Dantes Relic

DANTE’S RELIC An Ellora’s Cave Publication, September 2004 Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc. PO Box 787 Hudson, OH 44236-0787 ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-4199-0049-8 Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned): Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML DANTE’S RELIC © 2004 MELANI BLAZER ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously. Edited by Briana St. James Cover art by Syneca.

DANTE’S RELIC Melani Blazer

Dedication Michelle—Thanks for sharing in the enthusiasm for my inspiration for Dante. J.B.—You are amazing. May all the magic in the Earth be yours. Steven—My own personal angel, with that divine devilish streak. You’re my hero, my love—forever.

Dante’s Relic

Chapter One “Who are you?” Cammie gripped the edges of the cool stone platform that served as a makeshift bed and met the eyes of the upside-down face above her. The earth beneath her rumbled again. Aftershocks. They’d been going on for nearly a month since the great quake had opened up the chasm just east of the Sierra Madre in southwestern Mexico, but these seemed stronger than usual. She should be accustomed to them, but never could get over the lack of control she felt when the ground shuddered and shifted. This one seemed a little worse than most. The man standing above her seemed oblivious to it. He smiled down on her, chocolate-brown eyes twinkling and dimple lines showcasing an amused mouth. So what was she doing on this table—sacrificial table, no less—lying on her back with him watching her? Where was her short-term memory? Had she hit her head? But if that were the case, shouldn’t he be asking her if she was all right? Was she okay? Maybe that’s what he was so humored by. She reached up and rubbed her face, then held her eyes closed. Focus: Person, Time, Place. Campbell Howard, she recited back mentally. May 21st—Wednesday morning. Mexico. Archaeological dig of Mayan ruins near Izapa. There. She let out a breath. A hand smoothed her hair. Cammie nearly jumped off the table. The strange man chuckled. “Relax. You’re safe now. But danger awaits us.” Maybe she wasn’t okay. She must have hit her head. What had she been doing? She sat up and swung her legs over the side, scooting a few more feet away from him at the same time. A quick fingertip perusal of her skull indicated no physical damage, but that meant little. Her memory of the day was foggy. That wasn’t good. What bothered her more than that was failing to remember this guy that spoke in riddles and watched her as if she were a cartoon character. “What did you say your name was?” She pushed her hair back into a ponytail and secured it with the band on her wrist. For the first time she looked at him straight on. Much different than upside-down. Wow. A trickle of excitement snuck through her immediate worry and incited a few butterflies. “Dante. You are?” He stuck out a hand. At least she wasn’t crazy. Or suffering from severe memory loss. They hadn’t met yet. She was wondering what natural disaster would have managed to erase memory of him from her mind. 5

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“Campbell Howard. Doctor Howard, actually, but around here…” her voice trailed off she looked past Dante. The excavation site was empty—just like her chest cavity felt at this moment. “Everyone calls me Cammie.” She swallowed and peered behind her. “Where is everyone?” Where had this man come from and how had thirty-eight people vanished? Had they been evacuated? Another earthquake? Had it been that bad? It didn’t make sense that they could have disappeared so quickly—unless she had been knocked out cold. But they hadn’t packed—at all. The equipment was still lying where they’d been using it. Well, some of it. From her vantage point on the raised table, she could see the plot that had been roped off into a grid, a pile of camera equipment, and an empty tent with one loose side whipping in the wind. It had been abandoned. “What happened here?” He shrugged and continued to grin at her. Now that was what confused her the most. He looked American. Dressed just like a member of her excavating crew. And spoke perfect, if rather formal, English. He was alone and seemed hardly interested in— Shit. She got up and raced over to the edge of the forty-foot long and ten foot wide tear in the land. She remembered now. This University-led archaeological team had summoned her to assist them in retrieving an article spotted some ten yards straight down the precipice. For over three weeks she’d spent up to eight hours per day hanging from a harness while chipping away sediment and rock to expose the statue. It was beautiful. White marble—pristinely white, as if pure from within. It’d been carved into the likeness of an angel. Not rude two-dimensional sculpture of the PreClassic Period of the Mayans, no, this one looked far more advanced. With their digitized images, they’d estimated it to be about eight inches tall and three inches in diameter. Despite its size, its worth would be priceless. Whispers of Atlantis had circulated once the pictures had been analyzed. How else could they explain something that, from its position in the rock, was easily a thousand years older than the earliest Mayan find? Today, she’d gotten it. She remembered the feel of it in her hand. The triumph of another mission. She didn’t fail. Failure wasn’t in her vocabulary. But where was the statue now? She closed an empty fist and narrowed her eyes at this new person on the scene. The answer to that could explain this whole mess. She pushed everything else from her mind but the sudden panic. “Where is it? What have you done with it?” Using her five-foot eight-inch frame would be rather useless against his taller stature, but she’d never backed down from anyone and wouldn’t start now. In fact, she had gotten used to people backing down from her. Dante, however, leaned his thigh against the table and crossed his arms. “What is that of which you speak?”

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“Oh, speak English! The relic, the statue. What’d you do with it?” He’d taken it. There were others, probably his whole crew had taken away the men and women she worked with. All because of this statue. No wonder he was so damn amused, he’d won. He spread his arms wide. Hell, no, he didn’t have it. It was probably flying over the Gulf of Mexico toward the States as they spoke. “Damn you,” she spat as she reached up to slap him. He grabbed her wrist and prevented her strike. “Don’t speak like that. I don’t have your relic. It is safe in your pack. Now gather your things. We must go.” “We can’t go anywhere. I have to stay here and finish my job. Plus find my crew.” And her backpack. Everything was in there. Well, almost everything. Her purse, plane ticket home and identification were all back in the hotel room. She looked around the ground beside them, then back up at him. She avoided those warm eyes, preferring to regard him as the enemy. Still, she would wager a month’s pay he knew where her crew went. “Evil lurks here now, the relic has unleashed it.” Oh this was insane. A curse? She blurted what came to mind, “How would you know? No one besides my crew knew anything about that piece other than its location and initial appearance.” His gaze met hers. A warm flow of air circled around her. Time seemed to stop. A calmness soaked into her, blurring the here and now. “Stop!” Cammie jerked her eyes away before it took her, this magic sort of hypnotism. She sucked in a few deep breaths to clear her head. That was weird. Unlike anything she’d ever felt before. It wasn’t entirely bad. Or wouldn’t have been if she was comfortable with the person and place. Control was too precious to her and right now was not the time to relinquish any control to this stranger. “You’d do better to listen with your heart instead of filtering thoughts through your rationale.” “What?” she asked. Then shook her head. Forget this. She’d find her people and get out of Mexico. She got what she came for. Or so he said. “Never mind.” With a shake of her head, she walked away. Fingers snaked around her arm. She jumped despite expecting it. “Grab your pack. Follow me.” It wasn’t a question. Nor a request. He simply pointed to the bag laying behind her. Instinct told her to pull away and demand respect, but something in the set of his jaw and narrowed gaze caused her to think twice. He was serious. It was best to let him half-drag her around the side of the crumbled building. It wasn't like they were leaving the site. And just maybe she’d get a clue why he was here. She took a couple of steps, then pressed her fingers to her temples. Wow! A sharp pain sliced through her temples like a razor.

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Dante stopped with her, and touched her forehead lightly. That same warm swirl of air surrounded her, and the pain lessened. She opened her mouth to ask him what he’d just done, but he spoke first. “The demon has woken. If you see him, you must never look him in the eye. Never. I have to stop him. We have to stop him.” His right eye twitched as his eyebrows knit downward. “Look at me. Faith is the strongest element. You must trust.” She tilted her chin up, jutting it out slightly. His eyes reached into hers. But she blinked before he could try that hypnosis hocus-pocus again and fisted the handle to her bag. He sighed and regarded the clearing below them. “Here he comes. Move.” With quick, quiet movements, he rounded the back of the roofless building, dragging her behind him. She didn’t hear a thing. Here who comes? And was this crumbling bit of rock really going to hide them from whoever he didn’t want to see? Despite the urge to cry foul, she bit her tongue when he pushed her against the wall and placed his hand over her mouth. For a second she thought he was going to choke her. In a way he was—gone was her authority here. He was demanding she stay put. Her heart thundered against the palm print he’d left on her breastbone. He skirted around the front of the building while she caught her breath. What was going on? She was never one to sit still when there was action to be had, and damn if she was going to miss seeing a so-called demon. And just because it seemed like good enough advice, she wouldn’t even look it in the eye. This was getting more and more ridiculous by the moment. She adjusted her backpack and took several steps around toward the front, careful to stay as flush to the leaning wall of rock as she could. Nothing. Not even a shadow. “Cammie,” Dante hissed in her ear from behind. He must have circled the building and anticipated her actions. She spun around and grabbed his wrists. Hah! Now she had control. No way was he going to back her into the corner and heavy-hand her again. “What is going on here? You said—” His mouth met hers in a searing kiss that chased any thought of demons away. She knew he was influencing her. Despite the fierceness in which she fought it, it flowed into her—a rush of something much more primitive and powerful than ancient curses. At his slight pressure she opened her mouth to him and clutched his shirt for support. His voice echoed in her head. “Think with your heart…” He tilted his head and cupped his hands around the back of her neck in the most romantic and erotic gesture, yet with it came such gentle peace. He tasted of honey and wine and had the same intoxicating effect on her senses. She sighed and leaned into him. The feel of his tongue as it traced her lips and then tangled with hers melted away thoughts of anything else. His mouth lifted, then grazed

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across hers. The tingling sensation in her lips easily spread through her body, heating her skin at every point of contact. When had he gotten so close? “He is gone. But we will cross his path again. We must hurry.” Once again she found control had slipped from her grasp. She wiped her mouth and smoothed her hair. But settling her racing heart wouldn’t be so easy. This man was dangerous. To her, to her mission. Especially if he could steal her thoughts with just a kiss. “Okay, wait a minute here. You’re a great kisser, but that was quite bold of you. We’re going to do this my way. You can go ahead on this crazy demon hunt but I’m going to find my crew, advise them that I’ve succeeded, get this relic photographed and documented and then I’m on my way up to LA for testing.” She wanted to smack herself. She’d said too much. Why was she telling him this? Blame it on the hormones racing around her body. Just because he hadn’t taken the relic yet didn’t mean he didn’t want it. He had to want it. There was nothing else here. Just a few pieces of pottery and another slab with Mayan inscriptions. Hardly comparable to the piece she held. Christ. If he hadn’t already taken it. She reached up for the straps to her backpack. “It is too dangerous now. You will come with me,” Dante said. She smacked away his hand as he tried to push a loosened strand of hair away from her face. “Where I’m going is home. Trust me. Now let me make sure you’re not lying to me about this artifact.” She shrugged the backpack off her back and knelt to open it. Dante backed away. “Afraid?” she asked teasingly, but there was something in his eyes that hinted at fear. She dismissed it. He, after all, believed in curses and demons. She believed in science. She couldn’t wait to get out of there. It’d be so good to be back in civilization. She had to finish her book on cave excavation in the Midwest and then finalize the details of her summer amateur archaeology class near the black hills of South Dakota. Listen to her heart, he’d said. Ha. If she had done that she wouldn’t have taken the flight to Mexico in the first place. She may not be a household name, but she was treated like a celebrity in the archaeology circles. Mainly for her daredevil excavation attempts and unusual finds. Like this one. She lifted the relic out of the heavy paper and bubble wrap and admired its perfection. As if it had been carved yesterday. She turned it over in her hands. This was the first she’d touched it without gloves. Marble, she guessed. That was the assumption from the pictures anyway. Where did they get marble? Who were they? How long had this been down there?

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“Tell me what you know about this. Exactly who are you and how did you get here? How did you learn about the find?” She should pack up and run, but just…couldn’t. She hated that she hesitated, but it unnerved her not to know anything about this man. And that he knew something about the relic. “The curse upon it could befall the entire human race. It will be safe with you and only you. It is the key to stopping the curse. Come now, Cammie, we must go before it is too late.” “Too late for what?” she asked, exasperated. He deliberately stepped around her questions and instead created more. “How can it have a curse yet hold the key to releasing it? That makes no sense.” Listen with your heart. It went beyond everything she believed, but she did listen. She’d been accused of being stubborn and opinionated before, but never had she felt contradiction within herself. While she wanted to rebel and do it her way, there was too much about what Dante had said to dismiss. As long as she held the relic, she did have control, right?

***** Campbell Howard was either a blessing or another curse. Or both. Or neither. Dante watched as she raced around the excavation site, gathering pieces of equipment and supplies. Regularly she threw her hands up in the air. Quite spirited, that one. But he knew that before she’d started this animated obstacle course. It was as if her spirit had come alive when she triggered this course of events. He’d known what would happen. The instant her hand had touched the key—her relic—he’d felt the rise of power beneath and inside him. He knew immediately what was going to happen. The force of their power exploding from the tiny tomb buried deep within the earth had triggered an earthquake, and her little rope would break like a flimsy string. And because he’d defied destiny and taken the risk to save her…and the relic, he brought the curse full circle. And he became mortal. The only consolation was that the demon shared his fate. And as mortal, the demon was conquerable. If he didn’t get away from them. “Hurry!” he called out to her. He’d promised, warily, to see that she got back to civilization so she could check on her crew. Still suspicious, she’d agreed. He just hadn’t said when. She’d be a wildcat when she found out it wasn’t going to be tonight. She stood up in the distance and thrust her hands on to her hips. The level of her frustration reached atop the hill, but only served to amuse him. Human as he was, he’d reacted immediately to the feel of the body he’d held against him as he’d climbed out of

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the chasm and saved her. It’d been worse, later when she was awake. That kiss had been stolen without thought, though he regretted not a moment of it. Even now, heightened awareness of her distracted him. She approached with a determined march, promising him another eruption of her explosive personality. But she wasn’t impractical or illogical. She held an air of self-assuredness; as if her presence required, but not quite demanded, complete submission. She’d be able to do her job with ease—protect the relic. When the time came, she would use it to seal up the tomb once more. Be it the original one or a more modern counterpart. Those details would become clearer to him later. He just hoped she’d still have the same spirit and strength after all she’d face. The last thing he needed was for her to give up. He hated to be dependent on someone, especially a human. A female human who had no clue what she was up against. This could get worse before it got better. “I can’t leave not knowing what happened here. The film has been removed from the cameras. The radios, satellite dish, it’s—it’s all gone!” Perhaps she was a bit overdramatic, but his common sense knew she wouldn’t simply accept her fate and march forward. He had to feed her answers. Something to chew on. He shook his head. She wouldn’t understand it, especially with her emotions so high. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to lie. “Your people were sent away when the demon was released. They were not safe. No one is safe.” “Except you, I take it?” “Not even I.” With a snort, Cammie slung the pack over her shoulder and lifted the second, one she’d filled with what she was able to salvage from the site. Didn’t even ask him to help. Stubborn, yet admirable. And just when he expected she’d fight to carry the bag, she barely whimpered when he took it from her and put it over his own shoulder. Fine lines. Scary fine lines. “So, is this some kind of vampire demon and you’re the next Buffy?” “Buffy?” What or who was Buffy? “You know, the TV series. The one that kicks vampire ass? Of course, she’s a girl and you’re…” He looked back to catch a hint of blush on her cheeks, but her eyes flashed defensively. Almost as if they said, Dare me. “I don’t see much TV,” he answered. “Oh.” Her immediate silence worried him. She should be demanding answers, not mulling all of this while biting her lip. They walked through the ruins to the parking area. Empty. The road was deserted. Telepathically he zoned in on the demon. Alone and unburdened, he moved much faster and had a head start. They needed to catch up. Once the evil reached the locals, things would get worse. When he got to civilization, there’d be a big mess. Problem

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was, things were different this time. He had no idea what to expect, and his angelic powers were currently limited to farseeing. Angel. Thousands of years since he’d truly known angel form. He’d existed as a soul, a trapped essence. A nonphysical form with the ability to learn and think and plan. These humans would never understand it. Even he wasn’t sure what he could and couldn’t do. It was obvious, however, that this battle wouldn’t be waged as the last one had. This time people would be involved. Innocents. Their war would be a physical one. This time there wouldn’t be a draw. Cammie’s voice was much more composed when she spoke again. “Where did you send them?” “The city of Tapachula. It’s just north of here. They will be safe there, for a while. We—” “—must go, I know.” Her tone was weary. She sighed and stopped. “You didn’t answer me. Is this a vampire we’re—I mean, you—are chasing?” “Vampire?” He compared the common myths of vampires to the demon. “No, although in some cases he can be very similar.” He hated the indecision and fear he saw in her bright green eyes. Perhaps not direct fear of the demon. He sensed none of that. It was fear of the unknown. If only she hadn’t fought him when he tried to relax her and open her mind to be more accepting. Everything he’d learned about her so far related to her ability to control the situation and the outcome. It was easy to see, by the way she acted out, that she was starting to realize she had nary a toehold on this endeavor. It’d be so much easier if he could trust her enough to explain who he was and what he needed to do.

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Chapter Two “Where’s my Jeep?” Cammie did a full turn, as if just then noticing that there were no vehicles left in the parking lot. “Wait a minute. How’d you get here?” “I’ve always been here.” “Bullshit.” Surprised he got this far, Dante smiled and pushed his hair back off his forehead. They had another three or four hours of sunlight left, and it was extremely hot in the unprotected open lot. “What do you want me to say? I walked? I could tell you that one of your crew took my vehicle.” She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, almost as if rocking on the fence of indecision. “But if you said that you wouldn’t be telling the truth.” “I have no vehicle.” “Here, you mean. You’ve got one down the road?” “Nope.” He started walking. Hopefully she’d follow suit and they could talk as they began the journey. “Wait a minute here. If you’re not taking me into the city, then I’m not leaving this site. This is where I’m supposed to be. If I leave, they can’t come back for me.” She rubbed the corners of her eyes. The indecision weighed on her. It was clearer than the pack she’d stretched between her shoulders. “And enough horsing around. I want to know who you are, what credentials you have and why you’re here. And how you freaking got here.” That’s more like it. “My name is Dante. I’m here to recapture the demon and protect mankind.” He smiled at the sound of the air she blew out in frustration. Of course she wouldn’t believe, but she had asked. What would she be like if he tried to explain that he was an angel sent to earth three millennia ago to stop the same demon they followed today? “Look at me,” he commanded, lowering his voice and stepping directly into her line of view. To his surprise, she did. He wanted to use his ability to trigger thoughts inside her mind to scare her, flash images that she’d never understand and force her to think beyond scientific rationale. He showed her what-ifs…pictures of hell on earth. What it would be like if he failed at this mission. But he had to be quick, before she fought him again.

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She gasped and covered her face, but not before he clearly saw the wide-eyed horror there. Despite her reaction, he could not help but admire her self-control. His reaction was guilt-driven and split second, his intention only to continue to influence her. More like distract her. Obliterate those pictures. He tugged her into his arms, certain that he could erase part of the doubt and she’d accept what he told her, both mentally and verbally. But she pushed back and looked up at him. He removed her hands, holding them firmly in his and lowered his head. When her lips parted in surprise, he’d simply acted. His mouth touched hers with a connection that jolted his senses, causing his thoughts of influencing her to the wayside. Her lips moved beneath his, parting to allow him a taste of her sweetness. Without having to even think about it, his body responded, surprising him with how quickly the physical need blocked out everything else. He reached for her, needing her closer, and tilted his head to better access her willing mouth. As his fingers grazed her waist, her skin trembled in response. She shivered. These feelings were new. No amount of angelic knowledge had prepared him for this. Their first kiss had shocked him. But at that time his mind had been on the demon who was barely out of earshot. There’d been none of the very intense, sexual urges connected with that kiss. Now? He wondered if he were strong enough to withstand the temptation of her delectable mouth that served to make him forget his duties here on earth. All he’d intended to do now was to comfort her, promise her that he would protect her and ask for her trust. He’d intended to use the kiss to influence her that way. He wasn’t expecting the opposite to be true. He broke contact and stepped back. Her eyes were still closed. Half-parted lips glowed with moisture. He had to bite back a groan as her tongue flicked out and smoothed over her bottom lip. The flush across her cheeks softened her face. Eased the frustration and fear from the lines he’d seen earlier around her eyes and tightness of her mouth. She was beautiful. “I will tell you more in due time. I will not harm you, but you must come with me. Now.” He took her hand, laced his fingers through hers in a way he hoped she did not feel was threatening, and pulled her along.

***** The kiss confused the hell out of her. She’d immediately responded. She should have socked him for being so forward. But at that moment, when their eyes had been locked, she’d found a sense of peace, as if she could completely trust him. How did he do that to her? Should she run, or believe it? Looking around, she realized the futility of her options. Run? Where?

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Cammie fought back the urge to pummel him with more questions, and instead mentally ticked off why it would be better to continue with him than to stay and wait. She’d been left behind. That stung. Evacuated or not, her crew had abandoned her. Had they thought her dead? Unless they’d been taken away, as she initially thought. And where did Dante come into play? He had stuck around during those after-quakes and stayed there until she’d woken up. He hadn’t left her. If she didn’t consider the weird talk about the demon, she’d actually call him a hero. “Follow me,” he said, stepping off the dirt road and into the wooded area. Not that she’d call it a forest, it was more like a thick jungle of trees and vines and bushes. As intrigued as she was, she knew better than to make a decision about this man and his motivations after only a few hole-filled explanations and two steaming kisses. But she wasn’t kidding herself when she questioned this decision. Off the road? Doubt knotted in her stomach. He’d said he wouldn’t harm her. That had seemed sincere, at least. Chances are all he was after was the relic anyway. Surely he’d do nothing more than abandon her somewhere. She could have fought to stay at the site. Probably should have. Dante stopped in an area that was much less dense than the thick foliage around them. At one end of this semi-clearing stood a tall stone block. A grave marker. At least that was her initial reaction. But who, and why? The inscriptions were faint, and not in any language she understood. Learning details of the Mayan civilization hadn’t been necessary for her task of simply retrieving the small statue. She hadn’t been, and hadn’t intended to become, part of this full excavation in southern Mexico. Her expertise lay more in the North American artifacts—from dinosaurs to the native Indians. Maybe Dante would know. “Dante, look at this— Oh, my God!” She turned around to find Dante lying on the ground, his face pressed against the dirt. His eyes were closed. She leapt over the protruding roots and dropped to her knees beside him. “What happened? What’s going on? Is it some sort of quicksand? Dante, please.” She wrapped both hands around his free arm and pulled. She could see then that his arm was in the ground—buried up to his shoulder. He didn’t budge. But his eyes opened, even crinkled at the corners as he looked up at her. What a relief. All his talk of demons had her glancing over her shoulder every few minutes anyway, and now—to find Dante lying prone on top of what she believed was a grave? Enough to stop her heart. Not that she’d admit it to him. Wasn’t that she was worried about him, technically, but she didn’t want to witness him get sucked into some strange pit or underground cave. Plus, she wasn’t done with him yet. He needed to do some explaining where the relic was concerned. And he knew the way out of here.

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She backed away as Dante stood up and pulled his arm from the ground, as if it were water. Yet it wasn’t, she could clearly see the disruption of the dirt and the evidence of it on his arm. She stumbled over the roots behind her and landed square on her ass. What was going on? What was he doing? Her hand connected with something cool as she pushed herself up, trying to keep her strange companion in sight. She was almost hesitant to look down, afraid of what she’d find. Her fingers slid over it. Round. Metal. Coin or a medallion, maybe? But it didn’t get her immediate attention. She was busy watching Dante once again reach into the ground. There was no resistance as he pushed into the dirt past his elbow. “Dante!” she shrieked as she fisted the coin and jumped up. White teeth gleamed as he smiled at her and shook his head. For a split second, their eyes met. Whatever he was doing, it wasn’t natural, but neither was it dangerous. His expression clearly said that. He was amused by her initial horror. She turned away. Something glinted in the sunlight that filtered through the trees. Another coin, shiny as if it were freshly minted. Dante had cleared away the top level of mulch, which he bunched around the edges of the circle he worked in. The coin was mixed with that. Two of them now. They were identical. She carried them to a spot of bright sunlight and squinted to make out the characters. She’d expected the writing to be recognizable—even decipherable. Spanish was the most common language here. But these weren’t even the standard letters she anticipated. The strange figures resembled the primitive character-type writing she’d seen on the stone slab. No date either, at least one that was recognizable. What were they? Why were they here and how could they be in such good shape? Obviously they weren’t real. Not on the surface and in such pristine condition. She turned abruptly when she heard Dante’s grunt and the ting of metal vibrating. From the hole in the ground he withdrew a shiny broadsword. After a moment of shock, she rushed forward, drawn by the twinkle of stones on the hilt. “Look at that! Oh, I can’t believe it,” she cried, forgetting everything else but the treasure he held. It was pristine. Despite being buried, the blade shone like it’d just been polished and there was absolutely no dirt caked around the intricate inscriptions and gems that lined the gold handle. She took it from him and turned it over and over. After retrieving its scabbard, Dante lifted the sword from her hand. Instead of commenting, he merely raised an eyebrow at her. “What? I don’t understand.” She didn’t. None of this made sense. He turned away from her. She watched as the muscles in his back strained the material of his shirt as he sliced through the air. Enthusiasm drained from her. It was a weapon. Not an artifact.

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She didn’t like that he needed a weapon. Wanted a weapon. “What about me?” she asked. The coins bit into her fist as she waited for his answer. “Pardon?” “Why do you need that thing anyway?” she asked, almost fearful of the answer. “I’m…defenseless.” Dread circled her heart. She shoved the coins into her pocket and dried her damp palms on her thighs. He didn’t intend to— No. He said he wouldn’t harm her. He hadn’t turned around, but instead lunged and swiped an invisible enemy with grace and balance. “We cannot know what we might meet on our journey. Best to be prepared.” Prepared meant having a blade longer and wider than her arm? Too bad the equipment from the excavation had been taken, there were several guns there that might have been more effective weapons. He lowered the sword and turned to her. “The sun will fade quickly. We must go.” Effortlessly he tossed the second, heavier pack over his shoulder and then affixed the scabbard to his side. Cammie followed him, then slowed and looked back. Instead of answers, she’d developed more questions. Surely he’d simply buried the sword there earlier. Walking up to the dig site with a big weapon hanging off his hip would not afford him welcoming acceptance. That didn’t explain the coins, but she could only imagine they were fakes, probably tokens given away to tourists or something. Why follow Dante? Because she wanted some answers. Besides, he had the weapon. She’d be safer with him than roughing it alone. He was right. It would be dark soon. Too soon. If she stayed, it was going to be a long night of guarding the relic and watching her back. No way could she sleep. Trust wasn’t so easily granted. She blew out a long breath and walked just fast enough to keep him in sight. After all, if she were to take her leave of him, it’d be on the main road, not out here in the brush where she had no sense of the way out. Her fault for spending all that time watching and trying to figure out the man in front of her. “Cammie?” he called back to her. She’d fallen behind. “I-I don’t know about all this. I don’t understand why. Why were my crew sent away? Why can’t I just go back to the hotel and then home? You can do this demon chasing or whatever it is you need to do. Why do I have to be here?” She immediately hung her head. This was nothing like the Cammie she showed the world. Never before would she have admitted she was frightened or unsure of herself. It was part of the victorious mindset. Believe and it will be. Right now she believed she was lost and confused, and by God, she sure was.

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They were at the edge of the brush now, where it was the thickest. Dante waited for her to catch up. He lowered the backpack and pulled her in front of him. The heat of his hands nearly burned her arms through her thin, long-sleeve T-shirt. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked deep into hers. She shivered and tried to wriggle away, but he held her fast, never letting his hold change from gentle pressure. Dante’s voice was little more than a gruff whisper, “Listen with your heart then with your head. Open your mind and suspend scientific belief for a while.” His eyes widened. The warm brown of his eyes blended with his tanned skin and the various green hues of the foliage behind him. Everything blurred at once. She tried to blink, but when she did, Dante was gone. Instead, she saw herself someplace high, like a hotel balcony, looking down. White boats bobbed against azure-blue water, the pale sand of the beach was dotted with multicolored towels and running children. She could almost feel the coolness of the tangy salt-tinged air. But she didn’t feel any exhilaration from it. No whimsical awe at the postcardperfect picture in front of her. She was afraid. She missed Dante. It didn’t make sense. But she did. Wished he were there to see the beauty stretched out before her and feel the breeze on his face the way she did. The sun’s glare forced her to squint to try to make out the features of the people on the beach, but she was too far away to recognize anyone. Dante’s longer dark hair and tanned skin would blend in with more than half of the people down there. Then she saw a man leaning against the upper railing of the walkway that encircled the Mayan ruins and overlooked the beach. Her heart thudded to a stop. Coldness wrapped around her like a snake. The shadows hid his face, and the wide-brimmed hat kept her from even making out the outline of his profile. He watched the people, as she had. Only his intentions were more sinister than anything she’d ever felt. She shivered and turned away. “You saw him.” Dante’s hands on her arms tightened as he shook her. “You saw him.” She blinked, completely off balance. What the hell had just happened? She jerked her arm free and reached up to rub her eyes. She was back on the trail—where she had been, but where had this image of the beach come from and who was this man Dante insisted she saw? “Wh-what was that?” If she didn’t feel so drained by what happened, she’d reach up, grab Dante’s shoulders and shake him until he gave her the answers she so desperately needed. “What did you do to me?”

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“All I ask is that you open your mind to believe. Accept that your science can’t explain some things that will come to pass. Accept that you will need to trust me and I will need to trust you. Or we all will be doomed.” “Doomed?” He turned and pushed through the thick exotic foliage. She had no choice to follow, but she did it with clenched teeth and a mind to stomp off in the opposite direction. But would good would that do? She was stubborn, sure, but not stupid. Everything of value had been removed from her worksite. It was getting dark and she had no vehicle and not enough knowledge of the area to get back to civilization. And she had something she figured was pretty damn valuable. Dante had the weapon. He was mysterious, but so far hadn’t harmed her. She followed him.

***** The sun was no longer visible beyond the horizon. The mountains to the east were dark and glooming. Dante walked slower now, light on his feet and with sword in hand, rather than sheathed at his side. Cammie followed as closely as she dared, mindful of the range of that gleaming blade. This level of fear was foreign to her. And she didn’t like it. Eagerly she’d climbed sheer cliffs and even base-jumped from them. She owned her own parachute, for Pete’s sake. She’d thumbed her nose at her claustrophobia by crawling on her hands and knees through tiny openings in unexplored caves with nothing more than a flashlight strapped to her helmet. Once she’d even been lowered into a well on nothing more than a clothesline because legend had it a gold miner had dumped his loot down there. She’d found that someone had dumped the gold miner himself down there. She shivered at the memory and quickened her pace to catch back up to Dante. There was no adrenaline rush associated with this adventure. Nor could she back up and say, “I pass”. Maybe that’s what she hated the most of the whole thing. Dante stopped and lifted his left hand in the air. She froze. Didn’t even breathe. The land around them was alive. The night animals were starting to stir; the birds continued their loud conversations in the high boughs of the trees. Cammie peered into the thick foliage. Just a few feet beyond the road, the wooded land became less dense. Any number of things could be there, just waiting to attack. She even looked up, as she was warned to do, quite aware that many predators used the branches as a means of surprise. Mainly the guilt-free, carnivorous kind. Empty. There was nothing above them.

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She screamed and fell back as she heard the whistle of Dante’s sword slicing the air and the reverberating clang of it connecting with metal. Dante grunted. When there were no following crashes of steel blades, she lowered her arms and opened her eyes. Her biggest fear was that Dante had fallen. But no, he was there, talking in a strange tongue to a short man. The latter was obviously a native, almost worthy of the category of tribesman. And judging from the huge gestures, and eyes so wide she could see the whites clear around them, this wasn’t a simple, “Hi, how are you?” conversation. The foreign language rolled off Dante’s tongue like honey. Natural in inflection and accent. Yet another mystery. “Dante?” she interrupted, feeling quite vulnerable standing so far away, yet nervous of their blades. He must have followed her eye, because he looked at his sword and then stabbed it into the ground between him and the small man. “Yes?” She searched his face, but found no fear, only his knit eyebrows indicated confusion, but that seemed aimed more at her than this man. It made her seem the fool. She swallowed and tilted her head. She’d completely lost control of this situation somewhere and it was starting to bother her. A lot. “Can this man tell us how to get back to an urban area? Someplace with a hotel or a phone?” “We will be staying with him tonight.” “What?” Her eyes darted from man to man. “No, no, that isn’t acceptable. You said there was a city just a few miles, kilometers, whatever from the dig and that you’d take me there.” “The demon traveled this way. I must talk to these people and learn what powers he has. We would not make the city by nightfall.” The unspoken part of his speech hinted that he was unwilling to travel at night. Now that scared her.

***** Dante reached out and grabbed Cammie’s hand. Her unease radiated through him from the point of contact. Not unexpected, however. When she was beside him, he leaned sideways to speak. “His name is difficult to pronounce,” he explained. “You can call him Mohec. He and his wife will allow us their home.” Whether she liked it or not, this was the way of his course. He hated the limitations time and daylight had on him. And her. She was a hindrance as well. He couldn’t let her dissuade him from seeing this through. “Allowing us their home? No, Dante, I’m not putting anyone out.”

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“They know who we are. Mohec is…excited to see ancient history unfold. He fears what it will bring, but believes the prophecy that states we will defeat the demon. I must take the time to speak to him at length.” He’d said too much. Cammie’s eyes glazed as she looked from him to Mohec again. Influencing her would be easy, but it wasn’t a good idea to do in front of Mohec. Despite the man’s wide-eyed understanding, and eagerness to help, Dante didn’t want to startle Mohec with his show of powers. “Come now, we must rest until sunup. Then we will have a long way to travel.” He used their still entwined fingers to pull her closer to his side. He draped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. For a woman of such stature and presence, she’d visibly shrunk during the afternoon and now felt frail in his arms. “I will be beside you until this mission is over,” he whispered. It worried him that she wore her emotions on her sleeve like this. Not clearly, either. Her mistrust of him and confusion over today could easily be seen as weakness to the demon. He needed a little more time, time to make her trust. Switching languages, he addressed Mohec. “Ready. It’s been an eventful day for both of us. Perhaps you can create a tea to help her rest?” Mohec nodded and slipped back through the tightly knit brambles. Dante pushed aside the branches and reluctantly released Cammie so she could enter before him. As she did, he rested his hand on the pack she wore on her back. It pulsed beneath the insulated packaging that protected it. A prayer slipped from his lips.

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Chapter Three “You know of the curse?” Dante whispered as they walked out to the separate kitchen area where Mohec’s wife and daughter prepared cornmeal for the next morning’s meal. Dante accepted a tortilla of beans, and sent the young girl inside to take food to Cammie. Leaving her behind so he could speak privately to Mohec hadn’t gone over well at all. Until she’d spotted a pair of carved vases on the shelf. When he’d left her, she was sketching them, her brows knit in concentration. Mohec led Dante to a carved, wooden bench that appeared very 20th century and out of place. While Dante ate, Mohec explained, “My son has left us for the city. He prefers modern life to the ways of his ancestors. This he brought back to us.” They sat, silent for a moment. “The curse has been known for as long as man has been on this land. It was said that beneath the fertile soil of the plain, great power could be found. Many tried to find it, but could not. I would have been afraid to search, as my grandfather said both good and evil had been buried deep within the ground. I should not have liked to find the evil.” Mohec paused and stared into the blackness of the jungle beyond them. His features were too shadowy to decipher. “When the ground began to shake and the mountains erupted, talk of the curse grew louder. Dread filled us all.” “Tell me the curse. Speak it.” The older man hesitated, then lowered his voice to a rumbling whisper. “It is said a man of great good sealed the tomb of the earth and that which was buried within it. One good, one evil, a balance.” Even in the darkness, Dante could feel Mohec’s eyes reaching for his. He nodded for the man to continue. “A guardian was placed, a token in the likeness of he who closed the land. This happened many lifetimes before my ancestors made their homes here and built the treasures you now see. But the curse has worried us.” Dante was more than curious how men had come to know of this, but held his tongue. “What is the curse itself?” “The guardian token was put into place by good, but that which was evil tried to remove it. Unable to, he put upon it a curse. That which can imprison the demon shall also strengthen it.” There was more. Dante waited patiently for the man to speak. “I cannot recall the words. It speaks that if the good were to use that which bound the evil, it too shall be bound by all that is evil.” 22

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“And you believe this to be true? If the demon should hold the token he will be empowered, but if the angel, he will be bound?” “That is the way it is spoken. There is more. Some have heard this, some have not. The words of the curse are widespread and the variations many. However, my people accept that if a mortal man should touch the token, he will be forced to face his deepest fears or be taken unto the evil.” “By what do you mean to face his deepest fears?” The old man looked skyward, fires in the background exaggerating the lines of his face. “We fear many things. Some believe there will be an uprising of physical manifestation of all that is evil. A culmination of everything we dread, every horror we know. I have heard religious explanations, as have others in other tribes. Some refer to it as judgment day.” Dante blinked and leaned back. In his chest, pain surrounded his heart as he envisioned Cammie’s tired eyes. He had to ask. “What do your ancestors know of the one who removes this token and releases the good and evil?” Mohec was slow to turn to him, his features shadowed and his voice alone impacting him. But it sent shivers up his spine. “Nothing.” But Dante knew. Unless the curse had changed things. He had to believe the force of evil that tried to remove the tomb had never touched the relic. If it had, it would have released them, as it had when Cammie’s touch fell upon it. If that were the case, she was the first to hold that which was last touched by an angel. He closed his eyes and remembered that last light. Michael had shone above him, tears of sorrow streaking his face as he closed the doors of the tomb. Dante had felt no sorrow; it had been his duty to hold the force of evil in check until man unleashed it. Michael’s voice had reached in, his mind linked to him through the tomb wall as he sealed it with all his power and might. With a touch, Cammie had undone that. “You have the relic, do you not?” His nature would not let him lie, despite an urge to protect this man from the horror of the truth. “The woman has it. She opened the tomb.” Mohec leapt from the bench. “How is she alive?” The fire now lit his features full on. A wide-eyed terror faded to a sadness that settled in the bags under the man’s eyes. “I must remove my family. The risk is too great.” Dante nodded. The problem was, he didn’t know exactly what that risk entailed. He wasn’t sure anyone did. He and Mohec picked up speed as they walked up the hill toward the hut. He needed to get Cammie aside and explain some of this, force her to understand. Demand it if he had to. As Mohec had said, the risk was too great, and these people too generous and goodhearted to be burdened with this.

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***** Cammie backed into the corner and pulled her knees up when Mohec burst through the door. He shouted something. His words meant nothing to her, but the inflection was clear. As was the way his wife and teenage daughter rushed to the opposite side of the room. Dante followed Mohec, his eyes flashing as he searched the wide oval space. Both men crossed the room and reached for the half-open satchel. Being taller and longer in stride, Dante reached it first, but Mohec’s hand entangled in the strap. Before they even grabbed for it, she knew what they were after. “Stop!” she screamed, half-crawling toward the men to stop them from destroying everything inside. Those were her artifacts, her treasures. “You should have never left this unguarded.” Dante’s voice was cold and stern. Cammie stopped and met his glittering black eyes. They frightened her. Unguarded? She didn’t understand. It had been never more than ten feet from her as she inspected the family pieces Mohec’s family had on display. Mohec’s wife screamed. She tore her focus away from Dante’s tight-set mouth and narrowed eyes. The Mayan had shifted his hold on her bag and caused the zipper to tear. “No!” she screamed and dived between them, her hands outstretched. They were going to ruin everything. Why were they doing this? She fell short. A tissue-wrapped piece of pottery hit the hard-packed dirt floor. The sound of it shattering broke the dam. Why was this happening to her? A fury-laden adrenaline surge prompted her up on her feet. Ignoring the deadly looks on both their faces, she stood between the men, her fingers white with the effort of holding the bag closed. “Give it to me.” Dante lifted his eyes, but failed to release his hold. “Give me the damn bag!” she lifted her voice another octave and jerked. Two men were easily stronger than her weak grasp and she stumbled backward as they played a high-stakes game of tug-of-war. Mohec’s wife shouted at him. His face was red with exertion, his eyes wide and wild. A small trail of drool formed at one corner of his mouth. Cammie’s skin suddenly went clammy with fear. What drove him to this? The relic. Teeth set in determination, she rushed forward and grabbed the bag again, using her weight to try to set Mohec off balance, at least for a second. If she could get a little

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bit of slack, she could get it…there—almost. Her hand slipped inside and encircled the treasure. She sat down hard, both hands enveloping the carefully wrapped statue. Her suspicions were confirmed when Mohec sucked in a deep breath and turned his bloodshot eyes on her. He looked like a rabid dog. She clutched the relic to her chest and pushed herself backward. Dante? Where was he? Surely he could get his sword and protect her from this crazed man. The women across the room rushed forward and tried to pull Mohec back as he advanced on her. Cammie was crying now, but she wasn’t aware of when the tears had begun to streak down her face. Yet she knew she couldn’t give in. Dante had already broken through and convinced her skeptical mind that there was something more to what she held than intricately carved marble. There was a magic, some sort of power. “Dante,” she breathed, forcing her eyes off Mohec to search for him. Why wouldn’t he help her? He stood motionless against the wall, the torn backpack gathered in his hands, and watched. His face was almost emotionless, the slight twitch in his jaw the only indication of concern. “Aaeee!” Mohec lunged forward and nearly fell onto her as he blindly grabbed for the relic. She was trapped, unable to get her legs under her and the wall was too close behind her to get up. She twisted side to side, jerking so Mohec’s hands could not gain a hold on the statue. He fell to his knees beside her, his fingers digging into her palms and wrist. Then, without warning, his wife stepped between them and plucked the statue out of Cammie’s grasp. Mohec fell back, his eyes glazed. There was little left of the man who had generously offered up his home to them. Dante spoke. Cammie could not understand it, but it caused the petite woman to look at the relic and then back at him. When she broke eye contact and began unwrapping again, Cammie tried to get up, but the weight of Mohec across her legs was more than she could budge. “Tell her it is nothing. Tell her I bought it at a souvenir stand. Get it back,” Cammie begged of Dante. He had to stop her. Clearly, it was the relic that opened this Pandora’s box. The flame of the fire reached up and licked around the edges of protective pit of the ancient fireplace and the candles of the room flickered as if dancing with invisible air. The tissue fell away. Cammie even gasped as the woman held it up for inspection. It seemed to glow in the dimness, as if it held its own life force. Mohec sat up, his eyes drawn to it. Like a snake to a charmer’s flute.

