Dark Bites by Sherrilyn Kenyon
Dante laughed at that, even though a fierce pain cut through him at the memory.
Only his pantheress would be so bold as to defy his orders.
"I better go pay for that axe before someone puts out an APB on my mate," he said to Ash, Cas, and Simi.
But as he got up and headed down to the dealers' room, he couldn't squelch the need he felt to find Pandora and bring her back.
He wouldn't do that to her.
Dante was nothing if not a panther of his word.
5
Pandora spent two days in La Costa with her sister and the other females while Leo and Mike tutored them well on how to use their powers. They also tutored some of the unmated females on things she didn't even want to think about.
But none of her newfound freedom made her happy.
In fact, the longer she stayed here, the more her heart ached. Every time her gaze fell to her marked hand, she thought about the panther she'd left behind.
No, she thought about the man. The one who had given her so much.
"How's Dante doing?"
She paused outside the sliding glass door that led to Mike and Leo's room. The two panthers were in there alone and she wasn't sure which one was which. One of them was resting in a blue recliner, while the other appeared to have just ended a phone call.
That one tossed a cell phone to the dresser before he shrugged. "Romeo said he's still screwed up."
The one in the chair sighed heavily. "Yeah. I can't believe he didn't tell Pandora about his phobia."
"What phobia?" Pandora asked as she came through the door to confront them.
The twins looked at her sheepishly.
"It's not nice to eavesdrop," the one in front of the dresser said in a reprimanding tone.
She was in no mood to take that from him. "And it's not nice to talk about people either, but since you're talking about my mate, I'd like to know what you mean."
The twins exchanged a pained look.
"What do you think, Mike?" Leo was the one who'd had the cell phone.
Mike leaned back in his recliner as he silently debated for a few seconds more. "Might as well tell her, I guess. I don't see what it would hurt."
Leo let out a loud breath before he spoke again.
He looked at her. "When Dante was a cub, he and his litter and a group of our cousins escaped their babysitter and went out prowling on their own. After a few hours, they got lost and one of the females with them got really scared because it was getting dark. She didn't want to try and find her way back until morning so Dante agreed to stay with her and keep her safe. Our brother Sal told Dante he'd be back with help and then led the others off."
Pandora frowned at his story. "Why would that make him phobic?"
"Because it was a cruel prank," Mike said bitterly. "As soon as Dante went to sleep, Tyla snuck out and they all headed back home without him. Dante woke up alone and had no idea what had happened to her or how to get home. He was terrified."
Pandora was appalled at how mean his siblings and cousins had been to leave him behind. A cub on its own could be picked up by humans and put in a zoo or, worse, killed by any adult wild animal that came across it.
"They left him there by himself for a solid week," Leo continued with the story. "Every time someone asked about Dante, they made up some lie about where he was. When Donatello found out what they'd done, he went back to the woods to get him. He found Dante practically starved to death. He'd been living off scraps and having to keep predators away with no help. He was weak from exposure, but still he'd kept searching for Tyla, afraid something had happened to her."
His face sad, Mike shook his head. "Romeo has always said that that was what made Dante so damned selfish. After they returned, Dante was freaky about ever running out of food or trying to help someone. He started hoarding things and turning on anyone who threatened him."
Her heart ached for her mate. It must have been horrible for him to be afraid for his life while trying to find Tyla. And all because of a joke.
"I hope Donatello punished them for what they did."
Mike sighed. "He did, but the damage had already been done. Like Acheron so often says, there are a lot of things in life that 'sorry' doesn't fix and that was one of them."
"Ever since then," Leo said, "Dante can't stand for anyone to leave him. He practically climbs the walls if he can't account for his family."
"That's why he went to find you two when you were lost, isn't it?" she asked.
Leo nodded. "His worst fear is to have someone he loves not be able to find their way home again."
Tears filled her eyes as she looked down at the ring Dante had given her when they mated.
Now it all made perfect sense.
Why he didn't want a wandering Katagari female for a mate...
Why he tolerated his brothers even when they drove him insane...
Why he had freed her sister and the other women to travel with her...
And why he had given her Donatello's ring.
Closing her eyes, Pandora conjured up an image of Dante.
Dante was watching the acid metal band on a TV monitor. But his mind wasn't really on the act or the handouts and CDs on the table in front of him.
It was on the fact that he should never have let Pandora go.
You can't keep her...
He should have at least tried.
But at least she wasn't out there alone. He'd made sure that she would have her sister with her.
A warm hand touched his arm.
Grinding his teeth, Dante turned, ready to rebuff yet another woman coming on to him. He was really getting tired of telling them he wasn't interested.
But as he opened his mouth and his eyes focused on the beautiful face of his latest admirer, all thoughts scattered.
It couldn't be.
Not this soon.
"Pandora?"
"Hi," she said with a smile that made him feel sucker-punched. "I missed you."
This had to be a dream. His pantheress couldn't be back.
He wanted to tell her that he'd missed her, too, but the words wouldn't come. All he could do was react.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her fiercely, letting her feel that every part of him wanted her never to leave him again.
