“Both. And that wound needs cleaning, even if you do have dragon-fast healing.”
“So we’ll clean it once we find a house for the night,” I said, a touch impatiently. The man wasn’t going to wriggle out of telling me at least something about himself. Not this time. “Your father was a muerte?”
“Yeah. I was his only son, so I’ve basically been trained for the position since I could walk.”
The edge in his voice surprised me. I glanced at him, but his expression was as unreadable as ever. “It almost sounds like it wasn’t something you wanted to be.”
“I love what I do, but that’s not the point. I was never given the choice.”
“And if you had been? Would you have chosen to walk this path or not?”
“I don’t know.” He released me to jump off the marina, then grabbed my waist and lifted me down. We walked in silence through the dark RVs, and it wasn’t until we reached the road on the other side of the park that he added, “There was a time I contemplated a life that was more than shadows. A life filled with warmth and family and children of my own, but that foolishness vanished years ago.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Why would you consider wanting love and a family foolishness?”
“Because such things are not for the muerte.”
“Why the hell not? I mean, you exist, so somewhere along the line, love and family must have come into the equation.”
“I come from a long line of muerte who breed for necessity, not for love. My father bred three daughters from different women before he produced me. He had nothing further to do with the mothers of his other children. I became his sole focus.”
We crossed the road and moved through the trees lining the sandy hill. He obviously had a target in mind, even though we’d passed several perfectly good houses. Of course, they could have been occupied—a dragon’s senses were usually keener over long distances than a draman’s.
“Why the hell would your father’s other partners even put up with that?”
His mouth twisted and became a bitter thing. “Because in our clique, it is considered an honor for a woman to bear the child of a muerte—especially if that child is a male who goes on to become one of the shadow ones.”
“And I thought my clique had attitude problems.” These men were using dragon women as little more than incubators—and had them convinced it was a good thing! “But just because you come from a long line of men who refused to settle down doesn’t mean you’re destined to do the same. You have a choice, you know.”
“A muerte’s life is nomadic. And it is dangerous.”
“So?”
“So,” he said, slanting me a glance that sent a chill down my spine—and not because it was his usual scary, death-in-residence glance, but rather one that was briefly filled with a resigned and aching acceptance of a barren future. It was a familiar feeling—simply because it haunted the darkest of my dreams, too. “There are those who do not like what we do, and there is an active—if underground—plot to erase us. My father was murdered, as was his father. I have no doubt that will be my fate, too.”
“So you live like a monk until then? Why restrict yourself that way?”
His grin was sudden and decidedly wicked. “Oh, monks and I have nothing in common. As you’ll no doubt discover soon enough.”
“There you go again, getting ahead of yourself.” I let my hand slide across his butt until it slipped into the back pocket of his jeans. Even through the material I could feel the heat of him, the ripple of muscle as he moved. I wished it was skin-on-skin contact, but it was probably better that it wasn’t. Things might have gotten heated a little too quickly if it had been, and we still had to find somewhere decent to stay. Sandy soil was not a good bed, no matter how sexy the partner. “And we still haven’t gotten to the bottom of that whole respect thing yet.”
“Oh, I respect you,” he said, his voice a whisper through my soul. “In fact, I intend to respect every single inch of you. And more than once.”
Heat surged through my limbs at the thought, and I resisted the urge to fan myself. I needed to get this conversation back on track. Otherwise we were going to get down and dirty right here and now—sand or no sand.
“There are lots of men in dangerous jobs—cops, firemen, and soldiers, just to name a few—and they still allow themselves to love, and be loved.”
“But part of the power of a muerte is the fact that he has no family—and no loved ones—to fear for. There is no one in his life that can be used as a pawn in whatever game might be in play.”
“So what about when you stop being a muerte?”
“You don’t ever stop,” he said, amusement in his voice even as his fingers lightly brushed my nipple. “Generally, you’re just stopped.”
“Oh, come on, there has to be at least one muerte who has lived to a ripe old age.” God, it was amazing how normal my voice sounded considering my insides were all quivery and my knees were threatening to give way under the assault of that simple caress.
Time, I thought, to start causing some havoc myself.
I slipped my hand from his pocket, and moved up to the waist of his jeans, finding the edge of the material and slipping my fingers underneath, cupping his butt. And lord, it was a good butt—well shaped and firm.
“A good half of those trained don’t even live to see their middle years,” he commented, his tone warm and laced with amusement. “And you are making it impossible for me to walk.”
My gaze skimmed down his body and came to rest on the rather impressive bulge in his jeans. “That,” I commented cheekily, “doesn’t look large enough to be causing a problem.”
“Maybe not, but the fact that your arm is down the rear of my jeans and is tightening the material everywhere else is.”
“So are you saying I need to remove my hand?”
“No, I’m saying the house in the trees just ahead is looking mighty perfect for a break-in.”
I laughed. “And suddenly Death is sounding a little harried.”
“Death is as horny as hell.” The smile teasing his lips did all sorts of happy things to my body. “Shall we move along a little quicker?”
“Well, you can hurry all you like, but I need a bath first.”
“And a good hair-washing. It’s looking a little frazzled after being under that hat.” He glanced at me over his shoulder, his grin all cheek. “I’ll do that, if you like. I’m very good at it.”
I didn’t doubt that he was. And at other things, as well.
I let him tug me the rest of the way up the hill, our footsteps leaving sandy indentations behind.
But despite my eagerness to experience what this man had to offer, part of me wanted to delay that moment as long as possible. Maybe it was simply an urge to savor something I knew would be very intense, and yet very brief. There might be a strong attraction between Damon and me, but he’d already made it clear he wasn’t going to stick around for long.
But if that was long enough to find and stop the people behind the cleansings, then that would be enough. For Rainey and for me.
I ignored the mocking voice deep inside that called me a liar and studied the house looming through the trees. There weren’t any cars sitting in the driveway and there were no lights on. There was no sound or movement, either, but given the time of night, that wasn’t entirely surprising.
“Can you sense anyone?” I asked.
“Nope. But I want you to wait here while I go check the place out.”
“Damon, I can—”
“Yeah, yeah, heard it all before. Just humor me.” He removed his hand from my shoulder, then cupped my cheeks and dropped a gentle kiss on my lips. “Consider that a down payment for later.”
“Maybe. But only after the promised bath and hair-washing.”
“Deal,” he said, then turned and disappeared quickly into the night and shadows.