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Even she couldn’t tear her eyes away, but seeing it again evoked no new emotion. It was as it had been in the cliff, and then again when she’d unwrapped it above ground. The pure, milky marble absorbed the flame and seemed to glow from within. But its white purity and innocent carving had evoked such hate and evil. How could that be? Greed. She saw it clearly now that she’d defined it. Only Dante’s eyes were free from it. Her own had probably mirrored those of Mohec and his family. Yet her desire was strictly a scientific one. This relic would represent a piece of history that had never before been explored. Mohec spoke, his speech slurred. Dante’s voice seemed more powerful, almost commanding. Mohec’s wife’s hand hesitated over the wings of the angel. Cammie pulled up her knees and tried to carefully and slowly push herself up the wall. She had to get it back. Had to. She lunged. Mohec yelled. Dante muttered something that sounded like a prayer. And Mohec’s wife collapsed on the floor in a heap. Cammie snagged the half-unwrapped statue and darted out of reach of Mohec’s arms. Dante’s sword rested against the entry door, but he beat her to it. “Take this thing.” She tried to push the relic at Dante. “It holds evil, I can feel it. It feeds on greed and anger and breeds mistrust.” Her breath hitched and she reached up to touch her lips. Had she spoken those words? “I didn’t say that. I don’t understand what I just said.” “You speak the curse,” Dante told her, his voice cold and flat. But his fingers were gentle on her cheek as he pushed a strand of hair away. How could something so exquisite be cursed? Still, seeing how the relic had created madmen of ordinary people…she shivered at the thought of the widespread chaos such an item could cause. “Take it. I don’t want something that’s cursed.” “I cannot. But never let another touch it.” How could that happen, how could she ensure another set of fingers never came in contact with the relic? “Even you?” He nodded. “Believe with your heart. Does your head or your heart better explain what happened here?” She looked down and rolled the statue in the tissue and bubble wrap, then took the torn backpack from Dante and tucked it inside. Mohec pulled his wife from the floor and lifted her into his arms. “Is she…” She couldn’t force the words. How could she live with this—watching a woman die because of something she had ultimately caused?

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“Dead? No. Mohec and I spoke of the relic. He has heard differently than I, but through many years, old legends become changed. He spoke of a curse I knew nothing of. For a man to touch the relic, he would be forced to face his deepest fears.” Her heart crashed against the walls of her chest. She regarded the supine woman whose face was frozen in horror. “But I—I mean, me. What about me?” Frustrated and exhausted, she clutched the bag even closer to her chest and swiped the stray tear from her face. “You were not supposed to survive touching it the first time.”

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Chapter Four “How?” she said it more to herself, Dante knew, but Cammie’s pained whisper reached in and jerked at his gut. He should have told her. Warned her. But would she have listened? Did it have to be something this dramatic to get her to understand about that relic? He couldn’t answer her—or himself. “We should go,” he said instead, nudging her out the door. “Where?” Tears spilling over those liquid eyes that mirrored the moods of the sky completely undid him. It was dark, without even a moon to guide them. Not that it would have made it into the denseness that surrounded them. Navigating the jungle any further was not an option. “Back to the road. We will follow it as long as we can.” “No.” Dante immediately turned around and pulled her up to him. He sensed the conviction in her voice. She had no intention of continuing with him. What she didn’t realize yet was her lack of a choice. He pushed her in front of him and lifted the torn pack from her hand. The relic would never be allowed to touch his hands—he was even wary to have it on his person like this—but it was his insurance that she didn’t bolt now. “Give that back to me.” He turned her around and gave her a push. “I cannot allow what happened back there to occur again.” She stopped short; he nearly bumped into her. It was too dark to see her features, and while he knew she had a flashlight, they were better not to bring attention to themselves by using it. “It was my fault?” “Fault matters naught now, doesn’t it? But I know and understand this curse, and until you accept it I will protect others from the relic.” “Protect it from people, you mean, from the greed that eats them up inside.” “Greed is one of the evils, yes. There are seven deadly sins. Would you like to face those you have committed?” She turned, her feet snapping branches on the trail as she marched forward. “I don’t believe you. I’m going to call your bluff and say I think you want the relic. You probably paid Mohec and his family to steal it from me. We both know it’s worth millions. More than that. There is knowledge in that object that money can’t buy.”

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He swallowed and lifted up a prayer for patience with this woman. Despite the danger of their surroundings, he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to turn her around and shake her until she was ready to believe him or kiss her until she surrendered to him. “Keep walking.” She mumbled something. Her voice flowed back to him on the sultry, night air. He couldn’t decipher the words, and didn’t mean to ask her to repeat it. No way was he taking the chance that she’d stop and prolong this. This mortal body had limits. Limits he hadn’t expected. Progress today had been poor. It would potentially take days for them to catch up with the demon. Longer if he failed to get Cammie to understand the urgency. “I hate this place,” he heard her mutter. Her hair had long fallen from the loose ponytail and entangled in the thick brambles. Her patience was waning. But she hadn’t lost her fight. It was a good sign. Dante avoided the barely seen fingers of the branches that reached out to ensnare him as well. These were not normal. The brush they’d encountered earlier was not as unforgiving as these. Evil. From the relic. “Get me the fuck out of here, Dante. I can’t stand this.” Her voice rose an octave in panic. The outline of her body blurred with the shadowy darkness that gripped them tighter than the vicious forest, yet he could hear her flailing about. “Help.” “Hold still. I can’t see you. Let me feel.” He held his breath, hoping she’d listen. With a bag on each shoulder and the sword at his side, his range of motion was sorely limited. But he reached for her, stepping forward until his fingers connected with her shoulder. “Dante? I’m caught. My hair.” His name on her released breath stirred something within him. He was close enough to smell the faint lingering of berry scent in her hair. “Stand still. Just like this.” He pushed her thighs apart and braced his leg between hers. His heart rate kicked up a notch. Hair. Free her hair. Thinking about the position… Dante drew in a breath and dropped a hand to her waist. Couldn’t this woman stand still? “If you know what’s good for you, you won’t wiggle like that.” He intentionally thrust his hips forward, pressing hard evidence of his reaction against her lower belly. She froze immediately. Now all he had to do was concentrate on removing the branches from her hair. “What did you do here, twist around to make sure you were securely held?” His fingers easily snapped the twigs that held her. He groaned as she shifted her weight and rubbed against him. “Get your sword out,” she whispered, her breath hitting his neck and setting his skin on fire. 29

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He leaned forward, his lips inches from hers. It’d be so easy just to take a taste. “My sword?” “Cut the trees. Cut my hair. Just get me out.” Her voice had well reached a pitch that emphasized her panic. This was fear, not irritation or anger. It was dark. Much too dark to judge anything well enough. No way was he taking that sword out of its sheath. He tried to soothe her. “Hold still. Close your eyes and count. Stand still. Just count and breathe. I’ll break away the branches. We can get them out of your hair later.” “Please. Do something.” She’d titled her head up. Her forehead grazed against his cheek, her breath once again searing his neck and jaw. If it were only pleading and not terror in her voice, he’d let the tree hold her in place while he explored a little more of her feminine curves that were doing their best to drive him over the brink. Even her little pleas added to the torment. Those same words whispered under different circumstances would… Sweat beaded on his upper lip and forehead. “I’m doing my best. Don’t talk. Don’t move.” The tension in his body translated to his hands, and he easily stripped the rest of the green branches as if they were dry timber and the small twigs, despite being green and soft, broke quickly. “Reach up here,” he instructed. “Hold your hair down lest it become entangled again. Pieces of the trees are still stuck. Let them be.” She listened. But if he had known it meant she’d be pressing her breasts against his chest as she reached to gather her hair in her hands, he never would have suggested it. As she breathed, her chest rose and fell, the friction causing her nipples to harden and burn against his chest like two hot branding irons. He was finding breathing a bit challenging. Cammie said nothing, even when he was less than gentle tearing the branches free. She did, however, swallow a few times. Sure-fire evidence that she was as affected as he was. Finally, he could feel no more connections between Cammie and the brambles behind her. He took a step back. Heat and humidity cloaked them, but there still was a coolness where her body had pressed against his. Her face remained hidden. Were her eyes half-closed with her body’s desire? He longed to see the color rise into her sculpted cheeks and watch her lips open with a slight gasp. The need to lean forward and capture her mouth in a kiss nearly sent him toppling forward. “Take a step toward me. Make sure you’re not still caught.” “Ow!” she yelped. He stepped up to her immediately, his hips against hers, his arms over her shoulders feeling for whatever it was that held her captive. “Where is it?” he asked, feeling nothing that would hold her fast.

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She leaned her cheek against his chest. “I’m not caught.” Her body shook against his as she lightly laughed. Sweet torture. The growl that escaped him was quickly turned into a groan. His hands dropped to her forearms as he pulled her body from his. “Then what?” A bit of light reflected in her eyes. An openness, a doorway, crystal blue and green as the waters of the sea. Just as quickly it was gone. “I-I just turned my ankle as I stepped is all.” He closed his eyes for a moment. That was all, she said. The temptation to show her exactly why that wasn’t all was much too strong here. It seemed like the inability to see gave them a layer of protection, anonymity. Plus, they were tired, mentally and physically. Adrenaline letdown. This was nothing more than an unguarded reaction to the opposite sex. Certainly it wouldn’t be wise to act upon it. In fact, it’d be completely wrong. It wasn’t love, it was lust. A temptation he could not give into, despite his body’s reaction. He had to think about the demon out there. Needed to plan a course of action and stick to it. “Let’s get out of the jungle where we can walk without hindrance.” “Let’s,” she agreed with surprising haste.

***** Her nerves were shot. Well, they had been before, but things were much worse now. Having Dante thisclose had propelled her into orbit. The whole day had been a mess. Getting trapped by the thicket had nearly sent her over the edge. Damn claustrophobia. She hadn’t had an episode like that in years. At least Dante hadn’t seemed to notice. Funny how once he stepped in, technically crowding her more than she’d already felt, the fear had faded. Of course, having a very virile male force his thigh between one’s legs tended to cause reactions of the sexual kind. “Duck below that limb, or you’ll snag your hair again.” She responded without thinking, then belatedly felt the twinge at being the follower, not the leader. “Are you taking me to the city now?” “It would be too dangerous to try to make it.” Cammie swallowed and tried to make sense of that statement. Even as they climbed from the thick underbrush and onto the open road, she couldn’t understand where they’d go, if not toward the city. “We’ve made it back to the road.” She drew herself up to her full height and lifted her chin. “I won’t be continuing on with you. I’d rather take my chances waiting for

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someone to rescue me from the excavation site. There’s a tent where I can sleep.” Anything would be better than another scene like the one with Mohec’s family. “You would not survive the night.” “You would kill me?” she took a step backward, then realized he still held both backpacks. “I’ve vowed never to hurt you. Again, you hear with your head, not your heart, Campbell Howard. You harm yourself over and over with that choice.” No moon shone over them, but there in the open roadway she could see the hard lines of Dante’s face as he spoke. Not an ounce of humor there. He was completely serious. His words both scared and reassured her. The image of his laughing eyes that she’d seen just this afternoon seemed to have faded into the distant past. He seemed taller, more forceful, and less boyish. Already she felt as if she knew him better than any of the men or women she’d worked with for weeks at the site. What was it about him that made him different? “Give me my packs. I’m going.” Enough of this. She must have really smacked her head good to have allowed herself get caught up in this. When had she agreed to this runaround? She wanted her hotel room. Some food. A bath. A good strong drink and a comfortable bed would be nice. Dante shrugged and handed over the fully loaded backpack. “Both of them.” Cammie took a step forward. She wasn’t going to play this game. Her watch had disappeared at some point during their walk, possibly even before that. She had no idea of the time, but based on the way her body was screaming for that soft mattress she’d thought about. It had to be well past her accustomed bedtime. Dante hadn’t learned yet that she wasn’t all too pleasant when she got overtired. “Enough of your bullshit, Dante. Whatever this little fiasco of yours is, keep it to yourself. I just want to go home.” “I cannot give you the relic. You would not be safe.” “Oh here we go again.” Were they going to stand there all night and argue about the damn piece of ancient history? It was getting to the point that she wasn’t sure the little statue was even worth it. A tremor rumbled the ground beneath them. She braced her legs and bent her knees to wait it out. “There is shelter not far from here. Less than a twenty-minute walk.” “Then go,” she retorted, eyeing the other bag he held. “Give that to me and just go.” She made the mistake of lifting her eyes to his. There was just enough light for her to see his pupils dilate. Instinct triggered flight reaction, but she couldn’t force her body to move. The sensation that flowed over her was warm, yet numbing. Dante disappeared from her vision into a mist of gray fog, and from it, sprang another vision. Firelight.

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A small flame, like a virgin campfire just catching onto the timbers. Behind it, gray and white stone loomed like its guardians. She felt peace. Until she took her eyes from the dancing gold flames and found that shadows overwhelmed the reach of the light. Her claustrophobia closed in. “Dante.” She heard her whispered voice and wondered it if were part of the vision. Warm arms engulfed her. Tension ebbed. The shadows backed away. It was just the night. No monsters. No demons. Her mind again filled with memories of the madness she had seen in Mohec’s eyes. She whimpered and rested her cheek against Dante’s shoulder. “Look to the light,” a voice said. It wasn’t Dante’s. Cammie wasn’t afraid. Just curious. She leaned back, letting Dante’s arms slide from her shoulders. She looked him square in the eye. “Who are you?” “A man.” “But this is not…normal.” She spoke low, afraid of breaking the spell of comfort and warmth that sheltered her. “Men cannot do such things.” “Men refuse to believe many things are not possible because of what they were taught. I’ve asked you repeatedly to think with your heart, Cammie. You’ll find answers inside.” Dante stepped back, and the darkness swallowed him. Cammie stood alone, the fire and the tall, stone walls her only companions. The ground beneath her feet vibrated, jarring her until she nearly lost her balance. She circled the fire, then sat before it with the walls to her back, and hugged her knees to her chest. Suddenly icy cold, she waited as the flame flickered with the force of the quake. “Dante!” she screamed as the ground beneath her feet opened up with a mighty growl and swallowed the fire. She backed up against the cold, stone wall of the ancient building behind her, searching desperately for a grip. She just knew the mouth of the earth would reach up and drag her in as well. “Cammie,” Dante’s voice was desperate in her ear. She opened her eyes. Darkness. Above her she could barely make out the gray silhouette of Dante. He shook her shoulders as he spoke. “Cammie, I’m here. Open your eyes.” All she could do was concentrate on breathing. What was real and what was a dream? She couldn’t tell anymore. “Dante,” she gasped. “What happened? Where did you go?” “I never left your side.”

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“The fire. The ground…you were there.” Dante steadied her on her feet. They were on the road. No giant tears in the earth, no great stone walls behind her. This wasn’t the place she had envisioned. “You had another vision. Tell me.” She waited until her heart rate was nearly back to normal and the fogginess behind her eyes had cleared. Vision? She wasn’t buying that. But a small part of her feared that’s exactly what it was—was she cursed, too? No. She swallowed. Curses were folklore, interesting, but the words held no true meaning. She was overtired and hungry and her patience was gone and it was getting more obvious—something had happened to alter her ability to make her own choices. Dante and his hypnotic eyes might have something to do with that. Her eyes caught sight of the bag on Dante’s shoulder. It had fallen open. With a softer voice than she’d anticipated using she responded, “It was nothing. Nothing at all.” She looked back up at him and smiled weakly. “The earthquake shocks just scared me, that’s all. I’m getting really tired.” She pretended to wobble. As expected, Dante stepped even closer and steadied her again. God, she was awful at this acting thing. Good thing it was dark so he couldn’t see her any clearer. It was her only chance. She had to do it. Her fingers gripped his forearm as she let him adjust her balance, then slid her hand up over his well-formed biceps. She was tempted to pause as it bunched under her fingers, but knew there was only going to be one chance. Keeping her eyes down, she swallowed and thanked him, all the while pushing her hand past him and into the gaping opening of the backpack. She connected with the relic, gripping best she could over all the wrapping. As he backed up, her hand slid clear, bounty intact. She turned and ran.

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Chapter Five As soon as Cammie bolted it, she regretted it. Where did she think she was going anyway? Her head ached and her internal compass was as haywire as the rest of her judgmental abilities. She couldn’t make it back to the excavation site except by chance. Dante’s feet thundered on the hard-packed dirt behind her. Cammie gulped in air— thick, heavy air. It did little to help the fatigue she’d felt almost immediately. She’d been a fool to think she could outrun him. He was clearly four or five inches taller than her and easily had a longer stride. Her ankle ached and threatened to twist on her again. She should stop. In her heart she knew it was stupid, fruitless, but her legs pumped in despite her exhaustion, as if another force had taken over. All she wanted to do was go home. At least back to her hotel. She ran from her confusion, from the lack of control. From her fear of failure. Dante, who represented all those things, was almost close enough that she could feel the vibrations of his steps. If her breath weren’t so ragged and hitched from these tears—where did they come from?—she might have even heard him calling her. Any minute now he’d be at her back, spinning her around and snatching the relic from her grasp. Why wouldn’t her legs go any faster? Why wouldn’t they stop? They burned from the effort, yet continued on. She aimed for a break in the trees. Some unseen hand guided her, kept her on the trail. Low hanging branches smacked her face and clutched at her hair. She blinked through tears and fought against the invisible force against her back that propelled her forward. Suddenly, it was gone. She stopped, her chest exploding with pain as she drew in oxygen, her legs nearly numb from the effort. A clearing. Slowly, silhouettes of the surrounding trees separated from the inky sky. As she struggled to focus, she realized a sense of déjà vu. “Oh, God.” The walls. They loomed above her, just like in her vision. She walked forward, staring intently at the ground just in front of her feet, sure there had to be a giant crack in the earth just ahead. Dante caught her from behind and tackled her football-style. She went down to her knees and twisted, grunting in pain as the back of her shoulder connected with the ground. Cammie tried to roll and squirm away, but Dante’s weight advantage held her fast. The relic, where was it? She couldn’t even push up enough to see it. As if she could in this darkness. All she knew was that she didn’t have it anymore.

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“Get off me,” she hissed and shoved at him. Not that it did any good. In fact, it just gave him the ability to snag her arms and pin them over her head. “Be still,” he ordered. He shifted so that his body lay over hers. Leg to leg, hip to hip. How did he force her to obey him without her having an ounce of bargaining room? Sure she could fight, but she was no fool. Her body was already responding to the weight of a man on her. Then, remembering the scorching kisses of earlier… She swallowed and turned her head to the side, hoping he’d just let her up. No such luck. “What were you thinking?” he hissed. She could feel his breath against her hair. Did she have to notice that? She was tired of thinking. Or trying to. She thought again about the possibility of having struck her head earlier. That would cause her to make irrational decisions, be unable to focus. If she had even a mild concussion, it would explain some of her instability, right? But what good would that answer be? She was in this nightmare, whether she liked it or not. “I can’t do this. I don’t understand what you want. What this is all about. It’s like some horror story.” Even though he didn’t lean directly on her chest, it felt like the weight there made it unbearable to breathe. “You keep—” “Keep what?” She hated how his voice sounded. Patronizing. “Keep forcing me to make decisions I shouldn’t make. Something with your hocuspocus magic thing. Like this. I know you led me in here. It was just like the vision. I didn’t want to leave the road, but I didn’t have control.” And that control was so damn precious. Without it, she was no one. His body tensed, his fingers tightening around her arms. “I didn’t lead you in here. I do not see the visions the same as you. Was there anyone else?” “Just you. And this clearing. I didn’t want to keep running.” His reaction triggered a response in her she didn’t want to deal with—fear. She did feel safer now that he had caught her. What if that force, whatever it was, had been… No. She didn’t believe in demons. She was just too tired to sort any of this out. “Dante, get off me and let me go. I won’t hold you accountable if something happens to me. You’ll be better off anyway.” She tried pushing, rolling. Anything to free her body. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re doing this to me. I need to find the rest of the crew. They’ll be worried about me.” She paused and waited. He wasn’t moving, but he didn’t tighten his hold on her or force her to do anything else, either. “Listen, it’s obvious I’ve hit my head and am suffering from a concussion. That would explain the visions. I should see a doctor. Why don’t you just point me in the right direction and I’ll go.” She let her head drop to the side. That rational explanation seemed to make her feel better. Saying it out loud made it more real.

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She felt his sigh. Resignation? At least he listened and didn’t interrupt or make demands. Despite his hold on her, she didn’t fight for her freedom any longer. After a long pause, he said, “You’re safe with me.” Taking in a few calming breaths, she willed her body to relax beneath his and figure out another way. And it wasn’t that she didn’t think she was “safe” with him…she just didn’t want to rely upon him to be safe. “Listen, I can’t do this. I can’t. There is no rational reason to be wandering about this time at night. I should never have left the site. Take me back there. There’s a tent. I’ll be fine until morning. It can’t be any more dangerous than this place.” She closed her eyes and squeezed back her body’s betrayal to his comforting warmth. “It’s too late to go back.” His words had many meanings. She shivered. Dante shifted, then reached down and released the scabbard from his belt and tossed the sword several feet away. Cammie snagged the opportunity and yanked her wrists apart, easily breaking the single-handed grasp he had on her. She had her hands between their shoulders and pushed up before he could catch his balance and react. Not that it did her any good. She gritted her teeth and used every muscle she had, but he wasn’t going to budge. And now he was pissed. Quite evident in the way he forcefully breathed out, like a bull flaring his nostrils before charging. She wasn’t afraid. If he’d wanted to hurt her, he would have already. Easily would have killed her to take the relic, of that she was sure now. “What do you want?” she wrenched her arms away despite it being a losing battle. “Stop fighting me,” he hissed. So maybe he wasn’t pissed. Hurt. Which meant she did have some impact in him. Good. “Stop treating me like you’re holding me for ransom.” Her adrenaline had kicked in when she’d seen that opening. Her body might be tired and she might have resigned herself to staying with him for at least the night, but she didn’t have to be pinned to the ground. “I need to know you won’t try to run again. I need you to trust me.” “I won’t run, but…trust?” Still, she’d had already handed over the reins of this situation on so many levels. Instinctively she’d known it was the right thing to do. But that didn’t mean she had to like it. “I’ve given you my word, I will never hurt you. But there is something out there that will.” She knew that answer—or at least what he was going to say. “This demon.” He shifted his weight slightly. The seriousness of the conversation did little to cool the heat between their bodies. If anything, the fact that he didn’t take immediate

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advantage of her while having her in this compromising position should be added to that “why to trust” column. He answered, his breath hot on her cheek. “I will never leave you.” Those five words branded her heart. “But in that…vision. You left me.” Her breath caught at the memory of having her soul wrenched from her body. How could she be so inexplicably tied to this man she barely knew? His whisper echoed in his head. “I didn’t leave you. I stepped away to defend you from evil. I’m not going anywhere.” She tried to roll from beneath him, frightened by her own feelings of surrender. Maybe it was another one of those spells he cast over her. However he did that. She was tired. Overloaded. A man who had simply unlocked her pent up emotions and walked in now triggered a sexual awareness. If she didn’t get out of his arms, she’d act on it. They stared at each other for a long moment, as if both contemplating the way she’d lifted her hips to squirm from beneath him. The mere motion alone had triggered some carnal thoughts to form in her mind and she was reminded of the electric current that had passed between them when he’d so carefully freed her hair. “Are you going to let me up?” she asked him, squinting to see past the shadows and decipher his features. The darkness was too thick, a mask that increased his mystique and played with her common sense. His breathing increased. “I rather like you here.” “Why?” she said, and half-heartedly tugged at her hands, which he still held above her head. Instead of answering, he lowered his head. His lips met hers with a force that knocked the breath away from her and left her limp in the grass, as if he’d drawn every last bit of willpower out of her. His mouth opened over her bottom lip and nipped at it, then before she could even sigh, covered her lips again. Her body betrayed her. She slid her tongue between his lips as he had done to her. All the nerve cells in her body came alive with his groan and increased pressure of his hips against her. As if her surrender to his kiss increased his excitement. But it was so much more than a kiss. It bore his admission to her power instead of claiming superior possession. His unspoken whisper echoed in her head, promising reverence and respect, vowing to protect her with his very being. It renewed her. Maybe he blessed her with some of his magic. Blood roared through her body, heightening her awareness of every inch of her skin that contacted with his. It didn’t matter if it was a spell he’d put her under. At this point, she felt too good to care, too tired to fight. There was no weakness in admitting she wanted this. A rumbling that vibrated the ground beneath her tripled her heart beat. Earthquake? Again? But then she heard it again. Thunder—overhead, sounding like a menacing growl. Cammie tensed, waiting for Dante to stop, fearful that he would.

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He lifted his head, bringing and brought his mouth near to her ear, where he pressed a kiss. “It will rain soon. We should go inside.” “A storm?” she whispered, turning and lifting her head so she could taste the hollow behind his jaw that she’d found so inviting. “Where do you want to go?” Angry clouds crashed above them again, this time much different than the quake she feared. He took that fear away. Under his touch, she felt so safe—a sense of security she hadn’t known…perhaps ever. Dante’s body trembled as she nuzzled that hidden bit of flesh again and pressed her lips against the pulse beneath it. So warm, the skin there smooth and untouched. She relished this moment, this feeling. She buried her face against him and inhaled the essence of Dante, a clean freshness, but with a masculine hint of musk. It wasn’t bottled. This was his scent. It drove any ability to think out of her head. “Can you feel it? The tension in the air, the electricity?” His lips grazed against her hair and over her temples. Her eyes fluttered closed, wanting just for that moment to smell the hint of a storm on the horizon, to feel this man doing the closest thing to worshipping her that was possible. “Yeah,” she breathed. She felt it, and more. Her body came alive beneath his, heat radiating from his body to hers and back. And when he shifted to prop himself up on his elbows, the friction of his hips against hers worked like a match against sandpaper. She was on fire. Heat lightning flared overhead, a backlight to his thoughtful expression. He watched her. “Doesn’t the storm worry you?” she asked. “I welcome it,” he said, and lowered his head to her once again. His eyes had met hers for the fraction of a second before their mouths crashed like the thunderclouds overhead. Another image opened inside her head. A warm beach, lying just like this with Dante resting between her thighs. She could see the light in his eyes, the warm joy that radiated. It reached in and squeezed her heart. This wasn’t wrong. This couldn’t be even slightly wrong. She answered the question she’d seen in his shadowy gaze by flicking her tongue over her lips. She gave in. She’d been kissed before, but she’d never felt the texture of a mouth on hers shoot straight through her and send tingles of excitement to the juncture of her thighs. Dante did that…and more. His tongue slipped between her teeth and stroked against her in a velvety caress that turned her into a puddle. Her mind was caught in the crossfire. Her mouth was under the most gentle and erotic assault possible, yet he still held her wrists captive above her head. She liked it and hated the idea of being at his mercy. But she couldn’t dwell on that when his hips

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rocked the way they did. Cammie sighed as his body tortured her with an innocent, almost exploratory pressure against her aching groin. She longed to reach down and squeeze her breasts to ease the ache of needing a touch. Or make him do it. She needed to feel him tug on her sensitized nipples and then gently thumb them. The mere thought of his hands on her like that had her body shuddering in need. She caught his lower lip between her teeth and tugged, forcing him to endure the same pleasure/pain she felt. It worked. He groaned and drove his pelvis down against her. She arched upward, closing her eyes and reveling in the feeling of his engorged cock straining against his pants and pushing intimately between her legs. Her already damp panties were flooded with more of her arousal, as she imagined pushing the dark tan khakis over his narrow hips and releasing his cock into her hand. If that happened, she’d have to taste first. She worked her mouth against his, suckling on his tongue until he panted out his breath. She closed her eyes as the giant raindrops started pelting them, first sporadically, then steadily. Dante didn’t seem to care. She sure didn’t. All she wanted was for him to continue—no, to take this kiss a step further. A groan escaped her throat as the image of them naked, wet and entwined in each other’s arms flashed into her brain. He put that there. His fantasy. Cammie tore her mouth from his and strained up to where his damp hair stuck in ringlets to his cheek. “Touch me, Dante,” she whispered, hoping he’d relax his hold on her to reciprocate. He sucked in a breath; the whisper of his reaction and the cool sensation of air flowing over her cheek only seemed to increase her need. He’d teased enough. “Please?” Her tongue traced the carved line of his jaw, reveling in the slightest roughness of a day’s growth of beard just breaking the surface. Shivers raced over her skin as she imagined feeling that hint of stubble against her bare skin. Sensitive skin. Of their own accord, her hips arched against his. Water streamed over his face and onto hers. The rain was merciless, but so was he. Instead of turning into a man driven by lust, he acknowledged her pressure with his own, then put his lips against the throbbing pulse at her neck. She sighed, but struggled to free her wrists. It wasn’t fair. She had to get her hands on him. Enough was enough. Despite the cool rain, she thought she just might spontaneously combust at the torturously slow rate he was going. Her hands needed to be on him, on his face, mimicking the rivulets of water as they traced over his features. Then onto his body, sliding over rippling muscles until she could wrap her hands around his hard cock.

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Whether he read her mind or simply reacted to the way she’d pulled, Dante finally relaxed his hold on her hands. She slipped her wrists free, but lost track of what she wanted to do with them when he reached down and touched her face. She stilled, absorbing every sensation she could from the featherlike touch that traced from the corner of her eyes down to the tip of her chin. His thumb dragged against her lower lip, his fingers like fire against her cheek as he smoothed the rain from her face. Then his hand followed her jaw line. The feel of his fingertips as they grazed over her ear was softer than velvet and hotter than fire. Despite that, she shivered. Her breath left her body with a gasp when he finally reached under her neck and threaded his fingers in her hair. He lifted her up and found her lips with a kiss that demanded and took more than he had before. She answered back with the same fervor; strung so tight she could think of little more than what she wanted him to do next. And how to make that happen. Nothing hesitant about the way he pushed his hips against hers. He’d nudged his knee between her thighs and spread her legs. All that was left was a few barriers of clothes. Those needed to go. Now. Lightning streaked overhead, the violent shot of brightness illuminated his face clearly. Dark, wet curls clung to his forehead and cheeks, his eyes were black as night and hooded as he looked down at her. A thrill raced up Cammie’s spine at the raw emotion spelled out there on his face. He left nothing hidden. Her heart thudded in her throat as he looked into her eyes. She felt his gaze, even though the brilliant flash of lightning had gone. Dante was magic. He could reach inside her mind and create visions, images, feeling…intense feelings stronger than anything she’d ever felt before. He created a world in which there was nothing but the two of them, no boundaries, no differences, no concern of past or future. All that had fallen away. Bliss. They gave themselves wholly to one another. She knew this, felt this. Sure as she knew his touch as his fingers passed over her shoulder, grazed the side of her breast and rested on her waist. Cammie finally realized her hands were free and set them to work. She hated to break the chest to leg contact, but she pushed him to roll onto his side so she could get at the buttons on his shirt. He chuckled and distracted her from the task of freeing the buttons. How could a girl concentrate when he slowly moved his hands over her waist, hips and stomach, but torturously refused to dip his hands over the spot that wanted the attention the very most? The darkness made it impossible to use her eyes to help her shaking fingers. The lightning, while bright and frequent, worked more like a strobe. Everything around her seemed to move stilted and in slow motion. She whimpered, frustrated that she was so close to getting her hands on his body, and couldn’t complete such a simple task. 41

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This was certainly a quest she wasn’t going to fail. The way the wet cotton of his shirt adhered to his body tempted her like nothing ever had. She could feel his heat, the contours of his skin stretched over muscle. Memorizing it with her fingers made it more beautiful than simply seeing it with her eyes. She had a whole new appreciation for his body. And she wanted to touch it, dammit! Dante brushed her impatient hands away and easily released the buttons. Thank God. It didn’t matter who did the undressing, just as long as it got done. If she thought the cotton was enticing, she wasn’t prepared for the electric shock that zipped through her body when she was finally able to lay her hand on his rainslicked chest. The heat, the palpable beat of his heart just under her fingertips. God, she might explode from it all. Beneath her fingers, muscles jumped and quivered. What a rush, to be able to cause him to react that way. She imagined his skin there—she touched the dimple of his hip where it disappeared under his waistband, and there—her fingers lightly danced up to the sensitive skin over his ribs—would be tanned and smooth. Her mouth watered as she imagined replacing her hand with her mouth. He’d taste of rainwater and skin, and smell of musky sweat and sweet arousal. Cammie whimpered and tried to see his face. When the lightning did flash, she wasn’t disappointed, but only wished it was light enough to commit the image to memory. His full lips were parted, his eyes closed. He’d tilted his head slightly back. Unable to resist, she reached up to trace his jaw line and the inviting skin of his neck. He gasped when she found the hollow at the base of his neck and continued downward. The fact that he reacted so easily and openly to her exploration spurred her on. Her body tightened and trembled as his hand splayed out on her hip and gripped in response to her feather light touch. Control. She swallowed and focused on him. She’d never be tired of touching his body. The rain continued to splash on them. She chased the rivulets down over the contours of his body, slipping her finger into the cleft of his navel and then up over his ribs once more. Dante groaned, a deep sound that vibrated against her and melted her insides. The vortex of excitement inside her centralized between her thighs. Muscles clenched. She shifted her weight so his thigh and hip put pressure against her aching mound. Enough teasing. Her hand crept lower, slower with more pressure, finding the line of hair below his navel and following it toward the waistband and the treasure hidden inside. The damp clothes clung to him, outlining his erection clearly against his body. While she might have liked to run her finger around the outline of his swollen cock, she didn’t want to delay it any longer. She closed her hand over him and stroked him through his pants. So tight and hard, throbbing against her. At his sharp intake of breath, she knew he wanted her as much 42

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as she wanted him. The muscles of her sex clenched, needing to be stretched, filled with him. Now. She shifted her weight and pulled him down on her. Then regretted it. At least not yet. There were still too many clothes in the way. It was then she realized she was calling the shots, setting the pace. As soon as he had released her hands, she’d been able to take the reins. She arched her hips upward, rubbing her clit against the hardened length of his cock. He moaned, but that was it. She’d expected a man this aroused would have done something to alleviate his own needs. If she kept it up, she’d come right there, just from the pressure and the newly realized knowledge. For the first time Cammie was actually glad it was dark. She’d hate to alarm Dante with the wicked smile she could feel pulling at her lips. She. Had. Control. Sweet God in heaven, this was going to be fun.

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Chapter Six The tension in Cammie’s body melted the moment Dante released her hands. Her rigidly held muscles relaxed. So did he. He hadn’t intended to hold her like that, hostage-style. If he hadn’t, however…he swallowed with realization—if she’d have started touching him with such seductive precision earlier, he’d have been more than done by now. He had no intention of breaking her spirit, be it during a moment like this or facing down the demon. His knowledge dictated that he call the shots for his mission. But when it came to intimacy, he knew nothing. Nothing about drive and feeling and urgency. Nothing about the new, mindnumbing levels of desire. Lust wasn’t about want, it was about need. He’d never understood how all-consuming these sensations could be. At first, he’d struggled within himself, fighting against it with the fear he was weakening himself, giving in to the lust. It was past that. Whether they consummated this union tonight or not, he’d be driven with distraction by her and her magical fingers, wondering what it would finally be like to slip inside her warmth and spill his seed. In fact, if she kept tracing her fingers over his stomach, dipping them slightly under his waistband and then down the front of his pants like that, he was going to reach the point of giving in directly, to hell with the consequences. He caught her hand in his. “If you keep that up, there’ll be nothing left when we finally…” She drew in a quick breath. He wanted nothing more than to brush her hands aside and remove her clothing. The mental image of her legs spread, his cock pressing into her wet opening, had his balls tightening, almost painful with need. If he continued thinking like that, there’d be nothing left. He let her lead, understanding her need for control, and well, it seemed she knew what she was doing. His body begged for mercy when she pushed against his chest. No! Don’t stop! But then she rolled him onto his back and climbed astride. Sweet heavens. He forced himself to concentrate on the damp grass beneath his back rather than the rocking motion of her groin against his. He wanted to see her. All he could perceive was a hazy silhouette, but that even stole his breath. The faint light from the almost constant lightning caused the water to glisten on her damp skin. She had her eyes closed, or at least nearly so. Wet hair hung around her face, removing all signs of the stubborn, closed-off woman he’d met earlier.

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“Give me your hands,” she said, her voice low and husky to match the thunder that still roared in the distance. They hadn’t needed to speak before this. Words weren’t necessary, but the throaty request managed to fan the flames a little higher. Or maybe it was the way she assumed control so easily. He was more than happy to oblige her request. Feeding on her confidence; he placed his hands on her thighs and skimmed upward, over her hips and onto her waist. She put her hands over his and guided them higher, over the sides of her breasts. He tried to stop there, to take a moment to explore the weight of them in his hand, the way her nipples pushed against the material and into his palm. He wanted to taste them, to hear her slight gasp turn into a moan or a cry. But before he could act on that, she pulled his hands free and guided them up the column of her neck and onto her cheeks. She leaned into his palm, then reached out with her tongue to graze the side of his thumb. Words escaped him. So did his breath. His cock pulsed against her, eager to receive the same attention. “You like that?” she asked, teasing him as her lips moved against his finger. “Let me try that again.” She held his hand in both of hers, then wrapped her lips around his forefinger and suckled. Talk about madness. He lifted his hips to push against her. She responded by taking his finger deep into the moist recesses of her mouth and swiping the length of it with her tongue. He groaned and used his free hand to grip her hip as she rocked against him. How much longer did she intend to torture him? When she withdrew that finger and started on the next, he knew that handing her the reins was the wrong decision. He wanted to explore every inch of her body, but didn’t have time or the patience. Tonight, anyway. Right now he needed release before he exploded. While Cammie’s tongue did such sweetly evil things to his fingers, he moved his hand to the waist of her pants and deftly popped the button and lowered the zipper. She didn’t stop him. The way she straddled him gave him little leverage to remove the offending clothing, or even slide his fingers down to touch her. He felt intoxicated by the need to stroke her, feel her wetness pour over his hand as she begged for him. Only Cammie wouldn’t beg. She’d take. He wanted her to take. Now. “Get these off,” he growled. She didn’t need any more prodding. But she rolled over and started on his clothing first, slipping off his shoes and then tugging down his pants. When his cock sprang free, she immediately wrapped both hands around it and stroked him. The heat, the madness, it all spiraled around him and threatened to take over. He fought for

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command of his body, concentrating on the way the raindrops hit his bare chest and face rather than thinking about how close her mouth was to his cock. “Cammie, please.” No. She placed her lips against the head of his hard-on and pushed against him, allowing him to slip into her hot mouth. He fisted the grass beside him and gritted his teeth to stop from pouring his seed into her mouth right then. There was no exclamation in his vocabulary to express himself, nothing that conveyed the almost mindless intensity of the feeling of her velvety mouth sucking on him. “Stop,” he hissed, knowing control was no longer an option. “Stop?” She lifted her head, her voice wavered. “I do not want my fulfillment without you reaching yours.” She gasped, released him and quickly removed her clothing. If touching him was torture, the lack of her hands on him was even more so. The constant rain played along his nerve endings, the light breeze that rustled the grasses cooling his hot skin, but nothing would ease the tension that filled his body besides Cammie. He nearly lost it when her smooth legs slid over his, the heat from her body radiating clear through him. She crawled up him, almost animalistic in nature, her hair falling and covering her face as she knelt above him with her arms on either side of his head. His hands shook as he lifted them to her bare breasts. Immediately her nipples puckered in his palms and a tiny whimper escaped her lips. He rolled them between his fingers, vowing to one day lavish them with the attention they deserved. But not now. She responded eagerly when he pushed her hips down against him. The damp heat of her pussy came in contact with his shaft. He stilled her for a moment, determined to keep from coming. Once inside her, he knew it’d be over. Cammie sat up and reached between them to touch herself. He closed his eyes, letting the mental images replace what his eyes could not see. She was hot, so hot, so ready. These things were clear to him. He blocked them out. This was the completely new to him, a strictly physical feeling of male and female coming together in explosive passion. No room for him to think. Just act. He didn’t need any special powers to experience this. His body had control, not his mind. No. There was no control. Cammie lifted and positioned herself over the tip of his cock and slowly lowered herself onto him. He watched her, forced himself to keep his eyes open despite the waves that crashed into him at the feel of her tight walls squeezing him. The ground rumbled beneath them. Lightning arced above them, and he couldn’t tell if it was real or brought about by the sparks that shot through his body. He thrust up as she lifted and lowered her body onto his again and again. She panted out little gasps as she tightened around him. The rain poured over them, slicking their bodies and mixing with the sweat and the scent of sex.

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He gripped her hips as the pressure pounded through him. All efforts failed. He was going to explode. “Cammie.” He groaned as he rammed himself deep inside her and shuddered as he let go, coming in spikes of pleasure so intense it was almost painful. She threw her head back and grunted as she pushed hard against him, rocking and pounding on him. The rain increased its tempo with her, blinding him as he strained to watch the play of light on her features as she gasped out her orgasm. He felt it—felt her body tighten and then tremble against him, squeezing his cock and draining any last remaining drops of come from him. Her moans were pure abandon, her hair wildly curling about her shoulders as she shook and convulsed against him. His body still throbbed, sensitized to the slightest touch. What level of heaven was this? While he felt sated, the feel of a nearly limp woman who’d stretched out naked on his chest after surrendering so much to him, was, well…arousing. “Cammie,” he said, reaching up to push the hair off her face. “Yeah?” Her breath ragged as her voice vibrated against the skin on his chest. How could she do such amazing things to his body? Was it always like this? “We should get out of the rain.” “Yeah, we should.” She didn’t move. Frankly, he didn’t want her to. Already the reality of what had happened between them had started crowding out the wonder of it. He wanted to hold on to this moment. Once the sun came back up, things would change. Sure as the rain.

***** “Where is it?” Cammie’s question woke him from a bizarre dream, though her intrusion was not an unwelcome one. Still, it took several seconds for him to grasp what she was saying. “Where is what?” She was half-dressed and circling him as he squinted up at her. “What are you looking for?” he asked again. He couldn’t help but smile and prop himself up on one elbow as she looked him down, then up, then down again. No matter what she wanted, he didn’t have it. They’d fallen asleep naked after making love, in the rain, no less. His clothes still lay in saturated piles near his feet. “The statue.”

