Fingertips brushed lightly across his lips.
D opened his eyes and looked into Eliana’s. It was morning, and they’d only been at Sommerley for two days. Realizing what had just happened, he began to chuckle. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her to his chest, laughing into her hair.
“What’s so funny?” she murmured.
“Just had a dream.”
She went still. “A dream-dream, or a Dream, capital D?”
He pressed his lips to her hair. “Both.”
She lifted her head and looked at him, a quizzical furrow between her brows.
They were naked in a very large bed, pillowed with very fine sheets, in a very fine room that was far too fussy and finicky for his taste. The Queen and her Alpha had put them up for the last several days, which they’d spent mostly in this bed, talking a lot, making love even more.
They had to make up for three years’ worth of lost time, after all.
“Well, are you going to tell me about it?” Eliana insisted, poking him in the chest with the tip of a finger. “Was it good? Was it bad? Was it—”
“It was perfect. It’s all going to be perfect,” he whispered, then leaned in to give her a kiss, soft and warm. His hand slid up her arm to cup her face.
When they broke apart, they were both breathing faster. “You’re not always going to be able to distract me like that, you know,” she complained, not really meaning it.
“Oh yes, I am.” Just to prove it, he kissed her again.
When he pulled away this time, it took her a moment to open her eyes. When she did, they were heavy- lidded and full of heat.
“Damn.” She sighed. “I hate it when you’re right.”
His brows lifted. “Thought you’d be used to that by now.”
This earned him a glare. “Don’t push your luck.”
“Hmmm.” He trailed his fingertips slowly down the length of her spine, enjoying her little shiver, the satiny softness of her skin. “You’re sure you don’t want to grovel a bit more?” he murmured, teasing. “I was getting to really like your groveling.”
And she had been. Ever since the Queen had shown her the Truth with a capital T as she liked to call it, he’d had apology after apology, all heartfelt and sincere, every one of them stopped with a kiss from him. They weren’t going to look back anymore. They were going to look forward.
Because now he knew exactly what they had to look forward to.
But she took him at his word. Her glare faded, replaced by instant, lip-biting chagrin. She stammered, “I—I should have trusted you from the beginning. I should have let—I should have let you explain before I left. I’m so— I’m so—”
That’s as far as he let her get. His lips were on hers before she could say it again.
“I’m starting to think this is all excuses for kisses,” she murmured against his mouth when he drew back. Her lashes lifted and she gazed at him, her eyes soft.
His brows rose. “Are you complaining?”
“No. I love your kisses.” She snuggled closer to him, pressing her pelvis to his. “Almost as much as I love some of your other things.” Then she giggled.
His hand trailed lower, past the curve of her hip, to her bottom, so perfectly round and soft he couldn’t help but give it a pinch. She yelped, complaining.
“You’re lucky all I’m doing is pinching, baby girl. I think you deserve something a little more
She’d told him all about Gregor, about how he’d helped her and been a friend—purely platonic—and he was going to make sure the man stayed safe, because she was worried about him. And what she worried about, well, that became a priority for him.
“Your permission?” She repeated it in an innocent voice, playfully batting her lashes. “Right. I’ll be sure to remember that next time.” She gave him a grin that said she would absolutely
“Just going to have to spank you, baby girl,” he warned, spreading his big hand over her behind and glowering down at her.
“Ugh. You’re obsessed with spanking!” She pushed against his chest, but he had her in a tight grip and didn’t budge.
“Please,” he scoffed. “Don’t act like you don’t like it.”
She looked mortified. “Of course I don’t
He cut her off again with a kiss, this one harder and more demanding. He pressed his body against hers, rolled half on top of her, and when she wrapped her arms around his neck he took both her wrists in his hands and pressed them down to the pillow above her head and held them there, captive.
“Truth with a capital T, remember?” he said, his voice husky, eyes burning into hers.
She managed to look outraged, for about two seconds. Then she dissolved into laughter. “Okay. Maybe I like it
“Better,” he said, smiling now. He released her wrists and brushed a lock of blue hair from her cheek. He tugged at the strand. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about this.”
Her hand flew to her head. “What? You don’t like it?”
“Actually…I do. But you told me before you changed it to blue with black to match your mood. Your usual mood.”
“And?”
“Well”—he brushed his lips across her forehead—“what if that’s not going to be your usual mood anymore? Would you change the color?”
She blinked up at him, suddenly coy. “How do you know it’s not going to be my usual mood anymore?”
“Because I plan to ensure it, that’s why.”
A smile spread over her face. “Well, in that case—yes, I’d change the color.”
“To what?”
The smile grew dazzling. When she really smiled, she smiled with everything she had. D’s heart soared.
“I don’t know,” his beloved said. “What’s the color of happiness?”
They stared at each other in silence, the future unfurling between them like the loosed strings of a kite.
“You know things are about to get worse,” he whispered. “Things are about to get very bad for us all.”
She nodded, her smile fading. “I know. First the Expurgari, now that group, Section Thirty…”
D stiffened in anger, remembering what the Queen had shown him, Eliana’s memories like a sped-up movie inside his own mind. He’d already taken his revenge on that bastard Keshav for putting his hands on her—he didn’t think he’d be walking anytime soon—but the images of the cold-eyed German doctor were what really stuck with him. Looking into those eyes was like looking into an abyss. His dream had revealed nothing of the German.
“You think they’re another religious outfit?”
Eliana exhaled and shook her head. “Worse—corporate.”
“How is that worse?”
“Religious fanatics, I can almost understand. They’re following a belief, and however warped that belief might be, it’s still based on something they think of as sacred. It makes them more predictable, their goals more clear. They want us dead because they think we’re evil; it’s cut-and-dry, simple. We know what to expect. But with a corporation, only one thing matters…”
“Profit,” he realized, with a slow, sinking feeling in his gut.
Her eyes, gazing up at him, grew troubled. “If they’re after us because of money, because they think somehow they can profit from us…” She swallowed. “The Expurgari just want us to die. But there are far, far worse things than death, Demetrius.”
He didn’t reply, only gazed back at her, knowing without doubt she was right. Worse than death was life in chains. Worse than death was bondage. Slavery. Being captive guinea pigs.
