Taken By Sin: The Demon Hunter Series, #4

By Jaci Burton

Now available from New York Times bestselling author Jaci Burton!

Dalton has taken on an impossible mission, one that could cost him both his career and his life. But Isabelle needs his help, and he'll do anything to keep her safe. Still, hiding her out is one thing. Banishing the demon inside of her is another, especially when the vulnerable, hot as hell woman brings out the devilish side of him.

Isabelle feels the passion seething inside of Dalton and craves it. But she still isn't sure whether Dalton is her enemy or savior. All she knows is that every time she looks at him she wants him—all of him, the consequences be damned.

But both demons and demon hunters want Isabelle dead, and that means they're in big trouble. And as their pursuers close in, Dalton has to make a choice—will he sacrifice the woman he loves, or make the ultimate sacrifice in the name of love?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jaci Burton, Inc
• Release date: Jun 23, 2009
• ISBN: 9798201165734

Book preview

Other Titles by Jaci Burton

PLAY-BY-PLAY NOVELS

The Perfect Play

Changing the Game

Taking a Shot

Playing to Win

Thrown by a Curve

One Sweet Ride

Melting the Ice

Straddling the Line

Quarterback Draw

All Wound Up

Hot Holiday Nights – A Novella

Holiday Games – A Novella

Holiday on Ice – A Novella

Unexpected Rush

Rules of Contact

The Final Score

HOPE NOVELS

Hope Smolders

Hope Flames

Hope Ignites

Hope Burns

Love After All

Make Me Stay

Don’t Let Go

Love Me Again

WILD RIDER NOVELS

Riding Wild

Riding Temptation

Riding on Instinct

Riding the Night

ANTHOLOGIES

Unlaced

Exclusive

Laced with Desire

Nauti and Wild

Nautier and Wilder

Hot Summer Nights

SPECIALS

The Ties That Bind

No Strings Attached

Wild Nights

Rescue Me

Nothing Personal

Unwrapped

Dare to Love

Unraveled

SINGLE TITLES

Wild, Wicked, & Wanton

Bound, Branded, & Brazen

Animal Instincts

Bite Me

Dolphin’s Playground

Dream On

Garden of Eden

Hands On

Lycan’s Surrender

Magnolia Summer

Midnight Velvet

True Lies

Taken by Sin

By

Jaci Burton

Taken by Sin

All Rights Reserved ©2009 by Jaci Burton

ISBN: 978-1-946535-32-0

Cover by Designs By Dana

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Published by Jaci Burton

Praise for Jaci Burton

THE DARKEST TOUCH

"Strong characters and gripping suspense make The

Darkest Touch a book you won’t want to miss." —Romance Reviews Today

Gifted Burton adds more dark thrills and sexy danger to her well-paced story. —Romantic Times

SURVIVING DEMON ISLAND

Creative, scary, sexy and fast-paced. Jaci Burton delivers. —CHERRY ADAIR, New York Times bestselling author

Burton has an uncanny aptitude for intertwining the human and the paranormal so seamlessly that sudden demon attacks and labyrinthine underworlds are perfectly believable. Realistic dialogue, spicy bedroom scenes and a spitfire heroine make this one to pick up and savor. —Publishers Weekly

Big applause to Burton for successfully setting up a rousing and timely premise that’s a real roller-coaster ride. Not only does this book set the stage for further ex citing adventures, it also delivers a great group of characters that have plenty of room for growth. Burton doesn’t skimp on the sizzling sex or romance either. This book has it all! —Romantic Times

Exciting, intense. A ride you don’t want to miss. Burton has written a reality blast that will leave you breathless.—LORA LEIGH, USA Today bestselling author

HUNTING THE DEMON

Burton brings the heat. . . . Hot sex, fierce battles and an impending sequel make this title worth hunting down. —Publishers Weekly

Burton is back with another intensely sexy and action packed adventure. . . . Sassy, sexy, supernatural thrills!—Romantic Times

Aussies, heat waves, sex scenes, and demons galore. —The Romance Reader

[Jaci Burton] spins an intriguingly sexy story with the most incredible characters. . . . If you haven’t read anything of hers yet, I strongly suggest doing so now.—Fresh Fiction

A STALWART IN THE ROMANCE GENRE.    —USA Today

A wild ride.    —#1 New York Times bestselling author Lora Leigh

Jaci Burton delivers.    —Cherry Adair, New York Times bestselling author

As always, Jaci Burton delivers a hot read.    —Fresh Fiction

Burton is a master at sexual tension!    —RT Book Reviews

One to pick up and savor.    —Publishers Weekly

Contents

Other Titles by Jaci Burton

Copyright

Title Page

Praise for Jaci Burton

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

About Jaci Burton

To the readers who love the Demon Hunter series and always await the next book in the series so eagerly—thank you so much for that. I hope this one meets your expectations.