Pandora laughed at his heated welcome. "I think you missed me, too."
Dante left her lips to take a deep whiff of her hair so that he could memorize and savor it. "You have no idea."
Actually, she did. She hadn't doubted the twins before, but this thoroughly confirmed their story.
She nuzzled his neck, inhaling the warm spicy scent of his masculine skin. "Want to get naked?"
He laughed. "Yeah, but not here."
Pulling back from her, he took her hand and led her to a secluded corner so that he could flash them into his room.
They were both naked and in his bed three blinks later.
Dante couldn't breathe as he felt the impossible softness of Pandora lying beneath him.
Nothing felt better than her caresses. The fact that she was warm and welcoming. He slid himself inside her, and groaned at just how good she felt.
Pandora savored his hardness inside her and now more than ever she was glad she was human and not a real panther. Her Katagaria cousins only sought sex when they were in heat.
She could seek it anytime she wanted and she wanted Dante right now. Needed to feel his strong, powerful thrusts.
But the human in her wanted even more.
It wanted him with her forever.
"Will you bond with me, Dante?"
Dante froze as her whispered words went through him. "What?"
She held her marked palm up. "I don't ever want to leave you and I don't want to live without you. Not for one minute. Bond with me, Dante, so that neither one of us is ever abandoned again."
He took her hand into his and kissed her as love for her overwhelmed him.
He thrust against her hard and furiously as
This time when his teeth grew, he pulled back to stare down at her an instant before he sank his fangs into her neck.
Pandora arched her back as the pain of his bite quickly turned to pleasure. Her head spinning, she sank her own teeth into his shoulder.
For that one instant in time, every thought and emotion Dante felt coursed through her.
Any doubt she'd ever had about him fled as she felt his love for her, and it ignited her own.
This was what was meant to be.
He was hers and she was his.
She cried out as she came in a fierce wave of pleasure. Dante's own growl of pleasure filled her ears.
Joined together, they drifted through the ribbons of ecstasy until they were fully drained and spent.
Dante collapsed on top of her and she cuddled him in her arms. "I love you, Dante," she breathed. "And I promise I'll never again leave you."
He smiled languidly as he stared at her. "I love you, too, Pandora, and anytime you want to leave, I'll gladly go with you."
Epilogue
In the Marriott's lobby, Dante stood off to the side with Acheron while everyone at the hotel was packing up to leave. All the Klingons, Storm Troopers, fairies, and so on were now in normal dress with only scattered parts of their costumes evident as, one by one, they returned to real life.
Dragon*Con was over.
Just like Ash had promised him a year ago when he told him to come to Atlanta, it had been a remarkable weekend that would stay with him forever.
"You knew Pandora would be here when you told me to come, didn't you?" he asked the Atlantean.
Ash shrugged. "There's always room for error, but yeah. I did."
"You're a scary SOB."
Ash laughed.
Dante felt Pandora's presence behind him.
Turning, he saw her and Simi coming over to them.
Simi was beaming as she carried a wide collection of bags. "I gots my last bit of shopping done," she announced proudly. "You should be glad, Dante, your panther-woman don't buy much."
"You know you could have spent whatever you wanted," he said to Pandora.
"I know, but all I wanted was this."
He frowned as she handed him a small wooden box. "What is it?"
"Open it and see. I bought it just for you."
Dante opened it to find what appeared to be a bell-shaped necklace. "I don't get it," he said.
Pandora took the necklace out and placed it around his neck. "This is just in case you ever again have to fight someone else. Next time, I'll know which panther you are and I won't accidentally cut your head off. I plan on living a long, long life with you, Mr. Pontis. And no one, not even you, is going to stop me."
A DARK-HUNTER CHRISTMAS
Prologue
Born to impoverished Irish immigrant parents at the turn of the century, James Cameron Patrick Gallagher entered this world with a large chip on his shoulder.
It didn't help any that he was birthed in the backroom of a sweatshop that should have been condemned, to a timid, fretful woman who'd been forced to return to work just hours after she had delivered him into the hands of his nervous, alcoholic father. A father who was indifferent to the boy at best and violent at worst.
From the moment of that first wail forward, Jamie spent his life fighting for respect. Fighting his way out of the poverty that haunted him as he grew up in the Irish slums of New York.
At age fifteen, he found his way out.
The year was 1916 and two important events happened to him. His father died after he slipped and fell into the river on his way home from a three-day drinking binge. Two weeks later, Jamie went to work for the renowned gangster Ally Malone so that he could support his mother and eight younger siblings. A thug and a bully, Ally had shown him a way to make money that had made Jamie's poor mother's knees ache from the untold novenas she had prayed for her son.
But that was okay as far as Jamie was concerned. His new lifestyle afforded him the ability to buy his mother silk pillows to cushion her work-worn knees, and instead of praying with a cheap wooden rosary, she now had one made of gold and ivory.