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He immediately sobered and reached for his clothes. The lingering warmth of the memory of the night before emptied out of him. He couldn’t believe what she was saying. “You’ve lost it?” She stomped up to him, hair wild about her face, her cheeks pink with her temper. Despite the gentle beauty of her features, her eyes were full of sparks. She threw up her arms. “My fault, naturally. Blame it on me.” “You carried it.” He tried to be matter-of-fact, sensing her volatile state of mind. He’d figured out almost immediately that without the relic, she didn’t think she had control. And she didn’t like not having control. What he couldn’t tell her was that he already blamed himself. The demon could have walked up and taken it from them, for all he knew. He’d let down his guard, forgotten his place—all caught up in the wonder of making love to Cammie. “Of course I had it. You’re afraid to touch the cursed thing.” She stomped once more off to circle the area where they’d slept. If only he could explain why. He hated burdening her with it, didn’t like the effect it was already having on her. He pulled the shirt over his shoulders and slid into the rest of his clothes. The packs he’d carried lay just outside the area she searched. He immediately crossed to them, but was stopped by her statement. “Checked them already. Nothing.” Which meant what? Dante closed his eyes and bowed his head and whispered a short prayer. The bit of shame he’d fought hard to fight initially crept up on his shoulder and perched there for all the heavens to see. One day as a mortal and he’d been seduced by the lure of the flesh. Now the relic was missing, the demon was well more than a day ahead of them and he’d spent the last eight hours pretending he wasn’t an angel. He lifted his head to find Cammie standing just a few feet in front of him. “What are you doing?” she asked, frowning. The flare of anger, probably just her frustration in disguise, seemed to be waning. He looked over her shoulder at the half-crumbled walls of a once beautiful Mayan temple and then back to her. “I prayed.” “Prayed?” The lift of her eyebrow, the still in-control posture had led him to expect a sarcastic or disbelieving retort. Not the gentle, almost reverent way she’d repeated him. “Yes. We need help. I asked for it.” She nodded and resumed kicking at the long grass that would easily hide the relic. “I hope someone up there can help us then. Because I don’t know what happened to it.” Despite the seriousness of the moment, a tiny smile played about his lips as he remembered what had happened the night before. She’d run; he’d caught her. “Did you drop it when I tackled you?”

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Cammie stopped and looked up at him, her forehead creased, but her features softened. “I might have.” The grass where she’d fallen, where they’d remained all night was flattened. “You looked here?” “Yeah, and I figured one of us would have felt the statue poking us in the back if we’d have rolled over onto it, right? So just help me look.” This was Cammie Howard, the scientist and mission leader. The no-nonsense takecharge woman who had been chosen to resurrect him and then ultimately destroy him. Or lock him away…again. What other options could there be? None of the final results he could imagine were appealing. Especially now that he could add “his lover” to the list of titles for her. “Why are you staring at me?” Her cheeks flamed, and he noticed she let the hair hide her eyes this time. He didn’t have a retort that would suit her jaunty chin and flexing fingers. It almost saddened him to see her so obsessed with finding the relic—not that he wasn’t—but last night seemed to be far from important to her. Perhaps because making love to her had been more than just a physical act to him, but he didn’t see how she could just behave as if nothing had happened. “I was simply trying to recall how you landed to determine where the statue would have fallen.” The side of her mouth trembled a bit, almost as if she were going to smile, but then she turned and started kicking the wet grass once more. That little almost-smile allowed him to relax. So she wasn’t unaffected. Pretending to be, yes, but not altogether successful, even at that. He projected another prayer of thanks upwards and started walking beside Cammie, mimicking her movements. “Once we find this, we must move quickly. We lost much time yesterday and this morning.” “But you’d worked in enough time for sex last night?” Her widened eyes caused him to believe she hadn’t exactly planned to speak that thought. He chuckled and reached for her hand. “I had no intention of sex. But it seemed neither of us could deny the desire, could we?” Her face reddened and she kicked the grass harder than she needed. He didn’t question her any further. She wasn’t comfortable. “You influenced me. You do that hypnotic thing and force thoughts into my head. My God, Dante, I haven’t even known you twenty-four hours yet, how could we have had sex?” His heart felt the same amount of skepticism. It had been a very wrong decision, but one that could not be undone. “You would regret something so beautiful? I find it would have been inevitable. I’ve been drawn to you since I first saw you.” “So you did that thing with your eyes and— Oh!” Cammie sat in the grass and dropped her head into her hands. “What a fool. What a damn fool I am. What a failure I

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am. You have it, don’t you? I handed it right over. God, they’re not going to believe it. I can’t believe it.” She took a couple of heaving breaths, then squinted up at him, dryeyed. “Now will you take me back, or at least point me in the direction of a hotel? A phone, anything? I’ll make something up. I can’t admit this to the museum. Christ. I promise, I won’t even mention you.” She pressed the butt of her palms into her eyes and rubbed, as if trying to erase the images she saw there. That hurt, that she’d think he’d seduced her to get the relic, but he shouldn’t be. Men weren’t trusting. It’d been difficult to learn that the manipulative, selfish ways of man had been borne from the society he’d imagined and hoped for. But he wasn’t giving up, and neither was she. “You’ve got it wrong.” He waited for her to lift her eyes to his. Not because he wanted to influence her or open her eyes to the truth. He’d tried that, and it seemed to make things worse. Cammie would have to trust him on her own. “Yes, I could have used the attraction between us to take advantage, but I promised never to hurt you, and I will hold to that promise.” She nodded and her eyes remained clear. “I want you to trust me on one more thing. Listen with your heart and think about it. If I had wanted the relic, I would have taken it before you woke up yesterday and we never would have met.” He waited, letting her digest the words. “I am not here to take the relic from you. You are its keeper, the keyholder. You are the only one immune to its curse. And you are not a failure.” She chewed her lip, but the glint in her eye reflected her rejection of his words. “None of this makes sense. Keyholders and curses and demons. Don’t you understand? I came to Mexico to retrieve the relic, which I did. All this,” she waved her hand, “isn’t part of the deal. I just want to go home. Take the relic to the museum and go home. And at this point, I’d be satisfied with the going home part.” A shadow fell over the edge of the clearing. Dante looked up to see dark, menacing clouds closing in. Was this proof the demon had gotten to the relic, or simply physical manifestation of the storm of emotions that separated himself and Cammie at this moment? “Cammie, I don’t have the relic. Whatever you believe, whatever you want to believe right now, trust me. But we have to find it. Let’s—” “I’ve searched! I’ve traipsed all over this god-forsaken field—” The temperature dropped several degrees and it seemed closer to twilight than midmorning. “Quit talking and find it. Now!” he shouted above the turbulent wind that spun around them. He used his sharp eyes to scan the grass for anything white. But the plateau’s foliage was thick and tall, preventing a clear view of anything resting on the ground. 50

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“Dante?” Cammie’s voice quavered and she wrapped her arms around herself. He ached to pull her into his embrace and shield her from what was coming, but knew that it would do little good. “Find it!” Putting his back to the imposing clouds, he threw his focus into figuring out what had happened. She was right-handed. He strained to remember if this was certain. If she had run into the clearing and he had tackled her here, he stepped into the middle of the matted grass where they had slept. And if the relic wasn’t here, it must have fallen or been knocked from her hand. Winds swirled around him, tearing at his clothes and whipping the stinging ends of his hair against his cheeks and neck. “Cammie,” he shouted above the storm. The sun had been blocked out by angry black clouds, lightning streaked the sky overhead, not awesome heat lightning, but angry, razor-sharp blades of pure white. Beneath him, the ground rumbled. Where was she? At the edge of the clearing. She’d gone too far. There was clearly no way the relic could have landed over there, even if she’d thrown it. What was she doing? He pushed against the wind that used its strength to keep him from reaching her. He understood why. His dream. In it, the earth had opened up and swallowed Cammie.

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Chapter Seven “Cammie!” Dante cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled for her. The vicious wind simply slapped it back in his face with almost a laughing-like gust. Still, he tried again. “Come back. Come here!” He had to stop her. How could she not be affected by the ferocity of the storm? Didn’t she question where it had come from so quickly? He shouldn’t have to prove anything to her after this. “God, give me strength.” Dante shielded his eyes as the rush hit him. A welcoming light momentarily blinded him, yet led him directly through the whirlwind that separated him from Cammie. He yelled her name again, then heard, even above all else, her gasp when she turned to him. The thundering sound that followed did not come from the sky above, but rather, it was the groan of the earth as it tore open. Behind her. “Cammie, no!” he screamed and lunged toward her. She stepped back. “Trust me. Please. Come here.” He had to make her believe. One more step would be too many. Yet she looked more frightened than he’d ever imagined her face portraying. Her expression was empty. Her eyes unseeing. If she turned and ran from whatever horrors she envisioned… “Stop!” He got down on his knees and held his hands out. “Look at me, Cammie. Think about us, about what I said. Believe with your heart. I’ve vowed never to hurt you.” She took a half-step forward, her eyes narrowed and staring at him. “That’s it. Fight it. Fight the darkness.” A surge of strength lifted Dante’s confidence and the air around him felt charged with electricity. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened to a perfect “O”. She reacted as if she could see it. Her eyes lifted to his. Pure cold ran through his veins at the fear there. She didn’t believe. She didn’t trust. Something else was influencing her, using her doubt against him. She wasn’t fighting it because she didn’t know what to believe. “Cammie,” he said, forcing the shakiness out of his voice. “I’m going to turn around and walk back to where we were before. You have to follow me. Do not turn around. Do not question. Follow.”

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He felt helpless, and didn’t like it. He couldn’t force her to do what he needed of her, and he couldn’t trust her to lead. She didn’t have the knowledge or power he did. Could he finish this mission without her? No. And he didn’t want to. It felt as if someone had physically reached in and tore his heart from his chest when he turned his back to her. She’d gotten under his skin, wormed her way into his heart. Not surprising considering what they’d shared last night. But he couldn’t leave anyone behind the way he walked away from her now. Not without the stab of guilt that sliced through him. “Please, make her follow,” he mouthed toward the heavens and lifted his heavy feet. The skies grew darker, the angry clouds pressed down upon them. This was no ordinary storm. He could only hope she’d realize that. He lifted his chin defiantly and forced himself to walk slowly, despite the gleeful, evil way the gusts tried to push him forward. Away from Cammie. Halfway back to their packs, he kicked something in the grass.

***** Out-of-body experience. That’s what this felt like. Around her the elements seemed to have all risen up against her. Wicked winds, violent lightning, more earthquakes that threatened to knock her off her feet. Then she’d seen Dante. Around his body had been a glowing light, like an aura. It made him seem surreal, almost…like he wasn’t human—some being of some kind. She’d wanted to clutch her head at the voice that reached in then, but she’d been paralyzed and forced to listen. It was like all her fears about Dante were put into verbal form. He promised to take you home, a low, raspy voice whispered, but he hasn’t. He has secrets, lots of them. Won’t tell you everything, even who and what he is. He wants the relic and its power. He’s using you to get it. He is evil, lusty evil man. Tormenting you with visions like this, trying to weaken you, trying to break your spirit. He wants you to fail. No! She closed her eyes and fought against the doubts that raced through her mind. Stop! Stop! She couldn’t think with so much commotion. She had no explanation for it. She was hallucinating. That had to be it. In front of her the landscape blurred like a giant watercolor painting. She could see Dante moving now, the light that had surrounded him had faded as he walked away. When had it gotten so dark? Cammie reached up and touched her face, surprised that she had feeling. “My God,” she mumbled. “I’m having a nervous breakdown.”

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Reality was slipping away. She felt it, but had nothing to hold on to. No safety net, no rope or chain or friendly hand. Thoughts whizzed through her brain faster than she could sort them. What was happening to her? Why was this happening to her, whatever it was? “Cammie!” she heard Dante’s voice, distorted though it was by the wind. She searched for him, finding only a hazy shape. So far away. Why was he so far away? She took a step toward him. Dante would help her. He’d promised never to hurt her, right? He’d protect her, at least. She truly believed that. “Dante,” she struggled to say, but felt the words ripped from her lips by icy cold fingertips. Giant dark clouds closed in on her. Demons. Dante had been warning her about the demon. Was this it, them, whatever? Her heart pounded as she looked up, craning her neck to see above the thick wall that now encircled her. There was no end. Inside a tornado. That’s what she imagined it’d look like if she were standing in the middle of a giant funnel cloud. She nearly tripped and fell when gusts of wind reached out like hands for her. She stepped back, then right to avoid them, buffeted in the narrowing cylinder. “Dante!” she finally screamed. She couldn’t breathe. The walls of black smoke-like clouds were within touching distance, swirling around her. It was so cold. She huddled into a tiny ball, finally dropping to her knees. The blast of gale force winds felt icy against her face, and she reached up, finding her tears. Madness. This was madness consuming her. “Cammie, come to me. Come to the light.” She lifted her chin and wiped her eyes. Light? She couldn’t see any light. Where was he anyway? The way the tempest circled her, she couldn’t even figure out which way Dante had come. Her throat wouldn’t work. “Dante,” she gasped, drawing her fists to her chest and putting her chin down. “I can’t find you. Where are you?” The voice she heard then came from inside her own head. Dante. I’m with you. Part of you. Stand up. You must stand up. “Stand up.” She mouthed the words and contemplated their meaning. How did she know this wasn’t a trick? How did she know it was really him? It sounded like him… Maybe this was another of his hypnotic doings. Maybe he was trying to make her feel like she was losing her mind. Someone was. What if it wasn’t Dante? She didn’t know what to trust. She hated that she couldn’t even trust herself. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. No, she wasn’t going to fall for it. Dante would come for her. She had to believe that. This was all about mind over matter, anyway. The frightening walls that pressed in on her weren’t really there. The darkness wasn’t taking over the light. Cammie closed her eyes and pictured the clearing the way it had looked when she’d awakened in Dante’s arms. Of course, at that moment, she hadn’t been taking in

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the surroundings as much as she’d been overcome with the angelic innocence of Dante’s sleeping face. Dark lashes had fanned against his cheeks. What luck. Or good genes. No amount of money she’d spent at the beauty counter had ever made her eyelashes that thick and lush. His beauty—nothing feminine about it—took her breath away. She fisted her hands, fighting back the urge to smile at the memory of his unshaven cheek as it grazed hers when she leaned in to kiss that spot below his ear where his jaw ended. That immaculate place where her lips could feel his pulse right beneath his skin and she could smell the warmth of his body. She shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have remembered that even then she’d wanted to deny everything her head told her and simply stay to rain kisses down his neck to the curve of his shoulder and down to his broad chest. Despite her attempts to block out the chaos around her, it continued. If anything, it seemed to strengthen as she fought it. The wind whipped madly about her, closing in and stealing her breath. She tried to break free, to push back and give herself space, but could not. She closed her eyes. Mind over matter. When she opened them, nothing had changed. Maybe this wasn’t a manifestation of her mind. Her hands shook as she lifted them and looked at them, the touched her face. What was happening to her? “I’ve found it, Cammie. Come on, let’s go!” Dante’s voice sounded so far away. She might have almost missed it for the screaming force of the wind around her. Could he see this? Where was he? “Dante, where are you?” Her fear was real now, gut-wrenching, heart-in-her-throat terror. The claustrophobia she’d held behind clenched teeth tore out of her with a whimper. She was trapped. Caught. Contained by some supernatural force that she couldn’t understand. Hell. Finding it had all been in her head would have been easier to accept. “Listen with your heart.” “Where are you?” she called out, straining her throat, but yet little more than a whisper seemed to escape. Why wasn’t he here? Why wasn’t he reaching in to pull her out of this horror? “Right here.” His voice was everywhere. Inside her mind and wrapping around her body like a silken scarf. It comforted her for a split second only. Then she realized she had no idea where he was. No idea where anything was. Her sense of direction, normally pretty damn accurate, had deserted her. As had most of her courage. Never in her life had she

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gotten into a situation that made her want to sit down and cry until it was over. Never. Wouldn’t even have dreamed of doing something so…cowardly. “No!” She didn’t fail. Wasn’t going to start now, despite this major setback. It was mind over matter here. She took a step, clenching her teeth. She’d dived into opaque water and explored pitch-black caves. She could do this. She took one brave step in the direction his voice had seemed to originate. “Cammie, no!” Dante’s voice thundered through her. The ground beneath her shook, then crumbled beneath her feet. She looked down. The ground disappeared, replaced by a black orifice that meant to swallow her whole. Oh, God. She wasn’t going to fail, she was going to die. “Dante!” she screamed, reaching outward even as her feet gave way. “Hold on to me,” his voice was at her ear. Not in her head. She opened up her eyes. Bad move. Oh God. Dante lay at the edge of the crevice, his shoulders and arms the only thing holding her up. She dared not kick her feet and loosen his hold. The measly grip she had on his biceps wouldn’t save her. Not in a heartbeat. “Get me up. Please.” This was not for kicks—not for adrenaline rush. This was life or death. “Look at me.” She did look up. But not directly at him. Above him, the light was so bright it nearly blinded her, but around them, the dark swirls of smoky clouds still lingered. He squeezed, his fingers cutting into the underside of her arms. “Campbell Howard. Your life depends on it. Trust me. Look into my eyes.” She squeezed back tears. How could she trust him? How could she trust anyone or anything at this moment? God, she wanted to, she wanted to be wrong about her gut feeling. But there was just too much she didn’t understand. “I said I’d never hurt you.” She swallowed and nodded. The wind was gone. The storm had faded and Dante was still here. Her heart pounded, her body shook with the realization. He was here. Just like in the vision. He’d said he’d tried to protect her. That he wouldn’t hurt her. No. He wouldn’t hurt her. That she did believe. “I’m asking for your trust. Just a little bit of trust.” She heard his words, saw his mouth moving to say them, but inside she felt the message. Listen with your heart. Her lashes fluttered up and she met his deep brown eyes. Immediately she felt it flow through her body—a connection, an overwhelming sensation of warmth and peace and love.

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The sensation of being pulled up over the edge of the cliff was secondary to the mesmerized state he locked her in. There her focus was on the smooth skin of his bare arms, the tightness of the muscles beneath them as they strained. All around him a light glowed. She knew—it came from him, from whatever he was doing to heal her shattered nerves. But it didn’t frighten her. What she saw was pure. And just that quickly, the danger was gone. She was safe. Cammie looked around. She sat in the middle of the clearing, half in Dante’s arms. The sun shone above them, bright and unblinking. No sign of the bitter darkness that had descended upon her. The light that had surrounded Dante was gone.

***** Dante knew he had to give her a moment to digest what happened. But every minute she spent looking around—as if seeing the landscape’s features for the very first time, the farther ahead of them the demon got. This mission was more complex than he thought. His sword was no match for the demon’s power, but he’d discovered an inner strength of his own. The worst part about it was Cammie now seemed more distant than ever. Almost as if she was afraid of him. Her wide childlike eyes landed on his again. He waited for her to speak. Predicting what she’d say was easy. “What happened?” He swallowed and looked toward the new jagged tear that disrupted the peaceful clearing. “The demon’s power is far-reaching. He wants the relic.” True, that was an assumption, but there was only one other reason he’d do what he did. Why would he want Cammie? He wasn’t going to even suggest it as a possibility and completely lose her trust. He pulled himself up and offered Cammie his hand. It was well past time they go. She ignored him and stood up on her own. “Did he get it?” Dante dared not hope that question indicated her acceptance of the situation. That would be too easy. More than that, it would indicate her fight was fading. “Over there.” He pointed. “Under my shirt.” Her brow furrowed. The shirt lay by itself easily ten feet from them. “Why didn’t he get it?” Nope, her fight wasn’t gone. She’d just channeled it into rationalizing things out. His chest tightened as he forced the little white lie past his lips. “He thought you had it.” She touched her temple, then met his gaze. Her crystal green eyes reflected the lush grass of the wild plateau around them. A reflection he couldn’t see past. She was

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shutting him out. Effectively too. “Who are you?” Her right eye narrowed a bit as she spoke. He blinked and looked away. “No, Dante. Look at me. I saw this happen, this earthquake, I mean. In a vision. The one right before I ran.” She pushed her hair out of her face and let out a deep breath. “It scared me. But things didn’t happen the way I had seen them. Why? How can I suddenly see things that are so similar to future events when I look into your eyes?” “Pick up the relic and put it in the pack—the one that is undamaged. Lighten your load, we must travel quickly.” She shook her head and straightened her spine. “I’m not going anywhere until I get some answers. This has played out like a strange horror movie and I don’t like it.” “The horror part is only going to get worse. We escaped this round unharmed. But we can’t let him get away.” Cammie lunged for the sword. Dante had no way to beat her to it. But perhaps it would make her feel as if she were on even turf with the weapon. “The relic. Pack it up and let’s go.” “You go ahead. I don’t want to face something like that again. I’m not sure whether I believe in your demon, but there is definitely something…abnormal going on here, and I don’t want to be part of it. It’s daylight—probably will be for another eight or nine hours. Surely someone will go to the excavation site and see if anything salvageable. I’ll be fine. Just point me the way. And I’ll even take the sword to protect myself.” His patience grew thin. Perhaps bluntness worked best with her. “And face the demon alone? Do you think the sword will be a match for an attack of the elements like that? Who’ll catch you next time you step to your death?” Blood drained from her face, but she unsheathed the sword and pointed it at his face. “How do I know it was the demon? You could have conjured all that up.” Square in the eye he looked at her and said, “I could. But I didn’t. I kept it from devouring you.” “No.” She sliced the air between them. He flinched. Her eyes were clear, not clouded with hate or anger. She was testing. Or so he thought. “Would you die if I cut you? Would you bleed?” She circled him. The bend of her knees, the drop of her shoulders and intensity of her stare reminded him of a lioness stalking her prey. “What if I ran you through right now?” “I would die.” “So you’re not some magic, immortal being?” “I’m a man, Cammie.” “You’re more than simply a man.”

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Cammie threw the sword, which landed between them. His gaze flickered from her to the glint of steel in the midday sun. She would not accept it if he said she was right. “Perhaps. I have every intention of protecting you—more so than you could do with simply that sword. What good would it have done against the force of blackness that tried to steal you from me today?” She picked up the relic and turned it over in her hands. Even in this tense moment, he reacted to the way her fingers slid lightly over the upheld wings. How could he not think about the way her long, narrow fingers had traced down his own body and encircled him? His cock hardened as she traced the flowing hair of the statue. He cleared his throat and tore his gaze away. “There are no answers to be found on the surface of the relic. It is a symbol. Look with your heart for the truth.” He’d be wise to take his own advice. Without another word, she tossed him his shirt, which she had retrieved along with the artifact. With the sword once again at her side, she started sorting and repacking her backpack. Dante lifted his head, closed his eyes and used the power he guarded so carefully to search for the demon. He had to be close. No way could he generate so much power otherwise. Yet Dante couldn’t locate him. He couldn’t have just disappeared. Had he compromised his powers? Was this evidence he was weakening even as the demon grew stronger? “What are you doing?” Cammie had slung the pack on to her shoulder. She stood in front of him, but at a stranger’s distance. Dante was so tired of games. Half-truths. He hated the feeling that he was lying to her. “Searching for the demon.” “What?” she took a step back. He hated the uncertainty there. After all they’d experienced in twenty-four hours and she still reacted the same stubborn way. But how could he blame her, when he still had secrets that were gradually being unveiled? Hadn’t he just insisted he was simply a man? He didn’t answer her. She’d lifted her eyes with her question. She was curious. Not a bad downfall to have, but he feared that if she faced the demon, she’d ultimately fall prey to the forbidden. The world around them melted away. He heard Cammie gasp, but he couldn’t see her any longer. A vision opened before his eyes. They were together, walking side by side though a town. He could sense her tension. She wanted to run. Felt she could disappear here and find her way home. Chances were, she would. But she couldn’t see what he saw, nor could he see her vision. Faces around him held eyes that had lost their light. The demon had been there. Had sapped the life out of

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these people. They lived out their nightmares, perhaps not physical, but he could see by the way some curled fetal-style against the baked clay walls of the buildings that their inner fears had driven them to madness. He longed to see how Cammie reacted to this. Would she know? Would she even begin to understand the devastation? These people were like puppets to the demon. One word from him and they would behave in any manner he saw fit. Evidenced by the thick smoke and heat they approached. Cammie hung back, already coughing. He pulled his shirt up over his mouth, indicating she should do the same. He felt the burn in his nostrils, the ache in his chest as the breath he inhaled seared down his throat. They had to get out of the direction of the wind. But the narrow, winding path through the monotone buildings offered them no escape. He ducked his head, grabbed Cammie and set off at a run toward the burning building. Her scream was real. Not part of the vision at all. “Cammie?” He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look at him. Her eyes were red-rimmed and watering. His own throat felt as if it were on fire itself. Yet there was no buildings, no flames. They were still in the clearing with the Mayan ruins behind them. She swung out at him while he was still trying to get his bearings. Well-aimed punches to the gut and jaw forced him back a step. He blinked against the surprising starburst of pain—and the shock of her strike. What? Why? It was a split second of losing focus. He hadn’t closed his eyes long enough for her to get away. Or so he thought. Cammie was gone.

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Chapter Eight “Cammie?” Dante called out past the lump in his throat. She’d managed to wrench away control once again. She had to have gone back the way they’d come into the clearing. The new canyon formed by the earthquake cut off running eastward and partially north. To his back were the thicker jungle and hidden caverns. He shuddered. The passage should have been sealed, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he may not be able to sense the demon underground. Would Cammie voluntarily plunge herself into a well of darkness? Did she wish to escape him that badly? He’d expect her to run back out to the main road. For half a second he wondered if he should just let her go. Already she’d thwarted his hopes of making this a quick and decisive battle. But clear in his mind was the way she had been attacked. The keyholder. There must be some significance to her, even without the relic. Distraction or not, he had to find her. He started his search down the path that led away from the clearing—to the road and ultimately back to her excavation site. Halfway through the thick brambles, he stopped. There was no sign that Cammie had traveled this way. The rain had washed away the previous night’s footprints, and there were no new ones. They were getting farther and farther behind. He needed to reach the demon and destroy him. Or contain him. If that was the solution, he’d be locked up with him for another eternity as the guardian of all mankind. Without Cammie. Heavens. He threw his hands up. What was he worried about all that for when he’d already lost her. Temporarily. “What now?” he muttered. So many things had gone wrong already. A miscue now could jeopardize the entire planet. Getting no answer—and expecting none, he picked up the pace and retraced the ground quickly with his long stride. “Cammie?” he called out regularly. While it seemed certain she’d run on her own accord, he couldn’t ignore the twinge in his gut that said maybe the demon had gotten to her, led her astray the way he’d done so twice before. If he’d appeared in such abstract shapes earlier, then simply looking for a certain man would not be enough. His stomach twisted even harder as he stepped over the flattened grass where they had slept the night before. But he didn’t stop. Behind the crumbling wall and under a leaning archway he’d find a door. A stone door that stood half-open. The earthquake

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had jarred it. Men hadn’t ventured into the caverns below in hundreds of years. These things he just knew. Still, he could not know if Cammie had walked that way before him. He pushed back the hair that kept springing onto his forehead. His clothes were still damp and he had nothing—no sword, no flashlight. There was nowhere else to search for her. He looked around a final time. Steam rose from the crevice in the ground. The sun scorched the remaining wetness from the leaves and grass. Even though he shielded his eyes to scan the top of the pyramid-like structure that stood to the side of the clearing, the sun blinded him with its brightness. He had barely eaten and had not taken water since assuming human form. His body would need these things. Soon. After he found Cammie. He took a step toward the half-hidden doorway. Maybe her idea wasn’t a bad one. Once he located her, he’d take her to a hotel and learn if the modern ways couldn’t assist him in tracking down their enemy. Surely she would trust him when he fulfilled that promise. First things first. He had to find her. Dante pushed through the narrow opening in the rock. The light filtered in about six feet. The stairs were steep, crumbling beneath his feet. He traced the walls with his fingers as he descended into what already felt like a pit of hell. The earthquake had weakened the carved walls and narrowed the corridor. He pushed forward, praying the pressure he put on the old stone wasn’t enough to send it crashing down and trapping him. “Dante?” He whirled around in the darkness, knowing he just heard his name whispered. The way the caverns of this ancient catacomb webbed out, he had no idea where it came from. Behind him, the light from the half-open doorway was simply an area where the blackness faded to gray. Sheltered as the entrance was, no direct rays of the sun would ever find their way in here. Cammie wouldn’t have come this way. The room he stood in was open, at least in contrast to the narrow crevice he had to squeeze through to get here. He’d practically had to slide sideways and keep his head down, and he’d still felt the rocks tearing at his clothes as he pushed through. The demon wasn’t down here. He couldn’t see, but his senses—both angelic and human—were alert enough to detect this as a sealed and undisturbed series of tunnels. Which meant that Cammie was above ground. She had called him.

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A rock tumbled down the steps. He held his breath and waited for another sound. Was she coming down? Her words were barely a breath as she repeated his name. If it weren’t for the perfect stillness of the empty caves, he might have missed it. It sent chills up his back. Something was very wrong. She’d run away. Another stone skittered along the crumbling steps. Dante couldn’t get through the narrow crevice fast enough. Had it closed on him? Was the demon up there, manipulating the walls somehow? He slid in sideways, shuffling and pushing against the sharp rocks that cut into his palms and tore through his clothes. “Cammie, hold on. I’m coming.” He bit the inside of his mouth as the skin tore off his shoulder blades. Nothing, however, was holding him back from getting to her. He could see her now, her shadow anyway, stretching down into the sloping corridor. She’d come back. Something had driven her back. And despite running from him, she’d turned and now searched him out. He held his breath and pushed through. Then he saw her, framed by the sun. She’d ventured in to the third of at least a dozen crumbling slats that had been used as once elegant steps. Her face was shadowed, but the spread of her feet and the arm against the wall with her elbow locked told the story. She was terrified. Then he remembered. She was claustrophobic, or at least he’d guessed so. Whatever drove her down here had to be bad. “What? What is it?” He raced up the steps as she backed up, her body visibly limp. He pulled her into his arms and held her there until he was sure she was recovering from whatever had frightened her. “What were you doing in there? What is that place?” Cammie let him lead her away from the doorway, but instead of into the sunlight, he pushed her through a different doorway and into a roofless room. “Caverns. Mayan tunnels. I’d feared you’d gone into them and become lost.” She didn’t volunteer that she’d never venture into something so dark and enclosed without very good motivation. “Cammie?” Dante stepped forward and touched her chin. She blinked up at him. “I-I…” How could she tell him that she was eager to leave him but yet so relieved to see him? It didn’t make sense even to her at this moment. “There’s something out there,” she blurted. “It followed me.” His eyes widened for a moment, his frown faded to a tight line and he stepped to the doorway.

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“We must go.” Go? Surely he didn’t mean he intended to go back down into those caverns. How she ached for a comfortable mattress and yearned for a tall glass of cool water. And food. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of it. “Where?” He ignored her question, but reached for her hand. She hesitated. “Where?” she asked again. “He grows stronger. We have to stop him.” Was it so much to ask to forget about the demon and simply find a nice hotel to settle down and recuperate? She wasn’t a wimp, she usually liked adventure, but nothing in her life had prepared her for this endeavor. From the look of determination in his knitted brow and set jaw, her idea of suggesting a night off from demon hunting wasn’t going to happen. So she didn’t even voice it. “I need to know more about this demon and what’s going on,” she demanded. Science aside, there was something to Dante’s story. There was a danger present. One brow lifted, but nothing was said. Dante stepped through the doorway. Demon or not, something was out there. She’d heard it, felt it watching her. Even now, a shiver raced up her spine. She turned, squinting against the sun, fearful of finding some hideous monster posed atop one of the crumbling walls that surrounded her. With her hand firmly on the hilt of the sword, she backed through the doorway and caught up with Dante. “I don’t like this.” “Nor do I.” Well, what did she expect him to say, that they could hole up in the little roofless room until the bad thing went away? Not hardly. Her conscience screamed coward even as she fell in line beside him. “What did you see?” He didn’t look over at her when he asked. She waited to answer until the trail narrowed and she had to fall in behind him. The trees were thicker here, the shadows darker. She shivered. “Nothing.” Dante stopped and turned to her, his eyebrow raised. How could she explain the feeling? She’d run south until she’d gotten to a fastmoving stream. There had been no way to cross without plunging directly in. While she looked for an alternate route, she’d felt it. “Nothing?” he repeated, his voice slightly throaty. She met his gaze and shook her head. Time passed slowly as his eyes bore into hers. He’d see truth there, she hid nothing. “But you sensed him.” To that she nodded, feeling like a child who was afraid to give out the wrong answers. She hadn’t wanted to feel like someone was following her. In fact, for the first

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few minutes she felt almost euphoric with her freedom. That crashed down with the cold and heavy weight of someone’s stare. Dante’s face seemed carved of stone as he lifted his chin and surveyed the trees above and behind her. He squinted to see through the trees, and the way his eyes darkened into an inky black, she wondered if he could see things she could not. “Why did you run?” He tried to meet her eyes, but she turned away. “I didn’t want to go on. All these visions are…foreshadowing of what we’re going to face next and—” He touched her face, lifting her chin. Her bottom lip trembled as she looked at him, scared that he’d hit her with another of those damn visions. She hated that. Hated seeing the horror that somehow she knew would come true. “Last time you ran, you left my side and it did come true, right?” His fingers brushed feather-soft against her cheek. She let her eyes flutter shut. “Cammie?” She nodded and bit her bottom lip to make it stop showcasing her insecurity. She had a decision to make, a huge one. “I won’t leave you. I will be right here.” Truth that it was, it didn’t alleviate the new pressure she felt. He took two steps then reached his hand back. She stared at it a moment, then blinked to focus. He’d pulled her from the brink. He was here now, warming her from the inside out with his tender patience. “If I go—” her voice cracked with emotion. She cleared her throat and started again. “I’ll continue with you. I promise I won’t go off by myself. But I’m not giving up on the idea of going home, Dante. This shit scares me. I don’t like it and I don’t want to deal with it anymore. In fact…” Oh, God, was she going to admit this? Did she mean it? “I would even go home without the relic.” Something flapped in the trees above them, shaking the branches and causing her to jump. She clutched her hand over her chest. She hated that feeling, hated being so unsure and scared. Of course, she’d never felt hunted before. “Cammie?” Dante jerked her attention back to him. He pointed. She followed his finger. The sword. “Oh.” Naturally he’d want the sword. Heaven forbid the macho man let the woman carry the only weapon they had. She released it from her waist and handed it over. In truth, her sarcasm barely disguised the common sense of the situation. She’d never admit it to him, but she was rather relieved he carried it. It was heavy and she’d never successfully wield it against any danger. If there was a flesh-and-blood demon and it crossed their paths, she felt pretty confident Dante would not hesitate to use it to protect them.

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About ten steps in, she felt it. The feeling that someone was watching her returned. “Dante?” she whispered, stopping and turning around, looking up, down, squinting through the thick foliage for whatever it was that haunted her. Dante didn’t respond. She didn’t look back to see if he had even heard her. She felt stuck, nailed to the ground. She sucked in her breath as a current of cold air wrapped around her neck like a hangman’s noose. She couldn’t swallow, couldn’t exhale. Her fingers found nothing holding her, yet she felt helplessly restrained. Her feet went through the motion of running, yet she wasn’t moving. Oh God. Oh God. “Look at me,” Dante demanded, suddenly right in front of her. He reached up and pulled her hands away from her throat. Dear God, she was choking herself! What was happening? Her entire body felt limp, as if she were a puppet and the marionette strings had just been cut. “Look at me.” His voice roared through her and drove feeling back into her paralyzed senses. Coughing and gasping for precious oxygen, she lifted her face. “His power is strong. You must fight it.” Fight it? She felt smothered by it. Right now it was Dante’s arms alone keeping her on her feet. “I can’t…f-fight anything. I don’t have the strength. And just how do I fight it exactly? I don’t even know what it is.” “Look at me.” He stood in front of her, but seemed larger, taller, stronger. Just…bigger. She gasped and tried to understand it, but could not. His eyes met hers, and like before, she was almost immediately transported into another time and place. She shivered. The tables were turned and it was she who held up a weakened Dante, a man the shadow of his former self. It was like watching a movie, seeing herself standing there, staggering under Dante’s body weight. In her other hand, she held the relic. Both her hand and the statue were covered in blood. Whose blood? “Dante?” she shook him, nearly losing her balance and falling. “Dante, what’s happening?” “Take my sword. Do it, Cammie. End it.” Oh God. His breath barely pushed forth enough to make his voice audible, yet it seared through her like a fiery blade. “Don’t speak such things. I will not. I can’t.” “You must end it.” Thunder roared against her temples. Her vision faded in and out. Yes, she knew exactly what he meant. How or why, she could never know. He trusted her because she didn’t fail. Refused to fail, despite all that she’d been through.

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This, however, was different. “Don’t fail me.” His words faded into nothing. Nothing. The white light was blinding, but welcome. “Take me away from this,” she whispered against its warmth. The vision ended abruptly when she felt her feet being swept from beneath her. She screamed, but a hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her. Around her were the dark green crevices of the thick forest. She relaxed momentarily as her senses recovered and she could separate reality from the images that had been planted in her head. Dante held her. “Put me down,” she gasped, struggling against his tight grip. “I’m okay.” If he’d quit doing that hypnotic thing to her she might stand a chance of finding her own way out of this place. He relaxed his hold and she slid down the front of him. Thoughts she had no business entertaining leapt to the forefront of her mind. Her fingers encircled his biceps and held herself there for a moment longer than necessary. If only… Dante’s hands tightened on her waist, and then as if he sensed she was steady on her feet, he pushed her back. She swallowed, waiting for a reaction. His eyes traced down the front of her, lingering on the vee of her shirt. Where did sex come into play in this strange plot they’d hatched? A storm of color and light flashed across his eyes. He took a deep breath but said nothing. His hand encircled her wrist and she was pulled along at a brisk pace down the dusty road. Again.

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Chapter Nine Two hours later Cammie was still trying to figure out what that little exchange had meant. Well, to her it was clear. Her heart had one idea and her mind another. Or was that her body? Maybe it wasn’t so clear. She wrinkled her nose and cast a look in his direction. Dante carried himself as if he were a proud soldier, his back straight, his chin held up. But she sensed his exhaustion. It matched her own. The heat sucked the life out of her. She’d do about anything for a glass of water and a filling meal. Including follow him without question, without speaking at this pace that surely would get them to their destination before nightfall. If she lasted that long. “Get down,” he yelled. Her legs threatened to buckle beneath her as Dante pulled her toward the side of the road. His intention was to once again push through the thick branches and leaves that would slap her in the face and trip up her aching feet. Why, she didn’t understand, were they chasing this…demon, yet every time it could potentially be around, they had to hide? It didn’t make sense. He lifted her under her arms and half-carried her to the edge of the packed dirt. She dug her heels in. Ahead of them, coming at them, she saw a plume of orange dust. Someone was coming. “Wait, Dante, no. Please. Look. They may be able to help us, take us to the hotel.” Cammie pushed his hands away and struggled to regain her own balance. “We cannot risk it.” Risk what? Why couldn’t they do what they were doing in a vehicle? Why couldn’t they stay in a hotel room and follow this…quest during the day? Why didn’t Dante go out there and hocus-pocus this demon-thing away once and for all? But there wasn’t time for that debate. She was hot, tired and in no mood to argue. There was no way to out-logic her this way. She squared her shoulders and tightened her fingers into fists. “I won’t risk being stuck another day without food or water. I need a shower. New clothes. I need to let my family know I’m not dead.” The vehicle drew closer. The heat from the ground blurred her ability to see any details, but anything at this point was salvation. She waited pensively. Dante stood almost hidden by the thick leaves and branches. He watched her, not the approaching car. “Get off the road.” His voice was little more than a hiss of wind.

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“No.” Damn him for making her hesitant to flag the vehicle down. That should be a no-brainer. She lifted her hands over her head and waved. Not that they could miss her. Tears of relief sprung to her eyes as she recognized the man in the passenger seat. It wasn’t the demon. It was salvation. The Jeep-like vehicle had barely stopped before she was tugging open the door. “Oh, Cammie, I’m so glad you’re all right.” Scott Duard, one of the head excavators from the dig, lifted her off her feet in a giant bear hug. “Scott, where have you been, what happened?” She had a million questions and couldn’t get them out fast enough. Seeing him was like a drink of cool water. She felt refreshed, relieved. “What’s going on, where are you going?” The Jeep had been flying down the road, heading back toward the excavation site. Or at least in that general direction. Cammie took her eyes off Scott and looked at the other men. The one driving eyed her up with his narrowed gaze and a bit of a sneer. The two in the back seemed way too interested in what she was saying to Scott. But then again, she almost laughed, the last thing they’d probably expected was to find an American woman roaming along the side of the road. Dante. Where’d he go? She turned all the way around, looking for him. The thought that he’d disappeared like that left her mouth acidic. What was he hiding? Why was he hiding? Didn’t he see this would save them the precious time he’d kept complaining about losing? What an enigma. “God, Scott, I’ve had a mess of a couple of days. You guys wouldn’t mind helping me get back to the hotel, would you? I need food and a shower.” Scott turned to the driver and rattled something in Spanish to him. She watched the exchange, puzzled by the apparent negative answer Scott got from the driver. “Hey listen, it’s okay if you can’t. Get me close enough and point me in the right direction. Get me to a town where I can get some food at least. I can make some calls and get back to the hotel myself.” Scott’s eyes flitted back to her, then concentrated on the driver’s spiel. She shifted her backpack. Cammie didn’t like the way he kept looking her up and down and then focusing on her bag. Did he know? How could he know? Dante? “Where are the others?” She straightened her back and lifted her chin, hoping to exude some of the authority she’d commanded back at the excavation site. Before all this happened. Only now, Scott seemed immune to it. That hurt like a blow to the stomach. To top it off, he ignored her question. “They are not what they seem,” she heard the whisper near her ear. A breeze lifted her hair, but when she turned, no one was behind her. She used one hand to tighten on

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the strap to her backpack, the other pushed her hair back and stepped up toward Scott, who was now half-sitting in the passenger seat, avidly arguing with the driver. “Listen, Scott. Tell the driver that if you take me to the hotel I can pay you. My things are there. I’ll make it worth the trip. Please?” Now she sounded like she was begging. Nice move, Campbell. “They want the relic,” Dante’s voice reached from wherever he was. She was torn. She wanted to trust Dante, really, she did, but it didn’t seem rational—by any account she could think of—to stay here on foot, no food, no water, no money, no identification, when they had transportation back to get those things. “You’re wrong,” she hissed in frustration in the direction of the brush. Behind her the frantic words of the driver and Scott stopped. If she turned, she’d find them staring at her. Great, now they’d think she’d gone crazy. “You listen with your mind, not your heart.” She rubbed her grimy hands on the front of her pants and forced a deep breath down her sore, dry throat. “Come with me,” she implored. Her stomach was in knots. She didn’t want to leave him behind. “Cammie?” Scott questioned. She heard the squeak of springs as he got down from the truck and approached her. She held up a finger to tell Scott to hold on for a moment. “Dante, please?” she implored in a voice she wasn’t sure could reach that far. Dante had saved her life. Not only that, they’d shared incredible sex and some less than incredible visions. Leaving him was like leaving her heart. Tears sprung to her eyes as she strained to catch a glimpse of him against the dark green foliage. Scott’s hand rested on her shoulder. “We will take you to your hotel.” The words were curt, cold and flat. She shrugged away from Scott’s touch and waited, reaching out with both hands toward the trees, hoping to draw Dante out. “It’s a trap. More danger lies with you there than with me.” Riddles, always riddles. Danger? The idea of food and a bath and a comfortable bed…there was no danger there.

