Solo Tu (Only You- Paranormal Romance) Read online

  Solo Tu

  By

  Mandy M. Roth

  Solo Tu © Copyright 2006 - 2011, Mandy M. Roth

  Cover art by Natalie Winters, © Copyright 2011

  Second Electronic Printing, April 2011 The Raven Books

  First Electronic Printing January 2006

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  All books copyrighted to the author and may not be resold or given away without written permission from the author, Mandy M. Roth.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any and all characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or events or places is merely coincidence.

  The Raven Books

  Published by The Raven Books

  www.ravenhappyhour.com ~ www.theravenbooks.com

  Raven Books and all affiliate sites and projects are © Copyrighted 2004-2013

  Solo Tu

  By

  Mandy M. Roth

  Table of Contents

  Solo Tu

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Epilogue

  About the Author, Mandy M. Roth

  Mandy on Amazon

  The Raven Books’ Complimentary Material

  The Guardians by Mandy M. Roth

  Date with Destiny by Michelle M. Pillow and Mandy M. Roth

  Solo Tu

  Paranormal Vampire Shifter Romance

  A witch by birth, Francy Montgomery feels she's merely a fledgling in the eyes of the supernatural world. Only one man believed in her abilities, a man who ignited a magical fire within her that burns for his touch, despite his rejection. Now she has to face him again, and tell him of her intent to marry another rather than wasting her life wanting what she can never have.

  Dante Guerrasio's patience has just run out. The mate he's waited centuries to find is now at a point in her life that's she's ready to be claimed as his. In fact, she'd be his already if some meddling magic hadn't interfered and kept him at bay when she was eighteen. The wolf inside him needed her then, but the man he is knew that Francy needed to taste her freedom before he could taste her. How did his suggestion that she experience life for herself lead her into the arms of another man—his sworn enemy.

  Chapter One

  Francy Montgomery pulled her silver sedan to a stop outside of the three-story cream-colored home and killed the engine. It was strange being back after so long but it was necessary. A strange calm surrounded her as she stared up at the house her longtime friend, Dante, insisted wasn’t a mansion. With nine bedrooms and ten bathrooms it counted as one in her book. Trust Dante not to think so. The man had been born in the lap of luxury.

  Getting out of her car, she took in a deep, fresh breath of country air. The very sight of the place took her breath away. It was both overwhelming and exhilarating to see it again. Part of her wanted to get back in her car and drive away. Another part wanted to lay down roots and never leave again. Unfortunately, she couldn’t do that. Running wasn’t an option either.

  Letting her power rise, Francy let it run out and over the grounds in search of Dante. A witch by birth, she had only learned to control her powers in the last several years. Being under thirty years of age made her a fledgling in the eyes of the supernatural world. Her lack of control and five-year span of trying to harness her powers was unacceptable by many, but not Dante. He made controlling supernatural gifts look simple and always made her feel good about what she’d accomplished. The minute she sensed his magik, Francy drew hers back quickly. Her entire body tingled from the rush of power and from the thrill of having brushed against Dante, even if it was only mystically.

  I should have just called. I can’t face him.

  It had been over five years since she’d been able to visit Dante and she wasn’t sure what to expect. Sure, they kept in touch as much as they could on the phone but they both led very busy lives. With the bombshell she had to drop on him, she was positive that their days of doing their best to stay in contact were numbered. Still, it was important that he hear the news she had to share before anyone else told him.

  Red rows of tulips flanked the limestone circular drive, giving the illusion of a red carpet welcome. The arched, notched-out entranceway had potted plants on it, consisting mostly of ivy. Italian herbs were randomly growing throughout as well. That suited Dante.

  The plants softened the hard edges of the entranceway perfectly. Francy could still remember Dante planting them. She had been in high school, visiting her family’s cottage, and he’d seemed desperate to find things to do to occupy his time. After all, the man had centuries under his belt and countless more to come. Immortality had its price—boredom seemed to be part of it.

  Desperate for anything to avoid one-on-one time with me.

  It was a harsh thing to think and not entirely true. So much had transpired between them that it was hard to pinpoint what they had. In her mind and her heart, she would always hold Dante near—love him with more of herself than she would ever offer another. In reality, he was her friend. Nothing more, and now she was promised to another. That in itself was something she was coming to terms with.

  Francy didn’t bother knocking. It wasn’t something she was known for when it came to visiting Dante and it would seem time hadn’t changed the habit. She opened the heavy wooden door and smiled when she found the front room hearth covered in fruits and vegetables. It was an open layout, leaving the hearth in close proximity to a large wash basin. It was Dante’s stopping spot from the garden. Francy could still picture him spending time cleaning all that he brought in from the garden in preparation for whatever feast he was planning.

  She smiled as she stared at the hearth. The charred backdrop made her laugh as she remembered how and why it was that way. Stepping closer to it, Francy put her hand out, almost touching the scorch marks. The marks had been made when they had decided to enjoy a late-night meal together with a soothing fire going. Dante had insisted on cooking for her and there was no way she’d ever pass that up. Not with as excellent a chef as he was. His ability to turn ordinary pasta into something extraordinary had always won her over.

