last night. She remembered nothing except that his smile had been kind.

Still, she couldn’t trust that the older man wasn’t setting her up, even though he whispered into her mind that she was safe now. Right. Nothing was safe anymore. Not since the Centurions had torn her world apart.

This arrangement troubled her. Living with him wasn’t on her agenda, but she needed to buck up his powers so he could destroy the Centurion demons. Keira suspected he hired her only to fulfill an obligation.

The commander set down the coffee, then sat on a wood stool at the breakfast nook. His penetrating gray gaze seemed to bore into her. For too long, she’d operated alone, avoiding others, especially men. This close proximity unnerved her. Dale Curtis studied her, as if puzzling out her real identity. Her hand trembled as she fumbled in her case. Not this soon. She needed time, needed to gain his trust. But instinct warned that was something this man did not easily give.

He glanced at his watch. “Let’s see the contract. You have thirty minutes before I leave for base.”

Tempted to take the watch and throw it into the trash, Keira plopped the contract on the table. “In conveniently large type, unlike most legal contracts. You can actually read this.” She glanced up at the clock. “Of course, I’m sure you’ll have to be at work soon.”

Dale slid the papers closer and began to read, his brows drawing together. Holding her breath, she tapped her fingers. But he was a fast read and finally came to the last page.

“Sign here.”

Keira handed him an old-fashioned quill. When he scratched his name in bold, strong letters, she took the quill and pricked her thumb. A droplet of blood spilled over his signature. She licked her thumb and gestured to the contract.

“I’ll give you a copy. The contract states you are free to break the agreement at any time by declaring verbally to me, ‘I renounce you. I renounce our agreement.’”

She’d seen him pour over the rambling legalese in the document, but wanted to ensure that Lt. Commander Dale Curtis knew exactly what he was getting into.

Without telling him every single, small detail.

But cooperation was essential. No man could be bound to her against his will.

At his nod, she snapped open her case and withdrew a velvet box. Inside the red velvet bed was a shimmering wide silver armband. A large blue sapphire was in the center amid intricate runes studded with smaller sapphires.

“Please slide this on me, above the elbow.”

She held out her bare right arm.

“This is a slave armband.”

Suspicion flared in his eyes. Keira held her breath. So close, would he balk now? A man of reason, she realized. A man who questioned all because he left nothing to chance.

She shrugged. “Is it? The armband provides me protection while I cleanse your house, and assures you that as long as it remains on me, I’m bonded to you as your contractor.”

And as long as you put it on me, I’m protected from demons. They can’t touch me.

“Then if it protects you, why don’t you wear it all the time?”

Smart. She wasn’t accustomed to dealing with a man who had both valor and a piercing intellect.

Keira pointed to the gleaming sapphire. “Why would I wear it when there are more human thieves who’d harm me to steal the jewels, not knowing the armband’s real value?”

Dale’s full mouth pursed, but his eyes twinkled. “You have an answer for everything. Rehearse much?”

But he gently slid the armband in place. Feeling the warmth of her skin, the metal settled against her arm, not uncomfortable, more reassuring than restricting. She was bound to him. Her wolf could not attack him as long as the band remained in place.

He didn’t remove his hand. Instead, his fingers brushed against her skin. Heat curled inside her body.

For a wild moment, she wondered what he’d be like as a lover. What would it feel like to at last surrender her innocence, give everything to a man as magnificent and powerful as him?

And surrender your heart, give total power over you, a small voice mocked. After twenty-three years of guarding what little you have left?

Dale stroked the skin under her arm along the band, and she bit her lip. Feelings surged, along with a delicious heat that made her toes curl. “This band bonds you to me. So it means you must do anything I tell you.”

Keira fisted her hands to hide their trembling. “Not exactly. I’m no pushover, Lieutenant Commander.”

With forefinger and thumb, he lightly clasped her chin. The spicy scent of his cologne swam in her nostrils. She became lost in the intense grayness of his eyes. Dale’s mouth parted as he lowered his head.

But instead of a kiss, he nuzzled her neck, inhaling deeply. Dread filled her.

Mages couldn’t scent the demon blood inside her. But he was a Primary, and much more powerful than an ordinary Mage.

“What are you, Keira Solomon? Why do I crave you? Every time I draw close, I think of sex,” he whispered.

“They have support groups for that.”

She backed away until her backside connected with the sliding glass doors. The commander advanced, a determined look on his face.

He would have answers, would wring them out of her.

“I thought you said you had to go to work.” She mustered a smile and tapped his watch. “Better get going.”

Please, let him be the kind of guy who’s never late.

“The base can wait for once. This is more important.”

Closer still he came, until his tall body overshadowed hers. He could overcome her with weight and sheer physical strength.

Inside, the demon blood surged, but her claws did not emerge. Because her wolf could no longer hurt him. Good for him, not so wonderful for her if he wanted to overpower her. Could he find out who she was?

Keira cringed and squeezed against the glass doors. He slowly stalked toward her.

“The admiral sensed something about you. I sense something about you. Something in my blood is calling to you. You’re not who you appear to be.”

She wriggled away as he reached for her. “Blood is for vamps. I don’t like vamps. They like to sleep in and they never appreciate my cooking when I make garlic sauce.”

He clasped her chin in one strong hand, his grip gentle, but firm. “I will have answers, Keira. You’d better hope and pray I don’t find out anything I don’t like.”