***** Dante looked down on her from the fork in the tree where he could clearly see the vehicle’s inhabitants. The twinge in his chest at the sight of her reaching out for him nearly forced him down. But he held fast. His mission was important. The very balance of civilization depended on his success, and giving into human desires would jeopardize him. Still, he couldn’t just let her go.

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The men in the back of the open vehicle were clearly under the dazed control of the demon. Their eyes were flat, staring, as if consumed with one mission. These men were hungry and only one thing would quench their appetite. The relic or Cammie? He’d hoped to gain some insight to that answer by watching them, but they seemed equally interested in her and her bag. A knife twisted in his gut when she’d wrapped her arms around that man’s neck. As he returned the hug, his hands had smoothed over the bag. Cammie didn’t seem to notice. But he should understand the intensity of such human emotions. She was under great duress. The familiar offered her much needed relief. Made her feel like she was in control of her destiny. But in this case, it also blinded her to the truth. “Stay with me,” he mouthed, knowing he was able to place the words in her conscience. Speaking them out loud would push her. He couldn’t force her, because she would run. She’d already tried. Because of the relic. Cammie thought, even now, this was only about the relic. And in away, she was right. But the relic did him little good without her. And she was valuable to him now in ways other than simply being the keyholder. His heart was linked with hers. It would be that way, forever. Regardless of the outcome. A mortal man would have ripped her out of the arms of her colleague. But he’d felt her relief. Was envious that he hadn’t been able to provide her the sense of security that simply seeing Scott had given her. But he’d seen something she’d been blind to. The hollowness in his eyes. Same as the others. Their empty gaze could mean only one thing. The demon had sent them. If the evil got to Cammie… The words flowed over him and he knew, into her mind as well. “Listen with your heart. See them for who they really are.” Cammie stood there, shifting from foot to foot as she waited for the men in the back to make room for her. The pressure built up in him—the urge to go out there and pull her into his arms. He could remind her of the night they shared together and hope it swayed the balance. A gentle kiss might do it, a touch that radiated his feelings could persuade her to stay. But that wasn’t the right way. It’d be forcing her. A bittersweet victory. He had asked. That’s all he could do. She’d have to make the choice. Well, she had made the choice. It wasn’t him. The tree branch he’d been gripping snapped off in his hand as the truck fired up and lurched forward. His final plea, “Don’t do it,” was lost in the roar of the tires. As the dust rose from the departing vehicle, Dante reached out to search for the demon. How close was he? Were they taking Cammie and the relic directly to him?

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He lifted his hands to the sky and felt the power soar beneath him, lifting him. He changed form effortlessly. The strength and ability he once knew in his pure form seemed restored. Beneath him, the trees grew smaller and the road became a tiny ribbon of light brown bending among the thick green of the jungle-like forests. He expanded his wings and flew higher. Gray tips of the ancient pyramids and temples peeked out of the overgrown trees, symmetrically set in place by the sun-loving Mayans. It was on one of those that he landed and tucked in his wings. He’d gotten ahead of the vehicle, his straight path above them made easy by the air currents under his wings. Keen eyesight allowed him the ability to study Cammie’s features as the vehicle approached. He hated that her smile was gone. He watched as she leaned forward on a regular interval to say something to her colleague. Then she’d sit back, her arms crossed over her chest and frown. He’d learned the coldness of that look already. And he missed it. Cammie was sandwiched between the two zombie-like men in the back seat. Her pack was still tightly on her back. He swallowed, noting how easily it was to reach when she slid forward to speak. It made him even more uneasy to watch the way the men looked at her. She must have sensed it too, as she tucked her elbows in and held her knees tightly together to eliminate unnecessary contact. If he wouldn’t have seen her voluntarily, and quite eagerly, get into the vehicle, he would have guessed she didn’t want to be there. They passed far beneath him, the vehicle momentarily hidden by the dirt coughed up by the knotty tires. They couldn’t see him, and if they could, he wouldn’t be recognizable. This alternate shape was the best disguise, albeit one of poor defense. The danger he feared was for her, not himself. To keep her in sight, he’d take his chances. He called out and swooped forward, his eyes on the tall crop of trees ahead. The road here was more pitted with ruts and patches of rock and grass, mainly from misuse. The excavation site where Cammie had worked had been closed for years by some political tug-of-war. It had nearly been forgotten. It would have been better if it had. Even if that meant never knowing Cammie. He circled the trees to find a lower branch from which to watch them approach. Defeating the demon wasn’t going to be a simple task, but Cammie had complicated things. Not her fault. But he couldn’t just let her become a casualty of this battle either. To end this without jeopardizing the lives of these innocent people, he needed to think like the angel he was, not the man he pretended to be. And if that meant curtailing his physical feelings toward her, so be it. It was his fault he wasn’t tracking the demon down like a lion after prey. Instead he and Cammie were on the run as if they were the hunted.

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He’d get her back where he could keep her safe, then things would change. They had to.

***** The men smelled. Talked about her like she wasn’t there, that much was clear, and Cammie couldn’t even understand much more than some basic words in Spanish. No way would she admit this was a mistake, but more than once when a grubby hand brushed her thigh, she wondered if it was worth it. Scott had agreed to take her to the hotel. She wasn’t sure the driver liked the idea. He was certainly more decent-looking than the two she was with, but something about the way he leered at her made her wish she could fold up and hide until they arrived. No one had questioned how she got there or what she was doing. Was it odd she found that peculiar? Hell, Scott hadn’t even questioned her outburst to Dante. She’d said his name, for God’s sake. She struggled to remember what Dante had told her about the excavation crew leaving. He’d sent them away. To be safe. So maybe Scott had met Dante. Maybe it had been prearranged that he would come back for her when the coast was clear. Then again, from Dante’s plea, one that tore her heart out of her chest, maybe not. He hadn’t wanted her to leave. Nor did he want to come with them. She shrugged out of her backpack and pulled it around to the front of her. Her back hurt, her legs hurt and her shoulders were quickly getting stiff from the pull of the pack. “Whatcha got there, pretty girl?” She gritted her teeth and debated on ignoring the slimebag beside her. “Some personal items. A souvenir or two.” Her fingers turned white with the grip she had on the bag. These men creeped her out. “Show us, gringa.” Not on their life. The memory of Mohec’s face and his wife’s coma-like state convinced her that no one should touch this statue without protective gear. If indeed there was a curse attached to it, clear warning should be posted. Another reason she missed Dante. What did he say again? She hadn’t listened. What kind of scientist was she anyway? The legend and lore that accompanied such a piece should be preserved as clearly as possible. Well, she would type up what she could and see if she couldn’t get the item sealed in something airtight. Something not easily opened.

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It was depressing. She’d already accepted that she’d never see Dante again. This was it. She’d done it—escaped two days that were both nightmares and dreams come true. What she wouldn’t give to go back. She swallowed repeatedly to combat the dryness in her mouth. Sand coated her tongue and teeth and scratched at her throat with each labored breath. Her ass was half on each of the split seats, the torn vinyl cutting into her thighs. Sitting there, holding herself steady and not falling onto either of the men was a task in and of itself. She’d endured far more discomfort, but this was becoming the most miserable trip of her life. The vehicle slowed and pulled into the gravel-coated clearing they had used as a parking lot for the excavation site. Her heart beat madly in her chest. Not because they were stopping, but because of the memory of standing in this lot with Dante. The cliché about hindsight that played through her mind did little to make her feel better. So much had changed in two days. She hadn’t realized it until now, but bit by bit, all her control had slipped away. Leaving Dante had been a wrong move. She was at the mercy of these men, all but one of them strangers and Scott was hardly more than an acquaintance and colleague. The initial exuberance she had felt upon seeing Scott now left a bitter taste in her mouth. Something wasn’t right. “Why are we stopping? What’s here?” She might have believed that the work continued, but there were no other cars, or evidence other vehicles had been here. The rain had washed the area clean of footsteps or tire tracks. Despite the heat, a cold sweat trickled between her breasts. Her question went unanswered. All four men got out of the vehicle. What about her hotel? “Scott?” she called as she climbed over the seat and hopped down onto the ground. “What’s going on?” Damn, she sounded as scared as she felt. She was Campbell Howard. She needed…demanded respect. Clearing her throat, she started again. “Scott, I thought we’d agreed that you’d take me back to the hotel.” As she spoke, she marched over to him and looked him straight in the eye. The men had gotten out of the vehicle as well and their eyes were locked on her. On her backpack. The relic. She gripped it tighter against her body, shielding it with her arms. There was a power there. She felt it, coursing through her and warming her. Hard as it was to believe, she could almost accept the idea that a curse lay within or upon this figure. But Dante was wrong. She was not immune or unaffected. “Get away,” she clenched her teeth and tightened her fingers. No one. Absolutely no one was going to touch it. Above her, a bird shrieked. She bolted, holding the relic close to her chest, she ran.

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Ahead of her was the wide path that led to the excavation site. Where would she hide? She couldn’t continue to run, adrenaline rush or not. A chorus of cries flew up, the wings of jungle birds thundering as they all took flight toward the clearing that lay before her. Listen to your heart. It was the only thing she could do. She followed them.

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Chapter Ten Cammie had little more than a two-step head start. It wasn’t enough. She could hear their pounding footsteps behind her. The muscles in her legs gave out after no more than a fifty-yard sprint. Her lungs were on fire and her vision was blurred by tears of defeat. She stumbled, the roar of their yells thundering upon her. Hands encircled her arms, hauled her to her feet. The relic. She had to hold onto it, protect it from anyone’s touch. That’s all that mattered. But it wouldn’t be so. “No!” she screamed. Her throat felt torn apart at the force of it. Her eyes burned from the dust that had been kicked up. What she wouldn’t give for a repeat of the prior night’s rain. And Dante. The backpack was forced from her hands. She watched the short, grubby fingers pull at her pale fingers. It was all surreal. She gripped as tightly as she could—so tightly her fingers were numb from the exertion. But it wasn’t enough. They ripped the bag apart and withdrew the statue with a maniacal laugh. “No, please, don’t. You don’t understand.” Hell, she didn’t even understand. What was it about this that the very image of it caused men to forget all else? Over her pleas, she heard another cry. The birds circled them. What more evil could torment her? Fear and anger wrestled in her gut as she tried to keep tabs on what happened before her and above her. The men fought amongst themselves for the statue. Scott was in the middle of it. It was tempting to close her eyes and not witness what might happen. No, what would happen. Soon. The birds grew louder, closer. She looked up, instinctively knowing this wasn’t normal behavior. And the men played tug of war with her priceless relic. Without seeming to have any effects from touching it. How? Why? Dammit. This wasn’t right.

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“You can’t have it.” She shouted and charged toward the man who had his hands around the base. If they broke it…the rage that simmered at the thought became a boiling storm. One of the men brutally backhanded her. She stumbled back, more pissed than hurt. Her lips swelled against her teeth instantly and the metallic taste of blood just added fuel to the fire. “You don’t understand. It’s cursed.” As if these men were going to let go and leave it in her outstretched hands. They laughed. Probably because they figured the curse was on her. She wasn’t that far from accepting that as the truth, herself. What if Dante was wrong? Cold air whipped around her. It swirled about her, slapping her hair against her face. She blinked against the stinging on her cheeks, but felt her gut turn over. Not again. She couldn’t face this twice in one day. With a voice she prayed held deep conviction and authority, she bellowed, “You cannot take it.” The noise overhead sounded like thunder. She looked up, surprised to find not the gathering of dark clouds, but the underbellies of hundreds, if not thousands of birds. They circled the parking lot, the beat of their wings stirring up the wind, their bodies blocking out the brightness of the sun. How could she fight this new foe? Her mind went again to Dante. She so wanted to doubt all his talk about the demon, but how could she when these kinds of things kept happening to her? She dropped to her knees. She had will, but no strength left to fight the four men who actively vied for the relic. Above her, the circle of birds seemed to grow in number. Almost mesmerized by their precision, she watched them rotate around her. Not all one breed. Some were tiny, the size of a finch, some easily hawk or eagle size. Why? What drove them here? She felt like a deer facing oncoming headlights. She knew the peril, her mind screamed at her to run, but her muscles would not react. She remained frozen, eyes unblinking, as the birds swirled closer. One of the men screamed. Cammie tore her eyes from the sky and watched as one of the larger birds dove at his head. What a way to die. Oh, God. She was going to die. Killed by birds. Still, she couldn’t put together what to do. Someone had nailed her feet to the ground and glued her eyes to the horror before her. Yet it didn’t peck the Mexican’s eyes out or mutilate his face. Thank God. The bird simply flapped its wings just above his head, clearly hitting him with the feathers and possibly catching his hair in its claws. The man, one of those she’d shared the backseat with, fell back, frantically grabbing and swinging at the air above him, and pulling at his own hair. He cried out as if the worst were happening. Yet he was causing the damage himself. It made no sense. But

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then again, as she eyed the stark white of the relic that Scott now held in triumph, she realized it made all the sense in the world. One of the other men shuffled backwards. The driver. He made the sign of the cross over his chest just as another of the birds hovered above him and stopped him from fleeing. Scott shouted something and beat off one of the birds with his free hand. She could see the fear in his face as he watched the other man fall, screaming. But he lifted his head to meet her eyes with a flash of arrogant confidence. He blew her a mocking kiss, and lifted the relic as if in victory. And then was driven to the ground as a hundred birds dove into him, kamikazestyle. “Scott!” she shrieked and ran toward him. Unlike the first two men, the birds did land on Scott. She could hear his quick yelps of pain—barely—but couldn’t see for the number of fowl in her way. “Help him,” she screamed. The men he traveled with continued to back away. One by one, the birds left Scott and began to attack the other men. Cammie dropped to her knees and held her arms up, covering her face. She was next. She waited. And waited. Her chest ached at every breath she took. The sound of the men and the birds and their wings grew louder and then… Silence. She’d fainted. She was sure of it. Not that it’d ever happened before, but how else could her rational mind explain the sudden cease of all external stimuli. Almost all. She felt something brush her shoulder. “No!” she rolled away from the direction, steeling herself against the blows she knew would come. “Cammie, get up.” If she hadn’t fainted, then surely this was another of her strange visions. Could her luck get any worse? At least Dante was here. She pushed herself up from the dusty ground and wiped the dirt from her clothes. Not that it mattered. “Dante.” She smiled up at him. “Nice to see you again.” It was. Vision or not, he still evoked a feeling of security within her. It was all she could do not to throw her arms around his neck and admit what a stupid idea it had been for her to go with Scott like that. But this was a vision. He likely wouldn’t know what she was talking about.

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“He’s getting stronger.” Cammie had taken a step toward him, but stopped and frowned. He closed the distance between them before she could lift her hand to ward him off. She didn’t like the darkness of his eyes, the tightness of his brows. It scared her. And she was damn tired of being scared, especially of a vision. “It’s not a vision,” his voice penetrated her senses as his hands tightened about her shoulders and pulled her to him. She shuddered and pulled back. “Of course it is.” Yet her eyes deceived her. When she turned, she saw them, all four of the men lying unconscious and presumably dead on the hard-packed parking lot. The white relic seemed to glow against the ground where it lay between Scott and the driver. The birds were gone. Only a few scattered feathers remained. Dante’s fingers were gentle, but they gave her no choice but to turn her head when he applied pressure to her jaw. He kept his hand there, almost as if supporting her face. She blinked and looked at him. Something had changed. “Get the artifact, Cammie. We’ve got to get out of here.” Why didn’t he get it himself? She didn’t want it. After all she’d been through, returning home empty-handed but alive seemed like a victory to her. Yet she found herself shuffling toward it, looking from man to man to see if any had woken up. So small a thing. It lay against the harsh, rocky ground, like a diamond would if dropped in box of ash. It really did look like something that could be bought in a souvenir or gift shop. Just a white angel, elaborate wings arching high from its back, long flowing robes caught frozen in marble. Innocent and serene, yet it held this deadly curse. Pick it up. Dante’s voice reached in, not through her ears, but directly into her head. She shook her head. Her hair fell into her face. Yes, she would pick it up, she knew she would. But why couldn’t she imagine for one moment what life would be like if she didn’t? As she reached for it, a hand circled around her ankle and nearly pulled her off her feet. She jerked away, avoiding being ensnared but leaving the relic behind. “Get it!” Dante shouted. His footsteps were like thunder. He dove toward the man who was slowly getting to his feet. “Go!” Go she did. No way would she stick around this place. She snatched the statue from the ground and ran. Only once did she look back, to find Dante laying half on one man and pulling at another’s legs to keep him from chasing her. Cammie couldn’t think about that. Wouldn’t. She had to concentrate on getting the hell out of here. Back to civilization. She jumped in the beat-up jalopy of a vehicle and jammed in the clutch. The battery whined, naturally hesitating before firing up the motor. Nothing less could be expected. 79

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Still, she had enough time to grind gears and nearly stall it before pulling out of the lot with dirt and rocks flying up behind her. A mile never seemed so far. It felt like she’d been driving for an hour, checking the rearview mirror every ten seconds to see if they were following her. The parking lot was long out of sight before she focused solely ahead of her, searching for something familiar. After all, she’d ridden down this road nearly every day for three weeks on her way to the site. Reaching the hotel was actually a possibility. Yet it seemed a bittersweet victory that Dante had come to her rescue—again, yet she’d left him behind—again. Even now, she felt less secure than she had in his arms. Maybe the question should be not if she trusted him, but if she trusted herself. She floored the accelerator and ignored the potholes in the road. The relic was on her lap, and she held one hand on it protectively. Her plan was to get to the hotel, call the university and have them wire her money and credentials. If that didn’t work, she could rely on her dad, though she hated to do it. Still, he’d understand and she could pay him back once she got home. Home. She rubbed her eyes, feeling the grit of two days’ travel caked onto her face. She was the adventuresome spirit, but right now locking herself in her house and venturing no farther than the mailbox and maybe the corner store seemed like heaven. It seemed too easy that she should drive out of what seemed like seclusion and into an urban development. It wasn’t like the skyscrapers of Dallas rising out of the desert or anything, but to see the four-story hotel left her nearly limp with relief. Drivers cursed at her in Spanish as she sped through the narrow roads. Every block was a giant leap toward success. Yet she couldn’t smile. As soon as she let herself believe there was clear hope, something would happen. Only when she was lying on her back, crisp sheets beneath her and air conditioning blowing on her well-scrubbed body would she allow herself that luxury. Wait. Add to that after the relic had been packed and was winging its way to her superiors. The thought left her with goose bumps. It was hard to gauge whether those researchers, men and women she’d met only briefly when discussing the photographs and recovery of the item, would listen to her warnings of the curse. “Their problem,” she said, maneuvering around a lumbering pickup with a wooden bed full of children. They smiled and waved at her as the truck swayed from the ruts in the road. She did remember this route. Just a few more minutes…a few more minutes. She parked out in the lot, left the keys in the vehicle and looked up at the building. God, this place was a sight for sore eyes. Her stomach rumbled at the idea of food being so close, so available. She gripped the steering wheel and looked back behind her. Miles separated her from Dante. Guilt kept her from being giddy about the prospect of ending that chapter of this adventure. He’d been there, saved her—more than once. He’d protected her, cherished her and loved her. And she’d driven off, more afraid for her own life than his.

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“Forgive me,” she whispered. The ache in her chest was heavier than she would have imagined…ever. She’d left him one against four. If only she had somewhere safe to store the statue, she’d go back. The two guests walking out of the lobby gave her a once-over. Probably with good reason. If she looked anything like she felt, there’s no wonder she evoked such a wideeyed response. “Can I help you?” Not the girl at the desk, but the heavier set, older man spoke. His maroon suit and navy tie matched the décor of the hotel. Manager, obviously. Cammie rushed up to him immediately. “Absolutely. I was—am a guest here. I’ve lost all my belongings. Can you help me?” She might have predicted his reaction right down to the lifted eyebrow. “Your name?” He bade her to follow him up to the desk. “Howard. Campbell Howard. I was here with Professor Bennett’s excavation. We all had rooms here.” “Your party checked out yesterday.” Checked out? “The earthquake… I was trapped and they left without me. I’ve only now been able to get here. What of my things?” “Which room?” He didn’t sound sympathetic or eager to help. “231.” She leaned over to try to see the screen as he punched a few keys on the keyboard. “Sorry. I’m pretty sure you were listed as one of the casualties. Your items were forwarded back to the university or group that sponsored the trip.” “Casualty? As in presumed dead?” Oh, God. Her parents. “I believe so.” “Well, obviously they presumed wrong.” She bristled. A casualty indeed. They should know better than to write off Campbell Howard. She didn’t fail. As in never. She ground her teeth and drew in a breath. This man wasn’t at fault. He could help her. He never said she was dead. “I need to get in touch with some people from the university, then get some money wired to me. I’m sure they’ll arrange to get a room for me as well.” “Si, yes. I’ll get them on the phone. We have your records right here.” At least there were some records that she existed. Too bad it didn’t make her feel any better. She stretched her shoulders and kept her back straight. She didn’t care that she looked like hell and was penniless. This whole thing burned her. Not to mention left her waiting, at someone else’s mercy…again. Her fingers tightened over the relic, which she’d done her best to keep out of sight. Proof that she’d succeeded. She had nothing else but that. Right here, their precious artifact they’d spent so much time and money retrieving. Yet they hadn’t bothered to send a search and rescue for her? Unfathomable.

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“I’m sorry, Miss…” “Howard.” She smiled. The man flinched, looking like she had threatened to bite off his nose. She supposed she probably did reflect her emotions on her face. He cleared his throat. “Miss Howard, it appears there’s no one available. It is Saturday.” Right. Saturday. And she didn’t have her purse with all those important numbers in it. “May I call my father then? He can help me out until Monday. What did you say happened to my things?” The phone was pulled up on the counter and turned in her direction. The manager said, “I didn’t help with the arrangements. We can only assume they were returned to the university with the items of the others.” She didn’t like the sound of others. Who else hadn’t made it? Of course, she’d seen Scott, and he’d had a room here. Did that mean he had been presumed dead too? Likely, her parents had been notified. Great. This phone call ought to go over well. After the hassle of dialing collect and confirming her name three times with the foreign operator, she waited. Wouldn’t it just be her luck that her parents were en route to California? “Cammie? Cammie, is that you?” Her mother was already in tears. Cammie pulled the phone away from her ear and smiled tightly at the hotel manager as her mother’s high-pitched shriek vibrated through the airwaves. If her identity was in doubt, that should clear things up. “Mom, yes, it’s me. Calm down. I’m okay. Well, no, I’m not okay, but I’m not hurt. I need your help.” “I can book a flight down immediately, your father and I will be there. Are you in trouble, honey? What happened? Are you sure you’re not hurt? Where have you been, why haven’t you called?” Breathe. “It’s a long story. Not going into any of that now. I want a bath and something to eat. Everything I have has been shipped back to the states. Can I get a loan? A hotel for a day or two until I can get the university to make arrangements—” “What nonsense. You poor thing. Phil!” Cammie pulled the phone away, too late because her ear rang from the shrillness of her mother’s yell. “Campbell, is that you?” Her father’s calm, even voice soothed her. “Yes, Dad,” she sighed. She’d be taken care of now. “I’m stuck here. No money, no ticket, no identification. I need some help.” “You got it sweetheart. Where are you?”

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“Thank you,” she whispered as Jose, the manager, handed over the key. Her father had simply charged her room—open tab—to his credit card, laughingly promising to forward her the bill when it arrived. “My pleasure, senorita. I will send you a plate of food and charge it to the room.” She nodded. That was extremely generous of him. This hotel did not have its own restaurant, but instead was surrounded by various eateries. At this point she wasn’t picky—she just wanted food. And had zero cash. “One more thing?” she asked, stopping the manager from turning to help another guest. “A…friend of mine—” God, how to say this? She started again. “There’s a parking lot for the excavation site—it’s about twenty minutes south of here. A friend of mine stayed behind.” Jose tilted his head. She shook hers. All wrong. Yet she had to do this. “Is it possible to have someone drive out there to see if there’s anyone still there, if perhaps they need a ride?” She let out a breath. She just prayed that the ride Dante needed wasn’t to the hospital. The more she thought about those men and their angry, empty eyes, the more she worried. “I’ll see what I can do.” Jose’s answer didn’t promise, but she felt better. A little, anyway. It felt strange to climb the steps to the second floor again. Well over twenty-four hours had passed since she’d last left. Amazing how the hotel looked so much homier this time around. The bathroom she’d thought tiny was now plush and wonderfully equipped. She immediately plugged the tub and started running the hot water. Bath. That was heaven. Jose had given her a plastic bag full of sample-size soaps and shampoos. Goodbye grime. It’d take more than a little sweet-smelling soap to erase the memory of Dante, Mohec and his wife, and Scott’s crew. Not that she wanted to forget the incredible lovemaking in the rain. Of the whole experience, that was the one bit of information she was keen on remembering. She’d never forget Dante. She slid deep into the hot suds, still trying to drown out the angel on her shoulder that shook its head at the idea of sleeping with a man she’d known less than a day. But no regrets. She could self-debate all day about her motivation for it, but in the end it was clear. She’d listened to her heart. Maybe Dante had influenced her. Still, she’d damn well do it again. Maybe she wouldn’t share this information with anyone else. She rather liked having a secret like that. With a grin, she pinched her nose and submerged. Her thoughts tipped back to Dante as she scrubbed her skin, lamenting that she was also washing away Dante’s touch. Would she ever see him again? Not likely. It’d been a fluke. What had happened to her was probably one of those bizarre things that ended

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up on those freak television shows. Her stories of demons and a magic statue and earthquakes and tornados…she might as well go home and proclaim she was taken aboard an alien spacecraft and had experiments done on her. The heat was getting to her head. Her skin was pink from the water and scrubbing she’d given it. Her hair was full of tangles that even the conditioner wouldn’t separate, but it was clean. Her muscles relaxed, she stretched and donned the hotel robe and attempted to wash her clothes in the tub. Yuck. Last thing she wanted to do was put on those grimy clothes. Hopefully they’d come at least presentably clean until she could get some cash to buy herself something new. It was the desk clerk, not the manager who eventually knocked and passed over the two large Styrofoam containers and a brown bag of warm steaming food. Her salivary glands kicked in overtime even as she wondered how she was expected to eat all this. “I’ll be…back.” The girl struggled with her English, then darted out of the room and down the hall. “More?” Cammie asked the half-closed door. The weight of the package she already had indicated there was at least three days worth of meals in there. She put it on the dresser. The relic sat there, beside the tiny, ancient-looking TV. She stuffed it in the drawer beside the Bible and hotel brochure. No sense inviting trouble. “Ma’am?” said the girl, nudging the door open. Eva, or so said her nametag, held up a larger plastic bag. “From Jose.” “More? What is it?” “Clothes.” “Clothes?” Then it registered. That wasn’t Eva’s voice. “Dante?” Her throat closed up. “Dante?” Her eyes and ears had to be deceiving her. How—?

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Chapter Eleven Dante grinned, dimples flashing and eyes twinkling. He squeezed Eva’s shoulder, took the bag from her, then rewarded her smile with a wink. Cammie could only stare, dumbfounded, as he strolled in and dropped the bag on the luggage case. She didn’t look at it. Dante was all she could see. She couldn’t believe it. How on earth did he get here? It took everything she had to keep from catapulting herself into his arms. “How— what—thank God you’re okay!” She was glad to see him, relieved, too. The damn guilt from leaving him with those crazed men was enough to eat her up, even if she had all but convinced herself she had made the right decision. From the sight of his unscathed flesh, she knew Dante was fully capable of handling himself. Just as she was. Her life had started to feel like her own again. She’d planned her agenda and made her decision. Tough as it was to think about leaving Dante—and her heart—behind, that damn relic and its curse had soured her of emerging victorious from this expedition. She felt lucky to be able to get home alive. And she hadn’t gotten there yet. What a dilemma. The man that stood in her way— well, that was an assumption, he hadn’t exactly said she couldn’t go home on the first flight back—was also the one reason she was sorely tempted to stay. “I got lucky,” he offered, stealing her breath as he closed the gap and ran his fingers over her shoulders until he grasped her hands in his. “I hadn’t walked far before a local picked me up. Let me shower at his place and even gave me a change of clothes. But I worried about you. Couldn’t relax until I knew you were safe.” She squeezed his fingers. “Actually, Dante, I didn’t do too bad by myself. I’m used to being in charge of my own destiny.” Still, it did warm her heart to hear his concern. In the meantime the light stroking of his thumbs against her palms were heating up the rest of her flesh. “Things are different now.” She knew what he meant, but wouldn’t let it dissuade her confidence. But first she had to make sure they were on the same wavelength as far as tonight was concerned. “Are you going to stick around for dinner or will you be heading off to hunt demons?” His eyelids lowered and the corners of his mouth tipped up. “We can get started tracking him down tomorrow. I’m starved.” Deep chocolate eyes met hers with a warmth that meant he could only be thinking the same thing she was—it wasn’t simply sustenance he craved. Absently, she licked her lips, eliciting a groan from him.

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She was leaving Monday morning. Not going demon hunting. There was no crime in not telling him that this very minute. Why not enjoy the moment they had—danger was locked out and they had everything they needed to survive the next twelve or so hours. Maybe longer. Then she’d break the news to him. After that she’d kiss him, and her heart, goodbye. “You see what we have to eat.” She pointed to the boxes and bag Eva had brought in. “I’m going to see about getting dressed.” The slight tilt to Dante’s left eyebrow did little to squelch the self-awareness that coursed through her. Giggling, she grabbed the bag and darted to the bathroom. Twenty-four hours, she mulled. That’s all it had been since the rain and sweat had mixed on their bare skin. Twenty-four hours, less than that actually, noting the daylight that still peeked around the edge of the heavy drapes. Not so much time to forget the taste of him on her lips, the scratch of his roughened chin against her cheek and the feel of— Hopeless. She was completely hopeless. “Hopeful.” She stuck her tongue out at the reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her face was bright red from such devilish thoughts, but her body hummed with an electrical current that was directly related to the man in the next room. Clothes. Then food. Then Dante. In that order. That’s all she needed to think about tonight. Shivering with anticipation, she upturned the bag and shook it out on the bathroom floor. Thank heavens. Everything she needed. Down to the rather elegant white satin underwear. Okay, not everything was in here. No bra. Great. She slid up the leggings and donned the long, matching T-shirt. The cotton rubbed against her bare breasts. She’d long forgotten what it felt like to go without a bra— made it seem like she was lounging around in her pajamas all day. Would Dante be able to notice? She turned in front of the mirror, pushed her shoulders back and assessed. Almost immediately she dropped her shoulders forward. Then the material didn’t emphasize them as much. Even so, the idea of Dante looking toward her chest had her body reacting. There was a toothbrush, hairbrush, even a pair of sandals. The brush felt so good against her scalp. It’d take a few more washings before the gritty feeling completely went away, but this was such an improvement. She scrubbed her teeth and then wrinkled her nose at her expression. Who cares what she looked like? It didn’t matter that her nose and cheeks were pink from too much sun and her poor lips were cracked from so long without water. There was zero style to her hair. Still, she couldn’t deny the knowledge that Dante’s eyes would travel up and down her body and he’d look at her. Look at her like a man does a woman. What would he think? She clamped her thighs together to combat the tingling awareness. “Get through dinner first. Then see where it goes.” 86

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“Cammie?” Groan. He’d probably heard her talking to herself. She had to go out there before he thought she was hiding out or afraid. She wasn’t afraid of anything. Food. She thought of food and ignored her libido. The spicy scent of Spanish rice and the acidic aroma of tomatoes reached through the door. She wasn’t out there because…? “Food’s getting cold,” he called. She opened the door. “I’m coming.” His devilish smile stole her breath. Spending any length of time with this man would be dangerous to her health. No doubt the crinkle-eye smile was the result of her choice of words. Words that immediately heated her face and dampened her palms with sweat. From his seat at the table where he waited, he appraised her, precisely as she expected. The smile never faded as she watched his gaze—almost felt it—travel from her still bare toes, over her knees and thighs and then pause directly at her breasts. He finally met her eyes. A raised eyebrow and half-crooked smile held the challenge she was only too eager to meet. Her turn. She started at the top. How could she not appreciate the way the pale denim of his shirt rested on his shoulders and the slight gap at the neck that gave her a glimpse of his tanned collarbone? Licking her bottom lip was purely reaction to the muscled forearms covered in downy fine hair. Too bad the rest of him was hidden behind the table, which was piled high with food. Food. Right. That’s what she was hungry for. “Careful,” he said as if they hadn’t just appraised each other for dinner. “This table has a bad leg.” He rocked it back and forth to demonstrate. “Don’t lean on it.” The table was set—with real plates. “Where’d you get the plates, and real silverware?” The feast in the middle of the table was Thanksgiving equivalent. Beans, rice, tortillas, containers of fresh sliced tomatoes, salsa, lettuce, cheese… “Look at all this.” He nodded. “It was all in those bags. Spicy beef, shredded beef and shredded chicken.” He pointed to each of the heaping portions in their Styrofoam containers. “Hot sauce, guacamole here. I don’t know what these other sauces are. Try this. I don’t know what it’s called, but it’s good.” He swiped his finger around the lip of the small plastic bowl and held it out to her. Her mouth watered. But no way was she going to lick the sauce off his finger. She shook her head. “I trust you.” Bad move. He popped his finger in his own mouth and made sure to watch her with smiling eyes while he withdrew it. He was determined to be a flirt.

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Very different from the Dante in that clearing. Almost as if here he completely let his guard down. It was impossible not to be attracted to him. Even more difficult to remember why she was so willingly walking away. She’d never find a man like this. Ever. While the chemistry between them was too real to deny, she finally understood that one of the things she appreciated was his willingness to let nature take its course. He seemed genuinely interested in her and enjoyed the banter as she created her meal. “Hey, don’t take all the cheese,” she teased, slapping his hand away from the bowl that was already nearly empty. “Save me some!” “Then pass the red sauce. I want to try it your way.” He mimicked her steps and they sat down, grinning like grade-schoolers at their sloppy, overfilled burrito-like creations. She took a bite. Heaven, this was definitely heaven. Her taste buds exploded with the joy of such vivid flavor. Sweet, spicy, warm…she made sure to enjoy every mouthful. She might have even moaned. “Don’t do that.” Brown eyes turned to black. The smile that had pulled his cheeks into dimpled creases was gone. Her mouth went dry. Damn. How could one look turn him from flirty and fun to downright sexy—jump-across-the-table-sexy? Yet right there on his face, the way his lashes half hid his eyes and the slight creases in his forehead—he was ready to abandon his plate and have her for dinner instead. Her nipples pebbled. She hunched her shoulders forward and kept her eyes on her plate. It amazed her that he could make her hot and wet with simply a look. “Sorry,” she said, though she really wasn’t. It was rather arousing that he was affected, too. Silence stretched. Not necessarily uncomfortable, though Cammie stole quick peeks up at Dante through her lashes. This was like an awkward first date, each of them avoiding eye contact but knowing the other was watching. Her body tingled, knowing that at one word from her, the food would be forgotten. She sat up and cleared her throat. “Did we get anything to drink?” He stared at her a moment, fork poised before his parted lips. She could almost taste it as he slipped it between his teeth. His mouth caressed the metal tines as he slid them out. He knew what he was doing, especially when his tongue rolled across his bottom lip. She swallowed. That cold glass of water—with lots of ice—was sorely needed. All she could think about was the way his mouth has caressed her, those lips firm yet soft, sliding over hers with a velvety touch. God, she was completely turned on just from the memory and the simple action of Dante eating his dinner. He continued to chew. There were no secrets, so why should she hide the fact that she enjoyed watching him. Little things intrigued her, like the tiny muscle near his jaw that pushed against the skin. He had a complexion most women would die for—

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smooth, creamy golden-tanned. She’d bet he had a slightly tan-hued skin even without having his cheeks kissed by the sun. If she could reach, she knew she’d have a hard time keeping herself from caressing that shadowed spot under his ear. She’d never noticed that part of a man before, never had the driving desire to touch, kiss, and smell the essence of him in that warm place. His pulse would pound there, right beneath the surface. She could almost imagine its rhythm pushing against the skin there now. “Thirsty?” “Huh?” Cammie jerked her eyes back to his. For a moment there, she’d forgotten all about her dry throat. His dimples deepened and his smile tilted crooked. She melted. “You wanted something to drink?” “Oh, right.” So she had. Then gotten distracted. “Do we have something?” He reached down beside him and withdrew a bottle of wine. Ugh. No. She shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “I’ll just get a glass of water, then. Wine doesn’t sound good.” She put her napkin on the table and leaned on it just slightly as she stood up. It buckled. Shit! Dante jumped up, somehow managing to get the wine out of his hand without breaking and catching the boxes and some of the bowls by yanking up on the table and putting an arm across to keep them from sliding off. The bowl of salsa, however, traveled in a different direction. It slid directly toward her and when Dante pulled the table up, it tipped and splattered her. She gasped as the cold wetness slid down between her breasts and soaked the left side of the shirt. Why her? She closed her eyes and counted to five. “I’ll get it. Hold on.” Dante was quick on his feet and stacked the boxes and salvageable packages on the window ledge. What a dork she was. “Dante. I am so sorry—” “It’s nothing. I saved most of it.” She opened her eyes and looked to the floor. Her plate, his plate, the lettuce, and the empty container that had held the rice. “Look at our food.” “I’ll make another for us. No problem.” That wasn’t the point. “I am such a klutz.” Her wet T-shirt stuck to her in all the wrong places. Salsa coated her left side, shoulder, breast and ribs. Ugh. “Arms up.” She didn’t have a chance to even take a step before the warm hands encircled her waist and tugged at the hem of her shirt. What a crime to push them away.

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“I’ll get it. Just give me a minute to come to grips with my humiliation.” She forced a laugh and stopped his hand. He stepped behind her. Her hair ruffled with his warm breath. “Shh, just lift your arms up.” She fought to say no. She shivered as the hair tickled her neck. His fingers were like velvet on the back of her arms, guiding them upward. He followed through, the light touch of his fingertips gliding over her forearms and wrists until her hands were both straight up in the air. Then he tortured her by just as lightly tracing his way back down the sensitive area of skin under her arm, over the sides of her breasts and ribs. She could feel the goose bumps rising like a wake behind his touch. The cooler air hit her skin. First her stomach and sides. She tried to lower her hands to cover her breasts when the wet cotton was lifted, but he stopped her. Cammie stepped sideways and wriggled free from the shirt, and Dante’s touch. She balled it up and used it to rub the lingering streaks of liquid from the salsa that had run down her breast and stomach. “I’ve got to rinse that out before—” “I don’t think so,” he said, spinning her back to face him and sweeping her up in his arms.

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Chapter Twelve Cammie gasped at the intensity at which Dante’s mouth met hers. The fire that started there had little to do with the lingering spice of dinner and everything to do with the electricity that had darn near ignited both of them since he’d stepped foot in the room. Unwilling to delay it any further, she reached up and threaded her fingers into his hair, opening her mouth to his probing tongue. Her hunger for him would never be satiated. She shifted her mouth, eager to absorb every bit of his essence, to commit his flavor and texture to memory. Pulling his tongue into her mouth, she suckled. Her entire body shuddered as he moaned and adjusted his hold. The friction of her sensitized nipples against his chest was nearly painful. Daring to let him hold her up, she reached down and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. She wanted skin on skin, his heat to radiate into her flesh. They could be one in the closest possible way. That’s what she wanted tonight. “Let me,” he said into her mouth, pressing kisses to the corners before lowering her to the floor and addressing the remaining buttons. Her mouth watered as she had the chance to really, and unabashedly admire his physique. It was as if God’s own hand had sculpted him. How did she get lucky enough to touch the perfect proportions of muscle and flesh? His skin glowed, a buttery copper that she ached to taste. And she would. Oh…she would. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, then traced her tongue down to his flat male nipple. His body reacted, jolted by the contact. She smiled and suckled. There was power in giving. While her body craved the same attention, it seemed her arousal deepened in the simple act of sampling him. Fingers threaded through her hair and pulled her face back up to accept his nearly brutal kiss. She pressed her chest to his, moaning as her nipples connected with the light matting of hair. The tingling between her legs continued to intensify. She wanted Dante to hurry, to remove the rest of his clothes, yet she didn’t want this to be over, she wanted it to go on and on. She gasped as his hand cupped her breast and he brushed her nipple with his thumb. He knew just how to touch her, not too gentle and just shy of painful. Moisture flooded her panties as she straddled his thigh and rubbed against him in tune with the rhythm he stroked her breast.