  The way to your heart, Francy, is through your stomach. Dante’s words echoed in her mind.

  Francy let out a soft laugh at the thought of her friend’s comment and how he would tease her that he had but to cook and she’d forgive him for just about anything. In truth, it wasn’t quite that easy. There were things she wasn’t sure she’d ever forgive him for.

  Staring at the charred wall, she thought back to five years ago, when she’d last seen Dante. The meal had started out like any other but had ended in a way she’d never dreamt possible—with the two of them teetering on the edge of making love. They had come so close yet hadn’t completed the act. It was a regret she would forever live with.

  So many nights, when she should have been thinking of another, she’d lain in bed touching herself. Making herself come with the use of her fingers and memories of her night with Dante.

  That night, Francy had been so aroused, so in need of Dante to be in her, fucking her, taking her every way possible that she’d been careless with the gifts she’d been born with, accidentally releasing her magik and sending a charge into the fireplace. A second before Dante was about to slide his long, thick cock into her, huge flames shot forth, charring the cream-colored stone wall. It had left the two of them in an awkward spot, lying on his kitchen table, staring at the wall, and ended what could have been the beginning of something else entirely.

  Francy still wasn’t sure what Dante’s reasoning was for casting her aside, telling her to go and live her life, but s
he did know that she’d never truly gotten over it. The odds were against that ever happening. Various scenarios had raced through her head but the best she could come up with was he didn’t feel the same for her as she felt for him.

  She had left town shortly after and hadn’t been home since. Sure, Dante had spent years trying to convince her to return home, accept his apology and all would be right. Nothing was ever that easy. Francy had let someone else enter the equation but wasn’t sure exactly why. She had felt compelled, as though a greater force was driving her, pushing her to accept another and move on.

  “I can’t believe he left the wall like that.”

  “And I,” a deep familiar voice said from behind her, “can’t believe you’re finally here. Come sei bella—how beautiful you are.” The very sound moved over her, caressing her body in places it shouldn’t be able to touch.

  “Dante.” Turning, she found him leaning against the entranceway. His onyx-colored hair came to his chin, framing his rectangular face perfectly. It swept out a bit, always looking as though it was windblown. Though he looked to be in his mid to late twenties, he was much older than that, almost two hundred years to be exact. Their age difference had bothered him once. He swore each time they spoke on the phone that it was no longer a concern but with Dante she wasn’t certain.

  He is gorgeous.

  Dante’s dimpled chin and full lips had always been a source of fascination for her. Countless nights she’d lain in the cottage just beyond the edge of his property line with her hand buried between her legs, tweaking her clit to images of him.

  Stop thinking about him that way. You have someone else in your life now.

  He shifted slightly, causing the unbuttoned thin white cotton shirt he had on to move to one side. The sight of his steely, tawny chest and torso left her channel moist and her breathing ragged. The bulge in his khaki-colored, just past knee-length, cotton drawstring shorts only served to make her moan softly. It didn’t matter how many years she put between face-to-face visits, the man still made her body burn. If only he felt the same way.

  No. It’s better he doesn’t. You’re with another man. Remember that.

  “Hey, you,” she whispered with a smile on her face. Her pussy was damp and she could only hope that he couldn’t smell it. The werewolf part of him had an uncanny ability to smell things mortals wouldn’t.

  Dante’s lips curved upwards and Francy had to fight the need to run to him. “Are you planning on standing there all day or do I actually get a hug?”

  “Gee, I don’t know.” She tipped her head and bit her lower lip. Every ounce of her wanted to tackle him. She somehow managed to maintain her tiny grasp on her self-control. “The last time I saw you, you were a real ass.”

  The warm laugh that trickled from his lips seemed to wrap around her, caress her in tender places. “You won’t let me live that down, will you? I’ve spent five years apologizing to you.”

  “On the phone but not in person.”

  Dante moved quickly, covering the distance between them, and towered over her. His six-foot-two-inch frame was a sharp contrast to her five foot five one. Something about that had always appealed to her. He made her feel safe, protected at all times and she was fairly sure that her smaller stature did something for him as well.

  The minute his hands went to her exposed waist, resting between the stop of her mid-length white lace camisole and the start of her floor-length white silk chiffon skirt, her breath caught. Only Dante made her feel so alive with nothing more than his touch. Only Dante made her body ache to the point she had to fight the urge to beg him to take her.

  Why? Why can’t I stay detached? I’m only here to mend fences, make peace and move on with my life. Nothing more.

  He traced tiny circles on her exposed flesh, driving her mad with lust. “Francy, I am so sorry. I lost my temper, chased you off. It will never happen again.”

  “What? You losing your temper or making me run away?” she asked without thought.

  A sly smile broke over his face as he dipped his head down a bit. “You are the only woman I know who would think to have me clarify that.”

