Demon Wolf. Bonnie Vanak

ruminated over this. It wasn’t the thought of Sully treating him with kid gloves or asking him again and again how he was healing.

      Dale disliked the idea of sharing Keira’s company with another man.

      Interesting. He rubbed a spot on his chest, his scars itching suddenly. Or was the itch much deeper, the burning wish to enjoy a quiet conversation with a woman who didn’t look at him with either fear or desire in her eyes?

      Sully scrambled to his feet, swayed a moment and then caught himself. Dale stood as well, wondering about Cassandra Sullivan’s cryptic message. Her visions in the past had proved correct. But no way in hell would he ever dance with demons.

      Dale headed for his study and locked his weapon in the safe. When he returned to the dining room and retook his seat, Keira had set a bowl of stew on the table before Sully.

      The SEAL began to eat. “Wow, this is terrific,” he said around a mouthful of stew. “Maybe if Curt fires you, you can cook for me.”

      She sat, looking amused at Dale’s scowl. “I just got hired. Why would he fire me?”

      “You’re not his type. Too nice.” Sully waved his spoon. “He likes tall, model types with sharp tongues.”

      “Ensign,” Dale warned. “Tell me about your sister’s vision. What did this demon look like?”

      Keira choked on her wine. Dale glanced at her. “You okay?”

      “Fine.” She coughed. “Drank too fast.”

      “Sis said the demon’s face was blurred, but she had pretty hair. Silky.” Sully squinted at Keira. “Kinda like yours, ma’am. No offense. Didn’t mean to compare you to a demon.”

      “No prob,” she said quickly. “Care for some wine?”

      “Think I’ve had enough to drink. Wouldn’t wash down well with the finest whiskey this side of—”

      “Ensign,” Dale interrupted. “The vision?”

      “Cassandra said that the demon is closer to you than you’d ever realize...a demon in disguise—”

      “More stew?” Keira persisted.

      Sully shook his head. “Could use coffee, though, if you have any. Need to sober up.”

      Her smile was bright. “Sure. Would you like dessert? I made chocolate cake.”

      “From scratch?”

      Keira had already vanished into the kitchen. “Dale, would you help me? I can’t carry this by myself.”

      He went into the kitchen and carried out the cake as she set up the coffeemaker. Keira scurried after him into the dining room.

      As she began to cut slices of the thick cake, Dale shook his head. “I’m full. I’ll save it for later.”

      He aimed a stern look at the ensign. “Sully, your sister’s vision.”

      “A sad demon. Weird. A demon who liked to dance and invaded your house to get close to you, the devil in disguise. She said your future depends on vanquishing the demon.” Sully dug into his slice of cake. “This is great. Thank you, ma’am.”

      “Keira,” she said. “Dale, I think the coffee is ready. I couldn’t find anything to serve it in. Do you mind?”

      Dale bit back his impatience as he returned to the kitchen. Damn it, why couldn’t Cassandra have clear-cut visions instead of sounding like a Chinese fortune cookie? What demon? Why would he allow a demon into his own home?

      Then again, he’d changed since the time in the basement. Dale pressed a hand to his temple. Things that were normally clear before had grown muddied in his mind. He needed to get his act together.

      When he returned, carrying a silver service and three cups, Keira was eating her slice of cake. Sully snapped his fingers.

      “That’s what Cassandra said. I forgot. She said the devil you dance with is the devil in your house, the demon you’ll fall hard and fast for, the devil you’ll bring to your bed....”

      “Oh, my God,” Keira cried out.

      They both turned. She was licking frosting off her fork, her tongue slowly stroking the tines. Dale’s jaw dropped. Holy crap, the woman turned eating cake into carnal art.

      “Oh, my God, this is so good! Chocolate,” she breathed. “I haven’t had any in months. You must try this. I used dark and milk chocolate.”

      Keira took another bite. Eyes closed, expression ecstatic, she looked like a woman in the throes of orgasm.

      He forgot all about Cassandra’s vision. Forgot about why Sullivan came to his house. All his focus centered on the woman eating a slice of chocolate cake with such sensuality, his blood thickened.

      Dale hungered to see her looking this way again, only naked beneath him, her pleasure visible to his eyes only.

      Sully stared at her with wide eyes, a pulse beating wildly in his throat. The man was clearly turned on. She licked the fork slowly, and Dale had the oddest feeling she was truly savoring the meal, but also distracting them.

      Why? Did she see Mystic Witches as a threat?

      Keira flicked her tongue over the tines and slowly slid the utensil into her mouth. Out. Then in again. Sweat trickled down Dale’s back. He gulped down his wine, his gaze riveted. Beneath his shorts, his cock hardened.

      Stunned, Dale set down his wine. He hadn’t experienced arousal since his torture. Now his new housekeeper, with her innocent air and pouting, full mouth, had given him an erection. He narrowed his eyes at Sully.

      Leave us alone. Now.

      The SEAL wasn’t stupid. Sully suddenly pushed back his plate. “I’ll be going. Thanks for the meal.”

      He stood and stretched out his arms as if to teleport, but began to sway. Dale bolted out of his chair. Damn it, he was so tuned into Keira’s little display, he’d forgotten his first responsibility—to his men.

      “Downstairs, Ensign. You’re not headed anywhere. Either I get you a taxi to your apartment or you stay here. Last time you teleported someplace drunk, you ended up inside the lingerie department of a department store.”

      “I do love the ladies in silk.” Sully sighed.

      Dale helped him down the steps and watched him collapse onto a bunk bed, covered him with a blanket. Then, as an afterthought, he left a lamp burning.

      No one should be left alone in a basement with the lights off.

      No one should be left alone in a basement with the lights off and the sound of his own blood slowly dripping onto the cold concrete floor.

      His erection deflated. Dale climbed up the stairs, needing to return to the brightly lit kitchen.

      A soft, sweet voice hummed a tune he recognized from the sixties. Keira’s arms were plunged into a sink filled with soap suds. Disappointed, Dale cocked a brow. He wanted to watch her eat more cake, with him as her only audience. He wanted to slide chocolate frosting over her mouth and slowly lick it off, then trail his tongue down her neck and lower...

      What the hell was wrong with him? All he could think about was sex. This was the woman he’d hired to clean his house and keep Keegan Byrne the hell out of his personal life. Dale drew in a deep breath, then another, and folded his arms.

      “I have a dishwasher,” he told her.

      At her questioning look, he pulled open the stainless-steel door and slid out a rack. A most becoming blush tinted her round cheeks.

      “Runs on electricity, saves time,” he added.

      “Some things are done best the old-fashioned way. Save the planet.”

      His irritation grew. “Hope you’re not into only candlelight