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He was hers. If only for this one night, she knew she could give her whole self. One look in Dante’s eyes and she had no doubt that he, too, was in this with her, kiss for kiss, touch for touch, without any distractions, any worries and any regard for tomorrow. She swallowed. Damn her for thinking of that. Not that her body was listening— there was no coming back from the peak he carried her to. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back and focused on the feel of his hands on her. “Love me, Dante,” she whispered. She wanted everything he could give. Hold nothing back. He felt her shudder in his arms, then expose her creamy throat to him. Giving up? No. Cammie didn’t give up or surrender. She gave. If he was reading things right, she was giving all. Nothing mattered but the two of them and the pleasure they could share with one another. He intended to make the most of it then. She palmed his cock, her fingers stroking outside the fly of his pants. He could barely concentrate as she explored the contours, rubbing up and down the length of it, licking her lips as she did. “Stop that,” he growled, and leaned down to taste her open mouth. She met his kiss with a fervor and need he’d never expected. This was the Cammie he loved. Taking exactly what she wanted, knowing she deserved it. And he wasn’t going to deny her one ounce of it. He kissed the tip of her nose and the corners of her mouth, and then stroked his tongue across them. Her moan sent shockwaves down his body. Continuing lower, he nuzzled her neck, reveling in the hard, fast pulse beneath his lips. She was so alive, so vibrant in his arms. He wanted to taste every inch of her, then possess her, then start all over and do it again. Her nipple puckered as he blew a thin column of air on it. She gasped, then bit her bottom lip. “I want to taste this,” he said, sitting in the chair and pulling her onto his lap so that she straddled him. She threaded her fingers in his hair and pressed his face to her breast. He suckled hard, pulling the nipple between his teeth and stroking it with his tongue. He lapped and kissed, using her moans as keys to find exactly how she wanted it. “Dante, please.” Her hips thrust against his groin. “Not yet, sweetheart. I’ve got to clean this up first.” He left her nipple and used his tongue to lay long, slow strokes from breast to shoulder. Then he lifted her breast and slowly covered every inch of flesh with his ministrations. “Sweet and spicy. Just the way I like you.” He continued, taking it slow despite the need that coursed through

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him. He could smell her arousal, riddled with the tang of the salsa that remained on her skin. She’d be wet, hot, ready to take his cock into her folds and milk it until he came. “Please,” she begged, reaching down to touch herself, her hand grazing his hard-on and causing it to twitch in need. Moving her hand, he looked up slyly and smiled. He knew what she meant, what she wanted. It was what he wanted, too. His free hand memorized the contours of her body—the slender waist as it swooped into the gentle flair of her hips. Even the pelvic bone that lay just beneath the surface of her skin intrigued him. He wanted to taste that. Later. He blew out a deep breath and lifted his head. Her eyes were half-hooded, her skin flushed. Tendrils of hair had fallen against her cheeks. She was perfect, her face full of love, and peace—even in this tense, needy moment, her pureness seeped through. His fingers shook as he grazed her cheekbone, pushing the strands of hair back off her face. Her eyes opened, her smile brighter than the sun, yet her voice husky. “Please,” she said as she searched his eyes. One word. A million meanings, and he intended to fill every last one of her wishes. Starting now. “Cammie,” he groaned, sliding his hands down her sides and over her hips. Sweet heaven. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing hardened nipples against his chest. He gripped her hips and rocked her pelvis against his erection, the mere motion and pressure further exciting him. He could come right here, just rubbing against her. “Take me to bed.” He groaned and lifted her up. She immediately wrapped her legs around his back, further pushing against his aching cock. The bed was two steps away. He laid her down, crawling up onto the bed as she backed up toward the pillows. “Give me these,” he said as he tugged at the waist of her pants. She lifted her hips and wriggled while he pulled them down, taking her panties with them. The sight of her bare hips twisting stole his voice. He swallowed, reminding himself to breathe as she bent her knees up to let him pull her ankles free of the pants. What a view. Her pussy lips glistened with moisture. She was hot, wet, ready for him. Her hand closed over his zipper, once again toying with his cock. “Careful there.” She snickered. He tried to push her hands away so he could get out of the clothes. His control was slipping. Her touch could easily send him over the edge.

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The button sprang free and it was his resolve clicking away as she tugged the zipper down. He had to look past her, concentrate on the flowers on the bedspread as she reached in and palmed his cock. Sweet heavens. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” She backed up away from his kiss. “Something like what you did to me?” “I’ve been hard for you since I walked in here and saw you, all fresh from the shower.” She licked her lips and squeezed. “Then maybe I should continue like this. Maybe I’ll have a taste before we…” He groaned. Purple flowers, green leaves. Pink flowers, yellow centers. Cammie’s fingers… “Get these pants off.” His voice was a growl. He was serious now. As it was, he’d probably come the moment his cock slid into her hot, tight pussy. The thought of it was like a lightning bolt straight to the groin. “Now.” She laughed, completely oblivious to his inner conflict. How could he have explained that he was technically a virgin the night before? She wouldn’t believe that any more than she’d accepted his explanations about the curse and the demon. That sobered him up a bit. He turned and kicked his pants off and removed his socks. Her hands traced over his back and sides. The light touch was electric. But he’d had enough of touching. “Come here, you.” Her eyes widened as he crawled toward her. Once more she backed up to the pillow. When she stopped, her knees were up, her legs slightly spread. The flirty games were done. She watched him, her eyes flitting from his engorged cock that aimed straight for her pussy up to his eyes. A smile played at her lips. “Open up,” he whispered, his voice all throaty with emotion. Her knees parted and he climbed up over her. The head of his shaft toyed with the light thatch of hair that covered her swollen nether lips. He reached down to open them. She gasped and bucked upward as his fingers slid inside her. She was so hot, so wet and responsive. How could he last to make her come? He rubbed her clit with his thumb as he halfway withdrew his finger and pumped into her again. “Dante,” she hissed. Her fingers reached for and dug into his shoulders. She tried to pull him up, no words needed to know that she wanted to be filled with him. But he enjoyed this. The muscles inside her drenched pussy clamped over him as he now used two fingers to fuck her. “Look at me,” he commanded.

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She tossed her head back on the pillow, her breasts heaving as she gasped for breath. “Fuck me, Dante. I want to feel you inside me as I come.” His fingers slipped out of her opening. He moistened her clit with hard fast strokes. She bit her lower lips and pulled on him. “Please,” she begged. “Come and get it,” he challenged, not sure he could withstand half as much attention. Her eyes met his as she reached down and wrapped her hand around his cock. He groaned, ready to pump her full of seed without so much as one heavenly stroke. Her legs wrapped around his waist. She positioned him above her. That moment, just like that, with the head of his cock poised just above her, lasted forever. Their eyes locked. “Dante,” she whispered his name as if it were the most reverent thing. He swallowed and pushed down. She lifted her hips and used her legs to drive him into her, completing their joining. He closed his eyes and groaned. She held him there, the walls of her vagina shuddering against him. As soon as either one of them moved, he was history. Game over. Fingers dug into his shoulders. “Now,” she moaned, releasing her hold on him and allowing him to slide from the wet cavity. He watched her face as he pushed back in, willing himself to hold onto his release. Wait for her. He had to wait. She pulled him down onto her. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, her breath hot against his neck as she gasped, so openly enjoying the same sensations. He never wanted to leave this place, these feelings. Even if he was on the edge of control. He stroked again, the velvety touch all he knew. Her hips lifted, allowing him the freedom to thrust fully inside her. He waited there, sheathed by her tight pussy walls. Sweat covered his body, his breaths tore from his chest. One more. “Cammie, I can’t—” “Oh God, Dante,” she shrieked as he slid out and rammed into her over and over. He let go, letting the explosion within him take over. Supreme pleasure shot through his cock as her pussy tightened around him, convulsing, taking in all the come he emptied into her. Aftershocks rocked her body as he shifted and moved, gasping for air. His arms were barely able to hold his weight off of her. He was drained. Emptied. “Cammie,” he murmured into her hair. Nothing was like this. Nothing. Such completeness was not thought to exist in a man’s world. “Hmm,” she snuggled her face against his neck and wrapped her arms around him.

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Chapter Thirteen “That’s my shirt.” Cammie grinned and hugged the still warm denim. “So it is.” Not that she wasn’t tempted to toss it off her shoulders and dive back into bed with him. He lay there, on his side, propping his head up on his elbow, watching her. Naked. What she hadn’t clearly seen before was blatantly on display now. And he was one fine piece of man-flesh. “Why don’t you come back over here?” Things were easier, lighter. She felt invigorated. “I’m hungry. I didn’t get to finish eating earlier.” “You never did get anything to drink.” But she drank him in. She finally could do so without worrying about anything else. He was in fantastic shape—he obviously worked out or played sports. Somehow, she could see him as a runner or a swimmer. His arms and shoulders were well formed and his stomach tight, but not quite cut up into that “six-pack”. Which was fine by her. His thighs were muscled, but not too big, his legs long and strong. He could easily pose for magazines and have a fan base of thousands. How lucky was she to have him as her lover? Even if it was short-lived. She turned and picked up two of the boxes and knelt in front of the mini-fridge. She didn’t like that thought. Temporary. Why did her brain have to go and remind her that this bliss was nothing more than the burst of one rocket on the Fourth of July—all glory and beauty. Something to be remembered. “You want something?” God, even she could hear the flatness in her voice. Now she was going to spoil the rest of the night. Even her appetite disappeared. Hands slid around her neck and kneaded her shoulders. “I can get this. You go sit.” His fingers were magical. She knew she was tense. She lived her life tense. Even now she was discounting the moment and thinking ahead. She pulled out a bottle of water and leaned back into his arms. There was no way she could put what she was thinking into words. Not without shattering what was left of this fantastical bubble she’d mentally put them in. “Come on. Get up. I’ll get the food in here.” “It won’t fit.” The mini-fridge was full of tiny bottles of alcohol and soda and water. “Sure it will.” His fingers pushed over her shoulder blades and then left her back. “You didn’t have to stop.” 96

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“Oh,” he said, then swept her hair off her neck and pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin there. The cold chills he evoked sent a shudder down her body. “Dante? The food.” If he got started doing that again, the food would never get put away. “I’ll get it.” She was disappointed that he did. She’d expected him to continue like he had before, teasing and tasting her body and driving her to a place she’d never known. A place where only she and Dante existed. She followed him back over to the window ledge and then watched while he stacked everything on the shelves in the fridge. “You’re not going to drink this, are you?” he asked while pulling the tiny bottles of alcohol out and stacking them beside it. “Nope.” Who needed alcohol when Dante was here? He was, after all, the perfect drug. One taste of him and she felt like she was drunk. “It’s a shame we don’t have dessert,” he said. She laughed. “Men are so predictable. Either thinking about sex or food. Or sports.” She held up a hand. “Don’t even get started talking sports.” One eyebrow arched just slightly and the little bumps, almost like a second pair of dimples, appeared between his eyebrows. “You think I’m acting like a typical man?” Was he trying not to? “Well, okay, a typical man would probably not help me put away food. But that’s forgivable enough. No offense, but there are certain traits men have that women aren’t too fond of.” She handed him the final two containers and watched him squeeze them in and then shut the door. Whoever opened it next would probably be wearing it, but everything was in there. “But you think I’m…normal?” It wasn’t like she had many men to compare him to. The only man she’d really lived with was her father, and even he had his eccentric traits. But she had yet to hear a woman think her man was without fault. “Yeah, you’re normal.” He grinned at her, dimples flashing. She turned and studied the tilted table. Was she wrong about him? What could she be wrong about? She drank deeply of the water. Half of her wanted to address the questions that still lay between them. The other half wanted to forget there was anything beyond that door and remain locked inside forever. He put a thumb on her forehead. “I don’t like to see a frown here.” Then the pads of his fingers lightly brushed her lips. “Or here.” “Who are you?” she blurted. His hand jerked away. She would have sworn the flash in his eyes was fear, but then he blinked and closed the blinds on his emotions. “What do you mean?”

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He was hiding something. Clearly as if he would have said, “It’s a secret,” she knew. “I mean, who are you? Where are you from? Why are you here, in Mexico and how—and why—did you find me?” She was just getting started. He shook his head. “There’s so much.” He paused and studied her face. What was he looking for, to see how gullible she was? His hand reached up, almost touched her cheek, then dropped to his side. “You think with your head, not your heart.” “What does that have to do with you?” Chiseled cheekbones, perfect teeth—none of the features her eyes could see could forgive the fact she knew nothing about him…Dante. She crossed over and sat on the bed. Yep, she’d ruined it. Inevitable as it was. Bubble of bliss, successfully popped. He followed and stood in front of her. “Look at me, Cammie.” She blinked and looked up at him. He seemed taller. And was she imagining it or was it suddenly brighter in the room? Dante wore a serene smile on his face as he reached both hands out to her. It was like a dream. “Is this another vision?” Another enigma. She’d never had a vision in her life before meeting Dante. And somehow he was always in them. “Do you want it to be? What do you want to see? Who do you want me to be?” It had to be. Or else she was hallucinating. It was now dark outside, the only light coming from the two lamps in the room she’d turned on. Yet she was blinded by it. “It’s so bright,” she said and squinted up at him. “How do you do this to me? Why?” The light faded. The voice was inside her head now, Sleep, my love. Your heart is heavy with worry. She couldn’t fight the darkness that pulled her in. It was frightening. It was peaceful. Dante’s arms lifted her and carried her up to the head of the bed. For that moment she pushed toward the surface, just to absorb the overwhelming contentment she’d found in his arms. But then he laid her on the cool sheets and pulled the blanket up to her shoulder. “Sleep,” he whispered and she did, sliding toward the restful bliss as his lips grazed her cheek.

***** Dante paced. He had to tell her. Eventually. He should have just said it. Explained it. Forced her to listen to his whole story. But then what?

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The relic was here. Hidden. She hadn’t mentioned it and he thought it better if he didn’t either. The last thing he needed was for her to think he was here just for the relic. Problem was, that was supposed to the only reason he was here. Their physical relationship hadn’t been part of the plan. The demon trekked east, toward the populated resort areas on the Gulf. The men they’d met up with earlier had been under the demon’s thumb—mere puppets set out to hopefully intercept them. His power grew. Dante’s own power had increased. He glanced at his lover. This may have weakened him, made him vulnerable, but he’d come here tonight knowing that potential was there. It was worth it. If sacrificing his power—perhaps the power to shapeshift or track the demon mentally—was traded for Cammie’s trust, then it wasn’t wasted. The power of flight was something he’d once had, but never expected to know in this human body. There were other powers as well, most of them mirroring the demon’s. At least he was starting to understand things. The demon’s intention was to brainwash all he came in contact with, turn them into zombies to do his work. The level of disasters that he could cause was unfathomable. He had to be stopped. Cammie wasn’t asleep. Technically, he was no better than that monster that now walked the streets like an ordinary man. He’d influenced her. Not that she didn’t need the rest. “Cammie, I know you can hear me,” he started, sitting beside her and rubbing the hair off of her forehead. “Please forgive me for doing it like this.” He got up and walked to the door. The lock there wasn’t quite as strong as he would have liked, but it was doubtful mere wood and metal would hold the demon out if he wanted in. Dante lifted the chain into place and flipped the latch to display the donot-disturb sign. “In the days to come you will learn of many things you never thought possible. It will call upon your strength and willpower to accept, but you must. Please hear me. You must.” He rounded the bed and stood beside her. She appeared the angel, her face all smooth and peaceful in sleep. She’d hear him, believe it was a dream. Still, planting the idea in her subconscious was the best he could do. No way was he risking that she’d run, now. “I am not a mortal man. I came to this world thousands of years ago to defeat a demon sent to destroy any good that man had in him. Neither of us won that fight, but instead we were locked in a tomb, sealed for what should have been eternity. Fate, and your hand, opened that door and unleashed a hell that man should never have to know. I alone cannot defeat him this time. You will help me. The relic is the key that will once again seal our fates.” 99

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She dreamed, he saw it in the lines on her face, the tightness of her lips. He lay a hand on her shoulder and felt her body shaking, as if she could see the evil that walked the earth. “There is no science that can explain this, no religion that can cause it to vanish. The eternal fight between good and evil has taken form.” Inside him he felt the power build, like steam. He lifted his hands and stretched. “I followed you because I need you, and because if I didn’t find you, he would. Do not look into his eyes, for the visions there will be your future. They are nothing compared to what you have seen already. They are much, much worse. And if he should take the key…the relic—” Her body wrenched upward. She jerked away, tears streaming down her face. “Dante, I dreamed—” “I know. I know.” His heart ached. Still too much to ask a mere human to understand. She felt so small and fragile as he gathered her into his arms and held her tear-streaked face against his chest. How was this going to work? “This isn’t right.” She pushed him away and rubbed at her eyes. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m a crybaby. It’s just—” “It’s been a trying day. A long day, Cammie. I think you’re a very strong woman. Most men would have cracked under less pressure. But you need to rest, to sleep.” “I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to dream of that any more.” “Tell me what you saw.” Perhaps it was more than a dream, more than he himself could visualize. He climbed into bed beside her and leaned against the headboard. Her head rested against his heart. He could feel it thundering within his chest. “There was a man. Evil, evil man with eyes blacker than black. Like they were dead. He had dead eyes.” She shuddered. Don’t look into his eyes! Even in a dream, or vision he could affect her. Clearly he had. He hated that this demon’s influence reached into their sanctuary, yet he knew all along that it could. “What did he look like?” “At first I thought he was you.” His body went cold. What was the chance of that? How had he let his guard down and not foreseen the possibility that the demon could take his shape in an effort to get to Cammie? “When did you learn he was not?” Yet he knew the answer. When it was too late? “I was cold. Wet. Scared. I don’t know what happened, but it seems I was shipwrecked or cast overboard or something. I feared for you, but there you were, on the dock. Well,” she leaned up to look at him now. He saw her fear, the panic that even now it wasn’t really him with her, but that monster who layered even more doubt in her heart. “I had thought it was you.” “And?”

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“You…he—offered me a hand up and pulled me onto this dock. That’s when I saw. And the water behind me, it was all bloody. I just knew you were gone.” He tightened his arm around her and touched her face. He didn’t show her this. Her imagination had kicked in, taking bits of what he said and created its own horror. “Just a nightmare, that’s all. I’m here, and it’s me. I’ll be your guardian angel tonight. Sleep, love. Dream of happy things.” Almost as if he’d bade her to do so, she lifted her face and searched out the truth of his words in his eyes. He filled her full of things too precious to be spoken of, a peace warmer than the sun on a summer day and a love richer than the ocean’s depths. She slept. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and dropped his head back against the wooden headboard.

***** Cammie stretched. She’d lain awake for a while, listening to Dante’s even breathing. For several minutes, that alone had been enough. She remembered falling asleep on his chest, listening to his heart beating. She’d felt so warm and loved, it’d been easy to imagine that she could have that level of contentment forever. But then the dreams had returned. Darkness had clouded the warmth and she wasn’t sure whom she could trust. Only herself. And sometimes she doubted even her own actions. The relic was always in her fist, and hands reached out from everywhere, no matter where she went, to get it. They all wanted it. To take it from her. Down strange streets, she ran. She couldn’t escape the feeling that someone, or something, was chasing her. Failure. It echoed in her heartbeat and in every breath she pulled into her aching lungs. Evil laughter echoed in the background. Then she saw why. A wide tear in the earth. She’d never be able to stop in time and couldn’t think about jumping it. As she hit the edge, she acknowledged the true terror of falling—the weightless feeling. Zero control. She was going to die. She’d jerked awake, but then felt Dante’s arm protectively thrown over her chest and felt his breath ruffling her hair. Easy. Calm. It’d lulled her back from the edge of panic. She was safe. At least here, now. Just a dream. That’s all. Not unusual, considering the stress and events of the day, as Dante had said. She rolled, letting his arm slide over her and onto the empty pillow. He’d turned the lights out at some point, which made it more difficult to see if he’d awaken by her

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movement. Not that it mattered. There was no crime in getting a drink of water and stretching to chase the demons from her mind. No way was she going to open the dresser drawer and check to see if the relic was still there. If he was awake and didn’t know where she’d stashed it, it would alert him. And there were no other hiding places in this small room. The root of all her problems lay with that statue. The more she thought about it, the more ridiculous it all was. No way could something so old be in such pristine shape. Even if by some fate, it had survived the dampness of the ground and deterioration by the elements, who carved angels with wings back then? That was a relatively modern depiction, wasn’t it? Art wasn’t her fancy, but it wasn’t difficult to imagine the Renaissance era pictures with cherubs and tiny wings. Everything she’d seen at the site had been crude in comparison. Items that had been brilliant two millennia before had faded and chipped. There was something not quite right about the relic. It didn’t make sense. She was able to think much clearer now than she had out there in the wild. Here she didn’t have to worry about freak tornados attempting to whip her up into black clouds or sudden earthquakes swallowing her whole. Here she could scientifically sort things out and make sense of them. Only nothing added up. Cammie closed the bathroom door and sat on the floor with her knees pulled up. She hadn’t thought about failure—at least since she’d gotten into the hotel room and it appeared the past was behind her. Clearly, all she had to do was fly to California, deliver the relic, with warnings of the curses she’d heard, of course, and get on with her life. That wasn’t going to be so easy. Dante would hold her back. He wanted something. Something more than sex. Not that she didn’t believe a romp in the sack wasn’t enough motivation for a man to follow a woman back to a hotel room. But there was something else. Dante wasn’t like any other man she’d known. There was a strange quality about him, almost a keener knowledge. Odd though, that he hadn’t mentioned the statue he’d been obsessed with earlier. But hell, she hadn’t gotten around to asking his last name. They hadn’t wasted any time jumping each other. Thoroughly disgusted with herself, she got up and splashed cold water on her face, then poured a glass and downed the cool liquid. It soothed her parched throat, but couldn’t touch the flames of worry that burned in her gut. Tomorrow. First thing, she’d sit him down and seek out her answers. Then one more day, unless some miracle happened. If she could just get through one more day, she could take control—with her own money, her own itinerary. Even if it meant leaving Dante behind.

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Chapter Fourteen The shrill noise jerked Dante up into a sitting position. His heart pounded against his chest. “What was—” He leapt to his feet, knees bent, fists up. Again. This time he could pinpoint the source. Telephone. He laughed. All the knowledge inside his head and no experience with something so common. Cammie was probably laughing at him as well, standing there like he was ready to protect her from a violent attack of the telephone. Then she’d probably want to know what his problem was, acting as if he’d never heard a phone before. He turned. She wasn’t reacting because she wasn’t there. He ignored the continuous noise. It wasn’t important. Where was Cammie? Why hadn’t he woken up when she crawled out of the bed? He frowned and pushed his hair off his face. The room was cold. Empty. She wasn’t here. At all. He checked the bathroom, but he already knew the truth. Her clothes were even gone. What was she doing? Why did she leave? It was painfully obvious that she hadn’t wanted to wake him up. Why? The shirt—his shirt—that she’d worn to bed lay draped over the back of the chair by the dresser. He picked it up to shrug it on. One sleeve caught in the top drawer and pulled it ajar. That was no coincidence. He pulled the drawer open so he could see the contents. “Holy—” The magnetic pull of the relic surprised him. How was it he hadn’t sensed it? Perhaps he’d grown accustomed to it and would only miss it if it was gone. Either way, she’d left it behind. Did that mean she’d be back? Dante pulled out the chair and sat in it. All the insight and knowledge he possessed and he couldn’t understand a woman’s motivation. The phone no more than stopped its annoyance than it started again. How could he concentrate on what to do next with that kind of noise? Maybe it was Cammie. Maybe it was about Cammie. “Hello?” No Cammie at all. A gruff, deep voice asked, “Is this room 219?” “Yes. It is.” Pause.

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Dante pinched the bridge of his nose when the man on the long distance line sighed. It didn’t sound like a good thing. “Where’s my daughter?” “Cammie?” The steely voice on the other end answered, “Campbell Howard, yes. Is this her room?” He couldn’t lie. Wasn’t in his nature. “It is.” “Where is she?” Dante wished, completely wished that he could answer that. “Sir, I don’t know. She was…not here when I…arrived.” Arrived, woke up, changing that one word didn’t make it a lie, did it? He knew better. A lie was a lie. Still, it was better to let Cammie explain why he was in her hotel room. The man on the other end became more urgent. “How’d you get in? Does she know you are there?” How to answer that? Lies bred lies. He swallowed and sat down. “Yes sir, she’s aware that I’m here. She had…management…” “Who are you?” Dante was almost thankful for the interruption. But this question was harder to answer than the last. Of all the adversaries he’d ever faced or imagined facing, he’d never anticipated feeling this off balance. “I’m a friend of your daughter’s. My name is Dante.” Long stretch of silence. “Were you part of her excavation team?” he finally asked, his voice softening a bit. “She had thought everyone was gone.” “Sir, they are gone. I, uh, found her soon after the earthquake. I too was separated from my…friends. Cammie and I traveled together until yesterday, when I stayed behind to finish up a few things. She arrived here ahead of me.” Dante didn’t like that his response was limited to the hum of the long distance line. Maybe they’d lost connection. “Sir?” he queried. “So you intend to stay there and benefit from my generosity? Why aren’t you covering the tab?” Dante swallowed again. “No, sir, I—” Click. Dante stared at the receiver for a moment before replacing it. That had not gone well. And where was Cammie? If something had happened… Why didn’t he know about it? Had he weakened himself that completely that his senses had numbed?

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He went over the room again, slowly and thoroughly, looking for anything—a note, a hint. He found nothing. Why had she left? Had she? What if it hadn’t been of her own accord? He bolted toward the door and pulled it open, ready to run downstairs and ask if anyone had seen her leaving. But she was back, door key in hand. Before Dante could react, the hotel manager hurried up the hallway to catch up with Cammie. “Miss Howard?” His face was red, whether from the exertion or the message he carried, it was unclear. But it wasn’t good news. Body language immediately told him that. “Miss Howard, I’m afraid you’ll need to vacate this room.” Cammie turned to face the man. Dante couldn’t see her face, but immediately saw the slump in her shoulders. “What do you mean? Leave?” “I’m sorry. Mr. Howard—your father—has withdrawn credit to your room. If you cannot pay, I cannot let you stay.” The pointed look he gave Dante wasn’t lost. “That can’t be. I talked to him yesterday, everything was fine then. Why would he do this? He knows I can’t get anything done to get money wired to me from the university until tomorrow.” Dante flexed his tense jaws. It was hard not to take responsibility for this. If not directly by answering that phone, then indirectly by giving in, once again, to his physical desires instead of focusing on his duty. He pinched the bridge of his nose to block out the pressure there and waited to see how this would play out. What father did this? “I’ll call him,” she said, tossing her head back. “I’ll get this straightened out.” “I just spoke with him,” said the manager. Dante cringed. Cammie stopped inches from the doorway. He felt the tension radiate from her. Now she was worried And mad. “When?” “Before I came up here. I begged for your sake, senorita, but he would not change his mind.” Dante took a step back as Cammie pushed by him and grabbed the phone. “I’ll take care of this,” she said as she punched numbers. “I’ve already agreed to pay him back. Once I get things straight with the university tomorrow morning, I’ll arrange a bank transfer if money is the issue. This is absurd. He won’t…he can’t just throw me out in the street.” Dante leaned against the doorway and watched this play of events. He didn’t like the coldness that had nothing to do with air conditioning. His senses were on alert. This was more than it seemed. “Mom, Dad, are you there? It’s me, Campbell, pick up the phone. Hello?”

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His heart ached for her. The lack of response took the light right out of her eyes. He didn’t expect she’d want coddling now, despite his intense reaction to want to pull her into his arms and promise that he’d take care of her for one more night. So he waited. Her forehead creased and she put her free hand to her temple. “Why aren’t you answering? Someone just called here—the hotel I’m staying in. They’re making me leave this room. I know it’s got to be a mistake. Please pick up the phone.” Dante expected her to slam the receiver into its cradle. Instead, she rocked back and forth on the bed ever so slightly. Her head was bowed and with her hand blocking her face, he couldn’t see her features. He clenched his fists. It was killing him to watch her reduced like this, to have to lean on someone—her family even—and be let down. It wasn’t right. What probably hurt the most was that he was the problem. The single factor that spurred this decision. Yet he wasn’t leaving her side. Relic or no relic. “Miss?” Dante blocked the manager from entering the room. “Give her a moment.” “One more number,” she said to the manager. Her teeth were gritted. She dialed and waited. Then dialed again. “Dammit.” She dropped the receiver. “Cell phone’s off or he’s out of area. Now what? Now what do I do?” She finally lifted her face to Dante’s. The glistening streaks of tears she’d shed were like jagged knives into his chest. Before him stood a woman of incredible strength. He saw her shoulders lift, her chest heave with deep breaths. Then she wiped her face and forced a smile. “I guess that’s it,” she told him. “We’re out of here.” He leaned against the doorframe and tried to ignore the tic above his eyebrow. “There’s nothing you can do?” He had to say something. This was the manager. Didn’t that mean he had authority to make a judgment call and let them stay? Tiny hairs lifted on the back of his neck and he looked past Cammie and out the window. Dark clouds, moving fast. It wasn’t Cammie’s father on the phone. The man in the hallway slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry, Senorita Howard. There is nothing else I can do.” Not half as sorry as he was, Dante thought. But right now, in front of the manager, was not the place to discuss what had happened and start suggesting it was an imposter calling. While she ducked in the bathroom and grabbed up the few items she’d left in there, he opened the tiny refrigerator and stacked the items in one of the bags. “Let’s go.” Cammie started to the door. “One more thing.” He looked at the half-open drawer that held the relic.

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Up close he could see the defeat on her face. Dark shadows darkened her eyes and lines marred the edges of her mouth and forehead. “What?” He couldn’t blame her for wanting to get on with their way, wherever it was they were headed. “Cammie,” he said and touched her arm. He caught her eye, then looked toward the dresser. Look with me. Look at the drawer. She didn’t. She stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. He wasn’t so sure she was wrong. Or at least on his way. “Wasn’t there something you brought with you?” He lifted an eyebrow at her. “I have nothing.” She stated it so boldly he wondered if she was intended to leave it behind on purpose. “Nothing? What was all that you had carried in your shoulder pack?” “It’s gone. Useless.” She knew. He spared a glance behind him. The manager sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. A sign to hurry, to be sure, but he wasn’t leaving before she had the relic safely in hand. “Go get it.” “Get what?” Her glittering eyes issued a challenge. “Your souvenir, remember. The piece that has brought us to this point? Or will you walk away from your responsibilities?” She gasped and stepped back. Good, let it hurt. He wasn’t fond of having a witness to this interaction, but the relic could not stay here, to be picked up by an unsuspecting person. There’d been enough damage done. They needed to set things right before it was too late. Cammie marched over to the dresser and yanked out the relic. “This you mean? Oh, that’s right, precious cargo, isn’t it? I hate this thing. Hate it.” He underestimated how much her parents’ rejection hurt her. Or how much the lack of control over this situation bothered her. He rubbed his cheek and lifted his eyebrows to watch her. “Yes. Hate it all you want, but it won’t be left behind.” “Fine.” She shoved it in the bag with her extra clothes and stomped passed him. Bittersweet battle as it was, the victory left him feeling sour. Dante leaned in the room, took a final look around, then closed the door behind them. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider allowing us one more night?” he asked the manager who walked slightly ahead of him. Cammie was six feet in front of them and pulling away. “I cannot. You cannot pay?”

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“I lost everything in the quake. She and I are in the same situation—on our own trying to deal with this.” At least she had a solution available. His purpose was escaping him. And he had very little means to catch back up. The manager shook his head, though his eyes were warm. “I cannot. I’m sorry.” Dante knew he was. “Thank you for your help. You will be repaid for your generosity.” Cammie hadn’t even stopped at the front desk. She was through the double glass doors before he could catch up with her. “Where are you going? Do you have a plan?” “I most certainly do.” Her chin lifted defiantly and he bet her eyes would flash at him if she wasn’t squinting due to the bright sun. “What?” He walked beside her, surprised at her quick steps. “Simple. I’m going to find a tourist who will have pity on me and help me get in touch with someone from the university and then I’m going home.” “That simple?” He completely doubted that’s what she would do. She wouldn’t beg, he could almost guarantee it. Maybe she knew it too. “You don’t believe me?” He smiled wryly. “I don’t want to see you try it.” “So what’s your bright idea?” she challenged. Then before he could answer, she continued. “What I don’t quite understand is how you came to be here, and you say you have nothing, nowhere to go.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she tapped her foot on the gravel of the hotel parking lot. She knew she was irritable. Dammit, she just had the rug yanked from beneath her. Just when she was finally feeling comfortable, she was back on the street with nothing. Nothing. At least she knew how she got there. “If I had a place to stay, money to spend, I’d give it to you.” Dante wasn’t cruel. While she still wavered on what his interest was in the relic, she didn’t think him a liar. Just holding out on some important things. “That doesn’t do us any good, now does it? You still haven’t told me what you think we ought to do.” Oh God, she made it sound like she was agreeing to continue with him. Not that she didn’t want to—but it seemed more and more like a two-edged sword. With him, she felt safe, secure—even moments she felt loved, but it also seemed like anytime he was around is when danger appeared as well. So was he hunting the demon or was the demon hunting him? Interesting concept. “What are you thinking about?” he prompted. The heat pressed down on them. Didn’t help her mood any. Plus she was sweating like a horse already. So was Dante. “About how nice it would have been to stay in that air conditioned room to have this conversation.” “About the room, Cammie. I don’t think it was your father that called.”

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What? Where did that come from? “Exactly what are you saying?” “The way the manager acted. The fact you couldn’t get in touch with your father, despite calling just minutes after he had called the hotel.” Dante pulled her over to the side of the hotel, just away from the sidewalk and lowered his voice. “Just before you came back, I answered the phone. I was concerned it was you. It was a man, said he was your father. Got very upset that I was in the room.” “He pulled the room because of you!” She couldn’t believe it. Why hadn’t this very important piece of information been disclosed when she had a chance to bargain with the hotel manager. “Just great. Great.” “I don’t know your father, Cammie, but if you take after him at all, I can guarantee you that the man I spoke to was not your father.” “This demon.” She wiped her forehead and glared up at the sun. “What kind of power does he have? I mean, who would know to call my room? How did anyone know the arrangements I had made? I hadn’t even told you.” Which meant the front desk had. Just as they let Dante head on up to the room without asking her if she was accepting guests. “Power?” Dante repeated, staring up into the sky. “More than a man could comprehend.” She didn’t like the way that sounded. “So he’s after us. We’re not chasing him.” “He’s trying to defeat us before we confront him.” Dante held up a hand and walked a few feet and then stared into the parking lot. “What?” she asked. Hell, if he said the demon had just drove up in a Mustang convertible, she’d probably accept it at this point. “The Jeep is still there. You didn’t happen to check the compartments, did you?” “No.” Who would have thought to do that? What would she have hoped to find. “Let’s go see then. I can’t think of anything else to do.” The vehicle had remained untouched. No one had come back to claim it, or even steal it. She got in and looked around. Keys hung from the ignition, right where she’d left them. Dante got in the passenger seat. She sighed. At least he was letting her drive. Letting her? She blinked. Of course she was driving, dammit. “Check the glove box,” she instructed as she stuck her hand between the seats. Her fingers connected with a map. All the writing was in Spanish, but it was something. Something had been handwritten along the edge of paper, the writing difficult to read and the language barrier felt ten feet tall. “Will this help?” Dante handed her an envelope with a ridiculous amount of money in it. A rubber band encircled the torn paper wrapping. She thumbed through the edge of the bills that protruded.

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She couldn’t breathe. “This was in there?” That was too coincidental for her to accept. Until he pointed. That wasn’t the only thing inside the glove box. The sight of a bag of something white turned her stomach. Drugs. “Get out of the vehicle.” She yanked a bunch of bills out of the envelope, put them in her pocket and shoved the rest back in the glove box. In no way did she want to be connected to the vehicle and the amount of drugs in it. Ending up in a Mexican jail was not on her list of places to go, even if it did mean she’d have a place to sleep and a guaranteed meal. She bit her lip and ran through her options. Except every time a car sped past the hotel parking lot she followed it with her eyes. When a car turned in, she ducked her head and walked back up toward the front doors, then diverted off to the side like she was going in the side door. She felt like she was running. Well, self-preservation sometime required defensive action. She rounded the building, spied a pair of picnic tables on a beat-up slab of concrete and sat down on the farthest one. Dante sat across from her. “Here’s my plan. I’ll figure out how much money we have. We’ll go down the street, there’s got to be another hotel or a room we can rent for a night. Tomorrow I’ll call my people, get what I need and get out of here. You can have whatever money’s left.” As she said it, gaping holes became more and more obvious. “Dante? Who are you? Where did you come from? Why are you here? And I can’t understand how you came to have nothing, and no one.” Instead of answering, he blinked, then his eyes bored into hers. She should have expected it. The jolt hit her harder than any earthquake could have. A split second of shadowy wormhole and she found herself once again standing at the excavation site. Her crew was all there, working diligently around her. “Jayson, what happened, when did you guys get back?” she asked. The equipment was all here too, scattered around him. He’d been back awhile. They’d made progress. Then again… “Who are you?” he asked. She blinked and took a step back. Then she looked down, following his puzzled gaze. “It’s—oh!” she caught sight of the long flowing robe she wore. It spilled onto the ground, the delicate, white fabric reflecting the rays of the sun. She touched it, but felt nothing. “Who am I?” she repeated, then reached up to touch her lips. She couldn’t feel them either, but she’d heard her voice. So light and airy. This was strange. “Chuck, I thought you weren’t supposed to let anyone on the site? What’s up with this chick?”

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Chuck! “Boy, am I glad to see you,” she said as she rushed toward the older man who leaned on his shovel and squinted at her. But he didn’t address or even acknowledge her. “She didn’t walk past me. How’d she get back here?” Finally, blank, narrowed eyes met hers. “Ma’am, take your Halloween outfit and kindly remove yourself. This is a protected excavation site, not a tourist attraction.” “Oddball nun,” she heard Jayson mutter. Chuck reached out, gentle giant as he was and applied pressure to her elbow as if to propel her forward. But he fell to the ground as soon as his fingers wrapped around her forearm. His eyes rolled back in his head and he clutched his chest. “Chuck,” she screamed. Her voice was nothing more than a howling wind that swirled around her hair. The scene was fading. No, she was fading. She turned around. A wall of flames had crept up on her heels. She felt the searing heat on her face. She tried to back up, but could not move. A fiery hand reached through the flames. She gasped. No. Oh, please no. It encircled her waist, the heat of it tearing through her flesh as it picked her up and yanked her into the fire. Cammie jerked and twisted, pushing against the power that held her tightly around her midsection. “No,” she wailed, her breath torn from her as she was propelled forward. She closed her eyes and cowered, the scorching heat, however, was gone. Replacing it was the warmth of a brilliant white light. She could see nothing. Feel nothing. There was no pain. But she was blinded, at least momentarily. She knelt, unsure of even the texture beneath her, and blinked. Slowly the fogginess faded and the world came into focus. So did a new awareness. Dante had done this to her. Another vision. Why? To scare her? Manipulate her? No, to avoid answering the questions she’d poised. She pushed to her feet, her balance compromised. Strong hands gripped her shoulders but held her at an arm’s length. The picnic table, where this started, was behind Dante. On it lay the bag that held everything she had in her possession. He stood between her and the relic. “What…happened?” she asked. Her breath still came in shallow gasps despite her struggle to appear unaffected. Her chest hurt, both from the frantic beating of her heart and the crushing understanding of just how little control she had over this situation. Dante had a power she couldn’t understand. And he was deliberately using it on her. “You tell me. What did you see?”

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“I-I don’t know.” She frowned and searched his face. Like a fleeting dream, the specific feelings didn’t have a tangible explanation. Peace. That’s what she found there in his unlined expression. His defined jaw was relaxed, his eyes clear and focused on her. She even detected a hint of concern in the way his gaze flitted over her. It did little to calm her, though. Did that mean he truly meant her no harm, or did he simply lack a conscience? She wanted to believe. She truly did. “You remember nothing at all?” Dante reached up and pushed a hair behind her ear. She steeled herself from reacting. “Well,” she started, then squirmed free from his distracting touch. The firm grip had been fine, but she was having a hard time maintaining concentration when his thumb stroked up and down her upper arm. She walked over to the picnic table and sat up on the edge of the top. Dante sat on the bench, close, but not touching. Obviously he wasn’t going to let the subject drop. She swung her legs and twisted her fingers. “This is going to sound stupid. I was at the excavation site. Like it was before, you know. Everyone was there, working.” She didn’t dare look at Dante. She wasn’t even sure why she was telling him this, other than maybe he’d leave her alone. “Thing was, no one there recognized me. It was strange. I had on some long, white dress.” The scene replayed itself in her mind. She shuddered and wrapped her arms around her middle as the feeling of helplessness once again squeezed her heart. Her eyes darted to him. Brows knitted over eyes so dark they looked black—but not menacingly so. Emotional though. She wished for one minute she understood him. “Was that it?” He met her eyes, then dropped his gaze to her arms. With a single finger, he reached up and touched her bared arm. Goose bumps rose in its wake. “This scared you? I was not there?” Swallowing, she watched as he retracted his hand. Her skin still tingled where his finger had traced. Dante spoke low and throaty, getting up as he did to kneel in front of her. “I saw you, Cammie. I was there. The hand, the fiery hand that reached for you—he was reaching for the relic. You were the relic. I pulled you back.” The white light. Of course. She leaned back, but there was no place for her to go to escape the flashing eyes of the man before her. The relic. Right. Perhaps the vision had been conjured up by her belief that it was the only thing Dante wanted. Maybe she was jealous, wished herself into being the relic and therefore the thing Dante wanted most. She sighed. That made sense. Tangible thoughts there. She wasn’t losing her mind. With a shake of the head she answered, “But I’m not the relic.” One word echoed in her head. Curse. Where had that come from? Who had planted it? Had Dante spoken it?

