Untouched Page 20

  The dark memory of the letters seeped slowly into her mind and threatened her serenity, but Kerry quickly stuffed it back down. Not now. This minute, this hour, she was just a woman walking in the arms of the man she loved. No matter what happened in the future, she would at least have this—this day, with this man. Kerry smiled wistfully. Her man.

  They made their way down Royal Street and turned the corner at St. Louis Cathedral. As they walked down St. Ann Street toward the river, a cool, delicious breeze picked up and washed over them, providing a brief respite from the muggy air. When they entered Jackson Square, the people and the colors seemed brighter. The square, littered with tourists and artists, had the added texture of jugglers and musicians. Kerry liked the organized chaos of the lively square. They walked along, admiring the various paintings, and Kerry couldn’t help but look for Joseph.

  “He works evenings. I’m not surprised he isn’t here. Besides, I’m sure the old coot needs a rest after his little display with the gun,” Dante said. His voice held an unmistakable edge of disdain.

  She should’ve known he would see right through her. Kerry shrugged, but couldn’t look at him. “I know. I guess I was just hoping… I don’t know what I was hoping.” She sighed.

  They reached the edge of the square and crossed to the Café Du Monde for some of their world famous coffee and beignets. Sitting under the green-and-white-striped canopy, Kerry indulged in some fattening, but delicious, sugary goodness. The strong coffee complimented the fried dough perfectly. She licked her fingers and enjoyed every delectable morsel. However, the entire time Dante looked at her as if she were covered in sugar.

  The winds picked up, and the sky darkened as storm clouds rolled in. Unfazed by the threat of rain, they remained safely under the canopy. For over two hours, they talked about everything under the sun. He spoke of his business, his family, and regaled her with stories of growing up on their ranch in Montana. She noticed the way his eyes softened as he spoke fondly of his sister, Marianna. Her heart broke when sadness crept into his voice at the mention of memories with his father. As lovely as those times had been, all of it was tarnished by his ultimate betrayal.

  “What clan is your sister descended from? You’re from the Fox Clan, like your mother,” she said, hoping that she was keeping it all straight. “But your father was part of the Bear Clan, right?”

  “Yes.” Dante nodded solemnly. “So is Marianna. The Kodiak Bear Clan.”

  “Oh,” Kerry said with a tight smile. She didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

  “I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me,” he said quietly. “She thinks that I could’ve done more to save him.” He shrugged. “Maybe she’s right.”

  “She’s your sister, Dante. Your twin sister. I don’t have any siblings, but if I did, you can bet I wouldn’t let anything come between us.” Kerry blew on her coffee and took a much needed sip. “Don’t you think that you should tell them the truth about what your father did?”

  Dante made a sound of frustration and leaned back in the wrought-iron chair. “I don’t want them involved in all of this,” he said with deadly seriousness. “The less they’re involved and the less they know, then the safer they’ll be.”

  Kerry narrowed her eyes and looked at him with curiosity. “Don’t you think they’ll have a few questions when you tell them about me? You know… the fact that your mate is a hybrid like Samantha?” Dante looked away from her, and her heart sank. Something that looked a lot like shame came over his face. Kerry swallowed hard. “They don’t know, do they?” she breathed.

  Fear gripped her heart, and she mustered up the courage to ask the question that had been lurking in the back of her mind. Was he ashamed of her? Ashamed that his mate wasn’t a pure-blooded Amoveo? If this thing between them was going to fall apart, better it happened now. Although the truth was she didn’t think her heart could survive that.

  She tilted her chin and straightened her back, preparing herself for the worst. “Are you ashamed of me?”

  His jaw clenched, and his intense gaze immediately locked again with hers as anger and frustration rippled off of him. His eyes flickered and shifted briefly. “How on earth could you ask me that?” He leaned in and took her hands in his. His eyes softened as he stroked his fingers over hers. “I am not ashamed of you,” he said definitively. “Yes, of course they know about you. You are my mate. You are my life now.”

  Realization dawned over her with sickening speed. “They’re not happy about it, are they?”