And as always, to Charlie, for his love and patience

Prologue

Hell was chasing them.

Dalton should stay and fight—there was only one mission occupying his world right now—save Isabelle. The only way he could do that was to get her out of here, away from the demons.

Away from hell.

As he jammed the accelerator and steered the SUV full-speed away from the cemetery, he caught sight of the blue lines of laser fire in his rearview mirror. They wanted to kill her. His own people. He couldn’t let that happen.

His gut clenched. He was part of the Realm of Light, demon hunters sworn to defeat the Sons of Darkness and their demon minions. He should be back there, fighting. His brothers and sisters of the Realm were right now engaged in battle with demons, and he was deserting them, running off with the woman he’d been assigned to terminate.

There was so much fucked-up about this scenario. He’d never walked away from a fight before.

But he had something more important to do. Instinct told him this was the right thing—the only thing he could do, given the circumstances.

He glanced over at Isabelle slumped over in the passenger seat. A woman he barely knew, yet he was screwing his entire future for her—okay, mostly for her. Unconscious, her head resting against the window, she looked so innocent, almost angelic. Her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders; her lips were half open as she breathed rhythmically. Her hands rested in her lap. There was no fight left in her—unlike a short while ago when she’d battled like a demon.

Because she was a demon. Half demon, anyway, and a part of the Sons of Darkness.

Dalton had been ordered to destroy her, and he couldn’t do it. Which was why he was heading away from the battle instead of standing side by side with the other hunters. He’d been told to remove Isabelle from the scene because her sister, Angelique, was there, and Lou, the Realm’s leader, didn’t want Angelique to witness Isabelle’s destruction Lou had ordered Dalton to take Isabelle away and kill her.

But how could he? He was responsible for much of what had happened to her. He’d started this chain of events that had led to Isabelle’s downfall. He’d handled it all badly, from the time he stole her diary, to making love to her when he shouldn’t have. It hadn’t been part of his mission, yet he’d found her irresistible.

Hell, he hadn’t wanted to resist. There’d been something about her that called to his dark side. Now he knew why. It still didn’t excuse what he’d done.

When he fucked up, he fucked up big, didn’t he?

So instead of terminating her, he was ignoring Lou’s orders, taking Isabelle away, abandoning the Realm of Light.

All to save Isabelle.

He could never go back to the Realm now. They’d come looking for him and Isabelle. They’d want to destroy her, to do the job he couldn’t. She represented a danger to the Realm. Yeah, there were other half demons within the Realm, but they had proven they could control the demon side of themselves. The others had never taken that step into darkness like she had. Isabell had embraced the demon within her, had tried to kill her sister, Angelique. Isabelle had sided with the Sons of Darkness. To the Realm of Light, she was nothing more than another demon now.

To Dalton, she was more. He didn’t understand it all himself, but as soon as Lou had given him the order, he’d known it was wrong. For a second back there when he’d stood in front of Isabelle, she’d changed. He’d seen the human side of her warring with the demon side. In an instant, he’d known.

She was just like him. Straddling both light and darkness. He’d seen her look of helplessness, the pleading in her eyes. What he would have given for someone to offer him a second chance all those years ago. It might have made a difference in the turn of events, the direction of his destiny. Now he had the chance to offer Isabelle what he hadn’t been. And at that moment he’d known he’d do whatever it took to bring the human part of her back.

Now he just had to stay one step ahead of the Realm, had to keep the two of them moving and in hiding long enough to come up with a plan to save her. If he could bring Isabelle’s humanity back before the Realm of Light caught up with them, they’d never hurt her. He’d prove to them that the demon inside her had been banished.

Isabelle stirred, moaned, reached up to her temple with her fingertips.

