It was with this new and stunning realization in my eyes that I rose to my feet and turned to face the young man I’d just had sex with: If I became pregnant, I might not even know who the father of my child was. Dante or Amber. I’d slept with Amber several days ago, right after Basking.
Dante had showered, shaved, and dressed. His wet hair was slicked back and the grizzly beard gone from his face, allowing me to see the rough, stark beauty of his angles. But even groomed and dressed in the trappings of civilization, nothing could change those eyes. Those pale blue eyes that shimmered with wildness and aggression barely contained. The madness in them was gone, but not even sanity could soften the instinctive fright that coursed through my body like a shocking jolt when I looked into those formidable eyes. Eyes that I could have sworn I knew. He was unchained, free, and fear suddenly thudded within me, coursed in a riot through my blood.
He stopped twenty feet away and spread his hands in front of him to show he was unarmed, that he meant no harm. But my heartbeat did not lessen its rapid-fire staccato. When he took a step forward, I took a step back. I couldn’t help myself.
Something moved in his eyes. Hurt, pain. Reciprocal wariness, perhaps. His eyes dropped down to my hands that I had unconsciously lifted to ward him off, to keep him back, and his eyes narrowed. Something in him grew very still.
Suddenly aware of what I’d done, I made myself drop my hands back to my sides. “Are you well now?”
“Yeah.” But he spoke as if he were troubled, distracted, making no move to draw closer to me. With effort, he brought his attention back to me. “What about you? Are you well? Did I hurt you?”
“No,” I said, as gently as I could with all the adrenaline coursing in me.
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I may be pregnant.” My whisper vibrated with the horror I was feeling. “And I just realized, if I am, I may never know for sure who the father is.”
His attention centered even more sharply on me. “You have another lover?”
“More than one.” A choked sound came out of me that was half-sob, half-laugh. “But only one before you who could get me with child.” Not Halcyon, my demon dead lover. Not Gryphon, whose child I had wanted in remembrance of him. Not Dontaine, with whom I had lain, but not in a way that could result in a child. “Just Amber. Or you.”
Something flared in those eyes for a moment before he dropped his gaze. His hands curled into fists, and tension seeped into his body before he consciously released it with a slow, deep breath.
“Thank you for saving me,” he said, his rough voice deliberately gentle, oddly formal. “And my deep regrets for any discomfort I may have caused you with my fumbling. It was not meant intentionally.”
Frightened though I was of him, I pushed aside my distress to soothe his. “You didn’t cause me any discomfort. Nor was there any fumbling on your part. You brought me great pleasure. Made me come three times, in fact. How can you doubt that you pleased me?” I said, shaking my head. “Was that your first time?”
He cast me an odd look but nodded.
“Well, let’s just say you show a true natural talent,” I said with a wobbly smile.
“Then why did you run from me?”
My smile disappeared. “Because we didn’t use the condom. It was right there in my hand. Then your need flared up my own and I felt this terrible, gripping urge to bear life, to have a baby. It came out of nowhere, ambushed me, drowned me in it, until I felt as if I would literally die if I didn’t feel your seed jetting into me. The condom was right there in my hand, and I deliberately dropped it, let it go. How could I have done that? I don’t even know myself anymore, who I am, what I’m becoming.”
“Would being pregnant be so bad if that is what your body craves?”
“You don’t understand.” And I couldn’t explain it to him. “It could be disastrous. Not for me, but for the baby. And I knowingly risked it.”
Even more distressing, I thought I was going crazy. I felt as if I should recognize Dante. That even though I’d never laid eyes on him before, my body knew him in some way…and feared him.
“Do I know you?” I felt like an idiot asking him that question, but was compelled to ask it anyway.
He stilled. Froze in a way that made him seem as if he were not real, not living. Then he moved, released a breath. He cast me a searing, searching gaze. Then without a word he turned and walked swiftly away—as if a ghost had suddenly sprung up before him and he was fleeing it.
Only when he was gone did my heart slow down.
God, I thought. Who the hell are you? How do I know you? And most important of alclass="underline" Why do I fear you?
SIX
EVENTUALLY, I WANDERED back to the house. Dante was nowhere to be seen, deliberately avoiding me, it seemed, to my relief. After a shower, some clean clothes borrowed from Hannah, and one soothing cup of chamomile tea to settle my frazzled nerves, I called home. The phone at Belle Vista rang only once before it was picked up, as if someone had been standing there waiting for it to ring.
“Hello,” said a voice abruptly.
“Tomas?” I wasn’t sure if that was who I was speaking to. It sounded like him, but sharper, crisp, without his usual soft twang and easy way of speaking.
“Mona Lisa?” The shocking loudness of his voice was heard clearly by everyone in the room, which happened to be the entire Morell family. All but Dante.
I winced. “Yeah, it’s me, Tomas. Is Dontaine there?”
“No. He and everybody else are out looking for you. Where are you?”
“In the next state. In Texas. I’m okay. I, uh, found a healer, and I’m bringing her and her family back with me. But it might take a little while for them to pack up everything, and then hours more for us to drive home. I’m going to try to make it back before sunrise, but don’t worry if I don’t.”
There was just the jagged sound of his breathing for a few long seconds. Then his voice sounded in my ear again, softer. But it was a harsh softness. “Worry? Why should we worry? Wiley woke the entire house up and they tracked your steps back to the woods. They found the scent of two strange men there and signs of a struggle.” His restraint slipped then. “What the hell happened, Mona Lisa?”
Oh crap. I could imagine the panic and uproar that had followed. “Listen, I’ll explain everything when I get back home, I promise.” Hopefully by then everyone would have calmed down some. Please let it be so. As it was, my raw nerves couldn’t take Tomas’s distress any longer. I felt oddly fragile, like a ceramic doll that would crack with any additional pressure. “Call off the search, Tomas. Tell everybody that I’m okay and that I’ll be back soon. I’m going to hang up now.”
“Don’t!” Tomas yelled, panic in his voice. “Don’t hang up! Tell me where you—”
Gently, I disconnected.
“Was that your lover?” Quentin asked. He seemed the only one capable of speaking in the sudden silence. His mother and father looked shocked, as if what they had heard was not what they had been expecting to hear. Their surprise surprised me. What was the big freakin’ deal here?
“No, that was Tomas, one of my guards.”
The big man, Nolan, unglued his tongue. “You allow a guard to speak to you like that?”
“He’s obviously upset,” I said, shrugging. “I think it would be best if we left here as soon as possible, so my people back home don’t freak out anymore than they already have. How long will it take for you guys to pack?”