Tightness constricted her chest, but she gave a small laugh. “Why? You’ll feed me to the wolves?”

A slow smile touched his mouth. “Not quite.”

“Too bad. Because I always liked to play Little Red Riding Hood, only with a big knife and some nunchakus. I don’t fight fair.”

“Neither do I.” He pushed a strand of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Not when it comes to chasing down something I want very, very badly. I can be quite ruthless. Like a wolf.”

“And here I thought you were a puppy dog, Lieutenant Commander. A seemingly nice guy with too much starch in your collar.” She tried to duck beneath his embrace, but he caught her and pinned her against the door.

“You don’t want to know what I’m capable of, Keira. And you’d better pray you can handle what I deliver, because I guarantee by the time I finish with you, you’ll be in no shape to fight me. I’ll know every cell of you, every inch of you. And there will be no secrets between us.”

He lowered his head toward her. “None. I’ll cull every last one from you. So start now by telling me the truth.”

She bit back a moan as he traced her lower lip with his thumb. Oh, gods, this was a risk Keira knew she’d have to undertake, but she didn’t reckon with the magnetic power of Dale Curtis’s personality.

The force of his will.

Keira felt herself begin to crumble as the commander stroked her bottom lip, his touch gentle and erotic. His piercing gaze seared into her. Please, don’t ask the question, please. I don’t know if I can withhold the truth....

The commander would kill her. She knew it. Keira tensed as he whispered.

“You’re bound to me. The contract states it. Now, tell me the truth. You must. Who the hell are you and why the hell are you really here?”

Chapter 4

“I’m a Luminaire....”

“I know what you are. Who are you?”

His aura pulsed bright red, spiked with black. Sexual energy, as well as negative forces. Keira shoved lightly at his chest, breaking the physical contact.

“I’m your new housekeeper, a woman who needs a job, okay? I’ve been roving from town to town.”

“Why?”

The man was relentless. “I like helping people. I search for individuals that need enlightenment and then help them heal. Ask your neighbor if you need a reference.”

“I did. Odd how you showed up just when she needed you.” He lightly clasped her wrist. Sexual current sizzled between them.

Keira closed her eyes and breathed deeply, channeling every bit of white light she could to fight the temptation to lift her face to his and kiss him. “I heard her crying. Psychic cries, not real cries. I’m a healer and it compelled me.”

“Right.”

“There’s enough darkness and negative energy in this world. What’s wrong with trying to eradicate it and make people feel better?”

“Maybe there’s no hope for them.” He dropped her hand.

Keira watched a shadow drape across his expression, then his face smoothed out. Dale Curtis was hiding deep pain, pain she knew well, because she’d caused it.

Suddenly he went still. Keira’s heart dropped to her stomach as she caught the small, scampering sounds.

“Damn mice,” he said. “One reason why my housekeeper quit.”

“That’s not a mouse,” she said and bolted down the hallway, hooked a right and ran into a locked door. Keira jiggled the knob. “Open this,” she told him as he pulled up short behind her.

A fierce scowl tightened his face. “That’s private.”

“If you want to get rid of your pests, open it. Now.”

He looked shocked, as if no one ever talked to him that way.

Dale clicked a series of buttons on a brass plate and opened the door. She burst inside, barely noting that it was an office, with stacks of papers piled on the desk. Her sense of smell overtook everything. Those little, nasty creatures, smelling like a bad combination of bad breath and rotting cabbage...

“My report to the admiral...”

Ignoring Dale’s mutterings as he sifted through papers on his desk, she dived to the floor by the credenza. Keira groped beneath the furniture and felt slicing pain scrape her hand. She peered down. The imp had affixed razor blades to the credenza’s bottom, effectively making a protective nest for itself.

Two red, beady eyes glared at her. It started to lash out with its tiny claws and then backed away, obeying the hidden compulsion in the slave armband. Keira stretched out her fingers and summoned the power deep inside.

The creature squealed as it slid into her hand. She wriggled from under the credenza, clutching it tight.

“Jar,” she gasped.

Dale stared at the creature as it wriggled in her hand. Blood seeped down her clenched fist. “What the hell...”

“Jar, hello, could use a little help here, get a jar, something to hold it. Please hurry.”

He seized a heavy metal pencil holder from the desk, dumped out the contents.

Keira squatted down. “Be quick, they’re really, really fast... I’ll let go and you trap him. On three... One, two, three!”

As she released the creature, Dale slammed the pencil holder down. Damn, the man was fast.

He picked up a scrap of paper and tossed it down with a disgusted sound. “My report to the admiral... It’s chewed to pieces.”

“Uh, of course. They adore paper. Almost as tasty as flour.” Keira examined her injured hand with a rueful sigh. “If he’d have gotten to your computer, your hard drive would be royally screwed.”

To her surprise, he gave a small, wry smile. “Never did like anything royally screwed, especially my hard drive. I prefer the commoner’s touch.”

It took her a minute to realize the joke. And then to her enormous chagrin, she blushed. He gave his rusty, deep laugh again. And then he looked at her injured hand and stopped laughing. Dale took her hand very gently and examined it. His touch was absolutely gentle. Fishing out a clean, white square from his pocket, he wrapped it around her bleeding palm.

“Remind me to be careful dusting under there. It fastened razor blades to the credenza’s bottom to keep anyone from going after him.”

Dale focused his attention on bandaging her hand. “Even without a contract, you’d have to stay now. Can’t have you leaving here wounded.”

