Demon Wolf. Bonnie Vanak

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 and battery power like most New Agers and I’m going to wake up to find organic sprouts for breakfast instead of bacon and eggs. I don’t eat sprouts and I’m not into peace and love.” Dale fetched a clean dish towel and began to dry the plates she stacked on the drainer.

      Keira’s lovely mouth wobbled. “Are you making fun of me?”

      His stomach churned at her woebegone expression. He set down a plate. Damn it, had he lost all his manners? Since when had he been so rude?

      He took another deep breath, wrestling for control, feeling his life was spinning away from him again.

      “I’m sorry. I’m rather bad-tempered these days.”

      Especially when facing a woman who really turned him on, and made him feel even more out of sorts because each time he was around her, all he could think about was getting her naked.

      Her peaches-and-cream complexion looked creamy and smooth, like fresh milk. The pink-and-green-flowered frock floated around her calves, hugging every inch of her curves. With her huge green eyes and the dark curls tumbling down her backside, Keira looked more like a forest nymph than a housekeeper.

      “Why?”

      That voice, it stroked over his clammy skin like velvet. So lush and melodious. Seductive and yet without the artifice of his sometime girlfriend, Melissa, who knew how to use her feminine skills to get her own way.

      Keira was his housekeeper. It was none of her business why he was bad-tempered. She was his employee, nothing more.

      Dale braced his hands on the counter and looked her in the eye.

      “I told you before that I was in the hospital. It’s only been two weeks since I returned to active duty. I’m still trying to find my feet again and learn to be civil.” His mouth twisted. “Hard to be social and polite when you spend days and nights bare-assed, needles and tubes snaking out of your body, nurses waking you up every hour to check and see if you’re still breathing.”

      Sympathy shone in her green eyes. “Why were you in the hospital?”

      He dragged in a deep breath. Sooner or later, she’d hear the rumors. “I was tortured by demons.”

      She flinched.

      “But I made it, and thanks to one of my men and his girlfriend, who saved my ass and got me airlifted to a hospital in time, I’m going to be fine. Great. Terrific.”

      “Do you remember anything?”

      “Not much.” Dale picked up the dish towel and began folding it into thirds.

      “The man and his girlfriend who saved you, do they remember anything?”

      He frowned. “Shay and Kelly told me there was a girl in the basement, but she vanished. His memory and Kelly’s both got fogged. But he’ll never forget the girl’s face.”

      She drew in a deep breath. “Where is this Shay and his girlfriend? Maybe they can help you.”

      “They got married. Shay’s away on training, took Kelly with him to live near the base. They won’t be back for a few weeks.”

      Keira’s expression remained shuttered. He stared at the counter, willing the memories to become stronger.

      “I remember the little boy the demons threatened to torture and kill and how they said they’d make him die slowly if I didn’t take his place. I’ll never forget his name. Joshua.”

      “Josh,” she murmured.

      Dale studied her and Keira flushed again. “Most boys with that name are nicknamed Josh. What else do you remember?”

      “There was a wolf there, a black wolf. And a woman. I think. I remember her scent.” He rubbed an aching spot behind his throbbing temples. “Citrus and wood chips. No, maybe it was lilies and honey. It’s a blur now.”

      Keira rummaged in the freezer, found a bag of frozen peas and handed it to him. “Here. This will help your headache.”

      “Thanks.” He pressed it against his pounding skull. “How did you know my head hurt?”

      “Your face is all compressed.”

      The cold bag felt good against his throbbing head. “I thought you were going to say my aura is red and black.”

      “It is.” Keira dried her hands. “But I know you’re not into that woo-woo stuff.”

      He had the grace to feel ashamed.

      Dale tossed the peas back into the freezer and stuck out a palm. “Let’s start over. I’m Dale Curtis, lieutenant commander of the best team of SEALs in the U.S. Navy, sometime classical pianist and foot-in-the-mouth jerk.”

      A tentative, sweet smile touched her mouth as she offered her hand. “Keira Solomon. Roving gypsy, Luminaire and quirky New Ager. Oh, and I happen to detest bean sprouts.”

      Her palm felt soft, the bones delicate beneath his big hand. Dale caressed it very gently, feeling the bandage he’d placed there, feeling loath to release her. The delicious scent of cookies, vanilla and almonds drifted from her, tendrils wrapping around him and invading his senses. She smelled like freshness and innocence.

      She smelled like home.

      Dale hadn’t been home in a long, long time.

      His guts clenched as he dropped her hand. She did not move but moistened her mouth, staring at him.

      Riveting his gaze on her mouth, he moved closer. Closer still, his own lips parting. Hungering to sample her, see if she tasted as delicious as she smelled.

      Dale reached for her, ready to cup her cheek and lower his mouth to hers.

      A sharp scream cut through the air. Keira blinked, and paled.

      Downstairs. Sully.

      The SEAL never had nightmares. Ever.

      “Oh, God, get it off me! Please! Someone help me!”