Rapture's Edge (39 page)

And then the course of history would be changed forever.

The drive from Paris had taken all night, but Silas wasn’t tired. Quite the opposite. Filled with an almost excruciating
anticipation, he was finding it hard to keep a straight face. Years and years and years of servitude, of bowing and biting his tongue and being told what to do, all leading up to this moment.

It wasn’t supposed to have happened exactly like this—he was missing a hand, after all, and he couldn’t Shift because of it—but if nothing else, Silas was a master of adaptation, and this was just one more thing he’d adapted to.

Hence, the inclusion of Aldo.

Aldo could Shift, whereas Silas couldn’t at the moment, and Caesar had never been able to. And that was precisely the point, really, getting that particular Gift on film for all the world to see. He couldn’t exactly establish the kind of fear and awe he wanted to inspire in humans just by offing the leader of their most powerful church, for goodness’ sake. No—they had to be shown what it was the
Ikati
could do. They had to be
humbled
. There had been one or two instances where they’d been caught on film, but those were accidental, small scale, easily dismissed.

It would not be so easy to dismiss the sight of the pope being slaughtered on live television broadcast all over the world in front of thousands upon thousands of eyewitnesses.

And then, oh, and then they would reign supreme. While the walls between two worlds crumbled and the humans who had persecuted them for eons fell into terrified chaos, he would unite the scattered clans, distribute the serum, and wring his hands—hand—in glee.

Right after he killed Caesar.

Though he was technically Alpha of their little colony because he was the eldest son of the last Alpha, Caesar’s lack of Gifts meant his hold on the title was tenuous at best. Strength always had to be proven, even for an Alpha, and
Silas was a little surprised none of the others had formally challenged him yet. He certainly would have lost, which would have deposed him, but no matter, his time left as Alpha was short.

And after the spectacular coup Silas had orchestrated, no one would dare question
his
supremacy, his right to claim the title as his own.

Caesar hadn’t questioned how Silas had been able to gain access to the pope’s inner circle. He hadn’t questioned how or when Silas had come up with such a monumental scheme. He hadn’t questioned anything, really, he’d simply accepted that he’d be present at this little coming-out party of theirs, taking all the glory for himself.

He’d always been a selfish, small-minded little prick.

They reached the top of the sweeping staircase and paused before a set of towering, carved wooden doors. The man in the fedora murmured in Latin, “This way,” nodding to the two guards posted on either side, who opened the doors and stepped back.

With a deferential nod and an outstretched hand, Silas ushered Caesar and Aldo in before him.

“You look like shit.”

This pronouncement was whispered with barely any strength behind it, but it made Eliana so happy she almost cried. She had the fleeting thought that she must have been storing up a huge cache of tears over the past few years, because recently it seemed like they threatened to leak out at every occasion.

“You give the best compliments, Mel.”

She squeezed her hand, and Mel, weakly, squeezed back. Her eyes drifted around the room. “Where the hell am I? Rich people’s heaven?”

“Oh, this?” Eliana looked at the ridiculous, opulent room. There was a marble fireplace, tall windows flanked with silk curtains, a flat-screen television on the opposite wall, and a chandelier hanging over the bed. The very big, Thai-silk-covered bed. “This is nothing. Wait ’til you see the billiard room. And the rooftop pool. And the gym.”

She managed a wan smile. “The gym. Oh, goodie. I could really use a workout right now.”

“Shut up, sickie.”

“You first.”

They shared a smile and a moment of profoundly relieved silence.

Eliana had crept into the room only moments before to find Melliane awake, trying to sit up in bed, her face pale and sweaty with the effort it took just to move. She’d gently pushed her back against the pillows and sat down, scolding, beside her.

“We’re at Alexi’s.”

Mel’s dark brows rose into twin quirks. She sniffed, a delicate flare of her nostrils, and looked Eliana up and down before giving her a faint, smug smile. “And Demetrius is here, too.”

Eliana flushed. “Can I just say that’s really annoying? And vaguely creepy?”

“Spill it.”

“It’s a long story.”

“Should be an interesting one.”

“You have no idea.”

