he sat on the bed and held her. The softness of her curves cradled his hard muscles. The delicious scent of vanilla and sandalwood rose to his nostrils in drunken pleasure. He buried his face in her silky hair and rocked her, soothing away her tears and the images of evil that haunted her.
She wore a thin t-shirt and boxer shorts. The sheet had twisted around her body, revealing a length of bare thigh. Her peach-toned skin was well muscled, obvious from the strict regimen she kept at the gym. Her breasts were small but perfect, her nipples poking through the fabric of her shirt and stabbing into his chest. His erection throbbed in demand, but he fought for his usual ironclad control.
He had a job to do. Getting emotionally involved with women was a liability and against the rules. If he intended to help Selina, he needed to suck it up and stop acting like a horny teenager with his first lover.
But, God, she was heaven to hold.
Dante took a deep breath, knowing that tonight he needed to push her. The healing only began with some emotional truth and pain. "Tell me about your dream, Selina."
She shook her head against his chest and clung to him. "Don't want to."
He smothered a curse and made himself ignore her. God, she was killing him. "I need to know. Tell me every detail you remember."
She hesitated. "It's always the same. I'm happy and safe. Then suddenly someone grabs me from behind. I try to scream but my lips are glued together. I try to fight; I try to stab them with my keys like I learned in self-defense class, but nothing works. I'm too weak. I'm too stupid."
He winced. A normal reaction. He longed to comfort her as she craved but knew that would only hinder the healing process. Dante pushed harder. "Why do you think you're weak or stupid? Those men were stronger than you were. There were two, not just one. How was a key going to help?"
"My fault," she whispered. "My fault."
"Why? What did you do to make those men want to beat you up and try to rape you? What did you do wrong?"
A sob caught in her throat. "Ed wanted to walk me home. I said no. I was too strong, too independent. If he had walked me home, I wouldn't have been attacked. My fault."
His heart tore; shred; ripped. Dante gritted his teeth and completed his job. For her. "Selina, if you hadn't been on that street alone, they would’ve waited for another woman. Maybe a woman who wasn't as strong as you were, who couldn't get through it. Maybe a woman I wouldn't have been able to save. And what if they thought it'd be fun to take out Ed, too? They could have easily jumped him first, and then attacked you. This is not your fault."
He forced her chin up. He still wore the mask, knowing one glimpse of the scar would reveal his identity. He was already playing way too close to the literal fire, knowing in a light bulb moment Selina could piece together the clues and realize his true identify. Sure, he changed his voice, and tried to mask his usual scent, but she was smart. It would be smart to back off.
But he couldn’t.
He needed to be here to help heal her. Already, those jeweled eyes glimmered with tears and grief, but with an inner strength that took his breath away. Dante looked deep, not allowing her to look away. Slowly, the realization dawned, the truth of what had happened to her, and the unfairness of the situation. But not her fault.
Selina broke. She shuddered against him, and Dante knew the wall had crumbled. First destroy, then rebuild. His mother had taught him well, and he felt grateful to use his powers to help the woman in his arms. The woman he'd been secretly in love with for the past two years.
When she was emotionally spent, Dante took the opportunity to lie beside her for comfort. She needed to get used to a man's touch again in a non-threatening way, and cuddling in bed was the best antidote to sexual violence. The layer of trust was already strengthening to a degree he'd never experienced before. He tucked her close against
She wore a thin t-shirt and boxer shorts. The sheet had twisted around her body, revealing a length of bare thigh. Her peach-toned skin was well muscled, obvious from the strict regimen she kept at the gym. Her breasts were small but perfect, her nipples poking through the fabric of her shirt and stabbing into his chest. His erection throbbed in demand, but he fought for his usual ironclad control.
He had a job to do. Getting emotionally involved with women was a liability and against the rules. If he intended to help Selina, he needed to suck it up and stop acting like a horny teenager with his first lover.
But, God, she was heaven to hold.
Dante took a deep breath, knowing that tonight he needed to push her. The healing only began with some emotional truth and pain. "Tell me about your dream, Selina."
She shook her head against his chest and clung to him. "Don't want to."
He smothered a curse and made himself ignore her. God, she was killing him. "I need to know. Tell me every detail you remember."
She hesitated. "It's always the same. I'm happy and safe. Then suddenly someone grabs me from behind. I try to scream but my lips are glued together. I try to fight; I try to stab them with my keys like I learned in self-defense class, but nothing works. I'm too weak. I'm too stupid."
He winced. A normal reaction. He longed to comfort her as she craved but knew that would only hinder the healing process. Dante pushed harder. "Why do you think you're weak or stupid? Those men were stronger than you were. There were two, not just one. How was a key going to help?"
"My fault," she whispered. "My fault."
"Why? What did you do to make those men want to beat you up and try to rape you? What did you do wrong?"
A sob caught in her throat. "Ed wanted to walk me home. I said no. I was too strong, too independent. If he had walked me home, I wouldn't have been attacked. My fault."
His heart tore; shred; ripped. Dante gritted his teeth and completed his job. For her. "Selina, if you hadn't been on that street alone, they would’ve waited for another woman. Maybe a woman who wasn't as strong as you were, who couldn't get through it. Maybe a woman I wouldn't have been able to save. And what if they thought it'd be fun to take out Ed, too? They could have easily jumped him first, and then attacked you. This is not your fault."
He forced her chin up. He still wore the mask, knowing one glimpse of the scar would reveal his identity. He was already playing way too close to the literal fire, knowing in a light bulb moment Selina could piece together the clues and realize his true identify. Sure, he changed his voice, and tried to mask his usual scent, but she was smart. It would be smart to back off.
But he couldn’t.
He needed to be here to help heal her. Already, those jeweled eyes glimmered with tears and grief, but with an inner strength that took his breath away. Dante looked deep, not allowing her to look away. Slowly, the realization dawned, the truth of what had happened to her, and the unfairness of the situation. But not her fault.
Selina broke. She shuddered against him, and Dante knew the wall had crumbled. First destroy, then rebuild. His mother had taught him well, and he felt grateful to use his powers to help the woman in his arms. The woman he'd been secretly in love with for the past two years.
When she was emotionally spent, Dante took the opportunity to lie beside her for comfort. She needed to get used to a man's touch again in a non-threatening way, and cuddling in bed was the best antidote to sexual violence. The layer of trust was already strengthening to a degree he'd never experienced before. He tucked her close against
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