Edge of Oblivion

Morgan moaned her approval beneath him. His hips took over and he thrust harder.

He heard thunder, he heard rain, he heard the metal headboard smacking against the wall, sending repetitive, hollow clanging through the room. He braced a hand against it, gripped Morgan’s hip in his other hand, and lifted her up so only her shoulders were on the bed. So deep, so deep, he didn’t think he could go any deeper—

“I’m going to come again,” she breathed. She gripped his arms, meeting every thrust of his hips with one of her own, staring up at him with those searching eyes that carved a hole into his heart.

“Come with me. Come with me, Xander.”

Breathing hard, sweat blooming over his entire body, he let go of the headboard and clasped her hips hard in both hands. He plunged into her again and again, wilder and harder, with every thrust losing himself to her and the storm and the magic they made together, here in the succoring dark.

“Amada mio,” he hissed through clenched teeth, teetering on the edge as a wave of heat surged up his spine. Every muscle in his body flexed. “Eu me comprometo a voc?. ”

She stiffened and cried out, her head tipped back into the pillows. His eyes slid closed and he heard a roar, only dimly aware it had come from him. Pleasure, searing white, rocketed through him and he jerked, emptying himself inside her, surging again and again as his orgasm tore his breath and every coherent thought away. For a blinding moment there was nothing but the two of them, joined as one. It spun on and on, dreamlike, and then—

He collapsed on top of her. Shaking. Panting. Wordless. He buried his face into her neck.

Her arms came around his shoulders. She cradled him, murmured soft things into his hair that he could not comprehend, so great were his agony and his bliss. He drifted on a current of gratitude so pure it was almost sweet.

She had let a monster into the most precious part of her, had reminded him of what it was to feel passion and pleasure and tenderness, had given him a glimpse of things he didn’t deserve.

Happiness.

Hope.

He wanted to tell her that, wanted to say, You have shown me the way back from hell . But there was a terrible pressure in his chest and a stinging in his eyes and a tightness in his throat that threatened to choke him if he opened his mouth.

“It’s all right,” she murmured, knowing him already too well. “We’re safe from the world now, for a little while. We can have this. It doesn’t have to change anything. We can have our night and go back to who we were tomorrow. Just for tonight, we can have that different life we always wanted.”

He stayed silent, while inside he wept.

25

Eliana watched in horror as a wet and bloodied D staggered into the cool, candlelit opulence of her father’s private library.

“Demetrius!” She leapt from her chair, scattering the newspaper she’d been reading in a flurry across the floor.

He was bare-chested and panting, his face was bruised, gashes on his neck oozed blood in dark rivulets that coated his tattooed chest in a sheen of red. On his left bicep just below the Eye of Horus a deep, ragged wound exposed muscle and a sliver of bloodied white: bone.

“What happened?” demanded Dominus, rising from his desk.

“There were three new males—like the one we saw at the Vatican—three of them were at Alien

—”

“Three more!” said Dominus, astonished.

“You were in a fight!” cried Eliana. She rushed to his side. “My God, your arm—”

“You never said anything about three other males,” Dominus interjected, stepping around the desk, his tone menacing. “You told me you only dreamt of the female and the orange-eyed male—”

“Father! He’s hurt!” Eliana protested, hearing the threat in his voice. How could he be so insensitive?

“Where are Constantine and Felix?” His gaze flickered over the warrior, assessing.

Wincing as he stood straighter, D said, “Here. In the infirmary. Lix got it pretty bad—”

“So what you are telling me,” Dominus interrupted, “is that all my Bellatorum were bested by these interlopers?” A frigid breeze swept through the room. With a sneer, he said, “I’d no idea you were all so weak.”

D stiffened and so did Eliana. Calling a warrior weak was the worst possible insult. Had it been anyone but the King, the offender would have been dead by now. She couldn’t understand why he was treating D this way. What was wrong with him?

With a clenched jaw D replied, “They got it just as bad as we did.” His voice turned scornful.

“Sire. ”

Their mutual enmity crackled in the air, raising the hair on her arms. As her father stepped forward with a snarl, Eliana made a split-second decision and stepped between the two bristling males.

“I’m sure the particulars of who injured whom can be sorted out later,” she said quietly, gazing calmly at her father. For her own selfish reasons she didn’t want to see done to D what had been done to Celian, and she knew his only chance was if she intervened. “The good news is the Bellatorum are alive, and the sooner they get to healing, the sooner they can go back out and take care of the problem.

So perhaps since Demetrius was kind enough to come straight here to inform you of the problem, he might now be allowed to go to the infirmary and have his injuries tended?”

A beat of silence. Her father’s wolf-eyed examination of her face.

For the millionth time, she was thankful he couldn’t read her mind. The impenetrable veil that surrounded her thoughts was another of her Gifts, one she secretly referred to as The Blessing because she had far too many dangerous secrets, secrets that other members of her colony couldn’t afford to keep.

Not the least of which was her forbidden fascination with D.

Finally Dominus smiled, then sent a flinty gaze to the bloodied warrior in the doorway. “Is there any imminent danger?”

D shook his head. “No. They don’t know where we are. They couldn’t follow us after the polizia arrived—”

“Polizia?” Eliana gasped. He might as well have said butcher. Over the past few years alone, six of her kin had been killed by the local police. It had been all over the newspapers; the outside world assumed some deranged exotic animal enthusiast was releasing captive panthers into the suburbs.

D nodded, his gaze averted from hers. “Shots were fired. We got out unscathed, but one of them may have been hit—”

“You’re hardly unscathed!” she protested.

Dominus said, “Unscathed or not, you and the rest of the Bellatorum will find yourselves well enough to attend the Purgare, Demetrius. Do I make myself clear?”

D inhaled sharply and grimaced, a look she had seen on a hundred different faces when her father was displeased. No one ever spoke of it—no one dared—but Eliana had a dark suspicion that her father’s mind reading wasn’t his most potent Gift.

“Perfectly,” said D between clenched teeth. He gave a stiff, pained bow.

“Eliana.” Her father turned to her with a small smile, some unknown intent burning bright in his eyes. “Would you be so kind as to accompany Demetrius to the infirmary? He looks like he could use some assistance.”

D blanched. “I’m completely capable of—”

“Of course,” Eliana said, cutting off D’s growled retort. She was anxious to make sure the warrior was all