“It’s not much. It’ll heal.”

“I always take care of my own.” He looked slightly dangerous as he stared at the floor. The pencil holder trembled, but the creature was effectively trapped.

“What the hell is that thing?”

“Imp.” Keira wrapped her hand tighter to slow the bleeding. Blood was bad, attracted bad things, and this house already had enough darkness. She couldn’t risk drawing out more.

“A demon,” he said slowly.

“A very minor one. Imps are drawn to negativity and darkness. They feed on it.”

That and residual demon energy left on a victim, she thought.

Dale frowned. “That thing invaded my home because I’ve been in a bad mood?”

“Not exactly. You’ve been expelling dark energy. Something must have happened to you to suck out your white light.”

He shot her an incredulous look.

“Imps tend to make a person bad-tempered and irritable. They make a bad situation worse. They’re hard to kill because they’re so fast. They can outrun almost anything.”

He raised a dark brow. The commander opened a desk drawer and withdrew a pistol. Keira’s jaw dropped as he chambered a round and pointed the gun at the pencil jar and fired. Shards of plastic exploded, along with a nasty splatter of gray demon blood. The stench stung her nostrils.

“Not a 9 mm,” he said with satisfaction.

Sweat trickled down her spine. “Um, you’re not very forgiving, are you?”

“No.”

“I’d hate to be on your bad side.”

“You would.” His expression darkened. “Good thing you’re not a demon.”

Keira swallowed hard. “Yeah. Sounds like you’ve run up against them. It’s the source of your dark energy.”

“I’m only interested in one.” A hard smile touched his mouth, making him look dangerous. “No matter how long I must wait. I will find her and make her pay for what she did to me.”

The coffee soured in her stomach as she remembered how skillfully he’d wielded the pistol. Keira didn’t relish him discovering her true identity. Holding back her nausea, she pointed to the mess on the floor. “If you’ll show me where I’m sleeping and then where your cleaning supplies are, I’ll get started on my first assignment.”

He gently clasped her injured hand. “After I clean your wounds. Those are some nasty cuts.”

“I can do it.”

“I told you, I always take care of my own.”

She was almost afraid to ask. “And those you consider your enemies? You take care of them, as well?”

Dale gave a slow smile. “The same way I did to the imp.”

Keira didn’t look at the splattered remains on the floor as they left his study.

* * *

After Dale left, Keira brought the saddlebags containing her possessions inside and set them on the floor. Then she sat on the bed of her new room, stroking the ecru duvet.

A real bed, with feather pillows instead of a thin blanket on the cold concrete floor. A brass reading lamp with a comfortable chair by a window that overlooked the wide backyard instead of a windowless basement. Her own bathroom, not a foul bucket in the corner.

Freedom, for the first time in years, not fearing that at any moment the demons would yank her back to captivity and imprison her once more.

Oh, how she longed to sit in the chair, crack open one of the books on his shelves and read. But she had a job to do.

Keira unpacked her kit and set about cleansing the house the way a regular housekeeper would not.

First, his office. Two wide computer screens took up most of a desk. Papers that had been neatly stacked and organized were scattered about the surface.

A map of the world was mounted to one wall, with several colored pushpins inserted into various countries.

She cleansed the remains of the dead imp and burned them in the stone hearth fireplace. Blood called to blood, and even imp blood attracted dark forces.

Keira then took a small box, opened it and arranged the crystals around Dale’s office in a pattern. Then she closed her eyes and began the sacred chant. The crystals began to vibrate and hum, the music of elemental energy creating a harmonic vibration.

White light suffused the room, ribbons of light beaming out from each of the four crystals. Soothing and melodious, the light singing its own song of purity, drawing out the negative forces.

A dark cloud arose from the corner near Dale’s computer. Ribbons of white light attacked the cloud, overcoming it, and the darkness evaporated. Keira watched, her chest tight. She lowered her hands. Why could she cleanse rooms and people and not herself?

Because of the demon blood inside me, she reminded herself. Until the Centurions were permanently vanquished to the netherworld, part of her would always remain in darkness. Lately it got more difficult to regain her inner light. Each time the demons returned her to captivity, her inner light shrank. Eventually it would go out all together, leaving her in the abyss.

Each time the Centurions allowed her freedom, Keira used the time to refresh herself with positive energy, using elements from the earth and her crystals. White light held the demons’ darkness at bay for a little while, until the Centurions forced her wolf to torture a new victim.

Refreshed, she set about cleansing the other rooms, until reaching Dale’s bedroom.

Keira hesitated at the door. She drew in a deep breath and stepped into the room, feeling the despondency and grief. The master bedroom had an attached bath. Large, with a glassed-in shower and a Roman tub big enough to fit four, it was sleek tile and slick chrome.

The darkness of horrible pain slammed into her temples.

Holding a hand to her head, she opened the medicine cabinet above the sink. Lined in a neat row were several prescription-pill bottles. All of them recently issued, most for pain, some for sleeping.

The bottles held a layer of dust.

Dale Curtis had not touched a single pill. Instead, he’d suffered.

Keira cleansed both rooms, feeling the light chase away the thick layers of suffering. With a much lighter spirit, she started on her housekeeping duties.

She worked steadily, leaving the basement for last. It still needed cleansing with her crystals, as well. Dread curled in her stomach as she finally gathered her courage and climbed down the stairs, clutching her most powerful crystal. Sweat dripped down her temples and she wiped it away with the back of her hand, the dust rag gripped in her fist.