Mel’s smile faded, and she regarded her very seriously. “You’d tell me if I was going to die, right? Because it feels like I am. My chest feels like there’s a really fat guy sitting on it, and the rest of me feels like I got hit by a truck.”

“You are
not
going to die,” Eliana enunciated, leaning closer. “I won’t let you. And neither will Demetrius.” Just saying his name made her feel funny inside, like a million tiny butterflies had opened their wings and started to dance. Her voice softened as her gaze dropped to the white bandage that was peeking out of the neck of Mel’s top. “He’s the one who fixed you up.”

An odd look crept over Mel’s face. “He’s good at that.” There was a little hitch in her voice. “Has he fixed
you
up yet?”

Eliana chewed her lip. “Insert another word that begins with an
f
into that sentence and you’ll get the general idea.”

Mel’s look became dire. “Details. I want details.”

Eliana tried not to smile and instead tried to look very stern and intimidating. “I think I might have liked you better when you were unconscious.”

Her attempt at intimidation failed. Mel said, “Don’t pretend you wouldn’t have made a little shrine for me with incense and candles and my picture—a good one, I hope—and cried over it all the time and prayed to it like one of those Buddhist nuns if I never woke up. You so totally would have.”

She brushed a stray wisp of black hair from her friend’s forehead, feeling her heart squeeze to a knot inside her chest. She would have done more than built a little shrine. She would have built a monument, adorned by stone angels with vast wings and fierce eyes, and there would have been
wreaths of holly and inscriptions in marble and candles that never burned out.

Eliana shrugged, keeping her voice nonchalant. “I don’t have any pictures of you. I’d make some kind of crude drawing, where you’d be a tiny stick figure with a huge mouth and big scary teeth. I might light one candle. A little one. If I could find any laying around.”

Mel grinned.

There was a soft rap on the door, and then Alexi stuck his head in. “Doctor’s here. Is she—”

He caught sight of Mel awake in bed and broke into a smile. He swung the door open and entered. “Yes, she is. Welcome back to the land of the living, tiny, ferocious one.”

“The land of the extravagantly wealthy living,” Mel said, eying him. “How come I never knew you were rich before?”

“Why, do you like me better now?”

Her lips pursed, considering, and then she nodded. “It helps.” When he beamed she amended, “A little.”

Alexi walked toward them, still smiling, looking more like he’d just been handed a challenge instead of an insult. “What if I bring you breakfast in bed? Crepes with fresh cream and raspberries?”

“Oh,” she whispered, very serious, eyes wide, “you evil, evil man.”

“That’s a yes, she’ll like you more,” said Eliana. “She’s very easily swayed by food, in case you couldn’t tell. If you bring her chocolate, watch out.”

“Ah, an easy woman.” Alexi’s smile grew wider. “My absolute favorite.”

“I think the entire world is well aware of your fondness for easy women, Alexi,” Mel said dryly.

“On that note, I’m leaving,” said Eliana, rising from the bed. She looked to Alexi. “Where’s—”

“Godzilla Romeo is on the phone with someone downstairs, Butterfly.”

“How did you know I wasn’t asking about the doctor?”

He cut his gaze to hers, and his smile grew ironic. “Please. I didn’t get where I am in life by being clueless. But speaking of the doctor, will you send him in if you’re going? He’s just outside the door.”

She nodded, thought it best not to respond, and then blew Mel a kiss and walked to the door.

“Godzilla Romeo?” she heard Mel repeat as she left the room.

To which Alexi sighed and replied, “I know. There’s really no accounting for some people’s taste.”

She found Demetrius looking out a window in the vast, empty dining room on the main floor, gazing in silence at the spectacular view of the city beyond the glass. When she entered, he turned and looked at her.

And his face transformed.

It made her feel lighter, seeing the way his hard, sensuous mouth softened and curved, the way his eyes, settling on her face, lit up. His entire aspect changed as if he were bathed in sudden starlight, and his look of such obvious
hope
made her feel like she might float right out of her shoes. She wanted to curl up in that look and bask in it, like a cat in the sun.