It was a rosary she'd thrown in his face the day she had learned the real truth about her son: Jamie wasn't a poor innocent lad being led astray by those out to take advantage of him. By the time he was twenty, he was a fierce gangster to be reckoned with.
Disowned by his mother, he'd given his younger brother a reputable job so that Ryan could care for the family without their mother knowing it was Jamie's ill-gotten gains that kept them all fed.
Jamie had learned to harden his heart and to care for no one or nothing. He became Gallagher. A man who had no other name. One who let no one near him, let no one know him. He was ice-cold and rock-solid.
Until the day Rosalie had come into his life and chiseled away his granite casing. The daughter of Portuguese immigrants, she had been walking home from an all-day Mass.
Jamie had stumbled over her in his haste to catch up with a "business" associate he needed to take care of.
It had been a cold winter evening with snow falling down on the city. February 11, 1924 - a date that was branded into his heart and mind for all eternity. The minute Rosalie had turned her dark brown eyes on him, his entire body had been consumed by fire. For the first time in years, he felt something more than cold, blind hatred.
"I'm so sorry," she had whispered in her exotic accent, brushing at his expensive, handmade suit. "I didn't see you for the snow."
"It was my fault," he hastened to assure her. No doubt any other man in his position would have hit her or yelled at her. That thought sent a wave of unreasonable fury through him.
She was a complete stranger and yet he felt possessive toward her. Respectful. Two emotions he'd never accorded any woman not related to him.
"Rosalie!" her mother had snapped as she came back for her daughter. "You do not talk to such men. How many times must I say that to you." She took Rosalie by the arm and offered him a pleading, servile glance. "Forgive my daughter, senhor. She is young and foolish."
"It's fine, senhora," he said quickly. Then he met Rosalie's wide-eyed stare. She was truly beautiful. Her black hair was braided and coiled around her head, exposed to him when her church veil had fallen off after they collided. Her dark brown eyes were pure. Innocent. Completely unspoiled by the bloody violence that made up his life. Most of all, her eyes were kind.
He didn't want anything to sully that gaze. To make it hard and cold. Bitter.
Like his.
"May I have permission to court your daughter?" The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it. Her mother's expression was one of pure horror. White Irishmen didn't court Portuguese women. Society would never tolerate such a thing.
"No," she said sharply, hauling her daughter away from him.
Jamie might have taken no for an answer.
Gallagher didn't.
It had cost him well over one hundred dollars in bribes to locate Rosalie, but she had been worth every cent of it. Regardless of her parents, his associates, and society as a whole, he had made her his wife on June 17, 1925.
Rosalie alone had known Jamie. And he had died trying to get to her side while she struggled to bring his one and only child, his son, into the world.
It had been a cold snowy night then, too. Just days before his thirty-third birthday. He'd known the authorities were after him, had known he had a mole in his company even though he had been trying to go straight.
None of that had mattered.
Rosalie had needed him, and he had refused to let her down.
It was a decision that had cost him his life and his soul.
1
Seventy years later
New Orleans
Gallagher frowned as he felt something tickling his lower back. It was a sensation that he'd learned years ago signaled a Daimon was nearby. He turned his one-of-a-kind 1932 Bugatti Atlantic A
Oh yeah, the feeling was there, even stronger than before. He left the car and paused as he got his bearings. In the last seventy years, he'd only been to New Orleans a handful of times, and though the city didn't change much, it still took him a couple of minutes to remember the lay of the French Quarter.
The moonlight filtered down past the wrought-iron railings and hanging plants to illuminate the old brick of the buildings. Faint laughter and music could be heard as well as cars passing by. He cocked his head to listen, hoping for a sign of where the Daimons were.
A scream rang out.
Rushing off after it, he tore through the back alleys until he found the young woman near a garbage pile, surrounded by four male Daimons while a fifth Daimon had already sunk his fangs into her neck.
Infuriated, Gallagher rushed them. They charged him in unison, not that it did them any good. A couple of well-placed blows and one quick stab to their chests, and they were history.
Gallagher ran to the woman and knelt down by her side. Gently, he turned her over to find a girl no older than twenty. He cursed at the fate that had brought her into the path of the Daimons.
Luckily she was still alive, even though she was struggling to breathe. He pulled his monogrammed handkerchief out of his coat pocket and used it as a makeshift tourniquet over her vicious neck wound.
Moving quickly, he carried her back to his car, then rushed her to the nearest emergency room where he learned that the hospital staff wasn't big into admitting unknown women who were carried in by strangers in bloodstained clothes.
Once he had Nick Gautier on the hospital phone with the clerk and he was sure the unknown girl would be cared for, Gallagher took a deep breath.
He hung around the hospital, wanting to make sure she would live. Anxious and unable to just sit while the staff tended her, he found himself wandering around the corridors. The place was really decked out for the holidays. The green and red garlands and poinsettia cut-outs added a warmer feel to the antiseptic white. A couple of nurses and young female visitors smiled invitingly at him as he passed by. But then, women always had. At six-foot-four with black hair and eyes, he was well-muscled and hard-edged. The kind of guy that dames tended to notice.