You can do this, you can do this....

The basement ran the length of the house and was enormous, divided into two sections. The smaller section was unfinished, with a utility room, wood workbench and neatly arranged tools, the furnace and storage cubicles.

This section was separated by a wall with a solid door. She opened the door and went into the larger section. It was a comfortable living room covered with beige carpeting, a small, tiled kitchen with shining stainless-steel appliances, a dining table and chairs and a sectional sofa set before a flat-screen television mounted above a fireplace. Next to the stairs were eight bunk beds. She opened a door and found a bathroom with a tiled shower.

A shiver snaked down her spine as she gazed around the room. Another door was near the bunk beds. She opened it and found a small, windowless room with a narrow bed. No light switch. Nothing to chase away the darkness...

A sly, rollicking laugh echoed in her mind. You will never escape us....

Whimpering, Keira slammed the door and leaned against it, the crystal in her left fist squeezed tight. She raced up the stairs.

Maybe she’d tackle that room tomorrow.

* * *

Dale arrived home after seven. When he walked into the kitchen, Keira noticed the shadows beneath his gray eyes were pronounced and dark.

He flipped the light switch, flooding the room with overhead lighting. The man was thin and haggard, and looking worse each day. If he didn’t regain strength soon, he’d lose the fight to darkness. Keira glanced up from the pot of stew she stirred on the stove. He brightened as he sniffed the air.

“Smells great, but you don’t have to cook. I usually grab a sandwich at the commissary.”

“I like cooking and making new dishes.”

And you need more than sandwiches to get your health back.

He eyed the dining-room table, set with the china she’d found in the elegant cabinet. “I just eat in the kitchen.”

“This is nicer, though, don’t you think?” He had such nice things. Keira wanted to relish and experience every good thing she could while she was free.

He sighed deeply, as if something hurt him. “It’s been a long time since I sat down at a dining-room table.”

Dale looked down at his uniform. “You went to a lot of trouble. Mind if I change first?”

“The stew will keep warm. Unless you decide on a hot bubble bath.”

“I never take bubble baths alone, only with company. Saves on water.”

He gave a real smile, showing white, even teeth. The smile lit up his face and chased away all the dark shadows.

Keira stared out the kitchen window as he went upstairs. Her pulse raced. First time alone all night with the man she’d tortured, a man of honor and integrity and tremendous power. She didn’t underestimate his rough appearance. If he wanted, Dale Curtis could turn her to ashes with one flick of his hand.

A few minutes later, Dale returned to the kitchen, clad in khaki trousers and a navy blue polo shirt. Deck shoes covered his feet. He went into the dining room and returned with a sparkling crystal wineglass.

“What do you think?” he asked. He went for the built-in wine rack among the cabinets. “Red or white?”

She hadn’t drunk spirits in ages and placed the glasses on the table more as pretty decor. It was dangerous to imbibe around him, dangerous to lower her guard. But he was acting more animated and she didn’t want to spoil the mood. “Red, I think. You select it.”

Dale opened a bottle and poured a small amount. “I haven’t had wine since I got home from the hospital. Just beer, and I rarely finish the bottle.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She watched him sample the vintage and nod. “Excellent.”

“How long were you in the hospital?”

“Long enough.”

As he carried the bottle and glass into the dining room, she ladled the stew into two bowls. He turned on the crystal chandelier hanging over the table. A lump rose in Keira’s throat.

She had been forced to torture him in the dark. He never knew when she’d attack, never saw her coming, only felt the burning agony of her sharp claws.

Dale filled her glass with wine as they sat. Keira tried not to think of what she’d done to this man, but the stew tasted like cardboard as she ate.

He looked up, his brows arched. “It’s very good. I taste thyme. Did you season the stew with it?”

Keira flushed under the praise. “Thyme and other spices.”

Dale smiled, the sharp angles and plains of his face softening. “You’re a good cook. I thought New Agers ate only wheat sprouts and fruit.”

Keira thought quickly. “In all my travels, I had to adapt to various lifestyles, so I learned to enjoy their foods, as well.”

He toyed with the stem of his wineglass. “You’re a gypsy.”

“With a Harley instead of a caravan. I like to travel and see the country.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s so much to this life to see, and experience.” Keira spooned up more stew. “I want to relish every single moment I’ve been given and find the good in people, the good I know exists.”

“It doesn’t always exist. There is much evil.”

“And good.”

“That’s not my job. My job is to find the evil and eradicate it, to keep the American people safe.”

Keira’s heart pounded like an excited dog’s tail against the floor. She set down her spoon. “You’re too young to be so cynical.”

“Old enough. Seen enough.” Dale sipped his wine. “My family was insular. I chose against it.”

“Why?”

“Because they cared only about money and status. When I chose to join the navy and become a SEAL, they were not happy. But serving my country, and keeping civilians safe, meant more to me than making millions, like my father wanted me to do.”

“Who is your family?”

Dale raised a brow. “In all your travels, you’ve never heard of Curtis Mark Industries? The software empire, second only to Bill Gates and Steven Jobs? That’s my father’s company.”

“You wanted to rebel against your father so you didn’t work for him?”

“I wanted to do something with my life other than remain a part of a society that cared only for being seen and flaunting their power. There’s an evil I wanted to eliminate to keep others safe. I have much power and what good is power if you don’t use it to help others?”