To manage it, she bit the inside of her mouth.

Orgasms do not equal trust, Eliana. Don’t be a fool.

“Interesting outfit.”

She regarded the white silk robe he wore that was at least three sizes too small for him. It barely reached his knees, just barely managed to stay closed in front with a tie that was a little too strained, threatening to give at any moment and burst wide open, letting Demetrius in all his naked glory spill out.

“Clothes were wet. They’re in the dryer.” His smile turned into a smirk. “Pretty boy didn’t have anything that would fit me, so he gave me this.”

“Oh? No spare sets of giant black clothing hanging around in his closet? Strange.” She walked closer, slowly, a lifetime’s worth of ambivalence in every step.

He grinned. “No size seventeen shoes, either.”

She rolled her eyes. But now she was within arm’s reach, and he took advantage of it. He stretched out one long arm, caught hers, and pulled her against his body. He pressed his face to her neck, and they stood there like that for a moment, feeling each other’s heartbeats, their arms wrapped around one another, silent and still.

In another life,
she thought, heart clenching,
how I could have loved you. How beautiful it all could have been.

He murmured, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking…” She sighed. No. Not going to go there. “Mel’s awake. She insulted me right off the bat, so I think she’s going to be okay.”

She felt his smile against her neck. “That’s good. And you? How are you?”

Confused. Conflicted. Worried. Unsettled.
Unhinged
.

She sighed again and pulled away. “I’m fine. But I have to go out for a while. There’s someone I have to go visit.”

He stiffened. He pulled back to stare at her, and his eyes, so soft and open only moments before, grew wary. “Someone? Who? Where? I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not. He’s a friend—”

“Another
friend.
” His voice had dropped dangerously low.

“Not like that, Demetrius. He helped me escape from the assassins—”

“What!” D hissed, suddenly livid and terrifying, even in the silly white robe. He gripped her upper arms. “When did that happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We haven’t exactly been doing much
talking
,” she said sarcastically, but he cut her off.

“You can’t seriously think I’m letting you leave this house while they’re still out there. We haven’t figured out what we’re going to do yet—”

She yanked away from him. Anger blazed to life inside her, and the confusion she’d felt only moments before turned to hot, crackling indignation.

“
We?
There is no we, Demetrius. Just because we—” she waved her hand in the air, skipping the obvious, “doesn’t mean I have to ask your permission to do anything.”

His face hardened. A low, sinister growl rumbled through his chest. And just like that, they were back to where they’d been for years: enemies.

She scowled at him. “Don’t think you’re going to growl me into submission, either. I don’t belong to you—”

“
Yes, you do!
”

Suddenly, he was in her face. His arms wrapped around her, pinning hers behind her back. His hands encircled her wrists, hard. He stared down at her, enormous and frightening, his eyes burning with a dark, savage fury. “You
do
belong
to me. You are mine and I am yours, and there is nothing on this Earth that can ever change that! Stop fighting it!”

“Let me go!” She trembled with fury and tried to break away, but there was no release from the iron bands of his arms.

“We’re bonded, baby girl, whether you like it or not, so you better get used to the idea.”

Her breath huffed out like she’d been punched in the stomach. “Bonded! You’re taking a hell of a lot for granted,
Bellator!
”

He put his mouth next to her ear and said deliberately, “Don’t make me put you over my knee.”

Because she hated, absolutely hated what the thought of that did to her, what his voice and strength and heat did to her, how
weak
he made her feel, she froze. Very, very quietly, she said, “And don’t make me remind you why we are in this situation in the first place.”

He jerked.

Still with that deadly softness, she said, “If you think we’re past the fact that I found you standing over my dead father with a gun, you’re wrong. If you think that just because we had sex I’ve forgotten the past three years and everything my people have been through, you’re wrong. And if you think that I would allow myself to trust someone who won’t even give me the courtesy of an explanation, you are very, very wrong.”

A tremor ran through him. His hands around her wrists loosened, and she broke away and stared at him. He was frozen, staring back at her without expression. All emotion had drained from his face, his eyes. He looked dead. When he spoke his voice was clipped, hard.