  “No,” he said quietly. “Mother has been so caught up in the loss of my father, I’m not sure she’s even registered what’s going on. But Marianna—” He sighed, and his shoulders sagged with defeat. “She not only blames me, but she also blames Samantha.”

  “And me,” Kerry said quietly.

  Dante shook his head. “No. It’s not your fault, Kerry—or Samantha’s. None of it is. My father chose to be violent and hateful. He made his own fate.” Dante leaned both elbows on the table and lowered his voice. “As far as Marianna is concerned, our father died trying to protect a hybrid. Her feeling is that if hybrids didn’t exist, then our father would still be alive.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers softly. “She’s angry,” he said softly. “She just needs some time.”

  “Dante,” Kerry began slowly and kept her steady gaze on his. “I hate to ask you this, but do you think there’s any chance that your sister could be involved with the Purists?”

  He sat back slowly, but kept his dark eyes locked with hers. His face remained a mask of stone, and the lines in his forehead deepened. Kerry held her breath as the silence hung thickly between them. She knew it was a risky question to ask. He could flip out and tell her to go to hell for suggesting something like that. Truthfully, she wouldn’t blame him. It was a ballsy thing to ask—but it had to be asked. She studied his face and waited for what felt like eons before he finally answered her.

  “That thought has crossed my mind,” he said. “But, no.” He shook his head firmly with his mouth set in a grim line. “I don’t think so. She’s been very busy helping my mother through her grieving and getting all of my father’s affairs in order. She is also next in line to take his place on the Council, and as you can imagine, she’ll have a great deal to learn. Honestly, I doubt she’s had time for much else.” He looked at her through those loving brown eyes and smiled. “I’m sure that once they meet you, they’ll be as enamored with you as I am.”

  Kerry nodded and gave Dante a tight smile. “Right.” She nodded. She was glad he felt okay about his sister, but the cold, hard truth was that Kerry didn’t. She didn’t feel alright about her at all. Jeez. Talk about having issues with the in-laws.

  The blast of the steamboat Natchez had them both jump in their chairs, which promptly caused them to burst out laughing. Dante glanced at his watch and threw some cash down on the table for the bill. “We better hurry up.”

  Dante grabbed her hand, and they raced to catch the boat. Within moments of leaving the safety of the canopy, the skies opened up, and the rain came pouring down. They got to the booth and purchased their tickets in the nick of time. She couldn’t help but admire the rivulets of rainwater that traversed the ropy muscles of his arms, or how his black T-shirt had molded to every delicious inch of his broad back. He’d pushed the wet hair off his face, and it left her free to inspect his magnificent profile. If sex, desire, and lust could be molded into a man, then Dante would be it.

  Soaking wet, clothing stuck on them like a second skin, and laughing like two little kids, they boarded the old-fashioned riverboat. Taking her hand, Dante led the way to the top level and to the bow of the boat. The rain had discouraged many passengers from taking the ride, and the ones who did decide to go, stayed inside the safety of the ship’s cabin. However, the two of them stood at the railing in the rain and looked out over the choppy, indigo river.

  Kerry pulled her long wet hair off her face and tied it back quickly with the ea
se of experience. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth. The pelting raindrops stung her lips, and the clean water bathed her tongue. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel Dante’s gaze on her. His energy pulsed over her and mixed with the cool water as it ran down her body, creating an intensely erotic sensation.

  Dante sidled up behind her and placed one hand on either side of Kerry on the railing. Gently, he pressed his massive body up against hers and placed a butterfly kiss along the edge of her ear. She made a soft sound of contentment and leaned into him.

  “I just can’t resist touching you,” he murmured into her ear.

  “Who’s stopping you?” She sighed.

  He covered her hands with his, and she relished the way the slick skin of his arms slid tantalizingly along hers. That delicious sensation of honeyed warmth coursed through her veins. Her skin tingled as the enchanting phenomenon curled through her body from head to toe. He nibbled on her earlobe, and she angled her head, giving him ample access to her sensitized neck. He trailed wispy kisses along her skin and lapped at droplets of rain as that devilishly talented tongue flicked at her pulse, which beat wildly under the surface. She moaned faintly and licked the rainwater from her lips. Kerry attempted to reach up and touch him, but Dante captured her hands in his and placed them on the slippery railing.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” he whispered gruffly. “This is about you. I just want you to feel me touching you.”

