Elle Jasper - Darklove

“Ri!” Seth says, leaping out of the boat and rushing over to me. Estelle steps back and my baby brother wraps his arms around me and picks me up. “You’re okay?” he says into my hair. He pulls back, and is searching me all over, as though he might find a cut or a scratch, or something out of place.

“I’m fine, Seth,” I say.

“You wasn’t so fine before, girl,” Preacher says, ambling up to me with a slight limp. His dark eyes regard me. “You might not be too fine now.” He smiles. “But we’ll keep ya, dat’s right.”

I laugh and throw my arms around my surrogate root-doctor grandfather’s neck. “Preacher Man,” I say against him, then kiss his cheek. “It’s been too long.”

“You, and that odder Arcos boy,” he says. “Not so bad. But your fiancé? He’s been a challenge.”

“When can I see him?” I ask.

Preacher’s dark face stares back at me. “Soon. Not now.”

Phin walks over and pulls me away from Preacher. “’Bout time you woke up,” he says, and kisses me. “You scared us all for a while, too.”

“Good to see you, too, garçon,” I joke.

“We thought you were in a quickening,” Phin says, and concern replaces his usual joking gaze. “Freaked me out.”

“We still don’t know, boy, so watch your neck,” Estelle says, and giggles to herself. “Dat girl bites you, it’s gonna be bad.”

“Who’s staying with Eli now?” I ask. We all walk toward the lean-to. Seth and Noah pull out lawn chairs, and we all sit.

“Pa-pa, Jake Andorra, Garr, and Gabriel,” Phin says. “Ma mère and Josie remained in the city with Nyx.”

“It’s been quiet,” Seth says. “Vic went back home to deal with his family. But he’ll be back.”

I sit in the sand at the feet of my surrogate grandparents, and let their conversation wash over me. I’m home. I don’t know how right I am, but I’m home. There’s something missing, a piece of me that feels incomplete, and I know it’s Eli. The fear that he won’t remember me terrifies me. I guess I could go on in my life—whatever that is now—and carry on, being content that at least, he’s alive. But I’m greedy, and I want more than that.

I want him .

I’m not too sure how long I can wait to find out if he wants me, too.

Or just wants to kill me.

Preacher decides he’s happy with my recovery but wants me and Noah to remain on Da Island a few more days. A thought suddenly comes to me, and I pull from my grandfather’s arms and look at him.

“Are his eyes still red?”

Preacher gives a short nod. “They are, yeah.” He shakes his head. “Dere’s somethin’ missin’, dat’s right. But I don’t know what it is yet.” He kisses my nose. “We’ll figger it out, girl. Don’t worry. He’s progressin’ good enough, I reckon.”

After hugs and kisses and tears, everyone leaves me and Noah alone. Seth accompanies Estelle back to Da Plat Eye, where she and Preacher live in the shop’s upstairs apartment. Preacher and Phin head back to Eli.

Eli’s eyes are still red. And everyone expects me to just sit . . . and wait?

I am Strogoi. I am Dupré. And I am a Fallen.

I can do more than just kick a little ass now.

“I do not like that look in your eye.”

Slowly, as I hear the purr of Preacher’s boat fade in the distance, I smile at Noah.

He does not smile back.

“Riley,” he warns. “Whatever it is you’re cookin’ in that pretty little head of yours, stop.”

I take a step toward him. “Or what?”

His hand eases up, reaches down his shirt, and grasps his satchel of herbs. “Don’t make me throw this in the water.”

Slowly, I shake my head. “Are you seriously using your sex appeal against me, Noah Miles?” He grins. “Tsk-tsk, you crazy vampire.” Take your sexy backside and go sit in the lean-to. Now.

Without hesitation, Noah drops his hand from his satchel, turns, and walks into the lean-to. He plops down on the pile of stacked quilts.

And simply sits.

Dusk has taken over the sky, throwing swirls and lines of purple and gray and burnt orange in a canopy overhead. I listen closely to Preacher’s boat motor, and gauge the direction. A quick glance at my beach attire—cutoff jeans and a fuchsia Inksomnia T-shirt—and I decide that will do just fine in the chilly winter waters of the Atlantic. I turn my gaze to the end of Da Island, two hundred feet of shoreline and sand, and I launch myself into a full run. Ten feet from the edge I gather my strength and leap, landing thirty feet in a dive. The water rushes over my head, and I kick a few times before surfacing. Taking a deep breath, I turn in the direction of Eli’s island.

I swim. Fast and hard.

An old fear rises while I swim, and I laugh it off. Sharks? Hell, I’ll punch one in the nose now, no second thought. Within a few minutes, I see the lights strung in front of a lean-to similar to mine, and Preacher’s boat is just pulling up onto the sand. I stop, wade in the water, and wait for Preacher and Phin to get out. Then Seth and Estelle leave, cutting across the sound toward Savannah.

I ease toward the other side of the island and climb to shore. Soaking wet, but unaffected by the cold, I creep toward Preacher’s camp. Remaining are Gilles, Preacher, Jake, Gabriel, Garr, and Phin.

That’s three vampires, two powerful root doctors, and . . . whatever Gabriel is. Plus Eli.

Seven. Against me.

Whatever I am.

I got this.

Through the maritime scrub forest, I make my way to the opposite shore. When I see Preacher and Garr, standing just outside the lean-to, I stop. Everyone except Eli is outside, by the shore. I close my eyes and concentrate. Pushing my energy until it forms a fiery ball in my center. I will it outward, to my fingertips.

And then like some crazy half-cocked inked wizard, I point my hands in their direction.

Everyone take a seat. Do it now.

To my surprise, every single one of them scrambles to find a seat in the sand by the shore.

Look nowhere except out to sea. Ignore me. Ignore Eli. Only stare out to sea. And stay in your seat.

As if on cue, every one of their heads turn toward the water. Since there were only two lawn chairs out, Gilles and Preacher take those. The others plop right down onto the sand. Still as zombies, they stare out.

I smile to myself and make my way to the lean-to.

Palm fronds and pine needles crunch under my bare feet as I push open the quilted doorway and look inside. Eli is lying on a pallet, similar to the one I was on earlier. He looks so peaceful, lying there with his eyes closed, his full, sexy lips soft, slightly parted. His dark hair sweeps over one side of his face, obscuring his eye.

A stick snaps behind me, and I look over my shoulder. A rabbit looks up at me, then hops away, startled. His little white tail flips in the dark.

When I glance back, I gasp.

Eli’s gone.

The hair stiffens on my neck, on my arms, and I know before I look, he’s behind me. Slowly, I turn.

Bloodred eyes stare down at me. Wordlessly, yet with a gentleness that surprises me, Eli grabs my throat with one hand.

I stare at him.

Then I rear back with my free hand and punch him in the side of the head.

His hand drops from my throat.

My knee goes up—hard—into his groin, and he groans.

I don’t wait for a reaction. I take off.

Scrub palms and thick underbrush scrape my legs and feet as I rush through the maritime forest, and Eli’s right on my tail. He lunges, grabs my feet, and we both go down.

I turn and kick him in the jaw, and he flies backward. I scramble up on hands and knees and cut a path through the wood. Just as the sandy beach is in my view, I’m tackled. Eli and I hit the ground in a tangled grunt, and I writhe and clobber him with a piece of driftwood I find next to us. He rolls off me and I’m up and running again. I leap, hit the water, and start swimming. The big splash behind me lets me know Eli’s not giving up.