Keira was touched at his dedication and selflessness. The Mage could have had a very comfortable, and very safe, lifestyle. She tilted her head, studying him. Why did she have the feeling she’d met him somewhere before, around the time the demons killed her pack?

But all those memories from Nicaragua were scrambled. The demons had seen to it by infusing her with four drops of their blood when they became temporarily corporeal.

“You sacrificed a lot to keep others safe. Your parents would be proud. I would be.”

“They didn’t understand. Neither did my wife. Ex-wife. Kathy was cut from the same bolt of social-excess cloth.” He seemed to catch himself and stared at his meal. “Damn. Sorry. Didn’t mean to go there.”

“Let me guess. She didn’t like being the wife of a military officer.”

He nodded. “We’ve been divorced a long time now. No children. Enough of me. What about you? Where’s your family?”

The familiar lump rose in her throat. Keira struggled to swallow a mouthful of stew. She set down her spoon. “They were killed in a demon invasion while we were living in another country. I was able to escape.”

His expression softened. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged to hide the tears welling in her throat. “It happened a long, long time ago. My pac—parents liked to rove around the globe, see the world and experience new cultures. Guess that’s one reason I’m a gypsy. I don’t have a real home.”

Goodness, she’d almost revealed she once had a pack.

Dale ate with zest. “This is terrific. I haven’t had a hot meal in weeks. Never bother cooking. No time, too much trouble.”

She studied his lean frame. He’d lost weight since she’d last seen him. If he kept this up, Dale Curtis would resemble a walking skeleton, his powers useless, his body prime for takeover by other demons.

“You need more protein, real meals, not grabbing sandwiches. Now that I’m here, I’ll cook dinner for you every night.” Keira smiled, trying to lighten her mood. “I promise if I find another imp, I won’t throw him in the stew pot. Besides, those little buggers can take the heat.”

“How do you normally kill them?”

“Not with guns, though yours did the trick.”

Dale smiled, looking less severe.

“Usually it’s best to blast them with white light. They’re so small, it’s easier than trying to kill a demon with white light. With demons, you need the big guns.”

Those startlingly gray eyes met hers. Beneath the mild look was an exacting scrutiny. Uncomfortable, she realized he was sizing her up, digging beneath the surface to find out what her deal was. Not a good idea.

“How do you know so much about imps and demons?” he asked.

“I studied them.”

“Most women wouldn’t want to get near a demon, even an imp, if they lost loved ones to dark forces. Yet you knew exactly what was in my office, and where it would be hiding.”

Guilt surged through her. “I studied demons and their minions. Wanted to know what my enemies were capable of doing.”

“I do the same, only I’m trained in combat and weaponry.”

“Did you know imps love to invade kitchens, food supplies, even liquor? Once I found a dozen of them in a liquor cabinet. They’d managed to break open a bottle of brandy. Have you ever seen a drunk imp? Not a pretty sight.”

She set down her spoon. “And I’m rambling. If you want, I can eat in the kitchen, leave you in peace to digest your meal.”

“Stay,” he said quietly. “It’s nice to share a meal with someone. I get tired of eating alone.”

“Me, too.” The words slipped out before she could catch herself.

Warmth shone in his eyes. For a moment, she indulged in the fantasy that this was her real home, and she could cook here every night. A real home, with someone to belong to.

The lump returned to her throat. Keira gripped her spoon. If she allowed melancholy to consume her, she’d dim her white light. Think positive. “Tell me about the piano. Do you play?”

He nodded. “Not for a long time, though.”

“Classical or contemporary?”

“Only the classics. I once wanted to be a concert pianist, but wanted to fight our nation’s enemies more.” He gave a crooked smile. “You can’t kill the bad guys with music.”

“You’ve never heard me play.”

Dale gave his deep, husky chuckle. “And you’ve never heard me sing.”

They were deep into a discussion of classical music versus rock when a clear thud sounded downstairs.

“Something’s in the basement.” The spoon rattled against the table as she set it down.

Dale wiped his mouth with the linen napkin. He stood, his expression shuttered. “Or someone. I have quarters down there for my men when they run into trouble. But they always ring the front doorbell.”

“I don’t like your basement. It’s a bit spooky,” she admitted.

His gaze turned troubled. “I haven’t been down there...in a while.”

Keira didn’t want to go down those stairs. Not now, as shadows draped the house and the darkness pushed away the sunlight. Her pulse raced. And then she looked at Dale and thought about how he must feel about basements.

He dragged in a deep breath and went into the hallway. When he returned, he carried the same pistol he’d used to shoot the imp. Dale slid the chamber back, the racking sound echoing in the room.

“Stay here.”

Something vulnerable flashed in his gaze. Keira’s heart kicked. As much as she loathed and feared what lay below, she couldn’t let him go there alone.

“I’m coming with you.”

“No.”

“Bullets won’t stop a demon.”

“My powers can.”

“You’ll need extra help. White light can aid and enhance your powers.” She fished her white quartz crystal from her jeans pocket.

Dale narrowed his eyes. “Fine. But you stay behind me at least five steps, and if I order you to run back upstairs, run.”

She followed him. He opened the door to the basement as she squeezed the crystal tight.

Keira swallowed hard, seeing the steep, gray steps swallowed by inky blackness. Anything could be down there. She’d failed to cleanse the room with white light. Her breathing ragged, she prepared to descend with him into the darkness.