  They stayed there in that position for the duration of the boat ride. That entire time he simply cradled her in the shelter of his body, periodically placing kisses along her cheek or trailing his fingertips up the inside of her forearm. His knee would brush tantalizingly against the back of her thigh as his fingertips memorized the curve of elbow. He licked the rainwater from the curve of her ear, along her jaw, and down the length of her neck. Delicate kisses, a lightning fast tongue, and talented fingers explored every inch of exposed flesh.

  It wasn’t sex, but it was the most erotic and intimate experience of her life.

  The rain broke, and the Natchez made its lazy turn back to the dock. Dante placed a firm kiss on Kerry’s cheek and wrapped his arms around her in a massive bear hug.

  “Time to go back,” he whispered.

  Kerry said nothing. What could she say? They did have to go back and face everything. She held onto his forearms, pulling him tighter to her as she finally opened her eyes and squinted against the sunlight that had broken through the gray clouds. The ride and their afternoon escape were about to come to a screeching halt.

  ***

  Dante rapped on the bathroom door softly. “Come on, princess. Hurry up, or we’re going to be late.”

  “I’ll be out in a minute, Tarzan.”

  Dante chuckled and shook his head at her nickname for him. Ironically, what had started as an insult had turned into a pet name. It dawned on him that he’d never had a nickname before. Before finding Kerry, the idea of someone calling him anything other than Dante or Mr. Coltari was less than appealing. He had a feeling she’d be getting away with just about anything she wanted. It was simple really. He wanted to make her happy, because that made him happy. It really was as simple as that.

  His cell phone chirped loudly in his jacket pocket. He pulled it out and looked quizzically at the unfamiliar number. It was a local wireless caller. That’s odd. Jacqueline or Boris maybe?

  “Hello?” Dante walked over to the window and looked out at the setting sun.

  “Mr. Coltari?” The man’s voice sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

  “Yes, this is Dante Coltari. Who is this?”

  “This is Brent, sir, from the hotel. Remember how you asked me to tell you if anyone asked about Ms. Smithson?”

  Cold dread crept up Dante’s belly, and every fiber of his body tensed. “Yes,” he said in a barely audible tone and threw a glance over his shoulder to the closed bathroom door.

  “Well, there were these two girls. Kind of young, you know. They couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen. I’m pretty sure they didn’t mean any harm, but they were snooping around here and asking all kinds of questions about Ms. Smithson,” he babbled relentlessly.

  Dante couldn’t get a word in edgewise, and the boy’s rambling was giving him a headache. He went on and on about the girls, what they wore, the time they came by, and so forth. After just the first sentence, Dante suspected that these girls were likely just overzealous fans. They couldn’t have been Amoveo Purists, for they were far too young, and it was very unlikely they were Caedo. He thought for a moment it might’ve been that assistant of Layla’s, Melissa, but Layla had made it painfully clear that they’d be working in the studio until late in the evening. Dante tried repeatedly to interject, but each time the eager young clerk cut him off.

  The boy kept talking, and Dante looked at his watch. Kerry had been in there for a ridiculously long time. Brent continued to babble away, and Dante went over to the closed bathroom door. Just before he knocked, Brent finally took a breath, and Dante didn’t squander the opening.

  “Okay, kid. Thanks for your help. I’ll check it out. Bye.” He shut the phone off and stuffed it into the pocket of his dark slacks.

  “Kerry?” He knocked, but was greeted only with silence. He called her name again and rapped harder, but still nothing. Dante grabbed the door handle and found it locked. Fear crawled up his spine. “Kerry! Answer me now, or I’m breaking down the damn door,” he shouted and banged harder.