Isabelle?

He was prepared to pull over, had a weapon at his side. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it.

Her eyes drifted open. She frowned, angled her face in his direction, then looked at him like she had no idea who he was.

Are you all right? he asked.

She opened her mouth, her bottom lip trembling. Her gaze drifted to the laser lying across his lap. Her eyes widened and he saw recognition in them. She snapped her gaze to his.

Tears filled her eyes. She shook her head, shrank against the window.

I’m not going to hurt you, Isabelle. I’m taking you away from all of this. From them. Do you understand?

She drew her arms across her chest as if to ward off an attack.

Shit.

Dalton pulled over to the side of the darkened country road. He put the car in park and half turned in the seat, sliding the laser to his left side, out of her sight but still in reach. He didn’t know yet whether he could trust her. Her eyes were clear—human clear—but he knew from experience that could change in an instant.

I needed to get you away from there. Do you remember what happened?

She studied him for a few seconds, then gave a quick nod.

We’re going to get out of here. Just you and me. And then we’re going to figure it all out. I’m going to fix this. Understand?

She looked so petrified he wanted to fold her in his arms and comfort her. That would be such a bad move right now. Or ever.

I’m scared, Dalton.

Isabelle had always been so strong and confident. Now? Lost. Broken. Confused. Her voice, ragged and soft, cut through him like a blade. I know. I’ll take care of you. Trust me.

She shuddered out a sigh. Her lids drifted and her body sagged. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the seat.

In less than a minute, she was out again. Obviously, this had all been too much for her to process. But at least she hadn’t gone demon on him again. A good sign.

Now he really had to get moving. He mentally processed the To Do list—fake passports, a private flight, access to cash, and making sure their whereabouts weren’t tracked. The Realm had their fingers in everything, so he’d have to be careful not to leave traces. He was good at hiding his identity.

He’d already been doing that for a long damn time. He could do it for a few more months.

Chapter One

Two weeks later

Dalton felt more at home in the bayou than anywhere else. Moss providing a drapery of darkness, the dank smell of stagnant water, the humidity and the feeling of being closed in all suited his nature. Well-hidden, a place where no one could find him. No one knew about this place, no one would connect him here, so he knew it was safe to bring Isabelle.

The cypress trees bent low in welcome as he paddled the boat through the thick mud of the swamp bottom, keeping watch over the woman who sat ramrod straight on the metal seat in front of him.

For the past two weeks Isabelle had said very little. Like a robot, she’d followed orders, eaten, showered, and slept when he’d told her, but stayed mostly silent. No conversation other than a few verbal affirmations to his questions regarding her comfort level.

He’d hoped to draw her out, to talk to her, to begin the process of healing her. But he’d gotten nothing. Instead, she’d gone further into her shell.

Shock? Maybe. She was probably confused as hell and completely disoriented. He’d circled them around Europe before chartering a plane back to the U.S. When they arrived in New York, he’d bought a car and driven to New Orleans, not using the direct route to do that, either. Instead, he’d gone east and then south. Good thing he had a stash of cash he could utilize to do everything he’d needed to do. No way could he have accessed Realm money to fund this venture.

The only good thing about Isabelle’s silence over the past two weeks was the time it had given Dalton to think, to plan. He’d known then where he was going to take her, what he was going to do. Hopefully, it would work.

Of course there were no guarantees, but at least it would give her a chance, which was more than the Realm would have given her.

We’re in the bayou in Louisiana now, he said, getting used to hearing only the sound of his own voice. But he kept talking day after day, hour after hour, hoping it would help Isabelle, that maybe something he said at some point would trigger a response from her. A place I used to call home.

Isabelle gave a curt nod in reply, remaining, as usual, virtually motionless. Her fingers held tight to the rim of the metal seat on the boat. She stared straight ahead while he paddled, not taking in the view of the swamp at all. For all he knew, she was completely catatonic.

As the boat broke through the low-hanging moss, the house loomed into view, a great sprawling home well hidden from those who didn’t know about it.

The Labeau family was his family. Not blood relations, but they knew him better than anyone. He had no blood family. He’d come from nowhere. He didn’t, in fact, exist. No one knew that except for the Labeaus. And now the only one still living who knew his secret was Georgie, and at—how old was Georgie now, forty-five, fifty or so?—hadn’t even been born when he’d first met her family. But when he’d contacted the Labeaus a week ago, Georgie had answered. She’d known right away who he was, had told Dalton this place would always be his home.

