J. Geissinger - Edge of Oblivion

“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.

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 right, even more anxious to have a few moments alone with him, though of course he would practically ignore her, as usual.

With a clenched jaw, D bowed again, turned, and limped from the room. Her father drew her nearer, and they watched D’s muscled legs take him, haltingly, down the shadowed corridor.

“And see if you can get any more information from him,” her father murmured, eyes narrowed.

She sighed, suddenly mournful. “I don’t know why you think I’d be able to. He can’t stand me.

Haven’t you noticed? He can barely even look at me.”

Her father looked pleased by that and also inexplicably amused. She understood the pleasure; it was, after all, forbidden for the two of them to be together. He was not of her caste and so there was no chance for them, and that’s how it had always been, forever. She’d resigned herself to it. But the amusement? What could it mean?

Still smiling, her father said, “Yes. There’s really nothing worse than wanting something and knowing you can never have it.”

And everything inside of her ground to a halt.

D wanted her?

A million memories flashed through her mind, a million looks he’d sent her, hot and fleeting, his jaw as hard as the flat line of his mouth. The way he recoiled whenever she came near, the way he sometimes flushed. She’d always thought he despised her, she’d felt certain that jagged ache in her belly when he was near was only one-sided, but...could it be?

She stood breathless with the possibility. But what was she willing—if anything—to do about it?

“Don’t look so surprised, my dear,” said Dominus, drolly. “It’s rather obvious to everyone but you.” His face darkened. “But there’s something else going on with him lately. I think he’s hiding something.” He glanced at her. His dark brows cast his eyes in shadow, but they glinted with a new cunning. “This requires a more delicate touch than I have patience for today. Go along and see if he’ll tell you anything interesting, Ana. See if he’ll tell you anything he won’t tell me.”

He gave her a gentle push when she stood frozen like a stalagmite to the floor.

“Yes, yes,” she murmured, elated, trying very hard not to show it. “I’ll...go...talk to him. Now.”

Then she remembered how to move her feet and used them to walk slowly away, her step casual and slow because she felt the weight of her father’s gaze on her back like two heavy, cold hands.

Lix and Constantine were already laid out on two cots in the infirmary when D limped in, muttering curses.