  Met only with silence, he threw his weight into the door and broke it open. Dark energy flooded out of the bathroom. A tsunami of evil slammed into him and stole the breath from his lungs. Gasping for air, gripping the doorjamb for support, he looked frantically around the empty bathroom. Kerry was nowhere to be found. Questions raced through his mind, and then everything stopped. A bright red envelope lay on the white marble countertop.

  Dante’s eyes shifted, and a low growl ripped from his throat. His body shook with rage, and sweat beaded on his forehead. Seething with rage, he snatched up the envelope and ripped it open. He’d barely pulled the note out before the words on the page shrieked at him.

  Go to Breezemont

  And watch the freaks die.

  Your bitch is first!

  —The punisher—

  Dante crushed the note in his fist and pounded the counter repeatedly. The marble cracked, and the mirror rippled as his energy waves thundered through the room. He looked at his own reflection in the mirror and stilled. His amber eyes glowed brighter than ever, and veins stuck out in his neck. He looked as insane as he felt. Focus. He needed to focus. Freaking out and trashing the suite was not going to get his mate back. He had to find her. Nothing would matter, none of it, if he lost her.

  Dante pushed himself away from the counter and stalked into the living room of the suite. Where was she? Someone took her. Someone—one of his own people—had materialized in there and taken her right under his fucking nose. His mind raced, frantic, searching for an answer. He had to find her, connect with her. He closed his eyes and focused on connecting with Kerry, his anger fueled by helpless frustration. Each time he tried to connect with her, he was met with nothingness. A black, empty void was all that he found. That had only happened once before.

  His eyes flew open. Steven. The same thing had happened today when he’d tried to connect with Steven.

  He took the note out of his pocket and smoothed it on the dining table. He had to calm down and figure this out. She needed him. Dante focused on his breathing and did his best to keep the beast within him at bay. Hands splayed on either side of the wrinkled paper, he read it again, and the magnitude of the situation dawned on him.

  watch the freaks die

  Freaks. The Punisher had others—Samantha and Malcolm? Praying he was wrong, Dante closed his eyes and desperately tried to connect with Malcolm and Samantha. However, in both cases, he found the same sinister void. He struggled to rationalize and reconcile what was happening. May
be they were next door and just didn’t want to be interrupted. He had to check.

  He whispered the ancient language, “Verto,” and within seconds he stood in Malcolm and Samantha’s hotel suite. The same dark energy signature that had swamped him in the bathroom lingered here as well. It wasn’t as strong, but it still slithered through the room. Dante’s stomach rolled, and he grit his teeth against the sinister tentacle of energy.

  “Malcolm? Samantha?” He called their names and quickly checked every room in the suite, but as he feared, they weren’t there. All of their things were there, and the room was relatively undisturbed, but his two friends were nowhere to be found. Maybe they weren’t back from Westerly yet?

  Whoever took Kerry had been in here too. He had to find them and warn them. Just before he left, something on the floor caught his eye. Feathers. He crouched down and picked up two brown feathers with a golden hue. Dante’s heart sank. He knew they were Malcolm’s. There was no question in his mind any longer. Whoever took Kerry had taken Samantha and Malcolm too.

  ***

  Her captor had appeared behind her out of thin air, like something out of a childhood nightmare, or the embodiment of the grim reaper. She knew, even in that brief instant, that this black-clad intruder was the person who wrote the notes—The Punisher. Her masked captor placed one hand on her arm and twisted it harshly behind her back. The other gloved hand clamped firmly over her mouth before she could cry out to Dante for help. Bright electric shocks shot through her blood, and the image of a snarling tiger burst into her mind. It was an Amoveo from the Tiger Clan.

  It had happened in a split second.

  One moment she’s in the bathroom getting ready for their meeting with Jacqueline, and the next she’s standing in a rundown bedroom littered with cages and lit candles. She knew it was the old house in the bayou. Joseph’s house.

  When they materialized in the dilapidated bedroom, her heart sank at the sight before her. Her kidnapper had collected a twisted menagerie. She struggled in vain against the iron-clad grip of her captor. The Punisher giggled lightly in her ear and yanked harder on her arm, sending red-hot streaks of pain up her arm. She bit back a cry of pain, and her eyes frantically scanned the scene around her.