As always, the Labeaus could be counted on. He had to come back here. There was something he needed from this place and this family beyond the shelter it would provide Isabelle and him.

He drew the boat up to the dock. Several young children rushed to greet them, smiling and waving, their bare feet slapping hard on the wooden dock as they ran and smiled. They moored the boat while he helped Isabelle out.

Miss Georgie says you should go right to the house.

Dalton grinned at a young girl of about eight with dark hair and serious chocolate brown eyes. "I’ll do that.

Thank you."

She sick? the little girl asked, inclining her head to Isabelle.

He noted the purplish cast under Isabelle’s eyes, the drawn look to her face. She’d lost weight over the past couple weeks because she hadn’t eaten much.

No, she’s just tired. Dalton slid his arm around Isabelle’s waist and led her up the path toward the house.

He liked the old house. Reminiscent of a plantation home, the house was rectangular, two stories with a wraparound porch. It always looked like it had been freshly painted, white with green shutters at each of the windows, cheerful flowers climbing up out of pots sitting on the porch. The house was a sprawling mansion, at least what he would call a mansion, though there was nothing fancy about the place. But it was huge, it was clean, and to Dalton, it was the only home he had. More important, as soon as he took the first of the five stairs heading up to the porch, the tension within him dissolved.

He felt safe here, and Dalton rarely felt safe.

The screen door opened and a woman stepped out, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. Her skin was flawless the color of cream-flavored coffee. Her hair was cut short and her full lips lifted in a smile as she waited for them with her hands on her hips, her colorful ankle length skirt swishing around her as she shifted back and forth. She looked a lot like her great-grandmother, that same kind of strange magic radiating in waves off her. It had been years since he’d been here, but he knew her. And she knew him.

Dalton.

Georgianne.

She held out her arms and he walked into them. She hugged him, and despite how much older he was than her, he was the one who drew comfort from the embrace. He pulled back and turned. This is Isabelle.

Bienvenue à notre maison, Isabelle. I’m Georgianne. Welcome to the Labeau home. We’re so happy to have you here.

Bonjour, Georgianne.

Everyone calls me Georgie, and if you’re a friend of Dalton’s then you’re practically family.

Merci, Georgie, Isabelle said, dropping her chin to her chest. Je suis désolée.

Now don’t you go apologizin’, Georgie said. There’s nothing to be sorry for. We love having visitors here. Georgie slung her arm around Isabelle. Come on, let’s go inside for something cool to drink. It’s blisterin’ hot out here today.

Isabelle nodded and went in with Georgie. Dalton noted Isabelle was having trouble making eye contact, as if she was uncomfortable.

Maybe she was just tired. But on a good note, she’d spoken more words to Georgie in those few seconds than she had to him in weeks.

The kitchen was exactly as he remembered. Linoleum floors, still scrubbed to a gleaming shine every day, no doubt. The one thing he remembered most about Celine, Georgie’s great-grandmother, was the woman always scrubbing something. She kept a seriously clean house and God help you if you tracked mud into her kitchen.

Gingham yellow-and-white curtains covered each window, open today to let what little breeze there was blow through the house. Georgie motioned to the old wooden table where Dalton had eaten many a meal. It could seat twenty, with wide benches on either side and chairs on each end that reminded him of thrones. It was a lot more scarred now than it had been on his last visit, but still sturdy as a hundred-year-old oak.

He climbed over the bench and took a seat next to Isabelle.

Lemonade, Georgie said, setting glasses down and filling them with ice before pouring lemonade from the pitcher. Loaded with sugar, too, because girl, you look like you need some nourishment.

I haven’t been very hungry, Isabelle said, her head bent down and her eyes averted as she grasped the glass and brought it to her lips. She sipped, then her lips curled in a hint of a smile. Bien, merci. This is very good.

Drink it all. You look like you’re about to fall down.

Isabelle exhaled. I feel that way.

Then you should eat. There’s soup on the stove. Georgie stood.

Isabelle raised her head enough to peer at Georgie through her half-lidded gaze. Please, don’t trouble yourself.