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Was she among the cursed? “What if I am?” “Pardon?” His lifted eyebrows contradicted the seriousness of his voice. She hadn’t even realized she’d spoken out loud. “Why did you say that—that I was the relic?” She reached out and clutched his shirtfront, pushing him back a step as she slid to a standing position. Why did he feed her such thoughts? “Someone’s coming,” he whispered and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and lowering his face down for a gentle kiss. But that only lasted a second. He nuzzled against her neck, just under her hair. But there was zero passion in the action. She was a shield for him, a prop. “Don’t fight me,” he whispered against her ear. The shiver that raced up her spine was certainly caused by the teeth that nipped at the skin just beneath it, but not because it fired her blood. The opposite was true. She felt the emptiness in the gesture. Cammie tightened her grip on the front of his shirt and pulled. There was an extreme tension that vibrated just beneath the surface of his skin. His mouth went through the motions of passion, including finding her mouth again for a deep kiss, but his mind was on something over his shoulder. He pulled away. She opened her mouth to tell him to she wasn’t a pawn. But he lifted a finger, silenced her and whispered in her ear. “On the count of three I want you to run behind the hotel. Just go, get out of sight.” “Why?” she hissed. She would do no such thing. Okay, maybe she would. He gripped her chin, dropped a kiss on her nose, but injected fear into her with his steely black eyes. “Do it. Don’t ask. Trust me,” the final two words tore out of his mouth with an urgency she hadn’t expected. One that turned her blood into ice. “One.” Her muscles trembled in anticipation, yet her mind questioned why she was once again blindly believing him. Listen with your heart, came the response from somewhere deep inside her. Because she wanted to believe, wanted to trust. “Two.” She released his shirt and placed her hand flat against his chest. He gripped her shoulders. Probably to push her away. She steeled herself against that possibility and sucked in a final, deep breath. “Three.” She bolted.

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Chapter Fifteen Breathing hard, Cammie stumbled around to the side of the brick shed-like building and leaned back against it. Waiting. Listening. For what? She closed her eyes and rested her head against the rough wall. Stupid, stupid, stupid. What she needed to be listening for was the sound of Dante grabbing the bag, or taking the relic out of it, running across the parking lot, jumping in the Jeep and disappearing. Not that she could hear all that. But it was exactly what she expected to happen. “Señora, are you all right?” She dropped her hands and looked up at a teenage boy dressed in swim trunks. Several feet behind him stood a wet, bikini-clad girl. She kept her eyes averted and adjusted her shoulder strap, a blush staining her face. No threat. Hell, she was the threat to them, it seemed. “Yeah,” Cammie said as she straightened up and tucked her hair behind her ears. Of course, she’d never use “all right” to describe her current status. She was anything but that. “What are you doing?” Practicing stupidity. Auditioning for the part of a fool in her autobiography. Hide and seek? “Avoiding someone. Tell me, can you see anyone at the picnic table?” She gestured behind her with a wave of her hand. A peal of hysterical laughter nearly bubbled to the surface to join it. The boy’s expression, and the look he gave his girlfriend, plainly said “crazy lady”. But he did lean around the edge if the building. “Nope,” he responded. Then he leaned in close and whispered. “Your way is clear.” Great. At least she had the money. But had Dante taken the relic? He’d been so adamant that she be the one to carry it, yet if they both were gone… “Let’s go.” Cammie jerked her head up, frightened for a moment the boy was talking to her. Then she let out her breath as she saw he was reaching for his girl’s hand. Trust no one, Dante had said. She was a bit jealous the way the young couple strolled off with their hips bumping. The boy’s hand slid a bit lower on the girl’s hip than was proper. Bet they didn’t have to worry about demons and statues and curses—and being broke with no place to stay in a strange country. And now, alone.

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She didn’t need Dante and she sure as hell didn’t need the relic. Wanted? Another story, and not something she needed to even think about. She rounded the corner and lifted her chin. This is what she wanted. She could go home now. Swallowing, she looked back at the picnic table and wondered where Dante was. She missed him.

***** Dante faced off with a man he recognized immediately. Not from his crisp dress or smooth voice, but from the aura emitted by his soul. It coated his mouth and nostrils with the odor of rotting flesh. This was a man of such evil that the world could never fathom its depths. His eyes were pure black and reflected no light. Above them, one eyebrow arched. “So, Dante, we meet again.” “Damien. You’ve wasted no time, I see.” Dante winced at the easy laughter he got in response. The vile undertones were clear to him, but a human would undoubtedly find this man friendly, even charming. Not that he’d expected a horrific monster of a man whose features reflected the blackness of his heart. No, the ways of the demon were cleverer than that. “You think too much, my angel friend. Stop worrying,” said Damien. “But I do have to say that you’ve both pleased and disappointed me over the last few days.” Dante immediately felt the thoughts the demon forced into his head. Snippets of his intimacies with Cammie, cheapened with overtones of reminders about falling prey to the lust of the flesh. “No!” he shouted, and shook his head to clear his mind. “I will not let you destroy what we had.” “You’ve lied, you’ve stolen, you’ve given into lust. The makings of a fine cohort if I say so myself.” The demon reached out and pretended to straighten the collar of Dante’s shirt. Dante’s reflexes kicked in. He grabbed the man’s arm and twisted. “Good, my boy. Evil thoughts. Think about what you’d like to do to me. Wouldn’t you want to kill me? Murder is a powerful thought, feel its pull.” Dante’s fingers burned as he stepped back. He called upon the powers of good, the strength of the nature around him to lend their support. Even as he heard the rumblings deep within the ground answer to the call of the demon. “Thanks to you, my powers have grown.” Dante watched as lightning reached out of the sky and touched the tree behind the picnic area. Dozens of people screamed and bolted. He gritted his teeth and pushed back against the tree, righting and restoring it. “Those people are innocent.” 115

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Damien chuckled and started walking around Dante. “Are they? Are they all as righteous as you claim to be?” Dante refused to take his eyes off the demon. There were no rules when dealing with him. And it was true. The demon’s strength had grown. He could not know what limited him, if indeed, there were limits. He finally responded, “They are not as evil as you would make them. You cannot take their choices from them.” “And of your woman. Did your god approve your holy matrimony and exonerate her from the sins of being human, or did you willingly tarnish yourself? You’re no better than they are,” he sneered. “Even you cannot walk the straight and narrow when faced with the temptation. Can you see how easy it is then, for men to decide to follow me?” Dante felt the anger welling up, exactly the reaction Damien had planned. The strength to push it down came easier than he expected. Regardless of the demon’s words, he’d done nothing in the manner he suggested. “You’re not bothered?” Dante heard the sarcasm, but felt the lapse in confidence in that statement. Around them, people were starting to point. A few had stopped to watch them circle each other as if squaring off for a fight. He flicked his gaze over from time to time, determined not to let Damien see his worry lay more for these people than for himself. “Well, then. Perhaps you are bothered, not that I’d expect you to admit it. I should want to meet her, find out what kind of woman it takes to tempt a man of your…stature.” Damien reached in and made a grab for the bag. Not a chance. Dante’s reaction was quicker. He knew it would come to this. This wasn’t about him—it was about the key, the relic. Truth and goodness needed no underhanded ploy to be victorious. Dante knew immediately that any blow that fell would be one of trickery and would be inflicted in a way to cause the most damage. The last standoff between them had been a battle of wills. Dante studied the face of man’s most deadly enemy. And it seemed this would be a war of similar measures as well. “She’s lost, you know. Pity that the weight of the relic you had burdened her with has sapped all the confidence and strength right out of her. She’s a fraction of herself now, wandering the streets, searching for a place to be, to belong.” Dante felt the heat flush his skin. His hands shook as he took a step toward the evil man. “You will not touch her. I forbid you to harm her.” Damien threw back his head and laughed. “Harm her? She would learn the meaning of true pleasure under my hands.” What he wouldn’t give to feel the satisfaction of balling up his fist and punching the grinning face of the demon. But he couldn’t, at least not without falling into the trap. Cammie was strong. It was a trait clearly displayed over the last few days. But could she withstand this demon’s attack? He forced the very thought from his mind and lifted his head to look squarely into the black holes that were the demon’s eyes. His power too was strong. He would not fail. Couldn’t. These people, Cammie included, knew 116

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nothing of what they faced. The burden didn’t weigh him down; it strengthened his resolve. “You will find no need to include Cammie in this. She doesn’t carry the relic any longer. I do.” He fisted the bag a little tighter. He knew that Damien knew. The power of the relic emanated outward like a beacon. It was how the demon found them. “I see. But why take all the fun out of it? I shall have the statue, and your woman too.” He sounded like a snake, his voice all veiled in threat. Dante couldn’t underestimate the power of the words and the truth behind it. The demon would relish destroying what he held dear. He’d tried more than once, but so far Dante had been able to pull her back. Would she listen if it happened again? “This town is mine,” Damien spoke as he deliberately turned his back on Dante. He lifted his hands as if celebrating a political victory. Dante clenched his teeth and whispered. “Never.” The demon whirled on him. “Give me that relic.” Dante turned his shoulder toward the charge and protected the bag. The people around him screamed and shouted, obviously eager to see them go to blows. What they couldn’t fathom was that the fate of the entire world potentially rested on this skirmish. If Damien walked away with the bag, the relic, then the idea of hell on earth would reach fruition. “You cannot use it.” The demon eyed up the bag then turned his serpentine eyes back on Dante. “It holds no power for you. But once I have it, I can give you strength. And I can give you Cammie.” “I will not let you influence her.” “Protective aren’t you? You’re making it easy on me, pal. Your priorities are all mixed up. She was supposed to have died, remember? Letting her live guarantees your failure.” “I don’t intend to fail. She won’t fail me, either.” He looked around at the crowd that had gathered. Business owners and tourists and natives passing by. The relic should never be in the company of so many innocent, susceptible people. He fisted the plastic. He would not, under any circumstances, let the relic fall into the demon’s hands. Even if it meant destroying it, and himself, in the process. Damien laughed at Dante and addressed the crowd. “Expecting a fight?” he asked. Dante cringed at the cheer that lifted. “Have you made up your mind who will win?” He could almost have predicted the influence this man had over the people. He fed them things they wanted to hear, promised them pomp and circumstance and… “…things you’d never find even in a circus.” Dante followed him as he circled the inner edge of faces and finally bent down before a cute little girl. “Do you like a circus?” 117

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She shook her ponytails and stuck her fingers in her mouth. Dante guessed she couldn’t be more than six or seven. How low would this…this…demon go? He shouldn’t have had to ask. “Have you ever seen a circus?” Damien asked, switching to her native language. Again the little girl shook her head and backed up against her father’s legs. “Oh, then you’re in for a treat. In the circus there are amazing feats and…” “Enough, Damien. This isn’t a carnival. This is serious business. Leave these people alone.” “Do I look like a bad man?” Damien turned and pointed. “He thinks I’m a bad person.” “Circus?” the girl asked. She smiled, displaying a gaping hole where one of her top teeth should have been. How could he? How could that not reach into his soul and evoke even the slightest of stirring? “Don’t you dare harm that child,” he warned the demon. Damien stood then, but ignored Dante. He couldn’t even anticipate what he planned next, except that he seemed to be singling out that family. As Dante feared, the father patted his daughter on the head, whispered something to her and then looked Damien in the eye. Immediately the father fell to the ground in something akin to an epileptic fit, shaking and flailing about. The girl screamed. Half the crowd screamed with her, but then they pressed in. “Get back,” Dante ordered, pushing people out of the way to get to the fallen man. “Easy there,” he murmured, pushing down on the man’s forehead. “Hold his legs. And his arms.” Thankfully those near each limb reached out to help. “Wake up. Your daughter’s here. She needs you. What you see is not real, fight against it. Be strong for your daughter. Listen.” He pulled the little girl up beside her father’s head. “Tell him, honey. Tell him you love him.” She cried and wrapped her arms around her father’s neck. Dante felt the madness seep out as the power of the convulsion faded. “She’s real. She’s the only thing that is right now. Trust with your heart, and ignore what you see in your mind.” He knew the horrors Damien had inflicted up on the man, at least in general. Just like the relic had, a culmination of all his mortal fears, wrapped up into one hideous vision and feeling. The shuddering slowed. “Loosen your hold,” Dante told those keeping him down. “Just gradually.” They did and as soon as the man could get his arms free, he wrapped them around his daughter. There was power in love. It coursed through Dante, a revitalization of sorts. He breathed in deeply, once again sure that the demon could be beaten.

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A dozen accusations came to mind, but they would be little more than rhetorical questions. Damien did this because he could, because he wanted to display his power and show his disdain for anyone but himself. Because he wanted to throw Dante off guard. “This battle should be between you and I, not these innocent people.” “I had nothing to do with—” Dante sneered. “As if I’d believe that. You’re the king of lies, cheats and hate.” How could he tell him he had no business hijacking the minds of these people? That would just spurn him to do it more. “Why, thank you.” It was getting increasingly difficult to keep his temper and emotions in check. Dante looked back at the little girl, still firmly held in her father’s arms while the people around him assessed his health. It wasn’t right. Morally, ethically—of course, the demon had no rules. It’d be best if he remembered that. Dante reached deep and once again summoned the strength of all that was good. Bright sunlight broke between the clouds he’d scarcely noticed had closed in over them. The sound of birds was once again audible. Allies, there. Not to protect him or even benefit him, but to protect those around him. He sensed something was wrong. The people around him that had boisterously cheered on their argument and let up a gasp and scream when the man fell were all now silent. He turned around. Damien stood there, face impassive, arms crossed over his chest. Dante’s blood chilled. Those behind him had the same empty expression. The light was gone out of their eyes. He’d gotten to them. Dante turned around again. They encircled him, dozens of pairs of flat gazes. All staring at him. He’d gotten to all of them.

***** Buzz of some big fight in the park area had made it to Cammie several blocks away. Excited people had shouted in at least three languages, summoning spectators. The prospect of a boxing match didn’t interest her, but she couldn’t resist getting dragged along with the population of this entire town to the site. The closer she got, the heavier her heart. Yet the more pull she felt. She had to go. She had to be there. Strange. She slowed, letting people crash into her from behind as they rushed toward this extravaganza. Let them. The butterflies in her stomach left her feeling uneasy about it. 119

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The metallic taste in her mouth was more than a bad feeling. She knew. “Dante,” she whispered. While she couldn’t understand how, she knew, she felt that it was him, there. But how? With who? A burly man nearly knocked her to the ground and shouted something in Spanish. She brought her elbow up, smirking as he grunted. He didn’t stop however, driven by some need. She pushed her hair from her face and tried to circle around. But people were coming from all directions. More than strange. From the original sound of things it was two men squaring off. And normally gossip got blown out of proportion. Why would all these people be here—tourist and natives, children! There were children here, holding their parents hands and whining they couldn’t see. She couldn’t either. Nothing but a wall of gapers. Thankfully, her slim frame allowed her to squeeze between tightly wedged people. She ignored their outbursts and wiggled through attempts to block her in. The closer she got, the more she knew. Dante was in there…somewhere. More than likely in the middle of things. What she was going to do about it, she wasn’t sure. But what she wasn’t going to do was stand by and watch him use the curse on the relic on any of these innocent people. “Dante!” she screamed. The roar of the crowd was undoubtedly too much for him to hear over. If he was there. If her heart led her to the right place. Finally. She saw the edge, like an invisible line had been drawn in a near perfect circle around two men. Dante. Her heart thudded against her heart like a bass drum. Yet even that couldn’t drown out the thundering of the crowd. Walls of people. Here to see what? These two men talk? Their words were lost, yet she could see their expressions, their lips moving. Anger. High emotion. She jerked her head as a boy ran into the middle of the circle and grabbed a bag. Her bag. Her blood ran cold. The relic. “Give me that,” she shouted and burst out of the crowd to chase him. Her legs ached at the sudden demands she made on the muscles there, but she pushed toward him. He darted a look back at her and then nearly dove headfirst into the crowd. She followed. “That’s mine! Stop. Thief!” The crowd wasn’t willing to let him through so quickly. She caught up before he was able to break all the way through. She grabbed for his shirt and finally snagged it. 120

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The bag tumbled from his grasp. Light caught the white plastic as it twisted in the air. She fell to her knees, grabbing for it. But couldn’t reach. The relic rolled free. “No!” she screamed, scrambling on all fours to get to it before anyone else. The noise around her was almost muted, the pressure in her head pounding. Everything was in slow motion—her movements. The hands reaching for her. For the small white statue. “Stop!” The voice was new, yet it streaked straight through to the cold pit of her stomach. In that instant, when the hum settled into empty silence and a dark chill fell over her, she knew. Dante had been telling the truth. About the curse. About the relic. About the demon.

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Chapter Sixteen “Don’t do it. Don’t pick it up,” she pleaded. Cammie couldn’t count the hands that all reached for the artifact. An equal number of hands clawed at her back and shoulders as she fought to get to it. Where was Dante? This man—demon—whatever he was—was right behind her. She would not have been surprised to be suddenly pulled from the ground by some spell and tossed against the trees that lined the park. But it didn’t happen, she just felt this incredible weight pushing her down, making each inch closer seem like miles. The bag and the clothes inside it were being torn apart. She couldn’t imagine what these people were looking for. She reached for some of the pieces, not really caring about the clothing per se, but there was a desperate need to hold on to something. It was as if everything tangible was being ripped from her grasp—time after time. So what that she’d said she didn’t care about the bag and the clothes and the relic. She had lied to herself. Especially about the relic. She’d sacrificed to come down to Mexico in the first place and then spent hours—days working to get it free. It may not have been the most dangerous of jobs, at least then, but right now it was shaping up to be. No one was going to take that statue from her. A surge of adrenaline propelled her forward. She wriggled against the hands on her back and her arms that tried to slow her pace. They would not get it. They could not have it. She reached out, but doing so lost her balance and fell face forward onto the unforgiving ground. Blindly she groped, her hand connecting. The sharp edge of the angel’s wing cut into her palm, causing her to jerk. When she tried to close her hand around it. It was gone. Gone. She lifted her chin and blinked the dust out of her eyes. What seemed like hundreds of people milled around, all vying for a look or perhaps a piece of the treasure. What would happen? She put her hands on either side of her head and tried to push up off the ground, but found herself held down. Her chest reconnected soundly with the hard-packed dirt and her breath was forced from her lungs. No. This couldn’t be happening. “Let me up,” she hissed through clenched teeth. This time no one kept her from standing, but neither were they forgiving when she tried to see what had become of the relic. 122

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“Please,” she muttered, though no one was listening. These people were like unblinking zombies, way more worried about what this evil snake of a man was doing than the fact that she was trying to get through. Laughter tore through her soul. She knew that feeling. Just like the tornado that nearly pushed her down that ravine. Just like that vision with the fiery hand. She swallowed. Must stay strong. She had to. He would kill her. No doubt in her mind. She glanced up at his features. He wasn’t ugly. From a distance she might think him handsome. But the evil was there, so clearly there, right beneath the mask of a face he wore. His eyes pulled at her like a magnet. Cammie forced herself to count to ten and focus on the collar of his shirt as he touched her face. She recoiled and knocked his hand away, but never let her eyes leave that spot. The knowledge wasn’t in her head. All of it, straight from her heart. “Don’t touch me again,” she warned. Her mind scattered in a million different directions. Where was Dante and why wasn’t he helping her? Why was the demon allowed to get this close to her? What did he want? She didn’t want the answer to that, but how could she defend herself against an onslaught she didn’t understand? The artifact. That’s what they all wanted. That much she knew. Who had it now? She kicked out at the demon’s shin, stepping backward as she did. They crowd literally swallowed her up. But they frightened her, their empty, uncaring eyes looking right through her. “Where is it?” Cammie fought with fists and feet. Her weight wasn’t much but she put her shoulder down and rammed it into a few solar plexuses to get by. She grabbed at anything white. Adrenaline drove the freight train that encircled her head. Faster and faster. She wouldn’t let it go. She had to get it. Had to. Tears streaked her face and she yelled the culmination of her fear, anger and frustration at everyone who crossed her path. Until… “Looking for this?” How had… That thought was cut short when she saw the evil man, the demon, lift the relic above his head. How didn’t matter now. Above him, thunderclouds clapped, lightning lit up the sky like fireworks. And beneath her, the ground rumbled. Empty. Cold. But nothing would take away her determination. “No!” she screamed and charged at him. She pushed, shoved, beat fists against his chest. All the while he laughed and held the small piece of marble above her reach. “You want it that badly?” She backed up, her chest heaving. “Give it to me,” she demanded. She wasn’t backing down. Not after all this. 123

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“Tsk, tsk,” he said as he waggled a finger in front of her face. She wanted to grab it and snap the bone. If she could have. “It’s mine now. My power. All mine.” She imagined his eyes would have changed from empty blackness to a glowing red. It was as if she could see the empowerment within him. Was he a man? Was he mortal? Would he die if someone mortally wounded him? She couldn’t. She didn’t have the capabilities, but was beginning to understand the desire. She didn’t like the cold empty feeling of this consuming hate. Hadn’t Dante spoken of the relic and the demon? Why hadn’t she listened closely? Why hadn’t she believed him earlier? This would be easier to handle if she had. He sighed, like a man satiated after a nourishing meal. “You want it?” he asked, teasing her with it, dangling it almost within her grasp. She wouldn’t act like a desperate child, despite the urge to do so. Simply, she nodded and clenched her fists. “Here.” He acted as if he would place it in her outstretched hand, but instead reached over and laid it on a sleeping baby’s chest. Images of Mohec’s wife left her frozen in place for a moment. She reached for it, but a hand stopped her by grabbing her forearm. “Wait.” Dante? Oh God, it was Dante. She moved to throw herself into his arms, but his expression rooted her to the spot. He looked…different. Larger than life. Almost like…the demon did. Superhuman in subtle ways. Indescribable ways. Dante’s eyes were flat, but not as badly as the people who mulled around them, walking this way and that like a factory of windup toys. It was almost as if a curtain had been drawn there. Keeping something out, or hiding something within? But the demon would find some mission, she was sure. Turn them all into puppets. The visions she’d seen before were starting to make sense. If only she’d paid closer attention. “Dante, help.” “It’s too late. He’s gotten it. He’s used it. It’s empty now, just a shell. Just an empty, tainted statue.” “Well, dammit, it’s my empty statue and I’m not leaving without it.” The demon picked it back up and tossed it from hand to hand. “You want it? You get it.” He turned and melted into the crowd. Cammie shrugged free of Dante’s grip and tried to follow. But the path had closed. “Where have you been?” she turned on Dante. “Why weren’t you here to help?” “You left. You shouldn’t have come back.” “It’s my fault? Mine? I can start placing blame with you.” She poked him in the chest and drew herself up to her full height to best look him in the eye. “You took it 124

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from me. Then you left it there, lying on the ground over there, to get stolen. If I hadn’t been there, who knows where it would be.” “Probably not with him,” he said, his voice much too calm and even for this conversation. “Dante, look at me.” She didn’t give him a choice. “Look me in the eye. What is going on here?” He scratched his cheek and looked around them, moving only his eyes. “Very long story. We need to get out of here. It’s not safe. Mark my words, he’ll be after you next.” Cammie dug in her heels as Dante grabbed her arm and tried to pull her along. “No. You wait. I’m not going anywhere without answers.” “What you’ve seen isn’t enough?” he asked. Wavy locks of hair fell into his forehead and nearly covered his raised eyebrows. His eyes glittered, but she found nothing sinister there. Still. She couldn’t accept the failure so easily. She wanted him to help her—to fight to get the relic back. Now. Wait a minute. Narrowing her eyes at him, she wondered if he had somehow caused the change of heart. Until ten minutes ago, she’d been happy to not have the statue and be on her way to getting home. “Oh, it’s enough to believe that this is the demon you’ve talked about. Why can’t you…zap him or something? And who are you to fight demons?” He reached out and touched her cheek, the same exact gesture the demon had tried. But Dante’s fingers were warm. She closed her eyes and let herself be enveloped by the cherished feeling he communicated through that single point of contact. Maniacal laughter littered the air around them and destroyed the moment. She shivered uncontrollably. That man was pure evil. More than she ever felt in her life. She couldn’t wait to get away from him. “He grows more powerful,” Dante said as he dropped his hand. “We really must go.” This time she didn’t balk when he encouraged her along. “Where are we going?” she asked. At least she deserved that answer. “Far enough away. This city won’t be secure tonight.” Cammie looked down at her clothing. Talk about leaving town with nothing but the shirt on her back. “I can’t do that again.” “We’ll get supplies. You’ve still got the money?” He reached for her hand and twined his fingers through hers. Okay, maybe she could do this. Dante was here. He’d take care of her like he did before. She squeezed his fingers and nodded. “We’ll just get enough to carry—basic provisions.” As in no hotel room? He had got to be kidding. “Please tell me you meant we were leaving this area and getting another hotel room. I’d really like to just stay safe until tomorrow so I can make arrangements to get home. If the demon’s after me, as you say, 125

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then getting out of Mexico is the best thing. You can come too. The group that funded this expedition would be thrilled to hear what you have to say about the curse—” “You won’t be going home tomorrow.” Dante’s voice was flat. Cammie stopped short, but her temper lit up like a firecracker. Wrong answer. “Oh yes I will be. If you try to stop me, I’ll call the police and report you kidnapped me.” “By that time my old pal, Damien, will own the town and you’ll be turned over to him.” What was he talking about? “Damien? Who’s he? Your friend?” Surely he wasn’t talking about the demon. “That—man. That was the demon. He’s Damien?” “That was him, yes. He’s an old acquaintance. We’re on different sides.” “Sides of what?” She shook her head, fighting against the feeling of waking up from a strange dream and absolutely no knowledge of what was going on around her. “He’s evil. I’m not.” Riddles. That made slightly more sense, as she had clearly seen the evil in the man. But just when she thought she might have figured something out, he tended to say something that blew that hypothesis out of the water. “You have a lot of explaining to do. Start talking.”

***** Cammie, I’m an angel. How could he just blurt that out? He couldn’t. That was the problem. They walked side by side through the now quiet row of restaurants and souvenir storefronts. It was amazing how people had walked away from these places, leaving them wide open. He pushed Cammie toward a clothing store. “Pick out a change of clothes. I’ll be right back.” He ducked in the restaurant that shared the same plaza and turned off the grill and activated the exhaust system. These people had answered the call to the demon with no regard to what they were walking away from. Somewhere down inside him, he realized that he’d underestimated the demon. Or maybe it was the people. As an example, Cammie was far stronger and smarter than the average person. “I won’t just steal clothes.” She stood at the doorway, hands on hips. He sucked in a deep breath and pushed past her. “No one said anything about stealing. Why do you always think the worst?” She rolled her eyes upwards. “We shouldn’t be in here. There’s no one here.”

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Dante wasn’t sure whether anyone would come back either, at least before it was ransacked and destroyed. Complete and utter chaos, that was their fate. Their doom. He opened his mouth to speak, but noticed she was fingering a pale yellow blouse. “We’ll leave—” Cammie lifted her face to his. He saw fire reflected in her eyes. “Run!” he yelled, grabbing her and darting toward the back of the store. “What?” she screamed tried to pull herself free. He didn’t understand how she hadn’t seen it. An army of men marching by, their weapons were torches. The demon was taking chaos a step farther. The glass windows behind them shattered. The voices of the men were audible, but not decipherable. The bitter smell of the smoke was already sharp in his nostrils. “Go,” he hissed, pushing her on. They snaked through a storeroom of boxes and displays and burst out a back door. She stopped short. Dante ran right into the back of her, instinctively wrapping his arms around her to keep them both from falling. “What have I done?” she asked. Her voice shook. He could ask the same question. And would. Over and over. But not now, not when their lives were in very real danger. “This way,” he hissed. He pointed toward the crowded parking lot. They could duck among the cars until he was sure these madmen weren’t after them specifically. What could Damien want anyway? He had the relic. She didn’t whimper or complain as he nudged her along and kept her below the level of the windows. The darkness that the demon had brought down on the town actually benefited them. Storms were brewing. Unlike anything nature ever intended. “Cammie, you need to listen to me and listen hard.” It was time. If she wasn’t prepared it could end up killing them both. She lowered herself to a crouched position and searched his eyes. He hid nothing. Let her see his fear, maybe then she’d believe what he was going to say. “Damien is a demon. He may look like a man but he has powers far greater than you’ll ever fathom. Nothing will stop him. He has no conscience and cares nothing for this land or these people, yet he will use them.” She didn’t blink. But she nodded. First test—passed. “What does he want?” “Power.” She leaned against the silver car. “As in take over the world power?” He nodded. Could she fathom it at the level he knew? “Listen,” he looked around, trying to gauge how much time they had. “There’s always a consummate battle

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between good and evil. It is more than a written law or a moral code. Without knowing the details, just believe me when I say there are clearly two sides, and all people have a choice. He means to eliminate that choice.” Her face hardened into a stony stare at something over his shoulder. A vise tightened in his chest. It had already started. If he could only get ahead of it, rise up all his own power to fight against it, he might have a chance. “I did this.” Her voice was a gravely whisper. Flat, emotionless. Her eyes went blank. “Cammie, no. No.” He was getting to her. Please do not let him get to her. “You didn’t. I did. It’s my fault. Let’s get out of here.” Something snapped. She blinked, first at him, then at the billowing black smoke rising around them on all sides. “Just like what I saw.” Yes. The vision. Not exactly like it, but close enough. “Come on.” He held her hand tightly, feeling a surge course up his arms from their point of contact. The demon may have the relic, but he had Cammie. All he needed to worry about right now was keeping her safe and alive. Then he’d figure it out. He had to. He was the angel, wasn’t he? As he looked into her wide blue-green eyes, glistening with tears, he wasn’t so sure.

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Chapter Seventeen “This way,” Dante said. Ahead of him, Cammie struggled to keep running. They’d cleared the center of the city and had only a few open lots to make it through before they reached the cover of the trees. Out here the birds sang despite the artificial nightfall that had been cast up on them. He was tempted to force the change—if he had the power—and become one of them. He could carry Cammie. How she’d react to that was another story. Behind them, smoke rose from the city, nearly half the lights that should have been visible from the distance hidden by the thick ash. The town burned. Damien was creating hell on earth. “Do you trust me?” he asked, grabbing her arm and spinning her around. The darkness didn’t lend to the ability to see her features well, he had to rely on her touch and her voice. Lack of an immediate response worried him. He released his grip on her forearm and slid his hand up her arm. She shivered, but didn’t back away. “Yes. I trust you.” His fingers threaded in her unruly hair. He kissed her then, not hesitating because he’d talk himself out of it. The last thing he needed right now was the distraction of her soft lips and warm body. But he needed her complete trust. They were after them. Her, likely. Damien had vowed to have her. Probably for the sole reason of proving to Dante that he could. She pulled away enough to look up at him. At least she didn’t wriggle the rest of the way out of his arms. “Trust me, Cammie. I’ll never hurt you. Never.” He had no choice, really. After turning her around, away from him, he lifted his arms and let the air current catch him. As his body became airborne over her head, he heard her gasp. Not scream—gasp. If only he could speak, he’d reassure her that it was him, and that it was okay. He just hoped his last words had been heard, and meant something. He swooped down and picked her up by her shoulders, careful to grip just tight enough to hold on, but not enough to dig into her smooth skin. She screamed then. And kicked. He flew beneath the tree line, and when he couldn’t, he hugged the shadows and tried to stay just above the thickest portions of the forest. This area was sparsely

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populated, but he’d rather not have anyone catch a glimpse of the giant bird carrying a human off into the woods.

***** Cammie stilled when she realized there were two outcomes to her situation. She could wriggle free and fall or simply find out what had her and where they were going. The other option, and the one she was leaning toward, was believing that this was somehow another vision—it was only happening in her mind. There was no moon, no stars to help her see. Of course, it wasn’t actually nighttime yet. Straining to look up, she thought she could make out a dark outline against the black sky, but it could be her eyes were playing tricks on her. Below her was nothing. The ground was there, had to be there, but she had no idea just how far into the inky distance it was. Against the horizon she could make out the tops of trees, at least she expected them to be trees, against a hazy light that didn’t make it to this part of the landscape. Part of her wanted to close her eyes and hold her breath until this ride was over, the other part struggled and strained to see any kind of distinguishing feature on the earth below her. “Dante,” she whispered. Surely if the thing that carried her was of that demon’s doing, she’d feel the vile coldness of it, wouldn’t she? It wouldn’t care if it hurt her. There was a tenderness in the way this…creature held her. Who was he? She was sure Dante had something to do with this. How? As soon as her feet were on solid ground again, she was going to demand some answers. That is, if she could find Dante again. She shivered. They had risen higher; she’d felt the surge of power above her and the brisk change of temperature. The only thing she could do was wrap her arms around herself. And maybe think warm thoughts. Her mind went to much warmer thoughts than she had planned. The crackle of thunder behind her had brought back the memory of her first night with Dante. That felt like so long ago. What she wouldn’t give to go back to that moment when all she knew was the feel of Dante’s hands on her fevered skin, the taste of the rain that dripped from his chin… She did close her eyes then and remembered how nothing else had existed. Just the hot rain, the brilliant storm above them and their unguarded desire. She wanted to find that again—that utter bliss of feeling Dante’s body pulse inside her as she came around him. He had kissed her twice today without any of that magic.

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Sudden shivers chased away any lingering warmth brought on by her wayward thoughts. Had it been more to her than it had to him? Was he using her? The course of flight abruptly changed direction. She reached up, fearful the grip on her shoulders would loosen and she’d fall to her death into the dark abyss below her. Her stomach rolled as she touched the claw. Her blood was ice. There was no name for this fear. She was going to die. That was all there was to it. She swallowed back the bitter taste and held on. Taking her chance with this giant bird or dragon or whatever it was—the scaliness and narrow feel of the feet—she shuddered again—was better than falling to the earth. But the further they went, the more her skin crawled and the cold air burned her nose and lungs, the more she doubted the idea that this was simply another vision. Besides, her mind was much too aware. Thoughts bounced around her head with no direction. Was this how one saw their life flash before their eyes? She rehashed the hotel scenario, the phone call she’d gotten to take this excavation job, and then she recalled some of her other missions, all of which she thought herself in relatively precarious positions. Nothing…nothing compared to being carried above the trees by a creature that technically shouldn’t exist. They descended. She still couldn’t see anything except blackness. How did this creature see? Or did it? It wouldn’t blindly fly, would it? Her feet swung back and forth. There was no way to control them, no strength to hold them still. This unusual flight was on a crash course with the ground. No way could they pull out of this one. Any second now… Her breath came in gasps. She swallowed and closed her eyes. Not that she’d see it coming anyway. Her toes scraped first. She pulled up her knees, but knew her muscles couldn’t hold them up there for long. Too fast. She let go of the claws, and of any hope. At least she wouldn’t go without a fight. She put her feet down again, intentionally dragging the toes of her shoes to try to slow them down. Then she started to run. Several times she tripped and was sure the claws would cut into her shoulders. Still too fast. She gathered her momentum and tried again. Just as she felt ready to fall again, her shoulders were released. The ground was uneven and her balance too far forward. She landed facedown, spread-eagle in the grass. She wasn’t dead. Slowly she wriggled her toes and feet and tried to bend her knees. Her arms were next. The muscles there complained, making her wonder if death would have been a more merciful option.

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Rubbing the back of her hand over her mouth, she smelled the richness of the earth. Fertile soil, here. They were near water. Not ocean. Inland water. She tried to listen. She heard nothing. Well, nothing over the chirp of insects and occasional rustle of leaves. She curled up into a ball and waited. Warm hands reached under her arms and lifted her to her feet. “Cammie, are you okay? Are you hurt?” It was Dante’s voice. And her body hadn’t betrayed her, but she knew it was his touch on her arms—hands that now felt through the darkness and traced her features, her neck, shoulders and arms. She stopped him before inquisitive fingers went any lower. “How’d you get here?” she asked. What she wouldn’t give to see. Be sure it was him. Make sure she wasn’t passed out and dreaming. “Shh,” came his response. Cammie backed away, shrugging off his arms, but holding onto his wrist. And she did lower her voice to a whisper. “What’s going on here? Where are we?” How did Dante get here? Unless… “Am I back where we started? Something grabbed me. Flew away. Did I imagine that? Did you make me dream that?” She tightened her grip on his wrist. No way was she letting go now. “No, hold this.” As if he hadn’t heard a word she’d just said, he grabbed her hand, opened the palm and placed something in it. She closed her palm over it. Light shot out from between all her fingers. She promptly jumped back and jerked her hand free. “What was that?” She rubbed her hand to make sure he hadn’t somehow put a laser hole through it or something. “A flashlight. Here.” He held a small disc in his hand. It had felt about the size and weight of a halfdollar but was slightly domed. Now that she could see it held between his two fingers, she felt the fool. A flashlight. Right. Heck, one could buy any variety of small key chain lights like this that were made to simply pinch to activate. She’d seen them in discount stores all the time. “Sorry,” she lamented and accepted the piece. She kept it off, suddenly more frightened of what she couldn’t see in the arc of yellow light cast by the tiny bulb than the darkness itself. “Wait. What about…” He didn’t seem worried. “About?”

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She didn’t answer, intrigued instead by the sure way his hands moved over his own mini-light and adjusted the light to be a flat, but powerful beam that shone well into the distance. “Don’t do that. It might be in there.” Silence. He knew. Shivers raced up and down her arms and shook her entire body. “Dante.” With her eyes closed she forced the question out of her mouth. “What was that thing?” “It’s a long story.” She’d heard that before. Exhale. “We obviously have plenty of time.” Or very little. Maybe he knew that. “Are we going to die?” she whispered, more curious than afraid. “I can’t answer that, Cammie.” He flipped off his light and seemed resigned to telling his story before forcing her into the cover of the trees. “Now that the demon has the key, it’s hard to say if he’s stoppable.” She looked behind her, knowing that although she couldn’t see the rising smoke, it was there. “Tell me about this demon.” He paced. She could hear how his voice changed as he circled and walked back and forth. “A long time ago he was sent to earth. One of many who came. Things were much different then.” Cammie imagined he was trying to explain how, but she knew. Her archaeological background had included lots of studies in anthropology. Yet it seemed he went farther back than that. “This land was empty save for the occasionally migrating tribe. The world’s population hadn’t spread out. Controlling them would have been easy, then.” Controlling? She bit her lip. “Another group of beings were sent to the land to stop these demons from gaining that control, from stripping their choice from them.” She had to interject then. “Choice?” This sounded farfetched, like he was reciting some fairy tale. “Like I said before—good and evil. Right and wrong. However you want to look at it. Perhaps if I said the demon would have stolen man’s very conscience from them you would understand.” “I see.” But she wasn’t sure she did. That would require power she couldn’t fathom. “All over the world the people were tempted, influenced. Some crumbled beneath the demons and corruption ensued, some fought it and stayed true. Ultimately, good won over evil.” She couldn’t say she wasn’t intrigued. Something like this would have been invisible to the history books, if indeed it happened before such things were recorded. If it even happened.

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Cammie shook her head. Dante’s low voice rumbled past her ears and had spoken directly to her love for historical mysteries. He’d appealed to her curiosity. She nearly retorted that he was full of it. But she wasn’t stupid. That was the reaction years of studying science had conditioned her for. What if he was telling the truth? What if even a little bit of what he was saying was true? She’d already experienced far too many things that science could not explain to simply use written guidelines any longer. “How long ago are you talking about?” If anything she could commit this information to memory and do some investigations. “Time-wise?” he asked, then paused. “I couldn’t say. Thousands of years?” Thousands of years old? Thousands of years ago this demon was sent to earth, if this were true…and now he decided to come out of the woodwork and start burning towns and brainwashing its citizens? “Where has he been all these years? Certainly he wasn’t waiting until now to wreak havoc on the world. And what of these others?” Dante seemed far away. She strained to hear him. “The others were destroyed. Balance was restored and the people retained their right of choice.” “Why wasn’t this one destroyed? Where has he been?” Fact or fiction, there was something to this story. She could feel it in her bones and Dante believed it. She felt the passion vibrating on the very air between them. The need to see him while he spoke was too great. She felt vulnerable. That was something she didn’t like at all. She flipped on her light. She expected to find him still pacing, but instead, it unnerved her to find him barely six feet in front of her, crouched and staring at her. As if he could have seen her. A shiver raced up her back. His eyes glistened; his lips were set in a serious line, his expression completely unreadable. Like a statue. He swallowed and averted his eyes. She let out the breath she was holding. “Buried,” he said, bringing his gaze back to her. “Dormant. Not asleep, just…trapped. For years he has been learning, monitoring, planning, ultimately anticipating that one day he would be set free.” “Set free,” she repeated. “What do you mean?” She herself started pacing, then stopped just a few feet in front of him. “For every evil sent, there was an equal one of good. In all cases except this one, the good triumphed and the evil was banned from this earth. The battle with this demon ended in…sort of a draw. He was locked away, but could not be banished.” Silence. She was trying to digest this—and surely he couldn’t blame her for finding it difficult.

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“Cammie?” He closed the distance between them and pulled her hands into his. She relished the warmth of them, despite the distance these words seemed to be putting between them. “Cammie,” he repeated. “It is important that you listen with your heart.” He reached down and touched two fingertips to her chest. In the pale glow of the light she still held, the urgency of his face was exaggerated. “Tell me,” she said, backing up. “Just tell me already. I can take it.” But she turned and paced about six feet in either direction, steeling herself to hear the implausible. Calming her voice, she returned to him and said, “I think I’ve accepted that he’s a demon. I can’t doubt that something very strange picked me up and carried me across this field. There has to be a reason that, despite all this modern technology, I can’t get out of this country. At this stage of the game, I’ll believe anything you tell me.” There. She crossed her hands over her chest and waited. He stared at her a moment. “I’m not a man, Cammie. I’m an angel.”

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Chapter Eighteen “Angel?” Cammie dropped her light and immediately bent to search for it. Thoughts raced through her mind—questions, answers, disbelief and then the desire to want to believe. A hand closed over hers. Pitch-black and Dante had found her hand, found the light and returned it to her. As if he could see. Could he see? She squeezed the light and looked at him. Dante. Same as yesterday. Same deep chocolate-brown eyes that she opened her eyes to, same wavy, curly hair that shouldn’t look sexy, but did. Same calm, peaceful demeanor. Were the signs there? Or was he making it up? “Dante?” she whispered, and reached out to touch his face. “I don’t understand. How?” Yes she was afraid, yes she doubted it—seriously doubted it—but… “Your heart tells you to believe?” It was as if he was reading her thoughts. She walked away, putting distance between them. Breathing room. “Logically,” she started, then winced, knowing that’s exactly what Dante didn’t want her to say. “If I say I believe in the demon, which I do—at least I think I do—then I can’t say I don’t believe in angels. But… you?” With the light on him, she walked back and forth as far away as she dared. “You don’t look like an angel.” “Cammie.” His voice was a warning, but also full of humor. Despite it all, she smiled. “I know,” she said, before he could. “Neither does the demon.” It just was so…crazy! How could this be? The more she tried to digest it and believe it, the more she knew she was on the fast track to losing her mind. Demons? Angels? Curses? Absolutely and totally against any sort of scientific fact and she had not an iota of proof. Her colleagues and peers would laugh her out of the world of research for even suggesting such a thing. But neither could she deny the things she knew. She looked back up at Dante. Even now, she couldn’t resist the tug on her heart. He watched her with such curiosity, but she sensed perhaps a certain level of apprehension. There was no sneer, no overabundance of confidence. He looked so…innocent. He’d promised he’d never hurt her. He’d protected her. And he’d loved her.

