“I like mine purring, Dario. I want her happy, healthy and to want to be with me. How do you want your woman to be?”
Dario leaned forward and looked Elie straight in the eye. It was disconcerting to stare into those dark pits of hell. “Alive, Elie. If I ever really managed to find a woman that was mine alone, I would want to know I could keep her alive. That would be a full-time job with what I do. I’ve got so many people who want me dead, she’d be my number one vulnerability. You know damn well, Emme is Val’s and Brielle is yours. If someone wants to screw with you, they don’t have to kill you, they just have to take her from you and fuck her up. That’s worse than killing you. I can’t ever afford to allow myself to feel for a woman the way you do. You can tell yourself that you don’t love her already, but it’s obvious you’re already falling down that rabbit hole. It’s bad enough that I care about that dumb fuck Val. Or Emme. Or . . .” Dario trailed off.
Elie knew Dario was right. He had never considered he would feel that way about any woman, but he’d built up his fantasies of Brielle over the years they were separated. The times their shadows had connected had tied them together. When he’d gone to the places Brielle worked, his shadow had crossed with hers often and he’d felt the sexual rush, so much so that he’d gone back again and again, addicted to the feeling. He’d been sexually enthralled with his date for a few hours because of it, but that had tied him closer to Brielle without his knowledge.
“Dario, the only way you’re ever going to claim a woman is if you see one you find attractive already, then you realize she has the shadow you’re searching for and there’s some advantage she can give you. Only then will you allow your shadow to cross with hers to see what happens. The jolt will send rockets through you both and you won’t know what hit you.”
Dario didn’t deny it. He shrugged. “Yeah, I get that the shadow thing can mess with control. I’ve seen it with all of you riders and even Val. You know me, Elie. At least you know me better than most men do. I’m rigid when it comes to control. I have too many demons not to be. Never going to have a woman of my own, I already know that.” He shrugged again like it didn’t matter.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do know because I have a standard now. I know what kind of woman I have to have and I would never take less. I’ve got Emme. She accepts me just the way I am. Doesn’t care that I’m a freak and a monster. She loves me and I feel that every day. I see her and now I see your woman. She’s worth something, Elie. Don’t fuckin’ let her walk all over you when she’s in danger. She’s like Emme. She thinks she’s a warrior, but she’s soft inside. I can spot that a mile away. Even though I know that’s what I want and need, I’d tear up a woman like that.”
Dario glanced up at the same time Elie did, both aware as Brielle padded through the open dining area to the great room toward them. She moved in silence, a stark contrast to the storm seething outside, the rain hitting the roof and windows angrily, a dark tempest raging violently.
She wore the short little robe he’d left on the bed, the one he’d found in her luggage when he’d put her clothes away for her on their wedding night. She’d been exhausted and he’d thought to help her, but ended up intrigued with her choice of clothing. The robe was a filmy concoction of smoke gray and pale rose, the two colors swirling together as if paint had been mixed and dumped on the thin, stretchy material. The thin fabric could be transparent in the right circumstances, like when it stretched over the sweet curve of her ass cheeks or the alluring temptation of her breasts.
The robe was held together with a single tie at her waist, relying on the stretch of the fabric to keep the gaps closed. Elie had instructed her not to wear anything he hadn’t put on the bed. He hadn’t included underwear. Each step she took, the little robe would open just a tiny bit at the bottom, flashing him a brief glimpse of the very top of her inner thigh. She kept her arms at her sides, not attempting to cover up, knowing he would send her back to start all over if she did.
“Bébé, I left the pillow on the floor. Would you mind moving it before you sit down? Just to the edge of the conversation area will do.”
Brielle glanced at him from under her lashes and then at Dario. Dario didn’t look away this time. He looked hard. Dangerous. Every bit the man he was. He was probably the scariest man Elie had ever run across. She inclined her head like the little princess she was. He should have known she would have the grace of royalty as well. She remained sideways to both sofas, allowing the flickering flames to play over her face and the front of her robe. With the grace and skill of a shadow rider, she crouched low and caught the edges of the long pillow and then straightened, backing to the area where the cozy circle of chairs was. She simply dropped the pillow on the floor beside the nearest chair.