Chère, it’s no trouble. What’s trouble is you passing out on my kitchen floor. She scooped seafood stew into two bowls and laid it in front of them.

Dalton inhaled, the memories taking him back. Your great-grandma used to make this soup.

Yeah, Georgie said with a wide smile. She and my mama taught me how to cook.

I was sorry to hear of your grandmother’s passing, Dalton said. He’d known Georgie’s grandmother well. Marie had a twinkle in her eye that had always made him laugh.

Georgie nodded. Merci. She lived a happy life. We were blessed to have her as long as we did.

I’m sorry, too, Isabelle said in between spoonfuls of soup.

Isabelle was eating. That was good. He hadn’t been able to coax her into much more than a few bitefuls at each meal.

Grand-mère was ready. It was her time and she was in pain. Though we tried, there was nothing we could do to help her. Even magic can’t fight disease.

Isabelle paused, looked at Dalton, then at Georgie. Magic?

Georgie slanted a look at Dalton, then smiled at Isabelle. Voodoo.

Now Isabelle’s head raised fully and her eyes widened. You practice it? Seriously?

Of course. It’s part of our lives, our culture. It’s who we are and as natural as breathing.

Georgie comes from a long line of voodoo priestesses, Dalton explained.

Isabelle shuddered, laid the spoon in the bowl and placed her hands in her lap. Sounds like the dark arts.

Dalton caught the fear in her eyes. He knew she’d had her fill of darkness. Feared it. He couldn’t blame her for that.

Georgie rose, moved around the table, and sat on the bench next to Isabelle. She grasped Isabelle’s hands in hers. Oh, no. You have it wrong. Voodoo is white magic, chère. What you see in movies, read about, they have it backward. This is holy magic, as pure as Christianity. Our practice parallels the Christian rites in many ways.

I don’t know anything about voodoo. I’ve only heard . . .

Georgie frowned. You heard wrong. There is no evil practiced here. No blackness allowed. Only white light, clean. You have nothing to fear here. You are protected.

Isabelle turned to Dalton, who nodded but didn’t say anything further.

Georgie rose and went to the sink. You’ll stay down at one of the cabins while you’re here. It will give you some privacy to do what you need to do.

What you need to do? Isabelle asked. And what’s that?

Isabelle’s gaze was focused on Georgie’s back, but Dalton knew she asked the question of him.

Georgie turned to face her.

To remove the demon inside you.

Isabelle’s heart slammed hard and all she heard was her own blood pounding in her ears. Had Dalton told Georgie everything about her? She’d spent the past two weeks in a fog, trying her best to fold inside herself, to keep from remembering everything that happened that night in Sicily.

All she wanted to do was forget.

But it kept coming back to her in bits and pieces, especially when she slept. Nightmares, mostly, of that night in Italy. What she’d done. What she’d become. The vivid images of her hands like claws, digging into her sister’s throat, were impossible to escape. And the evil that had wrapped itself around her, crawled inside her, become part of her . . . how much she’d enjoyed the power . . .

Even now, she still felt that evil, trying to claw its way to the surface. It had taken every ounce of strength she possessed to push it deep inside. But Isabelle knew it remained, ever ready to burst free.

Had that really been her? She found it hard to believe, and yet she knew it had happened, could happen again.

Those men dressed all in black, surrounding her, telling her she was one of them. She hadn’t even fought them. Where was her grit, her determination to remain human and pure despite their soul-tainting efforts? Oh, no. Instead, she’d embraced their evil like a warm, welcoming blanket. She’d reveled in it, been consumed by it.

And she could still feel it. How easily evil had taken her over. She was so weak. What did that say about her soul?

That she was damned. That’s what it said.

So she tried not to sleep much, just lay awake at night staring into the darkness, certain they were going to come for her, afraid to turn to Dalton for comfort.

She had no one to lean on anymore. She’d tried to kill Angelique. Her sister no doubt hated her, the Realm of Light probably wanted her dead, and Dalton . . .

She had no idea why Dalton had brought her here. To save her, Georgie had said. Why? Why would he even want to? They barely knew each other. They’d shared one night in Italy, a wild, passionate night on the yacht, but then he’d betrayed her by stealing her mother’s diary. He’d used her to find out her secrets.