  Francy stared into his dark brown eyes and gave him a smug look. “I know you well enough to question anything you say, Dante.”

  “Do you now?” He planted a tiny kiss on the tip of her nose, shocking her into silence. Chuckling, he repeated his action before capturing her lips with his own. Fire shot through her.

  Too stunned to move, Francy simply stood there, allowing Dante to taste her. Her mind screamed at her to stop what was going on, to make him get away, but her body burned for him to be closer. It was intoxicating to have his warm tongue sliding into her mouth. It greeted hers and she was powerless to do anything other than return his kiss. His sweet exploration left her scrambling to keep up but somehow managing to follow along.

  Her nipples beaded as they scraped against his chiseled chest. The only thing standing between them was the lace of her cami and Francy prayed that Dante didn’t notice what was happening. She never knew when to take him seriously, and if this was another one of his bizarre proclamations or gestures then she didn’t want him to know that it meant so much more to her than him.

  The idea of humiliating herself by admitting to being in love with him was too much. He ran so hot-cold. One minute seeming to want her as badly as she did him and the next casting her out of his life—his very long life.

  This isn’t right. You have someone else.

  Placing her palms on his chest, Francy pushed gently, needing to end his game before it got out of hand and she ended up begging him to make love to her. One round of begging like a pathetic puppy was more than enough for her. She’d never do that again. No. She was tougher than she’d been all those years ago. She was a different person. One who didn’t require Dante to survive. Right?

  Dante groaned and made a move to kiss her again. Francy shook her head as she laughed, knowing that if she bothered to try anything else, she’d only end up in tears. “Oh, you are good, buddy, but that will be enough of that.”

  “But…”

  “Oh, but nothing. I think we, or rather, you laid out the groundwork for our friendship very clearly for me. I listened and learned. Did you?”

  Dante sighed, the remorse on his face was evident but she couldn’t let him change the rules to suit him. Not now. Not when so much was at stake for her. “Francy, it was different then.”

  “Different how? I’m still the same person I was when you explained that…oh…never mind. I didn’t drive all this way to pick the scabs off old wounds. I came to see you before I have to leave. So what are we doing for the weekend? I thought we could drive into town so I can see how much, if any, it’s changed. Oh, we need to go over to the cottage. I’d love to see what you’ve done with it. I still can’t believe you took it on. It’s not like you don’t already have enough to worry about.”

  His brow furrowed and Francy had to fight the urge to smooth the crease away. “Leave? Aren’t you moving home? You’re finished with school now. I assumed you’d move back here. That was the plan. That’s what we decided on, right?” The concern in his voice moved her.

  She wanted to lie and tell him everything would be all right but she wouldn’t do that to Dante. Withholding the truth about her love for him for so many years had been painful enough. Flat out lying would destroy her. “I’m here now. Let’s enjoy ourselves. We can spend the weekend together before I need to head back.”

  “The weekend?” Dante pulled her to him. The feel of his hard body pressed to her was almost too much. “Why just the weekend?” It was easy to see the wheels of thought spinning in his head. He’d always had eyes that seemed to bare his soul.

  Now, as she stared into them, she fought with all she had to stay strong. Francy’s insides clenched. For some reason she thought they’d have time to just be around one another before she had to drop the bomb on him. In her mind, they’d spend the weekend visiting places they used to frequ
ent, talk a bit about their mutual friends and then she’d ease into the news she knew he’d hate. Obviously, that wasn’t going to happen. “Dante.”

  He closed his eyes a moment and swallowed so hard that the cords moved in his thick neck, making her want to lick it. The idea was wrong for so many reasons but felt like it should be so right.

  “What’s going on? What are you not telling me?”

  She sighed. He knew her well. Drawing in a deep breath, she prepared for the inevitable. “We need to talk.”

  Dante gathered her hands in his and gasped. “What the…?”

  “Dante, I didn’t know how to tell you on the phone. It’s why I came. I needed to tell you face-to-face.” Francy let him lift her left hand higher and had to look away as he ran his finger over the engagement ring she now wore.

  “Francy, no.”

  She choked back a sob. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you so many times. I just couldn’t find the right words. I… I can’t explain it, Dante.”

  “How long have you been with him?” he asked, his voice strained.

  She focused on the Spanish-tiled floor, anything to keep her mind and gaze off him. She knew how much she’d let him down, how much she’d hurt him and it killed her. It would only hurt him more to find out that Ivon, the man she would be marrying, was a vampire. Not only that, but Ivon was as old as, if not older than, Dante. Nothing she had to tell Dante would please him. Still, it needed to be said. “I met him the day after I left for college.”

  “The day after I sent you away?” The hurt in his voice was evident.

  Francy nodded, her throat feeling very dry all of the sudden. “Yeah.”

  “And not once in five years did you feel the need to share the fact that you were with someone? We talk on the phone at least once a month. You never thought once, in all that time, to let me in on this?”