Chapter 5

Dale hadn’t been in his own basement since before the incident. Cupping his gun, he crept down the stairs. Sweat trickled down his temples. This was his home, damn it, and he’d tolerate no intruders. But his pulse rate tripled and he struggled to swallow past the panic rising in his throat.

Memories assaulted him. The terrified little boy held in a demon’s cruel grip. “His life for yours,” the demon had cackled.

And then Dale had willingly become the Centurion’s captive, as they tied him down and tortured him until his voice grew hoarse from the screams....

A soft whimper sounded behind him. Keira was just as terrified. Dale straightened and motioned for her to stay back. Damn it, he was a navy SEAL, not some wimpy ass scared of entering his own damn basement.

He flipped on the light switch. Soft white light illuminated the downstairs. When he reached the bottom step he heard singing.

“I don’t think demons sing,” Keira whispered.

He lowered the gun, relief making his knees weak. “That’s no demon, but an imp from hell. What his mother calls him, anyway.”

Dale rounded the corner to the section he’d built as quarters to house his men when the Phoenix Force needed to discuss ops in private. He flipped the safety on his weapon and shoved it into the waistband of his shorts.

Grant “Sully” Sullivan lay on the carpet, singing a bawdy song. Dale inhaled and recoiled.

“Jesus, Sully, what the hell?”

The ensign struggled to sit up, and fell back, the odor of whiskey clinging to him like cheap perfume. “Sorry, Curt. I’m a little...little drunk.”

“And you came here to sleep it off? Or escape from a lover?” Dale squatted down beside the young SEAL.

Keira entered the room and looked at Sully. Dale sighed. “Keira, meet Ensign Sullivan, one of my men. Sully, this is Keira, my new housekeeper.”

Sully opened one eye and held out a hand. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

Her mouth quirked. “It’s a pleasure since you’re not a demon.” Her gaze whipped to Dale. “Although I’ve heard you’re an imp.”

“That’s what Mom says. Of all her eight kids, I was the worse. Worst.”

Dale wiped his clammy palms on his shorts to hide them from Sully. Even drunk, the man was sharp. Of course. He’d trained the SEAL himself. “Why did you teleport here?”

“My sis. Cassandra’s worried about you. Made me promise to warn you in person, Curt.”

“Who’s Curt?” Keira asked.

“It’s my team nickname.” Dale glanced at the kitchen. “Could you get him a glass of water?”

As Keira headed for the sink, Dale sat beside Sully and lowered his voice. “I told you, I’m fine.”

The last thing he needed was Sully’s well-meaning but nosy older sister fretting about him. Did the whole world have to fuss over him?

“Cassandra saw a vision in her crystal ball.”

Keira handed the glass to Sully, who gulped down the water. “Your sister has a crystal ball?”

“Just for fun. Doesn’t need it.” Sully set the glass down and looked slightly more alert. “She sees her visions in her mind. She came to my place and yelled at me for drinking too much. Jeez, I hate when she yells at me. Like I’m eight again and she’s my bossy older sister nagging me. Well, I was a mess, but damn, I didn’t expect company, sorry for swearing, ma’am....”

Trying to follow a line of conversation with Sully when he was soused was like trying to read Latin backward. Dale pointed two fingers at his eyes. “Focus, Sully. Why was your sister at your apartment?”

“Cassandra was worried about you. Came to tell me. Saw a vision in her crystal ball of you dancing with a demon. Not your ex-wife, either.”

Dale’s mouth quirked. He glanced at Keira to see if she absorbed the joke, and saw blood drain from her face.

He wondered what it meant. Then she smiled, but it seemed strained.

“What kind of demon?”

Sully frowned. “She started bitching... Sorry, ma’am, I mean, complaining, about how messy my place was and how I drank all the whiskey.”

“The demon?” Dale asked.

“My sis.”

“Why did you drink so much?” he asked gently, already knowing the reason.

“Ever since Miranda broke up with me, my life’s been a wreck. I loved her and no one will ever be as sweet.” He sighed. “’Cept maybe Paulina. She was amazing....”

Keira gave him a questioning look. “How did you break in?”

“Teleported. Never break in.”

She gave Dale a questioning look. “He teleported over. Sully’s a Light Mystic.”

“Which is Curt’s polite way of saying I’m the bastard son of a Mystic Witch and a psychic human. Unlike Cassandra, who’s a pure-blood Mystic.” Sully rubbed at his face.

She tensed visibly. “Mystic Witches have visions of the future.”

“Cassandra’s are usually spot-on, which is why I need to know more about this one.” Dale turned back to Sully. “What did your sister see?”

“Oh, Dale, let the poor man sober up. He looks hungry.” She smiled at Sully. “Have you eaten?”

Sully ran a hand through his thick hair. “No, ma’am. Was gonna grab leftovers or something out of a can.”

“I made stew. There’s plenty. Would you like dinner?”

Dale shot her an incredulous look, but she ignored him and focused on Sully, who brightened, his boyish face lighting up like a Christmas tree. “Gee, thanks. I love real home cooking.”

He didn’t like the idea of Sully dining with them. Dale ruminated over this. It wasn’t the thought of Sully treating him with kid gloves or asking him again and again how he was healing.

Dale disliked the idea of sharing Keira’s company with another man.

Interesting. He rubbed a spot on his chest, his scars itching suddenly. Or was the itch much deeper, the burning wish to enjoy a quiet conversation with a woman who didn’t look at him with either fear or desire in her eyes?

