Jaci Burton - Taken by Sin

“Leave me alone, damn you.”

A blue stream shot from the barrel of the rifle.

And right into Dalton.

No. No. That couldn’t be. Dalton had been on the other side of her.

Dalton fell to the ground and Isabelle dropped the rifle.

Oh, God, what had she done?

She heard Tase’s laughter in her ears, wanted to cover them to drown out the sound of his evil.

That’s my girl.

No. She hadn’t done this, had she?

But she had.

“Dalton!”

She smelled burning flesh and nausea rose into her throat. She forced it down, dropped to her knees in front of him. His eyes were closed, his shirt torn, a large dark hole in his stomach where she’d-

She’d shot him. With a laser. Dear God, he was dead. He had to be dead. No one could survive that. She looked for blood but there was nothing but a deep, dark hole in the middle of his stomach.

Frantic, her hands shaking, she touched two fingers to the side of his neck.

A pulse! She felt a pulse! Weak, but it was there.

She had to get help. She swept her hand over his forehead.

He looked so pale.

“I’m going to get help, Dalton. I’ll be right back.”

Don’t die. Please don’t die.

She didn’t want to leave him there alone, afraid he’d die while she was gone. But she knew she couldn’t help him. She pushed off the ground and sprinted to the main house so fast her lungs burned by the time she flew through the front door. Georgie must have known from the look on Isabelle’s face that something was wrong. She grabbed a tapestry bag from the kitchen counter. “Don’t talk. Let’s go.”

Fueled by panic and concern for Dalton, Isabelle nodded and they ran down the path back to the cabin. She was certain she was going to find Dalton already dead by the time they returned.

She’d shot him. How could she have done that?

Don’t think about that now. Save him. Don’t let him die.

She should have told Georgie to call 911. Dalton needed an ambulance, not a voodoo priestess with a carpetbag. Where were her brains?

She flew through the house and out the back door, skidding to a halt when she saw him.

Dalton not only wasn’t dead, he was sitting up.

She dropped to her feet next to him. “You need to lie down.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not fine.” She reached for his middle, but he grasped her wrist.

“I said I was fine.”

“Let me.” Georgie moved in and Isabelle stood.

“I’m okay, really.”

“What happened here?” Georgie asked.

“I shot him. With a laser.”

Georgie lifted her gaze to Isabelle, then back at Dalton.

“It was an accident,” Isabelle added. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” Dalton said, his voice calm and even. “I’m going to be fine.”

Georgie turned to her. “I’m going to bring him in the house. Go grab a pot and boil me some water.”

Isabelle nodded and ran inside to start filling the pot with water, the whole time lifting up on her toes to peer out the window to see what Georgie was doing. She had Dalton on his feet and was helping him to the door. Isabelle ran to open it. They came inside, and she was heading toward the bedroom when she noticed they weren’t following.

“In the kitchen is fine,” Georgie said.

She didn’t understand this. The wound was the size of both her hands. He should be in the hospital having major surgery, not sitting at the kitchen table.

By the time Isabelle had dragged the pot out of the bottom cupboard, washed and rinsed it and filled it with water, then set it on the stove, Georgie had removed Dalton’s shirt and was inspecting the wound.

“I need more light, Isabelle. Can you find me a lamp?”

“Sure.” The kitchen only had an overhead light, so Isabelle pulled the lamp from the living room and set it on the table, plugging it into one of the floor outlets in the kitchen. Georgie was bent close over Dalton. Dalton was watching Isabelle. He actually looked pretty good, all things considered. He should have been in shock, and pale, but he looked dark. Tan. Normal. Completely different from how he’d looked before she’d run up to get Georgie.

The water was boiling, so Isabelle took the cloths Georgie gave her and soaked them, pulled them out with tongs, and set them on the clean cutting board to cool a bit before handing them to Georgie.

“This isn’t bad at all,” Georgie said after washing Dalton’s stomach.

“Are you serious? That hole was huge. It was a laser blast and he was only a foot away from me, Georgie. I had to have hit major organs.”

Georgie looked up at her. “No, Isabelle. It’s not that bad.”

Georgie stood and went to the sink to wash her hands. Isabelle leaned over the table, then frowned as she examined the hole.

There … was no hole. It was closed, a small puckered wound the only evidence of what she’d done.

“You don’t even need stitches,” Georgie said to Dalton with a satisfied smile, then handed Isabelle a tube. “Keep it clean, put this antibiotic cream on it to ward infection away.”

Still puzzled, Isabelle nodded, then lifted her gaze to Georgie. “I don’t understand. It was much worse. Did you-”

Georgie laid her hand on Isabelle’s arm. “No, chè re. I didn’t.” Georgie looked over at Dalton.

Isabelle shook her head. She didn’t understand this. Not at all.

Georgie gathered up her supplies and left, but before she did Isabelle saw the frown Georgie had cast at Dalton.

Throughout it all, Dalton had stayed quiet. After Isabelle saw Georgie to the door, she walked back into the kitchen and pulled up a chair across the table from Dalton. Less than an hour ago she’d blown a hole the size of both her hands in his stomach. Dalton had looked near death.

Now, the hole was closed and he looked plenty healthy.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

He shrugged. “I heal fast. I told you I was going to be okay.”

She cocked a brow. “You must think I’m really stupid.”

“No, Isabelle. I don’t think you’re stupid at all.”

“Then do you want to tell me what happened out there?”

He reached for her hand. “Maybe you should tell me what happened.”

Okay, fine. They’d go there first. She owed him that, since she was the one who’d shot him. But then she wanted answers. “I don’t know. I had the rifle in my hands. Then I heard Tase’s voice. He told me to shoot you.”

Dalton leaned back in the chair. “So you did?”

“No! I fought it off.”

“Fought what off?”

“Him. The urges. His influence.”

“What influence?”

She inhaled, sighed. “It’s hard to explain unless you’re the one feeling it. But I’ll try. It’s like he crawled inside my head and became part of me.”

“Like he was controlling you?”

“Sort of. He kept talking to me, telling me to shoot you, to kill you. That I shouldn’t trust you, that you were going to hurt me.”

Dalton frowned. “Then what happened?”

“I saw you step in front of me, right in front of the barrel of the rifle. And I heard Tase’s voice behind me. I was so frustrated and so afraid I wanted to make him go away. So I turned around and fired. I thought I was aiming the laser at him.”

“I was behind you.”

She looked down at her hands, then swept her gaze back up to him. “I know that now. I didn’t then. I saw you in front of me, not behind me.”

“He manipulated you.”

“I know.”

“Tase wasn’t really there. I didn’t see him.”

“He’s in my head.”

“And he’s making you see things. He’s messing with your mind.”

“I guess I’m not getting stronger. I’m getting weaker.” Defeat hung like a weight around her neck, making it hard to breathe. She was beginning to think she wasn’t going to win this battle.