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“You can’t be an angel. We had sex!” She immediately slapped a hand over her mouth at the bluntness of the accusation. He smiled, a crooked smile that the shadows exaggerated. But then he frowned. “Yes, we did. Perhaps I should explain a little more. This is the first time I’ve taken…mortal form.” She studied his face as he spoke, wishing it were daylight so she didn’t miss any hints. Human nature, she figured, to analyze and pick apart anything that sounded too good to be true. He continued, “All my existence—” His fingers grazed her cheek. “I wanted to do this, give you all the details and tell you what I know—under different, better circumstances. But I messed up. I let Damien find my weaknesses. He exploited them. Used them to get the relic.” His hand dropped and he shrugged. “I’m not much of an angel anymore.” “Wait a minute.” She grabbed his arm as he started to walk away. “You’re not leaving that like that. I need answers.” “No,” he turned, his features all chiseled even in the faint light. “I can’t leave. But things are different now that he has the key. This battle will not be anything like last time.” “It was you. You were sent that first time then?” She was smart. Perhaps the hints he tried to instill had been heard. “The demon and I faced off in a battle of wills, of powers. Things I cannot explain.” He shook his head. When he looked at her his eyes were clear, but his forehead creased. “We ended up locked, neither able to bend the other. Eventually, a truce was called. Because the other angels were all victors, their collective power enabled me to contain the demon within a tomb. But I was to go with it, as a guard. To make sure evil could not be unleashed.” “Then how?” She watched him swallow and look upward. “The tomb was sealed by an angel— one whose likeness you see on the relic. It was never supposed to be opened. Even the demons tried to free their own, but they could not. They cursed the key—the relic. It became buried and forgotten, save for ancient legend.” Cammie studied his face, thoroughly relieved that he wouldn’t leave. For a moment there, she thought he might be backing down from his responsibilities. “What are you going to do?” she said, trying to make her voice softer. The story was amazing. For once, not an ounce of doubt entered her mind as he spoke. “We need to get out of the open field. There’s no way to know if he’s strong enough to call forth others.” At his bidding, she pocketed the tiny light and let him lead her into the darkness. “Is it really even night yet?” she asked. “No. He’s powerful.”

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“Aren’t you?” She had so many questions, but she wavered on such a fine line between awe and disbelief. His breath ruffled the top of her hair. The warmth of his body seeped into hers. She felt it, immense uncoiled, unleashed strength there. Almost enough to empower her. She turned into his chest and laid her hand over his heart. He rested his chin in her head. “I’m not sure if what I have is enough. I’ve compromised so much of my strength by being with you…by putting lust ahead of my mission.” The moment was all wrong, but the feeling was there, building inside her. Lust? She didn’t like that word, and it didn’t fit. What they had was much more than that. Of all that had happened, being intimate with Dante had been the one thing that had been right. Her body stirred, turning into the hard planes of his chest, the way his thumb absently rubbed against her shoulder. She shivered. “There’s shelter here. Let’s go.” But he didn’t release her. His profile was sharp against the blurred backdrop. Wait a minute. “Is it getting lighter?” What does that mean? “Dante?” He was wrong. Just as the sun reached through the darkness with its powerful rays, the truth bore into her heart. He lowered his lips and met hers. Black turned to gray in the instant of their simple touch. He drew back and smiled and brushed his palm over her cheek. “Light is hope.” “Love is hope,” she whispered back. She reached up and pulled his mouth down for another taste. Somehow, through all this craziness, she’d fallen in love with him. Inside her, a power like she’d never known welled up and cried to be let loose. She felt the light, somewhere, deep inside, she knew this wasn’t wrong. He pulled her back under the shade of the trees. Around them, light seeped through the clouds and brought the color back to life. Dante didn’t deepen the kiss, despite what she thought were clear indications that she wanted him to. Finally, she snaked her tongue out and touched his lips. He pulled back for a moment, allowing barely an inch of air to separate their mouths. Miles too many, in her opinion, but she waited. Her hands roamed up his chest, pressing against the tight muscles beneath his shirt. His breathing gave him away. Whether he wanted to or not, his body reacted to her. She licked her lips. He groaned in response. “Cammie,” he breathed. “We shouldn’t.” A funnel of warm brightness encircled them. “Why not?” She had to ask. Didn’t he feel it? The more she gave, the brighter it got. “Look at what’s happening here. The daylight’s coming back. I can hear the birds—” He shook his head. “What you see is the outward indication that I’m strong enough to withstand the temptation of the flesh. I have to.” “You weren’t actively fighting before and it wasn’t getting lighter. Try me, Dante.” 138

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The sun burst free and burned brighter than she’d ever seen. It nearly blinded her. “Damien has the relic. He’s stronger by far than I am now. I can’t let my guard down.” She sighed. Always the damn relic. It wasn’t that she was that eager to jump his bones, but the reasons he was giving were of no substance. “We’ll get the relic back. Feel this?” She spun around, feeling like a child in a field of wildflowers, all beauty and freedom embracing her. She was giddy. It felt like pure oxygen was entering her lungs, revitalizing her. Yet when she looked at Dante, she saw he experienced none of that. He wasn’t frowning, but his eyes held a dull sadness. She reached up and pushed back a curl that had fallen onto his forehead. “I love your hair, Dante. Have I told you that? The way it springs around—” “Stop.” No way was she stopping. The joy was a drug, and compared to the heaviness and worry, it was more precious than anything at this moment. All she wanted to do was share it with him. “It’s like it hugs my fingers when I thread them through the curls. And maybe it’s not the most masculine type of compliment, but it’s so silky.” She made the move to reach her other hand up, but he caught it. “Cammie,” his voice vibrated over her skin. So low and throaty. “There’s nothing wrong with this,” she told him. “We’re consenting, just following nature.” He lowered his lips until they almost touched hers. “Oh, I want you. But I weaken myself by giving in to lust.” Nonsense. “Give in to love, Dante.” She struggled to pull her hand free and wrapped it around his neck. She silenced anything he could have said by pressing her lips tightly against his. His fingers found her waist, but he straightened his elbows to separate them. “You’d take the chance that this could mean I’d ultimately fail against the demon?” Around her, sunlight streamed through gaps in the wooded canopy and spotlighted beautiful wildflowers on the jungle-like floor. Birds serenaded them from unseen perches. A light breeze kept the heat of the day from being uncomfortable. Cammie could clearly see Dante’s strength at work. The right words even fell from her mouth, probably more to her amazement than his. “You always have told me to listen to my heart. Well, I am. Love me, Dante. Make love to me right here.” She met his eyes with a challenge. She felt confident, bursting with a love and warmth that could not be tarnished. She would not let Dante’s words—obviously words the demon had used against him, she understood that now—cheapen what they had done. “You should know better than to listen to him. Listen to me. Listen to this.” She rubbed her thumb against the pulse that raged at the base of his neck, then slid her hand to lay flat over his heart. Such emotion flowed through his veins. He may be

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an angel, but he was all man at the moment. She had only to nudge him toward her with the slightest of pressure. He closed the gap with an urgency that ripped the breath right from her. She laughed then, overflowing with joy. Dante nipped at her throat and rained kisses along her collarbone and then up to neck, over her chin and found her mouth. Cammie opened to him right away, eager to feel his warm tongue sliding over hers and lighting a fire deep within her. He slid his hands down over her hips and cupped her buttocks. She rocked against him, moaning despite her effort to keep her desire in check. Yes, this was right. So very right. With little effort, he picked her up. She immediately wrapped her legs around him. His cock pressed against her already swollen clit and sent bolts of lightning throughout her body. “Hold on,” he said, while his teeth nipped at her bottom lip. Like she was going anywhere. Each step was torture. The friction of their bodies rubbing together as he walked was threatening to be enough to send her to the edge—before they even got their clothes off. “Dante,” she gasped, pressing her face into the hollow on the underside of his jaw. “You—” Step. Oh God. “Have—” Step. Whimper. “To—” Step. Holy— Her back connected with something hard and he ground his pelvis into hers. “Put your legs down.” She did. Her pussy throbbed with anticipation. “Dante, please.” The ache was too much to bear. She reached between her legs. “I’ll take care of that,” he said, replacing her fingers with his. Through the thin material she could feel the heat of his hand over her core, applying pressure and rubbing against her clit in a way that would send her to heaven and back in merely moments. But he stopped. “Wha—”

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“Let’s get these off.” No argument there. She pushed down on the pants and wriggled to get her legs free of the confining material. But when she reached for his waistband, he pulled back. “We have time,” he muttered. Dante nudged her back against the tree and knelt before her. She fisted her hands in his hair and led him toward her. Her chest heaved and she leaned her head back, waiting for that first arc of sensation to course through her. Tingles followed the touch of his hands on her thighs. She felt his breath skimming over that sensitive skin. When his tongue flicked out and scorched her inner thigh, her entire body shook. She let go of the last tendrils of hair she could reach and gripped the smooth trunk of the tree behind her for support. “Yes,” she hissed as his warm pant of air slid through her intimate curls. She wanted to feel his mouth there, his tongue stroking up and down the folds, lapping at her slit and slipping deep within her. The muscles in her stomach trembled in need. “So sweet.” She heard him, but barely registered what he said. His lips vibrated against her as he spoke. “Please,” she pleaded, her nails cutting into the tree behind her. She wanted to bend her knees and push her pussy against his face and release this driving, blinding need. She wasn’t prepared for the way her muscles forgot how to work or her bones failed to support her weight. His lips brushed hers in the most intimate of kisses. If she wasn’t cognizant of the tree beneath her back and under her palms, she might have thought she’d been lifted from the ground. Her head spun and her eyes failed to focus. All she knew was the feeling of his fingers slipping between her pussy lips and opening her up, then his tongue coating every inch of sensitive flesh with pleasuring strokes. She gritted her teeth and moaned. Waves crashed over her. She was already so hot, she didn’t know how she didn’t ignite and burn up. Her hips pushed against his mouth. It was so much, yet she couldn’t get enough. When he lifted his head and looked up at her, his lips glistening from her moisture, she gasped. “I want to taste you coming against my tongue.” His words were as erotic as the touch of his fingers on her inner thigh. Please! Her body couldn’t take any more. She slid down the tree a few inches, trying to get his fingers on her, his mouth on her. Anything. “Dante…” she nearly screamed out as two fingers slid up inside her. Her muscles clenched around them and she arched into them. He lowered his head again then. She would not survive this assault on her senses. “Oh! Oh!” she cried, and bit her lip. The combination of his tongue as it rubbed hard over her clit, first slow, then fast as his fingers continued to thrust inside her.

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Her nails raked the tree as the first shuddering climax ripped away her ability to breathe. With skillful fingers and eager tongue, he drew it out, emptying every drop of passion out of her. She gasped as his fingers withdrew and his mouth eased its intense administration. He rained gentle kisses over her thigh and hip. Her body trembled and shuddered, so spent, but so alive with the lightest of touches. “Dante,” she whispered as she let go of the tree and tried to pull him up and against her. He resisted. “I’m not done here.” With patience she could never match, he explored her legs—starting at the curve of her ankle and rising to the soaking juncture of her thighs. She shivered at the sensations of his feather light touch against the back of her legs right at the swell of her buttocks. Her breath caught as one of his fingers slid up between them. He dropped a kiss on the top of her thigh as he pressed and massaged the puckered opening he found there. She’d never experienced any kind of arousal from such a touch, but already her legs were shaking and her pussy clenching in a new wave of need. “You like that?” he asked, his breath once again permeating the light tuft of hair on her mound. She bit down hard on her bottom lip and nodded, barely moaning out an affirmative response. He slid his fingers farther down, drenching it with the fluid dripping from her slit, then returned his finger to her tight hole. The feeling of the warm wetness aroused her. While she ached for his thick cock to fill her pussy, she knew already that her body wanted to know the pleasure of it in her ass as well. She pushed against his hand as he started to breach the opening. “I want this.” His voice was throaty and low. “Yes,” she murmured. “Yes!” His finger slipped past the tight barrier. Once again he lapped at her pussy as his finger-fucked her back hole. He spread her, trying to prepare her, she knew, but the sweet pain of being able to experience this the first time…with him, sent her desire to new heights. “Fuck me, Dante. Don’t wait. I can’t take anymore.” He inserted a second finger and pulled around at the edges of the tight opening. Her clit ached for attention, but he was already half-standing and untucking his shirt from his pants. “Don’t move.” As if she could. His fingers left her and she held on to the tree with both hands as he quickly discarded his clothes. His well-built and fully tanned body glistened under the brightness of the sunlight that broke through the overhead leaves. His cock, hugely engorged, stood proud. 142

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She gasped, realizing what he intended. “We don’t have to,” he said. He must have seen the awe or fear on her face. Oh she wanted it already. “I’ve just…never…” “Me neither. But I’m going to.” He turned her around and helped her lift her shirt from her body. With his cock pushing against her ass, he reached around and lifted her breasts. Fire spread to all parts of her body. She pushed back against him, wiggling her hips just a little. She wanted to feel his hot erection throbbing against her as he did those amazing things to her nipples. She reached back and touched him, then found she’d get a better grip another way. She bent over and reached between her legs and pulled his cock down so that it rubbed against her nether lips and she could stroke the length of it with her hand. A thrill shot through her as Dante groaned. He pinched her nipples so hard they hurt, but then massaged the tips with a feather light touch. She used her own moisture to wet his length and held him against her body as she stroked his rock-hard shaft. He rocked against her, driving his cock against her. A little farther back, then forward, poised at the opening to her pussy. She tried to push him up inside her, but he laughed and bit her shoulder. “Easy does it, darling, or you’ll ruin what I have planned for both of us.” Didn’t matter. She wanted to feel his cock inside her and that’s what she was going to get. She pushed and backed up until he slipped into her wet opening. Her body immediately convulsed around him. Something low and primal—nearly a growl vibrated against her back. He pulled back. She feared he’d withdraw now that she had him where she wanted him. But then he pushed her over a bit farther and slid back in, burying himself inside her and holding. He throbbed against her inner walls, teasing. A whimper fell from her as he moved back only slightly and then thrust forward again. She held her hand there, feeling how completely he was inside her. He gasped as she cupped his balls and pulled him in, wanting to feel him touch parts of her that ached for his possession. His cock slid slowly into her, then back out. Her body convulsed and pushed against him, eager for it harder, a bit faster—anything but this unhurried pace that tortured her patience. How did he have the stamina for this when she was desperate for completion—almost to the point of begging? Dante pulled back and drew in a breath. He was nearly ready to explode from the way she responded to him. But not yet. The head of his cock now barely breached her. He reached down to the tighter opening between them. 143

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She tensed, but held. Her muscles closed around his cock and flooded with moisture. The noises she made, gasps, moans, they all drove him closer to the edge. She did that now when he bucked a bit, forcing the sensitized head of his hard-on to slide in and out of her pussy lips. She wouldn’t last any longer than he at this rate. He pulled some moisture back and rewet the site he was aching to fill. He bent his knees and slowly filled her with his fingers and his cock all at once. Sweet heaven. She clenched him so tightly he was sure she’d come right then. He didn’t move. He wanted to savor it, wanted her to wait until he’d buried his shaft in her ass and was ready to fill her with his seed. He worked his fingers. She wriggled against him. Did she know how crazy that made him? Finally, when he felt she was stretched enough, he pulled his cock from her pussy and positioned it over the puckered hole. “Cammie?” he moaned, determined to take it easy and not hurt her, yet dying to thrust inside and feel the tightness of her. “Yes. Yes,” she leaned over even farther, giving him a perfect view of her delicious ass and the opening he craved. Guiding his cock with one hand, he pulled on her hips until she opened for him. He heard her suck in her breath. He held then, slipping his hand lower to fondle her clit. She panted and moaned. Closing his eyes, he willed away the explosion he felt surging inside him. “More.” Her back arched and pushed her body against him. He watched as she took him in with her pressure. “Ohhhhh,” she wailed as his cock disappeared into her ass. Already she shook against him. He grasped her hips and braced as he pulled out, slowly. He would die if pleasure reached a higher pinnacle than this. “Fuck me, Dante… That’s good.” Nudging her thighs apart even farther, he inserted two fingers in her pussy once again. Her gasps were getting louder, nearly screams. She was so tight, so responsive; he still fought back the urge to thrust her full, but not yet. Not until he felt her relax beneath him. She pushed against the tree, unspoken invitation to fill her body to overflowing. Small pants of breath gave way to a moan, then a soft wail. It was easy to imagine her face—eyes closed, her bottom lip between her teeth, her face lifted up. It was a shame he couldn’t see her. He tuned the movement of his fingers to her own body’s rhythm, each time sliding in and out of her ass a little more, a little stronger. “Dante. Dante.” He heard her nails scraping against the bark of the tree she held onto for support. Juices flowed over his hand. She was so responsive. He massaged the nub, stroking in and out of the soaking wet folds and teasing the lips of her pussy once more. “Please,” she begged, shoving her ass at him even harder. No more. He couldn’t take it. His body was ready to give whether he released it or not. His fingers slid up and encircled her nipples, traced down her rib cage and dug in 144

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at her hipbones. With teeth clenched at the fiery friction of her tightness over the length of his cock, he withdrew nearly all the way, then somewhat faster, pushed back into her. She reached between her legs, and touched him. Shockwaves shot through him. Her hair fell over her features, blocking her expression. Again he pulled away, watching his swollen member leave her body. He rubbed his hands over her full, well-shaped ass and then let her guide her body back, swallowing him up. One more time. He could hear little above his own ragged breath. Sweat ran in rivulets down his body. The world shook around them. Thunder clapped overhead. The yell escaped him as he thrust himself back inside her and released his come to fill her even as his finger reached up and elicited her final scream of pleasure. She shuddered around him, her body racked with the spasms that were mirrored in his own. Around them a light misting rain cooled their bodies. For a moment, they both remained there, aftershocks setting off tiny shudders in first his body, then hers. Dante ran his hands down her sides, onto her hips and withdrew from her. Cammie finally stood up and lifted her face to the heavens. The rain fell around them heavier now, like tiny diamonds. Her face glowed, her smile so pure as she closed her eyes. The sunlight reflected off the raindrops that landed on her flushed cheeks, causing her skin to sparkle. Beautiful. His heart filled to overflowing with the joy she exuded. She licked droplets off her lips and opened her heavy eyelids to him. “You made it rain?” He read awe there, an almost childlike discovery. No fear. None. “Sorry.” He grinned. How could he not? As she tilted her head back down, damp ringlets fell against her temples. He reached out to push one back. “You aren’t sorry,” she said as she playfully pushed his hand away. No. He wasn’t. It felt good and clearly she enjoyed it. He’d give her the world just to see her smile. It was warmer than sunshine. He looked up. No dark clouds hovered. For a while, at least, the influence of the demon had been beaten back. But it would come back. He wouldn’t bring it up to her. Yet. Not when she clearly needed this moment of happiness to recharge. “Dante?” She snapped him back from his momentary thought of what it would be like to live like this—to be human and mortal and worry about nothing more than being with Cammie. He swallowed and grinned at her. “What, love?”

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That caused her eyes to widen. He didn’t use the term lightly, but they hadn’t ever truly discussed their feelings for one another, either. He noticed she held up their clothes. Wet, dirty clothes. “Problem?” he asked. He threw back his head and did laugh as she blinked and stared at the clothes with the same confusion she’d just aimed at him. He never wanted this to end, this light comfortable banter—nothing between them, no lies, no hidden agendas. He should have told her right away about his angel status and his mission. He should have trusted her. Hopefully they were square on that now. “Stop it,” she said, shaking out his dirt-encrusted shirt. “I wanted to see if you had another miracle up your sleeve. But please, not a downpour or anything.” “Actually, I think there might be a waterfall up ahead. With a little hidden room behind it.” “That’s our next stop?” Anything. Anything to make her eyes light up like that. “The sun will have to set soon. It’ll be a good place to spend the night.” The unspoken part of that was obvious—and she was smart enough to catch it. “Right. Well, let’s get there then, we’ll get these clothes washed and you can tell me more about being an angel.” Her eyes dimmed, just slightly. She looked around at the foliage around them. “Come here.” He held his arms out. Cammie dropped the clothes and stepped into them. Her warmth flowed through him, he felt her strength, this more than capable woman who’d forsake all she knew to accept these unbelievable events. It was amazing she was here now, her cheek resting on his collarbone, instead of demanding to be sent home. Or debating the impossibilities of him really being an angel. Or still accusing him of wanting the relic for his own gain. He held her tight. He never wanted to let her go. Ever. He wouldn’t let himself question what might happen, be it tomorrow or next week. “Are you ready?” “Hmmm,” she murmured against him. He ruffled her hair. “Do you want me to carry you?” She muttered something against his chest and snuggled in a little closer. He knew she was playing, but it felt so good he hated to put distance between them. “Grab the clothes. I’ll carry you.” He instructed her while taking a step backward. “I’ll walk.” She tossed her head at him and tried to roll her eyes, but started smiling instead.

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He loved her. Plain and simple, he loved her. Her strength, her playfulness, her intensity. Before she’d trusted him, he thought he might, but now that the last barrier between them had broken, there was no doubt. It made him the strongest, most powerful man on the planet. She’d been right. “What are you thinking?” Cammie’s voice cut through his thought. “How right you were about us. What we have is…pure—nothing evil. The demon is wrong about it. It doesn’t weaken me.” “Of course he’s wrong,” she replied. “Think about it. He wanted to keep you from me, from this magic we have.” “Speaking of magic,” he said, looking her square in the eyes. “You do trust me, don’t you?” She nodded, but held her bottom lip tightly between her teeth. He knew what she was thinking. What now? He reached out to rub the pads of his fingers over her smooth cheek. She leaned into his hand. Ultimate trust. “Well, then, would you like to get there faster by flying?”

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Chapter Nineteen She straightened. Her eyes shot open, wider than he imagined possible. She gasped. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that—at least like that. She trusted him, but wasn’t ready to find out just how different he really was. The last thing he wanted to do was overload her. He watched and waited pensively. The twinkle in her eyes gave her away first. Then came the smile. “That was you!” She reached out and slapped his forearm. “I was so scared.” “Ah, heck, you were brave. I expected you to turn into a screaming, fighting—” She drew up and sucked in her breath. “—I mean, I expected you to protest.” “And fall to the ground? I couldn’t see the ground. No way was I going to try escaping that way. I took my chances.” “I really am sorry for scaring you.” He was. He had vowed never to hurt her and that came very close to breaking that promise. Now what? Cammie circled him. He turned to watch her. “Hold still!” she commanded. “Why?” What was she doing? “I want to see your wings.” “I don’t have wings.” Here goes. She wasn’t going to understand this. At all. “I, um.” He studied the curious, impatient wrinkle of her nose. “Maybe we should walk.” “Dante.” She sighed. It was as if all the power that had drained out of her from carrying that relic had returned. She didn’t back down. He imagined there were very few who’d stand up to that look—hard, narrowed stare, expectant raise of the brows. He took his pants from her. “Put your clothes on for now. And hold the rest of these. Tight.” Knowing there was no way out of this, he checked to be sure he had a clear path out of this thicker wood. He lifted his head to the heat of the sun and closed his eyes. He heard her whimper, but held still until the transformation was complete. She was scared. He lowered his head and saw it in her eyes. But she didn’t run. He lifted his arms and let the wind catch beneath the wings that had formed there. His legs were claws, and once airborne, he once again gingerly lifted Cammie by the shoulders.

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***** “So, is there anything else I need to know about?” It shouldn’t have been a surprise that it had been Dante who’d carried her so carefully. Even now she rubbed her shoulders but found not a mark on them. Maybe it hadn’t sunk in before. Angel. Dante wasn’t human. Wasn’t mortal—well, he said he was mortal right now, taking this body. What had she gotten herself into? “Are you second-guessing yourself?” He roamed the perimeter of the rock-strewn bank of the river. “You read minds, too?” “Hardly. You’re just looking at me with your face all frowning. And no, I don’t think there’re any other major things. But if you sense something, just ask, Cammie. I’m not here to hide anything from you.” “Why didn’t you tell me before?” Why had he hidden it before? An angel. God, that explained a bunch. “You wouldn’t have believed me.” She watched as he stood on the edge of the water. What a picture—the falls to his right, the rapids cascading behind him, a torrent of dark blue and gray with white foam. The far bank looked like this, barely a clearing, just a lower level of rocks with grass and other plants striving to take root between them in the fertile soil. This was something that inspired her. This untouched land. When she dug up old artifacts or bones, she always wondered what that land had looked like back then. Here she could imagine—there was no sign of the hand of man anywhere. Even Dante, a peaceful, contemplative look on his face as he stared at the water, seemed to fit in. The conversation, at least that one, was over. The idea of a waterfall had seemed brilliantly fun at the time, but now that they were here, and the shadows were creeping in, she wasn’t so sure. Could they drink that water? Would they sleep on this rocky ground? Were there wild animals out here to worry about? Duh. Angel. He could provide. She should have known. “So what now?” Cammie asked, wincing once the words came out. Last thing she wanted to do was sound ungrateful. She pushed back her hair and eyed the cascading waterfall. Not sure what she expected, but this wasn’t it. The stream of water that dropped from the plateau at least two stories above was narrow and, it seemed, intense. It wasn’t the type she could stand under and feel like she was back home enjoying her high-pressure shower. She turned back to focus on Dante and found him squinting at the sun. She followed his gaze. The orange ball was sliding below the horizon. “It’ll get darker in this valley faster than you’d think. Let’s get up to the waterfall and make sure I’m right about this cave.” 149

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He hopped from rock to rock and wound around the pool at the base of the falls. It didn’t look any less dangerous than the fast-moving water over the rocks in front of them. And the cliff looked rather steep. No one could find them in the cave behind the falls because it was impossible to get there. “How is it you know about this cave?” she finally asked, jumping over rocks and trying to catch up. “When we were trapped in that tomb, information was…fed to us. I guess you’d call it telepathically. Years and years of information—most of provided in case this very event occurred.” No way could she fathom being locked in a tiny box for thirty minutes much less the kind of time he was talking about. Not only would her claustrophobia send her to madness, the lack of stimuli would do her in. “So you’re like a genius.” He laughed and grabbed her hand to pull her up on a large rock near the edge of the rocky cliff. “Not a genius. Knowing lots of facts matters little if there’s no experience to understand it.” “Here, this is going to be tricky, but it will work. Obviously, we’re not going to be going in and out of this cave. Once we’re there, we’re there.” He nudged her ahead of him. “Me first?” she squeaked. What he pointed to was a barely there ledge that, with a real good imagination, looked like what was left of a sheered off ramp. About three inches of it stuck out of the cliff. That was her foothold? “Grab the roots there, and then there’ll be a rock for your other hand.” Her feet started slipping at the first weight she put on them. “I can’t,” she said. “These shoes are—” “Take them off. Put them in your pocket.” In her life, she had done things like this numerous times. Never barefoot, though, without a safety line and a well thought out plan. She stared…openmouthed at him. “You’re serious.” “It’s amazing what a little faith can do. Besides, I’ll be right behind you.” He could fly. So he could catch her. It did little to stop the butterflies in her stomach from demonstrating how they could fly. “Here goes.” She flexed her shoulders, bent her knees and swung out on to the narrow ledge. The sharp rock tore into the tender flesh of her feet, but she didn’t flinch. Curling her toes helped, she found after several slow steps. So did keeping her knees bent and using her arms to support her weight. “That’s it,” Dante said and patted her thigh. The shock of his touch scattered her wits. Her fingers let loose of the rock she was grasping. She cried out and frantically reached for something. Dante. Anything to keep the momentum of her backward balance from yanking her off the side of this cliff. “I’ve got you.” Dante’s hand pressed against the small of her back and held her up.

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“You’d better,” she forced a laugh, but closed her eyes for a moment and willed her heart to slow. “You nearly made me fall.” His voice got low and full of emotion. “I’d never let you fall.” She bit on that, let the overflowing emotion of that statement carry her the next few difficult steps up the side of the nearly sheer rock. “Dante?” The icy water sprayed her liberally. The ledge here was bigger, but now slippery and treacherous. She squinted into the oncoming spray to see exactly where she needed to go, but found no opening. “Keep going. Trust your feet, your hands.” She blew out a few breaths. I can do this. One step. Four inches. The water didn’t propel her off and carry her down the two stories into the pool far below. Her fingers went numb, but they held. Step. Dante’s voice behind her encouraged her. She pressed close to the wall and reached out for another fingerhold. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, displacing the blood. This step would take her completely under the waterfall. Gallons of water thundered immediately over her head. One false move—even leaning backwards too far when she stepped—would be the end. “I’ve got you.” She felt it, Dante’s hand on her hip. Heat radiated from the point of contact and seemed to push her the last few feet of her journey. Cammie collapsed on the cold floor of a shallow cave and wrapped her arms around her legs. “Tell me we don’t have to go down that way.” Dante’s silhouette crossed in front of the gray curtain of water. He yelled, yet she barely heard him above the rush of the water. “You could jump.” He laughed. “I think that’s your other option.” She rocked back and forth from her position on the floor and watched as he crossed the length of the mouth of the cave and then stooped to walk back into the darkness behind her. Small. Dark. Enclosed. A whimper escaped her throat. As the remaining daylight faded it would get to be pitch-black. “Cammie?” Dante yelled. She nearly leapt from her skin. “Hey,” he said, leaning over and pulling her up into his arms. “What’s the matter?” She swallowed but let him pull her against his chest. She hated it, hated this fear that seemed to creep up and steal her confidence. Her eyes fluttered closed as he pushed the wet hair off her face and smoothed her cheeks.

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A bit of the claustrophobic feeling faded. Dante was here. Dante would make sure the walls didn’t close in on her. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, lifting a hand and sliding it over his chest. “I just needed a few minutes to get over a bit of an old fear.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Have I told you how brave you are?” She shook her head. “I’m not.” “You are. Inside this heart lies the courage of a thousand men.” He traced a finger down the column of her throat and opened his palm over her thundering heartbeat. “Not hardly.” She swallowed “Cammie.” He stretched his arms until he was at arm’s length. Despite the darkness, she could see the gleam in his dark eyes. “I know you’re scared. I can’t imagine what it must be like for you. But you have to trust. Yourself at least. Please trust your own ability to carry this through.” Biting her lip, she lifted her eyes to his. Carry what through? What was he talking about? “Dante, I—” “Sit down here. You can tell me about Cammie Howard.” She grinned. What was there to tell? Compared to this, her life was dull with a capital D. “What about her?” “Everything. I know little of your life.” Despite being unable to see his features clearly, she leaned her head back against the rock and focused on his face. He was right. She’d never told him. “I, um…” His thumb rubbed over the back of her hand. The gentle gesture was wholly distracting. “I dig up old things for a living.” “Like what?” He shifted and spread her fingers, massaging in between each of them with both his hands. A simmering heat drifted up her arm, diffusing out into the rest of her body. “Like what?” He was making it harder and harder for her to digest what he was saying. “Oh. Bones. Pottery. Old weapons. Whatever was left behind by the people who lived there before.” “Like the relic.” “Exactly.” He turned her hand over and lightly traced his fingertips over the palm of her hand. The slow burn was now flames licking up her arm. The pit of her stomach was twisting with a renewed awareness of the man beside her and the effect he had on her body. “Why were you brought in to get it?” “Get what?” The sensation of his fingers slipping between hers started a forest fire that shot straight to her core. She sucked in a deep breath as the tingling of awareness spiraled up through her. “The relic.”

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“What about the relic?” His fingertips climbed her wrist and danced at the tender skin on the inside of her forearm. She gasped when they strummed over the pulse points at the juncture of her elbow, then spirited back down to her palm. “I said…” His fingers walked up to her shoulder then slid down. He said something else, but she didn’t hear it. The things he did to her skin, to her mind, stole her ability to focus on anything else. “Dante,” she interrupted whatever he was saying. “I—” Should she say it? Her chest was so full, so overflowing with such pressure. This wasn’t just a sexual urge; this went far deeper than what her body was asking for. His hand slipped around her shoulders and pulled her against his shoulder. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she breathed in the essence of him. Here in the darkness, where there was nothing…nothing else to distract them and no other secrets between them. “What is it?” Smiling, she shook her head. “I didn’t hear what you were saying before.” Hands encircled her rib cage and pulled her up onto his lap. “Why not?” Her mouth went dry. “Because…because I’m not…an angel like you. You—uh, distracted me.” She licked her lips. He wasn’t unaffected, which sent her from being mildly aroused to feeling her sex dampen with need. “Really?” She swore he was out to tease her. But then he groaned and adjusted her onto his lap. “Do you want me to repeat what I said?” His breath ruffled her hair and tickled the side of her neck. “Nope.” She wanted to waste no more time talking. She adjusted herself so that she was straddling Dante. If she leaned in, she could press her throbbing clit against the hardness of his cock. It both relieved and further excited her. “This is good too,” he murmured as he stroked her thighs. His hands were like velvet magic, tracing upward over her damp skin. He let out a little chuckle and pulled her sandals free of her pockets. “You should get out of these wet clothes.” “So should you.” Her fingers tugged at the buttons on his wet shirt. Neither of them spoke as they relieved one another of their clothes. With a touch alone, he prompted her to stand, then lift her arms so he could slid the shirt over her head. An aura of peace and love had filled the small space. Gone was her apprehension and fear of earlier. The darkness added a sense of magic, of mystery. As she pushed the material down Dante’s well-formed biceps, his skin jumped. Her own body responded. She stepped forward so her now bared nipples would graze his chest as she tugged his shirt over his wrists. Heat from his body soaked into hers, yet her nipples tightened and tingled at the light abrasion of skin on skin. 153

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He finally shook the obstructing piece of clothing away and lifted his hands to her bared chest. She moaned as he took her breasts in his palms, forefinger and thumb simultaneously pinching both nipples. The torture streaked a line straight down her body and sent her pussy throbbing. “You like that?” His breath was whispery soft against her cheek. “You know I do.” Her voice sounded foreign, deep, throaty. Heavy with the desire she felt pooling low in her stomach. “I love it when you touch me.” “Like this?” His head dipped. Cool, damp curls brushed her shoulder as he bent and took a swollen nipple between his teeth. Cammie dropped her head back and hissed, “Yes, yes.” His mouth was magic, his tongue drove her to new levels of insanity. She clutched her fist in his hair and held him there, willing him to continue this torture. With his free hand, he encircled her other breast, kneading and sweeping over her erect nipple. It begged for the same attention as the one he lovingly lathed with his tongue. She cried out and jerked as he scraped the tender flesh with his teeth and then released, allowing the cool air to rush over the wet skin. He pressed a kiss between her breasts, his tongue flicking over the hollow there before climbing the peak to assault her other throbbing nub. “Dante!” she cried as he pulled on her nipple and took the entire areola into his mouth and suckled—hard. Her inner muscles convulsed. She bucked her hips against his. His lips left her skin as he straightened. In the darkness she could only feel his intention. The fingers at her hips were not caressing, but seeking. Her hand covered his and led him to the front of her pants and assisted him in lowering them past her waist and down her thighs. She bent to lower them, but he held her straight and bent to slide them down over her knee. The same light, feathery touch traced down the back and inside of her thighs, causing her body to tremble and shudder in total awareness and need. “Dante,” she gasped, reaching for his shoulder to steady herself. He dropped kisses on her legs as he lowered the material, then lifted her feet, one at a time, to release her of the clothing. She stood before him naked, almost wishing it were light so she could see the glistening in his eyes—the passion, the enchantment that he didn’t bother to hide. “Now you.” She wanted more than just to remove his clothes as he did her. She wanted to bestow on him the loving teasing that he had given her. She reached out and pressed her palm to his stomach, pressing as she lowered it to cover his throbbing, hardened cock. “My turn.” He caught her hand and brought her fingers up to his lips. “I’ve got an idea.”

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She laughed. “Wait a minute.” “Shhh,” he said, kissing each fingertip. He dropped her hand and slid out of the rest of his clothes. “Now come with me.”

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Chapter Twenty Cammie couldn’t see him take her hand. But his fingers laced through hers and he guided her toward the slightly glowing curtain of water. The flames of passion had toned to a steady simmer, and her curiosity replaced the burning need to be fulfilled. “Stand right here.” She gasped as the water hit her shoulders. “It’s cold!” Even with his body wrapped around her she shivered. “You trying to— Oh!” The frigid temperature of the water heated to a comfortable warmth. She held her free hand out into the powerful spray. “You did this?” If only she could see his face. “I…I asked for it, I guess you could say.” She liked that better than to know he’d intentionally altered nature just to impress her. “Thank you.” Dante’s fingers joined the tepid water as it drummed over her skin and raced in rivulets down her limbs. Within minutes her body was once again aware and silently pleading for the release she knew he’d give her. But first him. She pushed his hands aside and ran her fingers upward. Excitement rained on her as she heard his sigh. Or, rather, felt it. The waterfall thundered below them, forcing their conversation above the whispers that would have seemed more appropriate for so intimate setting. “Reminds me of the rain,” she said, not able to hold back the smile. So different and yet still the same. She’d never tire of exploring his body. Her fingers kneaded his biceps and then squeezed his bunched shoulders. Hollows and dips and creases where muscles tightened beneath her touch, they all fascinated her. She didn’t hesitate to lean in to lick a bit of the water off his smooth chest. Beneath her lips his heartbeat pounded. Made her want to finish this—or perhaps get this started—the way she had in mind. “Stop it,” she said, nudging his hand off her rib cage. “It’s my turn.” With that, she flicked her tongue over his flat male nipple. It excited her to feel it tighten under her touch. Knowing how his mouth on her breasts heightened her arousal, she gladly administered the same to him. She tasted the salt of his skin mixed with the freshness of the water. When she pulled back to breathe, he stepped under a strong current of the falls and lifted his head to the flow of water. His silhouette was backlit by the iridescence of remaining light flowing through the veil of the waterfall. What a vision. What a man. “Come back here,” she reached and grabbed his wrist and forced him back to the edge of the spray. “You make me nervous.” 156

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“I want to make you lots of other things.” Damp curls wound themselves around her fingertips when she thrust her hands up into his hair and pulled his head down for a kiss. Enough games. Enough foreplay. She parted his lips with her tongue and brazenly stroked his with promises she fully intended to keep. When he responded and pushed into her mouth, she closed her lips around his tongue and suckled, eliciting a deep moan from his chest. She released him and rained kisses and tongue laps down his throat, stopping at the pulse point that drove her crazy and relishing the feeling of the steady beat against her cheek. She had a job to finish. Because she could, she paused and thoroughly licked the nipple that missed her previous attentions, then traced straight down to his navel. With her hands firmly clenching his narrow hips, she drove her tongue in and out of the shallow cleft. His fingers found her hair and pushed her mouth lower. She smiled. The velvety hot tip of his cock pushed against her cheek. She turned and caught the tip in her mouth, lapping up the immediate spill of salty pre-come. He lifted his hips and pushed farther into her mouth. This is what she wanted, to feel his need, taste his urgency. It spurred her on. With one hand she cupped his balls while the other held his shaft steady so she could thoroughly taste what he had to offer. He moaned and pushed against her tongue as she licked him from tip to base and back again. Her hand stroked him. She held her open mouth just over the narrow slit, so that the movement of her pumping over his cock brought the tip just inside her spread lips. She tasted, eager to engulf him whole, but enjoying the feeling of his entire body tensing beneath her fingers at the action. “Cammie,” he growled, the intensity of his command cutting through the thunderous roar of the water that continued to rain against them. She bared her teeth and gently raked over the swollen head, then allowed him in. He bucked beneath her as she opened her mouth and lowered her head over him. Her tongue continued, stroking him as she slowly withdrew him, releasing him only after she’d suckled hard on the slit. More salty emissions flowed over her tongue and down her chin. “You don’t want me to finish?” she responded to his attempt to pull her up. She balked and wrapped both hands around his cock and clamped her lips tightly over him. Dante groaned and fisted her hair. Fluid flooded her pussy as he held her head firmly in place and pumped into her mouth. Her fingers worked at the base of his penis and his balls, squeezing the sacs that were tight against his body. But she didn’t give him release.

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This was a lover’s game of give and take and it was time to take. “Get down here,” she commanded, pulling one of his hands free of her hair and tugging on it. It amazed her that he immediately complied, kneeling beside her. She pushed him back and straddled him, gasping as jolts of pleasure scorched through her at the touch of his cock at the entrance to her pussy. She wriggled and pushed, gasping at the sudden driving need that stole her ability to remember what she had wanted to do to him. She wanted this. The loud moan seemed to echo in the narrow cavern. Dante’s fingers dug into her hips as he pulled her onto his shaft, guiding her body to take him in. Cammie placed her palms on his shoulders and lifted and lowered her pelvis over his. Their wet bodies slid together perfectly, her tight walls gripping him as she moved over him. She cried out as Dante’s fingers reached down to stroke her pussy lips and rubbed her clit. Spirals of lightning-bright pleasure shot spasms through her body. She shook as the mini-peaks of pleasure raced through her body unheeded. “Don’t stop.” How she was able to form words, she didn’t know. With increased speed and more force she impaled herself over and over on his thick cock. The ragged sound of his breathing mirrored her own. Sex with Dante was explosive. Their need quickly peaked. She fell over him, dropping her hands to the ground on either side of his head and pumped her body against him. Muscles strained with the intensity of her motion. But the flames fanned so hot she couldn’t stop. “Oh, God,” she murmured, dropping her mouth against Dante’s neck. She could barely breathe, certainly couldn’t think. All that existed was his cock sliding in and out of her body at a pace that would certainly start a real fire. His body tensed. His breathing stopped. She continued her onslaught, driving herself upwards toward her orgasm. The walls of her pussy clamped down on him, eliciting a deeper moan, one that vibrated against her hungry lips. She gasped and panted, eyes squeezed tightly as the explosion of his hot come sent her body over the edge. He bucked and held her hips in place while his cock throbbed inside her. She fought to move, to finish it. But easy as that, he lifted her off and slid down. Only a split second passed from the time his cock left her trembling and throbbing pussy until his mouth replaced it. She screamed. There was nothing to hold onto and she was falling, falling from the intensity of the sensation. His tongue was magic over her swollen clit. Her pussy clamped on the fingers he inserted and rocked her body with orgasmic revelations.

