J. Geissinger - Rapture's Edge

An ancient symbol of protection and royal power, the Eye of Horus was the crest of the Egyptians’ patron god, one of the oldest and most significant gods of Egypt, the city from which the Ikati of the Roman catacombs traced their lineage.

God of vengeance, god of war, Horus was always depicted in the ancient texts and hieroglyphs as a peregrine falcon.

It was taken as a sign. And when the Bellatorum found out that he and Eliana were well, had been declared friends and family, and furthermore that no harm would come to any of them or their colony by the Queen’s decree, it was taken as another sign.

The choice to join the confederacy had been easy after that.

What hadn’t been easy, for D at least: accepting Alexi.

He begrudgingly admitted that the man had stayed true to his word. He’d helped all the remaining members of Eliana’s small colony in Paris reunite with their old colony in Rome, and he’d made sure no trace of them could be found for any of their enemies who might be looking. But that didn’t make D like him any more.

It made the Queen like Eliana more, however. As it turned out, the two of them were of one mind when it came to seeing humans and Ikati live together peacefully. The Queen herself was half human, after all. It was a goal that looked highly unlikely in light of what Caesar had done, but a goal the two of them had decided to work toward nonetheless. Their existence was no longer a secret, and the threats to them had multiplied a thousandfold, but the Queen had refused to leave Sommerley, and Eliana had refused to leave the Queen.

“She knows what it’s like to be a woman in a man’s world, Demetrius,” his love had said. “Besides, I’ve always wanted a sister.” Then she’d given him a toe-curling kiss that made him forget what they’d been talking about in the first place.

So they’d stayed the last few months at Sommerley, planning for the future. Planning for this beautiful wedding, which was now coming to a close.

“You may kiss your bride,” Celian murmured with a glance at D and a slow, lazy grin spreading across his face. Celian unwound the silk cord that bound D’s wrists to Eliana’s and stepped back, his hands clasped behind his back.

And when Eliana blinked up at him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shining, her pulse fluttering wildly in the base of her throat, D cupped her face in his hands and lowered his forehead to hers.

“To forever,” he murmured.

“Forever,” she murmured back, a tear slipping down her cheek.

Then, with his heart like a hammer in his chest, D pressed his lips to hers.

Light through lashes.

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 stringent for running off without my permission to see your gangster friend Gregor.”

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 not be remembering that next time.

“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 like it—”

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 a little bit.”

“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?”