Now he cursed the darkness, because he couldn’t see her body, just a silhouette of full breasts. He reached out and cupped the globes in his hands, heard the sound of her indrawn breath. He caressed her nipples, surprised when he skimmed across the cool metal of piercings at the tip of each bud.
“Now that’s sexy,” he murmured. He knew she was wild and untamed, that there was an animal lurking inside Isabelle waiting to break free. And he wanted that part of her all to himself. He flicked the metal and her nipples hardened under his thumbs.
“Yes, touch me,” she said, her voice like smoke, intoxicating him, luring him into the darkness.
Dalton was lost, knew he should walk away, play this game a different way. He was too close to the fire, but he couldn’t resist. It was as if something compelled him-a drug to a junkie desperately needing that next fix. He sensed doom and destruction, yet he couldn’t turn away from Isabelle now if his life depended on it.
He had a feeling the course he took now would forever alter his destiny. He didn’t give a shit. He wanted Isabelle naked and underneath him.
He stripped the dress all the way off, then shucked out of his clothes. She reached out and touched him.
“Your hands are hot,” he said.
“Your body is hot.” She reached for him, encircled the throbbing part of him desperate to be inside her, and began to stroke, taking his breath away as she expertly wound her hand around his thickness, sliding her thumb over the crest and cradling his balls in her other hand. When she dropped to her knees and pressed her lips to him, his knees almost buckled.
No. Yes. Oh, hell yes.
He grasped her hair and wound it around his fist, tightening it, pulling her hair as she wove a magic spell with her lips and tongue, taking him nearly to the edge.
But he wasn’t going there. He jerked her up by her hair. “Stand up.”
Darkness filtered the edges of his mind, a violence he could barely control. He pushed Isabelle against the wall, lifting one of her legs and settling it over his hip as he drove into her with one hard thrust. She cried out and he absorbed it with his mouth, kissing her hard, plunging his tongue inside, fucking her mouth the way he did her body.
She raked her nails down his back in answer to his violent thrusts, groaning against him, gripping his body in a way that made it hard to control. Explosive passion warred with the darkness enveloping him until he couldn’t hold back any longer. He set it free-on himself, on Isabelle, who seemed to revel in the darker side of him, absorbing it and giving it back to him, biting and scratching him as he powered inside her, not with tenderness, but with force. She didn’t balk, didn’t cry; she took, accepted, and delighted in the way he fucked her.
“Yes. More!” she cried. He felt her tighten around him, her body claiming his as she growled out his name in climax.
The fury of her passion blinded him. Darkness drove him. The tight gripping of her body was his undoing and he went with her, burying his face in her neck and pouring out all he had, shaking and shuddering until he had nothing left.
Afterward, spent, sweating, and glad this time for the darkness, he felt her slacken against him. He picked her up and carried her to the bed, pulled down the covers and laid her down.
She hadn’t said a word. Had he hurt her? Did she regret?
He searched her face, his eyes adjusting enough to the darkness to see her eyes were closed. He waited, but she didn’t move at all. She was out cold. He sat on the edge of the bed and raked his hands through his hair.
Fuck. What had he just done? Even worse, what had he just unleashed?
He’d allowed that darkness within him, the violent, sinister side, to come out and play.
So much for romancing her. So much for seduction. Hell, he hadn’t even been nice about it. He’d taken. Violently. Shame washed over him. He wanted to run, to hide. But wasn’t that what he’d been doing for years?
He dropped his chin to his chest, knowing it was no use to wish he could change things. This hadn’t been the first time it had happened, it had just been a very long time since he’d allowed it.
With Isabelle, it had been easy. But he couldn’t blame her for it. He was responsible. And now that it had happened, he had to make use of it. Which made him feel even worse, if that was possible. But he had to do what he’d come here to do.
“Isabelle.” He shook her shoulder, testing her. “Isabelle, wake up.”
Nothing. He tried a couple more times, and she didn’t move. She was out. A long day and enough alcohol and she was exhausted. She wouldn’t wake for a while.
Perfect.
He stood and looked around the room, not wanting to chance turning on a light, though he didn’t think even that would rouse her.
He searched every part of the room, taking his time, looking through each drawer and the closet, until he found the box. She hadn’t hidden it well at all. Then again, she probably wasn’t expecting anyone to go hunting for it.
The lock was easy to pick, and he grabbed the book Isabelle had locked in there. He locked the box back up and put it back in the closet, then dressed and left the room, leaving the door unlocked.
Once in his room, he turned on the light and opened the book. It didn’t take much scanning of pages to realize it was a journal, or diary.
But not Isabelle’s diary. It was the journal of Isabelle and Angelique’s mother, Monette Deveraux. He leaned back and started reading from the beginning, from the time Monette, a French archaeologist, first began doing her work.
Good thing Dalton could read several languages, since Monette wrote entirely in French. He sat back and flipped through the pages, wanting to get to anything that would help the Realm of Light figure out what was going on with Isabelle and Angelique.
It was only when he got to a certain passage that he sat up, his eyes widening.
I haven’t written in a while and it’s because I’m not certain how to explain this. It’s strange, surreal, almost as if it were an out-of-body experience.
I don’t know what happened. He seemed like such a nice man. Seductive, beautiful, with the most unusual eyes I’d ever seen. He took such interest in my work, and we spent days, and nights, talking about my current project. We would have dinner, and he was always so polite. I began to trust him. Perhaps that was my biggest mistake. I have always been too trusting.
He stayed with me for over a month, gaining my confidence-and my love. I knew in my heart he was the one for me. Foolish, foolish woman I was.
We made love in the desert, under the stars. It started out beautifully, but then it went so terribly wrong. Something in his eyes-those eyes that I had found so beautiful-they turned evil-horribly evil. I couldn’t stop him. The passion, the terror, I wanted to stop, and yet I didn’t want to stop. It was heaven and hell combined. When it was over, I was afraid and I ran from him into the night. He chased me. Then something even worse happened.