Sully scrambled to his feet, swayed a moment and then caught himself. Dale stood as well, wondering about Cassandra Sullivan’s cryptic message. Her visions in the past had proved correct. But no way in hell would he ever dance with demons.

Dale headed for his study and locked his weapon in the safe. When he returned to the dining room and retook his seat, Keira had set a bowl of stew on the table before Sully.

The SEAL began to eat. “Wow, this is terrific,” he said around a mouthful of stew. “Maybe if Curt fires you, you can cook for me.”

She sat, looking amused at Dale’s scowl. “I just got hired. Why would he fire me?”

“You’re not his type. Too nice.” Sully waved his spoon. “He likes tall, model types with sharp tongues.”

“Ensign,” Dale warned. “Tell me about your sister’s vision. What did this demon look like?”

Keira choked on her wine. Dale glanced at her. “You okay?”

“Fine.” She coughed. “Drank too fast.”

“Sis said the demon’s face was blurred, but she had pretty hair. Silky.” Sully squinted at Keira. “Kinda like yours, ma’am. No offense. Didn’t mean to compare you to a demon.”

“No prob,” she said quickly. “Care for some wine?”

“Think I’ve had enough to drink. Wouldn’t wash down well with the finest whiskey this side of—”

“Ensign,” Dale interrupted. “The vision?”

“Cassandra said that the demon is closer to you than you’d ever realize...a demon in disguise—”

“More stew?” Keira persisted.

Sully shook his head. “Could use coffee, though, if you have any. Need to sober up.”

Her smile was bright. “Sure. Would you like dessert? I made chocolate cake.”

“From scratch?”

Keira had already vanished into the kitchen. “Dale, would you help me? I can’t carry this by myself.”

He went into the kitchen and carried out the cake as she set up the coffeemaker. Keira scurried after him into the dining room.

As she began to cut slices of the thick cake, Dale shook his head. “I’m full. I’ll save it for later.”

He aimed a stern look at the ensign. “Sully, your sister’s vision.”

“A sad demon. Weird. A demon who liked to dance and invaded your house to get close to you, the devil in disguise. She said your future depends on vanquishing the demon.” Sully dug into his slice of cake. “This is great. Thank you, ma’am.”

“Keira,” she said. “Dale, I think the coffee is ready. I couldn’t find anything to serve it in. Do you mind?”

Dale bit back his impatience as he returned to the kitchen. Damn it, why couldn’t Cassandra have clear-cut visions instead of sounding like a Chinese fortune cookie? What demon? Why would he allow a demon into his own home?

Then again, he’d changed since the time in the basement. Dale pressed a hand to his temple. Things that were normally clear before had grown muddied in his mind. He needed to get his act together.

When he returned, carrying a silver service and three cups, Keira was eating her slice of cake. Sully snapped his fingers.

“That’s what Cassandra said. I forgot. She said the devil you dance with is the devil in your house, the demon you’ll fall hard and fast for, the devil you’ll bring to your bed....”

“Oh, my God,” Keira cried out.

They both turned. She was licking frosting off her fork, her tongue slowly stroking the tines. Dale’s jaw dropped. Holy crap, the woman turned eating cake into carnal art.

“Oh, my God, this is so good! Chocolate,” she breathed. “I haven’t had any in months. You must try this. I used dark and milk chocolate.”

Keira took another bite. Eyes closed, expression ecstatic, she looked like a woman in the throes of orgasm.

He forgot all about Cassandra’s vision. Forgot about why Sullivan came to his house. All his focus centered on the woman eating a slice of chocolate cake with such sensuality, his blood thickened.

Dale hungered to see her looking this way again, only naked beneath him, her pleasure visible to his eyes only.

Sully stared at her with wide eyes, a pulse beating wildly in his throat. The man was clearly turned on. She licked the fork slowly, and Dale had the oddest feeling she was truly savoring the meal, but also distracting them.

Why? Did she see Mystic Witches as a threat?

Keira flicked her tongue over the tines and slowly slid the utensil into her mouth. Out. Then in again. Sweat trickled down Dale’s back. He gulped down his wine, his gaze riveted. Beneath his shorts, his cock hardened.

Stunned, Dale set down his wine. He hadn’t experienced arousal since his torture. Now his new housekeeper, with her innocent air and pouting, full mouth, had given him an erection. He narrowed his eyes at Sully.

Leave us alone. Now.

The SEAL wasn’t stupid. Sully suddenly pushed back his plate. “I’ll be going. Thanks for the meal.”

He stood and stretched out his arms as if to teleport, but began to sway. Dale bolted out of his chair. Damn it, he was so tuned into Keira’s little display, he’d forgotten his first responsibility—to his men.

“Downstairs, Ensign. You’re not headed anywhere. Either I get you a taxi to your apartment or you stay here. Last time you teleported someplace drunk, you ended up inside the lingerie department of a department store.”

“I do love the ladies in silk.” Sully sighed.

Dale helped him down the steps and watched him collapse onto a bunk bed, covered him with a blanket. Then, as an afterthought, he left a lamp burning.

No one should be left alone in a basement with the lights off.

No one should be left alone in a basement with the lights off and the sound of his own blood slowly dripping onto the cold concrete floor.

His erection deflated. Dale climbed up the stairs, needing to return to the brightly lit kitchen.

A soft, sweet voice hummed a tune he recognized from the sixties. Keira’s arms were plunged into a sink filled with soap suds. Disappointed, Dale cocked a brow. He wanted to watch her eat more cake, with him as her only audience. He wanted to slide chocolate frosting over her mouth and slowly lick it off, then trail his tongue down her neck and lower...

