Edge of Oblivion

She moved silently through the living room and eyed the front door. Unease made its way through her body like a thousand army ants marching up and down her nerve endings.

A sound from the terrace. She whirled around, lifted the knife, and gasped.

On the other side of the glass stood one of the huge Ikati males from the basilica. His hands hung loose at his sides, his legs were planted shoulder-width apart, his eyes burned glittering, soulless black. He was enormous, big boned and heavily muscled, without a spare ounce of flesh on his entire body. She saw that quite clearly because he was completely nude.

And aroused.

Terror gave her wings.

She whirled around and leapt for the front door as the horrible, ear-splitting crash of shattering glass filled the room. She didn’t have to look to know he’d smashed right through the slider. With her heart in her throat and a strangled scream on her lips, she flew through the living room, through the marbled foyer, and in her haste crashed straight into the door. She stepped back and flung it open only to be met with fresh horror.

Another one. Hulking and black-eyed in the doorway. Naked.

Survival instinct took over. Her arm jerked up and slashed out hard with the knife. The male in the doorway feinted right, avoiding her thrust, and grabbed her wrist just as the knife whizzed by his head. She yanked back, growling through her teeth, and met the resistance of stone.

He said something in a language she didn’t recognize and bared his teeth at her, eyes blazing.

Instinct told her he was commanding her to back down. To submit.

“Fuck you! ” she screamed, struggling against his grip.

His eyebrows shot up. Then he backhanded her so hard fireworks detonated behind her eyes and all the bones in her neck popped. Tasting her own blood in her mouth, she slid to the floor, where she remained, stunned, her wrist still caught in his grip, her body dangling from his huge hand. In her stupor, she noticed both males had large tattoos on their left shoulders, a stylized black eye that looked like an Egyptian hieroglyph.

The one who’d hit her pried the knife from her fingers, then moved into the foyer and closed the door with a kick of his foot. He set the knife on the console table and silently stared down at her.

The other male stood in the living room with piles of ruined glass around his feet, watching them. He said something in that strange language. It sounded amused and also seemed to anger the one with his hand around her wrist.

He jerked her to her feet so hard it felt like her shoulder would pop out of the socket. He loomed over her, exuding menace and raw power, and she shrank back to the length of both their arms.

He allowed her to hover there, tethered, pulling hard against his grip, and wouldn’t let her go farther.

The marble was cold and slick beneath her bare feet.

“I am Lucien,” he said in perfect English.

She kept her eyes focused on his face, knowing what would meet her gaze if she allowed it to travel down farther. Black dots floated in her peripheral vision. She licked blood from her lower lip.

“Charmed,” she said, staring him in the eye. “I’ll call you Lucy for short.”

He blinked. The one at the patio door snorted, then walked nearer. She glanced at him, wondering through her fog of pain how the two were so easy with their nudity. They’d obviously followed her as Vapor and materialized without all that black they’d worn back at the cathedral, which had revealed the general fact of their massive physiques but kept hidden the details. All the muscled, masculine, golden-skinned details. Involuntarily, her gaze drifted down.

She blanched. The size—

There came a low laugh and she snapped her gaze up to his face.

Dear God, he was smiling at her.

“Do you see something you like, female?” His voice was husky, amused.

The black dots in her vision subsided just enough to see him glower at her cold response. “I see something I’d like to chop off.”

Lucien growled deep in his chest and tightened his fingers around her wrist so hard she thought the bones might snap. It hurt like hell, but she bit her lip to keep back the moan of pain. The other male just stood there looking at her with his head cocked.

“You are fierce for a female,” he murmured. His gaze flickered over her, taking in her bare legs, the short skirt, the blouse she now wished was much baggier. He slowly licked his lips, a gesture that might have been seductive on another man as well-formed and virile but on him was utterly chilling. A bloom of heat washed through the air. It was followed by the dark, spiced scent of desire.

“Aurelio,” Lucien said, sharp, then something else in that language of theirs. His lips flattened, and the bloom of heat cooled a few degrees.

“She isn’t claimed yet,” Aurelio said, hard.

“Brother! That’s treason!” Lucien hissed, glaring at him.

“Only if the King finds out.” He stepped closer, glaring at Lucien with something like murderous rage. Neither one seemed to notice they’d switched to English. Aurelio glanced back at Morgan, and something in his eyes made her flinch. His voice dropped several octaves. “I want a taste before we relinquish her.” His nostrils flared. “She smells so good.”

“We don’t have time for the daily mutiny, Aurelio,” Lucien snarled. “She belongs to the King.

Back off or I’ll make you wish you hadn’t gotten out of bed this morning!”

Aurelio curled his hands to fists and growled at Lucien, Lucien bared his teeth at Aurelio, and Morgan took the opportunity to reach out with her free hand and touch the hand Lucien still had wrapped tight around her wrist.

“You’re going to let me go and kill Aurelio now,” she said very clearly.

That flicker of amusement appeared again on Aurelio’s face as he shifted his attention to her and gave her the onceover with those black eyes. “Beautiful and fierce, but perhaps a bit demented, eh, Lucien?”

But Lucien didn’t answer. He blinked once, then released his grip on Morgan’s wrist. Aurelio didn’t have time to react before his brother slammed his fist into his face.

Morgan jumped out of the way as Lucien followed the wild swing by slamming his huge, naked body into his brother’s, toppling them both to the marble with a flat thud. They struggled madly, Aurelio cursing and shouting, Lucien eerily silent except for several hoarse grunts as he tried to get his hands around his bigger brother’s neck while being punched and wrestled. She sagged to her knees against the wood console, terrified, trying to work up the nerve to make a run for it. All she saw was flailing huge limbs and acres of bare, toned flesh and the occasional flash of a heavy, swinging male member. She had the insane urge to laugh.

At that exact moment, Xander crashed through the door.

17

When he caught sight of Morgan cowering and bloody against the console, staring up at him with huge, terrified eyes and a bruise blooming garish blue and purple across her cheek, Xander experienced a flood of rage so overwhelming he literally lost his mind.

With a roar so fierce it pulled the two fighting males up short and fractured the oval mirror above the console into a web of splintered glass, he bared his teeth, unsheathed his knives, and lunged at them.

He hit the bigger one first. His charge was so powerful it knocked them both off their feet.

They flew through the air and landed on top of the glass coffee table in the living room, which shattered into a million pieces with a hideous crash. The male beneath him grunted in pain but wrapped his arms around Xander’s back with such force he thought his spine might be crushed. They rolled over the broken glass together and slammed against the sofa, which was shoved back several feet by the impact.

He heard Morgan screaming something but was too focused on the fight to make it out. His arms were trapped in the male’s vise grip; his weight pinned him to the floor. He was wedged against the sofa, but none of that mattered. In a swift, practiced move, he thrust up with his dagger and sank it deep into his opponent’s side. The male arched back, howling, and gave Xander perfect, unobstructed access to his throat.