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She sobbed out his name, unable to stop her body from convulsing with the sensations racing through it. He licked her until she went nearly limp.

***** “Good morning, sunshine,” Dante’s words, much too cheerful for her to fathom, greeted her before anything around her came into focus. Where was she? Her neck ached, her legs and back were stiff and—she sat up and hugged her knees to her chest—she was naked. Dirt from the floor of the shallow cave caked her hair. She felt terribly dirty. Dante, on the other hand, wore his pants low on his hips. The light in the cave still wasn’t the best, but she could swear they were wet—but clean. His shirt was open, exposing his firm chest. Now that visual was worth seeing in the morning. “Sorry, there’s no coffee.” He walked over and offered a hand to her. Regardless of their relationship as lovers, she still felt self-conscious waking up such a mess, knowing he’d watched her sleep. At the same time she wasn’t sure she could get any closer to him. Without being married to him. She shook her head to erase that thought from her mind. Never, ever had anything permanent ever been spoken of. At least she knew he cared for her. He didn’t have to speak it for that to be known. “I’m up. Where’s the bathroom in this penthouse suite?” she joked. It did sound nice…room service, shampoo, toothpaste. Dimples flashed as he grinned. “Right this way.” He led her to the edge of the cavern. “See this rock? It juts out about just enough for you to stand there and shower. Now that she could see it, she realized just how on the edge they’d been last night. Wow. Talk about blinded by lust. With a loud swallow she nodded and stepped toward the water. It was cool, not cold, but refreshing. After a moment she tilted her head back and let the water slice over her head. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine being back home, safe in her bathtub. But if that was the case, she couldn’t open her eyes and look into Dante’s chocolate gaze. “Must you watch?” she asked, finding him staring at her. “You’re beautiful.” Plainly said, the words opened up her chest and spilled her heart right out on the ground for him to take. Normally compliments like that caused her to take a step back. Not Dante’s. “I am?” she answered, incredulous. “Thank you.”

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She stood there, drowning in his eyes as he stepped toward her. She took the clothes he held out to her. He touched her face. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” His lips grazed her forehead. “You’re getting wet.” “So?” She smiled up at him. It’d be easy to believe they could stay here like this and not have to face what lay on the other side of that waterfall. But they couldn’t. And while sticking around for another bout of wonderful sex sounded…wonderful, she couldn’t. Not when there were things left to be done. She scrubbed their clothes. It’d do no good to put them down or try to get them to dry, when they descended from this little hideaway, they’d get soaked again. So she put them on. Pants first. “You don’t have to do that, you know.” His eyes twinkled. “You know better.” The sideways smile remained in place as he nodded. “Then hurry up.” He paced while she rubbed the material of her shirt together. “Cammie?” The tone, the hiss of it, reaching through the noise of the crashing water behind her caused her to start. Her balance wavered. She couldn’t call out, her heart was lodged in her throat. She was going to fall, she knew it. Hundreds of gallons of water were going to crush her as she fell. If she hadn’t died by then, she’d drown. Bitterly she fought back, clawing and leaning. Relief displaced panic as fingers cut into her wrists and violently yanked her backwards. Without even opening her tightly closed eyes, she threw her arms around Dante’s neck and wept. “I’ve got you. Don’t scare me like that.” He smoothed her hair and murmured against her forehead. She sniffled and held on, shivering. “Here.” He let go long enough to shrug out of his shirt and wrap it around her shoulders. It was warm from his skin. She snuggled into it and then slipped her arms through. “Thank you,” she said, finally able to swallow past the lump in her throat. Her nerves started settling the moment she was safe in his arms. “I can’t believe I panicked like that.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. 160

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She blinked away the tears. Hated tears. Hated being weak. Dante’s knuckle touched her chin and nudged her face upward. She only barely registered the tightness around his mouth. It was the clear pools of his eyes that stole her breath. She felt it coming. “No!” As the word left her mouth the fogginess stole Dante from her vision. A cold shroud surrounded her. “Dante? Where are you?” Slowly the landscape around her came in to focus. Shades of gray, like an old black and white television. Colorless grass, trees, buildings. But no people. No life. Void. Empty. The demon had been there before her. She shivered and called to him. “Dante?” He wasn’t there. She felt it in the hollowness of her heart. He was gone. “Don’t leave me. Don’t…please.” It was too late. She couldn’t erase what had happened. Sinking to her knees she squeezed a new round of tears from her eyes. How could she deal with this? What was she supposed to do? Where to start? All around her—it was all empty. No matter how far into the horizon she squinted—gray. “Dante, please. Please. I love you. Come back.” “I’m here.” Cammie opened her eyes. Back in the shadowy cave. “But, I was just…” “Shh. I know.” “You said you wouldn’t leave me.” Her body trembled all over again. She hadn’t felt fear there. More like utter helplessness. In her opinion, that was worse. “Not while there’s a breath left in my body.” She let him pull her to his chest again. His heart beat against her cheek. He didn’t promise. His face was drawn, his eyes opaque. The words that he had meant to comfort her left her feeling a little less secure. Maybe it was this cave. She hated tight little places like this. Sweat broke out on her forehead. “Let’s get out of here.” She snatched her heavy wet shirt and tried wringing it out. “You want me to carry that?” Dante gestured as she tied it in a knot around her waist. “I think I’ve got it now.” He nodded. 161

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This was it. She hated the dread that caused her to hesitate. Holding her breath, she sidestepped onto the ragged edge. Dante’s fingers encircled her upper arm. A warm support. She needed that. She should have been more confident. She’d done this before. But Dante’s absent promise weighed heavily on her. What had he seen in that vision? Did he see what she saw? Rock crumbled beneath her foot. “Cammie!” he shouted and practically held her up by her arm alone. Her own grip on the rocks was sound. He was jumpier than she was. Why? Sure, her heart was beating madly. She didn’t want to look down. She just kept moving. Progress was slow. After a few more feet she looked back at Dante and smiled. They’d cleared the edge of the waterfall—the part she considered the most dangerous. But Dante’s expression was anything but triumphant. His eyes were dark, the lines around them heavily emphasized. The hard lines of his face made the message clearer than if it were written before her. Something bad was going to happen. Just like she had seen. Was the demon here? She turned quickly to study the shore. Haze coated the ground. She could see nothing. “Keep going,” Dante said. She swallowed, but reached out for the next handhold. The shirt she’d tied over her waist caught on a jagged edge of rock. For a moment her balance was compromised. What now? She eyed the rock above her and was ready to swing her hand back to grab it when she felt a tug on her waist. She pitched forward to keep from being pulled off the face of the cliff. “Dante,” she cried out. Her hands ached from the pressure she put on her fingers to hold her upright. Her chest heaved, her mind raced. What had happened? Closing her eyes for a moment, she steadied herself. Dante must have pulled her loose. Her shirt was gone. That loss she could live with. “Dante?” she screamed. He was gone. Clutching the rocks even harder she tried to turn and look beneath her. Nothing but a cloud of mist and fog. Had he fallen? “Oh God.” She squeezed back tears and pressed herself to the cold rock. He’d known this. She’d known this. How could it have happened? A gust of cold air buffeted her body. Then a warm flow coated her body like a comforting embrace.

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She couldn’t just stick to the side of the wall and lament. Dante was an angel, surely he could survive a jump into the water. It was barely a story and a half below them. Positive thoughts. He could fly. He would, wouldn’t he? Fueled by adrenaline, she pushed herself to safely hurry down the side of the cliff and then leapt the final few feet. “Dante?” she called. The fog here was much thicker than she’d anticipated. The sun hadn’t risen above the tree line to burn it off. Dante was now here within her line of sight. “Over here, Dante.” Any second now she’d hear the splash of water or crunch of his feet on the rock. The rough stones cut into her feet. She paced until she could barely limp and then perched on the biggest boulder and waited. She called his name at regular intervals. As the fog lifted, she eyed the river’s path into the thick woods. Where these rocks ended there was no trail. The water rushed like rapids as far as she could see. Should she try to follow? Maybe walk along the edge of the water? “Dante, where are you?” she screamed. The rise of panic in her this time was real. Those feelings of emptiness and loneliness she’d seen in his eyes—in the vision—this morning were real. “There you are.” The voice hit her heart like a poison dart. Evil dripped from his drawn out sentence. Cammie didn’t have to lift her head to know who stood above her. But she did. The demon. Damien, Dante had called him. He brandished a sword that glistened in the early morning light. Her stomach curled up. Furtively she combed the valley around her for any signs of life. “He’s gone.” Two dreadful words echoed in her heart.

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Chapter Twenty-One “No!” Cammie shouted up at the figure standing on the cliff above her. Damien. The demon. He laughed as he swung the sword around him in a show of superiority. She had nothing, weapon-wise. And not a prayer’s chance of defeating this…being. “Dante!” she yelled again. Hurry, please. I need you. Evil laughter rained down. “It’s over. I’ve won this time. You’ve practically given me victory—allowing me to take what I wanted while you hid here and fucked your little plaything. It’s my turn now.” She gasped as the demon turned his eyes to her. She focused on the sword, watching it glisten in the morning light. “You’ll be coming with me.” Five-foot-eight didn’t seem nearly tall enough to stand up to him, but she pushed her shoulders back and lifted her chin anyway. “I will not.” The demon was thirty feet above her and seemed larger than life. Dante was here, somewhere. She’d know it in her heart if he were dead. A chill of freezing air blew over her at the thought. She fisted her hands and prepared herself for a fight. She would not give in, would not go with this…demon. Not when Dante was here, somewhere and possibly needing her. A rustle on the far banks caught her attention. She turned, but couldn’t see. When she looked back up to the ledge above the falls, the demon was gone. “Great.” Her heart beat furiously, anticipating a war she knew nothing about and had little chance of winning. But she would not give up. One failure was enough. One almost failure. If she could regain the relic… “Dante?” she called, hearing the unmistakable sound of branches and leaves rustling. Her swimming skills were strong, but wouldn’t be a match for the fast-moving water. The only hope of getting to the other side was to follow the water down to where it hopefully calmed and narrowed. “You are spirited. I see why you’ve whet his appetite.”

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Cammie wrenched away from the hand that landed on her shoulder. The voice was unmistakable. How had she not heard him? “Dante!” she screamed again. The panic was obvious in her voice this time. Even she could hear it. “I told you, Campbell Howard, he’s gone.” “No. He can’t be.” The laughter held an evil ring. “You did this!” she accused, slapping his hand away and backing up. “Why?” He advanced on her. His clothes were tailored and neat. Reminded her of a sly businessman or crooked politician. Well, she wasn’t fooled. “He had something I wanted. Besides, it was time to stretch my muscles. I need to thank you. You freed me. Then gave me this.” He brandished the relic. She gasped and reached for it. Another round of laughter made her skin crawl. “You will not win.” She wished she could feel as confident as she forced her voice to sound. “Because the good always wins?” He spoke her mind. “This isn’t the movies, precious. This is reality.” He reached out with the relic and used the sharp end of the wing to push a stray hair off her face. She tightened her resolve and clenched her teeth. She would not waver. She would not show her fear. “Whoops. I’m sorry.” She flinched when the edge of it slid through the skin on her cheek. But she stood her ground. “My, aren’t you brave.” “Why?” she asked. “Why are you doing this?” Minding Dante’s repeated warnings not to look Damien in the eye, she caught the half-smile in her peripheral vision. He gestured with the relic in his hand. “I can. I’m just speeding up the natural process. Men are evil. We knew eventually they’d all fall our way anyway. Think about it, Cammie. The pull of hate you feel, isn’t it easier to give into than to fight it? Lust, greed, vanity…they are all tempting evils. Many fall into their trap without thinking twice. There’s no fun in being good.” She focused on the relic and held her face as impassively as possible. But she was right. As a whole, mankind certainly looked bad. But it wasn’t as it seemed. She had to believe in the good in everyone. “You have the relic. What do you want with me?” He was silent for a moment. A small victory for her, leading the conversation the way she wanted and not falling into his trap of weakening her resolve. “What wouldn’t I want? You’re beautiful.” She backed up when he reached for her again, this time with his bare hand. “You’re smart and you’re strong. I could make you a very powerful woman.”

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“No thanks.” Wistfully she looked over her shoulder at the water. Dante, where are you? “Look at me!” His rage shook her body. The sun slipped behind the clouds. “Never,” she vowed. She meant it. If only she could get the relic and get away. Right. As if he’d let go of it. He pulled it out intentionally to taunt her. She wasn’t so stupid as to not see that. And it worked. This wasn’t her battle—she had no means to defeat him. But if she could get the relic, that would be a partial victory. “It’s mesmerizing isn’t it?” The words cut into her brain. She shook her head to release herself from them, turning around and focusing on the rushing water. “You can’t escape. Your weakness defines you. Greed. Dante’s lust was his undoing. Yours is greed. You think this piece of marble will solve all your problems. Why is that? Because you never fail?” She gasped. “I can see your fears, your thoughts. I knew about you before you ever knew about me. I know what will happen here. It’s inevitable, the future—already mapped out before us.” “You lie.” “Yes, but not about this. You’ve seen it—that’s why you doubt.” She shook her head. She wouldn’t believe it. Couldn’t. “Why me? I am no one. If your goal is to conquer the world, why aren’t you after the presidents and leaders? What would an archaeologist from California mean?” “You are the keyholder.” Dante had said that. She’d brushed it off then as a simple phrase, after all, she had been the one to obtain the relic. Obviously there was more to it. “And what would that mean?” she asked, staring at the waterfall. Damien didn’t seem to mind that she refused to look at him. “There is power within you, without you, Dante will have no recourse but to surrender to me.” “I have no power.” She scoffed. “I am nothing but the person who the world can blame for this chaos.” Saying it lay a heavy weight on her shoulders. Yes, she’d done it. She’d opened the tomb and released the evil, then she made it possible for the demon to get the relic and obtain power. Finally, it had been her slip that had caused Dante to fall. She might have killed the only hope this world had. “Ah, so he kept that little secret from you then, perhaps afraid you’d realize you didn’t need him and his protectiveness.” “You’re wrong. He told me everything.” She refused to take the bait. She wouldn’t listen to it. She picked up a handful of stones and tossed them into the rapids one by one, pinning a prayer on each one as they plopped into the water.

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“Did he?” He wanted her to doubt. He wanted her to wonder. Oh God, and she did. She did. “Yes,” she insisted. “I trust him.” “Trust.” Damien spat the word as he tossed the relic from one hand to the other. “You?” She wouldn’t let him do this. “Of course.” His laughter made her wince. Why? Why did she let him place that tiniest hint of doubt into her mind? “How long did it take for him to admit that he wasn’t really human?” She crossed her arms over her chest and walked along the water’s edge. No, she wouldn’t give him more ammunition. Besides, he’d kind of hinted at it all along. But Damien didn’t give up. “It wasn’t until after he’d bedded you, played upon your fears and made sure you wouldn’t bolt, right? What a weakling.” “Dante is not—” She whirled on him ready to do battle here and now. How dare he make accusations like that? No way would she let this demon cheapen what she and Dante had between them. Fatal mistake. She narrowed her gaze and looked him straight in the eye. Her temper flared. Then died. Everything around her faded, like one of the visions Dante induced. Only this one left her frozen with horror.

***** Dante fought against the darkness that blanketed him. Cammie. He pushed for her, reaching up to the image of her smile above him. With a gasp he opened his eyes and sucked in air. The brightness of the daylight stung his eyes and his chest burned. It felt as if there were a heavy weight placed there, limiting his ability to take in air. Yet he did, and pulled himself up into a sitting position. He’d seen it, the truth. Forget all those legends and stories. The relic meant nothing. Cammie was more than the keyholder. She was the key. That’s why they’d both seen her as the relic and hadn’t understood. She had the power within her. The power he’d felt rising inside him as her trust in him grew. And now she was out there. So was Damien. He felt it, his power. He must know, that’s why he wanted her. He struggled to his feet, swaying as the blood rushed to his head. He had to get to her. Before Damien did.

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The muscles throughout his body ached. He’d fought so hard against the current. It had been merciless, bouncing him off submerged rocks. He felt like a battering ram. Somehow he’d wrapped himself around a piece of root and held on, even after he’d lost consciousness. He longed for his angel form. The limitations of this mortal body frustrated him. He pulled from every reserve and propelled himself forward, clenching his teeth against the pain and the darkness that loomed ever close, threatening to swallow him up again. But as he moved, as he thought about the task, he felt the power returning. Cammie’s smile, her upturned face and pursed lips begging for a sweet kiss. The way her eyes were liquid, clearly showing her emotions there. He loved her, and believed she loved him too. As soon as he got to her, he’d tell her over and over. If he made it in time. He pushed off of the small trunk of a tree and leaned heavily against the next. His breath came in gasps. How far had he floated? It felt like miles. “Cammie,” he whispered, trying to reach out with his mind at the same time. Hear me, know I’m coming for you. The trees thinned and the ground below him became a maze of rocks, many of them razor-sharp and eager to tear his bare feet. He couldn’t be hasty or he’d never make it. There would be no more calling upon his fellow angels to help him. This was his battle now—a continuation of what took place thousands of years before. Only this time there was something else at stake. His heart. “Cammie.” Repeating her name as he half-climbed, half-crawled forward, saving his strength the best he could. He felt it building as he got closer to her. The weight seemed lifted from his chest, and the pounding in his head had faded. However, there was a chill in the air. The demon. Damien had found them. “I’m coming. Hold on,” he pleaded mentally to Cammie as he negotiated the rough ground. Just ahead was another group of brush, she was just beyond that. Not far. He clenched his teeth and ignored the pain in his feet as he pushed forward. There was no amount of pain he wouldn’t stand to save her. Finally he reached the smoother going of the brush and crept forward. As he feared, Damien stood on a short flat rock and smiled at Cammie. “No,” the breath left his body with that statement. He grabbed the tree beside him and sunk down. As he feared. She stood, swaying precariously on a large rock at the edge of the river. Bait. Dangling there for him to take. Tempting him. Damien knew he was alive and knew he was coming. The battle was about to begin.

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There would be no element of surprise. There was too much distance to cover. The only thing to do was charge, leaving any apprehension behind him. “Cammie!” he shouted as gathered up his strength and lunged forward. “Dante,” Damien hissed. He saw the movement out of the corner of his eye. Damien grinned evilly and gestured at Cammie. His gait faltered momentarily. His gut tightened and the roar in his head became a thunder that drowned out the sounds of the waterfall beside them. Her eyes were hollow, her mouth drawn open in a terrified gasp. Dante set his jaw and narrowed his eyes, shifting his focus to the laughing man in front of him. He would not lose this battle. He would never let the demon have her. His shoulder connected with Damien’s midsection without even a defensive gesture on his part. They both fell among the rocks with a bruising crash. Dante ignored the stabbing pain in his chest and fought. Already at a disadvantage, he ceded to Damien’s weight. The rocks cut into his bare back. But he wouldn’t give in. “No!” he cried and kicked up with his legs. Damien, now on his feet, wavered and grunted at the impact. Dante rose to his knees and cast a furtive glance in Cammie’s direction. He could almost hear the demon’s thoughts. That’s it, give in to your weakness. One moment’s lapse—and he was dealt a smashing blow to the side of the head. He breathed against the blinding pain and reached up to smear the blood that flowed from his nose. For Cammie. For this whole world. This was his job—to end this, to eradicate the demon. He could win. He had to. As he struggled to get up, Damien swung up with his hard-soled boots and cracked Dante’s ribs. He cried out then, but held steady. His body trembled. He saw the kick coming this time, and rolled away, thrusting his foot out to connect with Damien’s other leg. The demon crashed to the ground beside him. Cammie had moved. She now had her hands over her ears. But her eyes were on him. Hollow and unseeing, but aimed directly at him. He had to believe. She fought it, she struggled against the paralyzing visions Damien had set into her mind. He just hoped he could hold on long enough. “Shit!” Damien’s outburst yanked Dante’s concentration back. Instead of renewing his attack, Damien crawled toward something amidst the rocks. Dante pulled himself up onto a flat boulder and peered over it. The glistening white of the object gave it away. The relic. “Get it, Cammie!” he shouted and dove toward Damien.

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He landed soundly on his back and put an elbow to the kidney area. The grunt of pain was little comfort, yet he took advantage of the demon’s temporarily limp figure to shove him over and ram his knee into his stomach. “Don’t touch it,” Dante warned him, easily pulling back to avoid a poorly aimed punch. He willed the sound of Cammie’s muffled sobs from his mind. She did distract him. As evenly matched as he and Damien were, he couldn’t afford to give him any advantage. She would understand that. They both rose to their feet, bleeding and breathing hard. Dante’s strength had all but returned, but his physical body threatened to betray him. At least the demon bore scars. Step by step they circled one another. As much as he wanted to, he wouldn’t take his eyes off Damien. Not even to gauge the proximity of the relic and certainly not to look at Cammie. Fight it. Know the truth. What you see isn’t real. I’m here. I’ll always be here. He could only send her these subliminal messages and pray that she connected on that level. He had no way to know it. Damien charged him. Dante saw it coming and bent his knees. He’d take it full on. With lowered shoulder, he stepped into the angry man and let him deflect off to the side. Then he spun to keep his enemy in sight. Pure evil glistened in Damien’s eyes. Dante was not afraid. Once again, the demon ran at him, a war cry echoed through the valley. Cammie screamed. As they collided, Dante brought both fists up under Damien’s chin. Damien bodyhugged him and threw him to the ground. The pain threatened to take him to that dark place. “Cammie,” he gasped, punching his way out of the demon’s hold. Blood oozed from Damien’s mouth. His eyes were closed. Not dead. He’d feel the presence of evil leave this place if he was. “Get the relic,” he shouted to her, wincing in pain at each breath. He touched his rib cage and felt the sharp ends of broken bones pushing against the skin. His left knee was numb. “It won’t hurt you. Get it!” There was color in her cheeks and her expression had changed. She looked around her. He felt her pain. She was lost, unsure what was real and what was the horrible visions she’d seen. “Cammie,” he gasped. It hurt—ached to just force the words past his throat. “Hurry, before he gets up. Get the statue. You can’t fail, you won’t, remember?” Anything, something had to snap her out of it. “Don’t let me down, please.” She took three unsteady steps toward him. 170

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Dante heard movement behind him. “Now. Go. I’m here. This is real.” He wished she’d look him in the eye. Please, hear me! Behind him, Damien moaned. Cammie just blinked blankly. He wouldn’t have her. Dante sucked in his breath and holding his rib cage, rushed forward. He stumbled, dropping to his knees. Cammie screamed again. Almost there. A shadow fell over them—dark clouds gathering. No. He would not lose this battle. “Cammie!” he screamed at her, praying something would jar her into reality. “Dante,” she whispered. Yet she didn’t move. The demon did. He got to his feet and seemed to shake off the injuries. Dante clamped his teeth down and lunged for the relic.

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Chapter Twenty-Two Lightning bolts hit the ground around them as his fingers curled around the statue. Electricity soared through Dante’s body. The shock blinded him, yet recharged his aching muscles. The demon was unfazed by it. Dante swung up toward him, the relic held tightly in his fist. The unlikely weapon caught Damien across the cheek. Blood stained the tip of the angel’s white marble wings. Dante gasped. It felt as if he had sustained the blow himself. Dazed and confused, he dropped the statue and touched his fingers to the sore spot on his face. Blood seeped from the new cut there. One that identically matched the red slash on Damien’s cheekbone. “Dante!” Cammie rushed him then. He didn’t like the way Damien looked at her with a half-grin on his face. Because in his darkened, gleaming eyes he could see the very root of evil. Aimed at Cammie. “Take it. Run.” He swept Cammie behind him and stared him down. “You will not win,” he warned him. “You will not have her.” Dante knew what had happened. He figured it out. Damien hadn’t. They were all wrong—the natives, the ones who spoke of the curse, whatever sources there were. The relic hadn’t give Damien any more power and hadn’t stripped Dante of his. When Mohec had spoken of the relic binding the good to that which was evil, he meant exactly what was happening now. The purest meaning of an eye for an eye. Dante dodged a fist aimed at his jaw but sustained a painful jab to the stomach. His ribs felt as if they were splintering into his lungs. Despite the agony, he smiled. The demon was nearly bent double by the force of his own blow. “Do unto others what you would have them do unto you.” Dante wiped blood from his lips after quoting. “We are bound. Our fists are useless now.” He kept an eye on the demon for any rush moves while reaching for a rock. Cammie pulled at his arm and tried to turn him. He sidestepped away from her. He needed her to be strong. She had it in her. “Don’t let him have the statue,” he said without turning. The demon circled opposite him like boxers in a ring.

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“Give up. I’ve won already,” Dante warned his opponent as the radius of their cautious steps got smaller and smaller. “You’ve won nothing except a trip to hell, motherfucker.” Dante ducked as a long silver blade whipped right over his head. Where had that come from? “Not today.” He kept his peripheral senses focused on Cammie. All that mattered was that she stayed out of range of his sword. Damien swung again. Not jabs or lunges, but wide circular motions that would do enough damage, but also left him open and vulnerable. He jumped at him. Damien growled and tried to bring the sword back, but its heavy weight and momentum drove it right out of his hand. It clattered against the rocks as the two of them once again fell in a heap of flailing fists and kicks. This would end. Right here. If he had to go down with the demon he would. He didn’t fear mortal death. He lifted his head and searched out Cammie. She clutched the relic to her chest and watched them, her face a mix of anger and fear. There was strength there still. Her eyes were clear now, meeting his for a split second in a silent plea. Win. “Get the sword,” he commanded her, both verbally and mentally. Trust me, Cammie. Please trust me. Help me. Dante shifted his weight, but continued to hold the demon pinned facedown on the rocky ground. He commanded him, “Surrender.” “Never,” Damien spat. Dante knew it would be his answer. Still, it chilled his bones. The finality. Decision made. This was it. The end. “Cammie? Come here.” She struggled with the heavy weight of the sword. “Look at me,” he implored her, tightening his grip on the demon’s neck and making sure his knee was braced firmly in his lower back. Last thing he needed was for Damien to have one last rush at Cammie. “You have to do this. It is the only way.” Her foundation started to crumble. She looked from him to Damien to the blade and the inlaid gold that reflected the sunlight. “You can. You don’t fail. You have the treasure you came for. Don’t fail me.” The demon fought beneath him. He gritted his teeth and pushed down with his knee. His own back felt split by the pressure. But he held on. He had to. Neither of them could fail at this. “Give me the sword.” Cammie tried to lean over and pass the hilt to him.

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He shook his head. “Lift it. Lift the point.” With agony the physical wounds didn’t come close to equaling, he grabbed the tip of the sword and centered it over his heart. “Do you love me?” He studied her face. So beautiful, even trembling with unease. So brave, he saw it in the wobble of her chin as she fought against every cell that screamed for her to run. “Dante, I—” The metal sliced into his fingers as she tried to pull it away. Nothing, nothing compared to the burn of watching a tear trickle down her precious face. “You have to. You’re the only one who can. Please. I need you.” He pushed the blade into the skin and felt the blood trickle from the cut. A small price to pay. “Do it. End this.”

***** “I can’t!” Cammie was ready to drop the sword and run, yet she couldn’t do that either. She blinked through the tears. She was already sickened by the blood she’d spilled from her inability to keep her hands from shaking. “Don’t ask me to do it.” “There’s no other way.” “Kill him.” She pointed at the man beneath Dante’s knee. God, she couldn’t believe she was saying such a thing. Even as angry as she was, she didn’t think herself capable of even slaying the demon. “Killing him would kill me. Would you rather?” She gasped in horror as the blood ran down his chest and hands. He led the sword to the back of Damien’s neck. “The blade is sharp, but be sure to cut clean.” Her arms ached. Her soul rocked on the edge of death itself. After all she’d seen, visions upon visions of pain and agony and torture and death. Her mind had known horrors that should not be possible. Yet nothing compared to this. “Is this a dream?” she murmured, closing her eyes. The water still rushed behind her as a reminder that it wasn’t. The weight of the sword pulled down on her shoulders. She’d failed, she’d seen it the devastation, the pain. The pleading looks in those children’s eyes as their parents were ripped from them, the rivers flowing with blood, the sky black with clouds of smoke and ash. Hell. She’d seen hell. “Cammie!” Dante’s voice pulled her back. “Look at me.” His love filled her. She looked past the bloody cuts and felt the warmth and the depth of his eyes embracing her. Memorizing her. Cherishing her. He was saying goodbye. “No. No. I won’t do it. I can’t.” Failure.

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Then she’d be a failure. Either way, she’d lose. “If you don’t kill me then the demon lives. You want that?” Yes. No. I don’t know. Why wasn’t there a solid answer for that one? “There’s got to be another way.” Yet flashes of one of her first visions reminded her—she’d seen this unfold. She knew this would happen. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. “Why can’t you kill him? Why do you have to die too?” She had to know these things. His eyes flickered to the statue on the rock beside her. “The curse. It’s bound me to him. You alone hold the power. You are the keyholder. I’m sorry, Cammie. I didn’t want you to have to face this.” “Me?” No. This wasn’t right. She was used to making decisions, sure. Felt quite proud to be capable, but this? Never should a human have to choose like this. He shifted. He leaned forward, one hand on Damien’s neck and his body weight pressing his knee into the demon’s back. Yet the muscles in Dante’s face flinched and his breathing labored as if it were him. “Bound. You feel his pain?” Is that what he meant? Sweat dripped from his face as he nodded. “Like I said. If I die, he dies. And vice versa.” Kill him. Kill Dante? She’d grown to love him more than she thought possible. In just a few days her entire life had turned into something she didn’t recognize and truthfully, she learned a lot of new things about herself. Going back might not be possible. Especially if she had to live with the guilt of killing the man she loved. “No,” she said with finality. “I won’t.” She used both hands to heave the heavy weapon to the rocks behind her. Out of reach of either man. Dante’s eyes closed and he dropped his chin to his chest. Defeat. His whole posture defined it. Her heart ached at the pain she felt radiating from him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. He raised his head, then, his eyes hollow—filled to overflowing with sorrow and pain. She had caused that. She had. She looked away. That was not the image she wanted to see embedded in her mind—a constant reminder of her biggest failure to date. “Then we must go back.” Dante completely caught her off guard. “Back where?” Her eyes flitted up to the waterfall and then back over her shoulder. “To the tomb. Where you found us.” That had to be… miles from where they stood. Was he crazy? How could he walk? If he could, how could they keep the demon from turning on him? “That won’t work. We can’t get there.”

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“We will.” The tone of his voice left no question. She swallowed and took a step back as he narrowed his eyes at her. She felt as if she were seeing him again for the first time. Her fingers clutched the material over her heart as she saw past the bruised lips and discoloration around his eyes. Behind the features she’d found so…humanly beautiful she saw something more. His voice reached into her mind and caressed her senses. “I promised I would never hurt you. Yet I have.” Tears streamed down her face, blurring the scene before her. She blinked furiously and wiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Dante, I—” “Shh. Please. I’ve asked you to listen with your heart, Cammie. And you have. Now I have to ask that you keep your heart out of it and do what is right.” The bones in her body felt as if they would crumble beneath her. How could she listen, yet not? How could one turn off their emotions? She glanced at the relic, then back toward the sword. The gems on the handle glistened and twinkled in the sunlight. The silver glowed nearly white—it almost looked as if cast off its own light. “I am not a man.” Dante said, his voice nearly a whisper. He gasped for air. “This body was mine only temporarily. I ask of you, my love, only to set me free to be victorious.” She shook her head. Believing that was too much. He pressed more upon her than she could imagine. He was man—she’d held him in his arms and shared the physical, the emotional, the spiritual love—the bond between a man and a woman. It was real, very real. She brought her eyes again to his. The sunlight reflected there like polished bronze. Then it faded. Shaking her head she warned him, “Don’t do it. Don’t flash me some intense vision. Not now.” Not after the demon had shown her horror movies of her parents’ cruel deaths. Not after she watched airplanes fall out of the sky. All because of her. She’d caused it. She didn’t want him to remind her that she was on her way to failure. “What you see…” His face went white. His golden brown eyes glassed over and then slid closed. No. Nuh-uh. Her heart stopped. “Don’t you dare.” She could barely breathe as she rushed to him. She lifted his chin and leveled his face to hers. “Wake up.” She knew. Felt her own blood go cold with him. “Nooo!” Her wail blocked out any other sound. The pain surpassed anything she knew. Her very chest was torn open and her heart extracted. A pulse, anything. She searched desperately for proof it wasn’t true. Her fingers roamed over his neck, then lifted his hands and searched the wrist. Nothing. She gasped for air, not sure she was going to survive this. 176

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Dante was dead. Oh. My. God. Dante. She couldn’t breathe. She closed her eyes against the tears that flooded them. Pain sliced through her with the sharpness of the sword behind her. Her hands fisted and she curled up into a ball. She hadn’t just failed this mission— she’d killed him. “Dante?” She smoothed his cheeks and memorized his peaceful face. “Please come back. Please.” She felt so weak, so helpless. Leaning her forehead against his, she sobbed his name. “I love you. Please don’t die. Don’t…die.” She clenched her lips together and closed her eyes. She rocked slightly back and forth, propelled by the silent sobs. “I’m so sorry I failed you. I’m sorry…” Cammie opened her eyes with a start when the ground started moving. Only she wasn’t on the ground. “Get her up. Pull her up!” Male voices—familiar male voices reached into the narrow crevice where she hung on a harness. A cold sweat broke out on her body. “Dante,” she whispered. There in front of her, half-buried in the rock and silt, was the relic. What was happening? What was going on? She ignored the thunderous roar that seemed to originate from the belly of the earth. She held her hands out in front of her. Gloves. Gloves? Kicking her feet out she noticed she had her hiking boots on. Was this a dream? Déjà vu? No. Dante had been real. It all had been—the pain in her chest couldn’t be imagined. She bounced as the men above her pulled her up a foot. “Wait!” she screamed, clawing at the side of the cliff to get to the relic. “Not yet, not yet!” Rocks crumbled and chunks of dirt hit the helmet she wore and bounced off her legs, some of them bruising her. She didn’t care. She held her breath and pried with her fingers, her hands trembling as she dug at the hard-packed dirt. “No!” she screamed as the rope ratcheted up a notch. “Down. Back down.” “Earthquake, Cammie. You’re coming up.” “No. I’ve got it. It’s right here. Just a minute longer.” She had to get it, had to free him. Beneath her fingers the ground vibrated. She pulled out her chisel and started hacking away. At this point, she could care less if she hurt the damn statue. That meant nothing now. Dante was in there.

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“I’m coming,” she whispered, tears blurring her progress. The pick spun out of her fingers and reverberated with a metal ring as it bounced off the rock below her. Great. Not again. Please no. “Now.” The noise above her was deafening. She pushed the hair off her face with the back of her hand and tried once again to pry it loose with her fingers alone. Damn gloves slipped over the marble. With a curse she yanked them from her hands and let them fall. The rope was tightening. She could barely reach now. Still she bent over as far as she could, nearly hanging sideways in the harness, trusting the clasps to hold her in as she swung in the narrow chasm. Must get it. Must not fail. “Cammie?” “Hold on!” her voice echoed around her. She reached out and grabbed at the dirt, reaching, straining until her bare fingers came in contact with the relic.

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Chapter Twenty-Three The noise was far away and distorted. Cammie felt a rush of cool air, heard the roar of a freight train. When she tried to open her eyes, white light blinded her. She gritted her teeth and ignored the pain in her fingers as she dug at the rock-hard earth that held the relic so tightly in its grasp. As her hands closed around the familiar weight of it she felt it. A fullness and warmth so amazing she forgot where she was. Dante. She opened her eyes but could not see. His name fell from her lips but even she could not hear it. The very rope that held her trembled with the force of the quake. “Now!” she screamed. Why weren’t they pulling her up? The entire earth jolted and seemed to shift, the force of it sending her careening against the edge of the cliff. Everything went black.

***** “Who are you?” Cammie blinked twice and looked up into the smiling brown eyes of the upside-down face above her. Her heart swelled to the point of bursting. How could it be? He smoothed back her hair. “My name is Dante.” Dimples flashed, eyes glistened and his voice wavered. She sat up, swung her legs around and threw herself in his arms. Tears flowed from her. She had no idea why this was, no clue how it was possible, but right this minute she had the man she loved holding her. He pulled her back and studied her face. “Cammie—” She looked around, trying not to let the panic of the vision before her tarnish her happiness at finding Dante alive. “Am I dreaming?” she interrupted him. “Where is everyone?” Then it dawned on her. The demon. The relic. Was this some sick joke…was she going to have to go through this again? She searched Dante’s eyes for any hint that it wasn’t true. “Where are they?” Crooked smile. “I sent them away.” 179

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Behind her, right where she’d known it would be, was the backpack. She shivered. “I can’t do this.” She looked at him. “I can’t go through that again. I thought—” She sat back down on the marble platform and dropped her hands into her lap. “Did that happen? All of that? B-but…you—you died!” He didn’t look surprised at all. He nodded. That crazy grin hadn’t faded at all. Her stomach twisted. “So what’s this, we get to do it over again? Because I failed?” Dread took over. Losing him once was bad enough. No way… no. She watched his fingers trace the bare part of her arm, from her wrist to her elbow. “Look at me.” She did. The twinkling there in the deep melted chocolate pools gave her hope. “You didn’t fail,” he started, his voice low and throaty. “Love is stronger than all the curses in this world.” The boyish charm was evident in the wrinkles of the corner of his eyes and deep dimples that outlined his smile. “Did you mean what you said?” Her breath hitched, her heart skipped a few beats and her hands went clammy. She could get lost in his eyes. “When I said what?” she whispered, so afraid that she didn’t understand. “That you loved me?” She threw her arms around his neck. Of anything, there was no doubt in that statement. No doubt whatsoever. “I do love you.” Tears sprung to her eyes at the joy of being able to utter the words to him now, when she thought they’d come too late before. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought I’d killed you.” It hurt so bad yet felt so good to touch him again. “But how?” So much she didn’t understand. He bore no scars, no signs that the fight between him and the demon had every taken place. “Love gave us a second chance.” Dante reached up and thumbed away a tear. “I know it’s hard to fathom that time was rolled back for us. But it was.” “So we do have to do this again.” Dante reached over and picked up the pack and put it beside her on the bench. She blew out a breath. At least she had Dante on her side. They could defeat this demon. She was confident that their love was enough. She shrugged it on her shoulders and took a few steps. Then stopped. “Well?” she asked. Dante hadn’t moved. “Let’s get this over with.” “Come back here,” he said. “Open the pack.” She sat it down and unzipped it, glancing up at Dante’s amused face. Something wasn’t right here. Two gold coins. She turned them over in her hand after withdrawing them. Identical to the ones she’d found, then lost somewhere along the way.

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“Dante?” Her bag contained a statue, but it wasn’t the relic. It was a well-preserved but typical Mayan-looking artifact. “You failed the mission you came here to do, Cammie. Can you live with that?” She felt the blood drain from her face. “I-I did?” “You dropped the relic.” Her eyes flitted to the wide crack in the earth. She felt nothing. No regret at all that she didn’t have that piece of marble to carry. “I did?” She looked at her swollen and torn-up fingertips. “You did. The demon went after it.” “But…what does that mean?” And how or why were they supposed go through the steps to defeat the demon if the relic was lost? Wasn’t that what he was after? He gathered her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead. The ground beneath them trembled and moaned. “It means we won.” She lifted her face to him. The truth was there. They had won. “We need to get out of here.” She grabbed the platform for balance. The whole world felt like it had just shifted on its axis. “What’s happening?” She swung the backpack over her shoulder and grabbed the hand he extended. “The ground is being sealed. For good.” She ran, unable to question. Behind her she heard the thunderous rushing as everything collapsed into the hole. “Wait,” she said, pulling until he stopped then turning around to look toward the dig site. The dust the quake kicked up kept her from seeing the scar left by the tear that used to be there. She wanted to know, needed to know it was done. “He can’t get out?” “This time we are truly mortal.” Cammie turned back around. “You said you were mortal before?” She was so confused, but she held tightly to his hand. “Mortal body. I was still an angel then.” Realization dawned on her with the force of an icy shower. “Dante, no. You don’t mean—” “I’m merely a man now.” She reached up to touch his face. Pure awe filled her body. She didn’t have to ask. He’d done this for her. Came back for her. Sacrificed or gave up being an angel? It was too much to fathom. “And—” He reached out and touched her lips with his finger. “You ask a lot of questions. Now shh.” He started walking. She fell in step beside him.

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“Remember that vision you had of us laying on the beach?” Resting her head against his shoulder she closed her eyes to imagine that again. “Hmm.” “That’s where we’re going.” She didn’t ask how, or why. Her mission was done. The excavation site had been destroyed. The team would come back, pack up and go home. The relic had been lost. She’d call later and let them know that she was unharmed and admit that this time she didn’t get what she came for. And it didn’t bother her at all. “Where are we going to stay?” she asked, wincing a little. Once again she was without identification or money. “I’ve got it covered.” He squeezed her hand, then let go of it to drape his arm across her shoulders. “Don’t worry about anything.” Funny thing is, she believed him. She trusted Dante. After all, he’d gotten her this far. Who said he wasn’t an angel anymore?

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About the author: Melani Blazer’s mom swears she was born reading, and by age six, was writing little rhymes. It was something she did for fun—even through high school where she was a writer and the copy editor for the school newspaper. But then practical thinking took over and her college focus aimed at science. Now, too-many-years-to-admit later, she’s rediscovered her childhood escape and taken it a step further. She’s written stories in a diverse number of genres, but found her true love in paranormals. To keep her feet grounded in real life, she keeps house with her wonderful husband of 14 years, an almost-teenage daughter, and her cats. Melani welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at P.O. Box 787, Hudson, Ohio 44236-0787.

Also by Melani Blazer: Legend of the Leopard

Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.

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