What the hell was wrong with him? All he could think about was sex. This was the woman he’d hired to clean his house and keep Keegan Byrne the hell out of his personal life. Dale drew in a deep breath, then another, and folded his arms.

“I have a dishwasher,” he told her.

At her questioning look, he pulled open the stainless-steel door and slid out a rack. A most becoming blush tinted her round cheeks.

“Runs on electricity, saves time,” he added.

“Some things are done best the old-fashioned way. Save the planet.”

His irritation grew. “Hope you’re not into only candlelight and battery power like most New Agers and I’m going to wake up to find organic sprouts for breakfast instead of bacon and eggs. I don’t eat sprouts and I’m not into peace and love.” Dale fetched a clean dish towel and began to dry the plates she stacked on the drainer.

Keira’s lovely mouth wobbled. “Are you making fun of me?”

His stomach churned at her woebegone expression. He set down a plate. Damn it, had he lost all his manners? Since when had he been so rude?

He took another deep breath, wrestling for control, feeling his life was spinning away from him again.

“I’m sorry. I’m rather bad-tempered these days.”

Especially when facing a woman who really turned him on, and made him feel even more out of sorts because each time he was around her, all he could think about was getting her naked.

Her peaches-and-cream complexion looked creamy and smooth, like fresh milk. The pink-and-green-flowered frock floated around her calves, hugging every inch of her curves. With her huge green eyes and the dark curls tumbling down her backside, Keira looked more like a forest nymph than a housekeeper.

“Why?”

That voice, it stroked over his clammy skin like velvet. So lush and melodious. Seductive and yet without the artifice of his sometime girlfriend, Melissa, who knew how to use her feminine skills to get her own way.

Keira was his housekeeper. It was none of her business why he was bad-tempered. She was his employee, nothing more.

Dale braced his hands on the counter and looked her in the eye.

“I told you before that I was in the hospital. It’s only been two weeks since I returned to active duty. I’m still trying to find my feet again and learn to be civil.” His mouth twisted. “Hard to be social and polite when you spend days and nights bare-assed, needles and tubes snaking out of your body, nurses waking you up every hour to check and see if you’re still breathing.”

Sympathy shone in her green eyes. “Why were you in the hospital?”

He dragged in a deep breath. Sooner or later, she’d hear the rumors. “I was tortured by demons.”

She flinched.

“But I made it, and thanks to one of my men and his girlfriend, who saved my ass and got me airlifted to a hospital in time, I’m going to be fine. Great. Terrific.”

“Do you remember anything?”

“Not much.” Dale picked up the dish towel and began folding it into thirds.

“The man and his girlfriend who saved you, do they remember anything?”

He frowned. “Shay and Kelly told me there was a girl in the basement, but she vanished. His memory and Kelly’s both got fogged. But he’ll never forget the girl’s face.”

She drew in a deep breath. “Where is this Shay and his girlfriend? Maybe they can help you.”

“They got married. Shay’s away on training, took Kelly with him to live near the base. They won’t be back for a few weeks.”

Keira’s expression remained shuttered. He stared at the counter, willing the memories to become stronger.

“I remember the little boy the demons threatened to torture and kill and how they said they’d make him die slowly if I didn’t take his place. I’ll never forget his name. Joshua.”

“Josh,” she murmured.

Dale studied her and Keira flushed again. “Most boys with that name are nicknamed Josh. What else do you remember?”

“There was a wolf there, a black wolf. And a woman. I think. I remember her scent.” He rubbed an aching spot behind his throbbing temples. “Citrus and wood chips. No, maybe it was lilies and honey. It’s a blur now.”

Keira rummaged in the freezer, found a bag of frozen peas and handed it to him. “Here. This will help your headache.”

“Thanks.” He pressed it against his pounding skull. “How did you know my head hurt?”

“Your face is all compressed.”

The cold bag felt good against his throbbing head. “I thought you were going to say my aura is red and black.”

“It is.” Keira dried her hands. “But I know you’re not into that woo-woo stuff.”

He had the grace to feel ashamed.

Dale tossed the peas back into the freezer and stuck out a palm. “Let’s start over. I’m Dale Curtis, lieutenant commander of the best team of SEALs in the U.S. Navy, sometime classical pianist and foot-in-the-mouth jerk.”

A tentative, sweet smile touched her mouth as she offered her hand. “Keira Solomon. Roving gypsy, Luminaire and quirky New Ager. Oh, and I happen to detest bean sprouts.”

Her palm felt soft, the bones delicate beneath his big hand. Dale caressed it very gently, feeling the bandage he’d placed there, feeling loath to release her. The delicious scent of cookies, vanilla and almonds drifted from her, tendrils wrapping around him and invading his senses. She smelled like freshness and innocence.

She smelled like home.

Dale hadn’t been home in a long, long time.

His guts clenched as he dropped her hand. She did not move but moistened her mouth, staring at him.

Riveting his gaze on her mouth, he moved closer. Closer still, his own lips parting. Hungering to sample her, see if she tasted as delicious as she smelled.

Dale reached for her, ready to cup her cheek and lower his mouth to hers.

A sharp scream cut through the air. Keira blinked, and paled.

Downstairs. Sully.

The SEAL never had nightmares. Ever.

“Oh, God, get it off me! Please! Someone help me!”

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