Elle Jasper: Eventide

And something else that doesn’t make sense. Fear? It makes my stomach plunge, as though falling from an airplane. What could Eli Dupré possibly fear? A few deep breaths, which hurt like hell, purge the nagging feelings. No time for crap like that.

I’m silent as Eli digs through the first-aid kit and pulls out a bottle of antiseptic and a few cotton balls. Saturating the white balls, he angles my head with one hand and dabs at the dual cuts on each cheekbone with the other.

“Ouch-cha,” I say, flinching.

His eyes flash, then he administers my care in total silence.

I let him.

When Eli finishes, he sets the cotton aside and picks up a roll of thick, white cloth wrapping tape.

“Lift your arms.”

I lift a brow, then my arms.

He doesn’t even crack a friggin’ smile.

Grasping my tank top by the hem, he pulls it slowly over my head and drops it on the floor. Although I’m wearing a sports bra, Eli’s eyes dip to my breasts, and they immediately respond, tightening into sensitive peaks beneath the cotton material.

Eli’s nostrils flare and the muscles in his jaw jump. “Hold on to my shoulders, Poe.”

Lifting my hands, I place them on Eli’s muscular deltoids.

“Higher.”

I lift my elbows a bit. “Better?”

He doesn’t say a word, just lifts the edge of the tape from the roll and pulls about six inches loose, then presses it to my side, just under my breast. “This will hurt a bit.”

I shrug. “No prob. I’m used to it.”

He looks up then, that mysterious blue gaze unreadable, unsettling. “Take in a shallow breath and hold it.”

I do, and he begins wrapping.

From just under my breasts to above my navel, he circles a tight bandage of tape. I won’t lie—it pinches. Hell, it hurts. But I remain silent.

Finished, he sets the roll aside and inspects his work, running his hands down my sides.

After a moment, he pushes out a slow breath between his teeth. His eyes meet mine, only inches from my face. “I felt like my insides were being ripped out of my gut, watching you get hurt tonight. Doesn’t matter that you held your own. Do you understand me, Riley?”

I shake my head. “Eli, I—”

Lifting his hand, he scrapes the pad of his thumb over my lip and uses the slightest pressure to urge my mouth open. He angles his head and presses into me, taking in a long breath as he kisses me totally senseless.

My own breath hitches and I drown in the slow, erotic brush of his lips, shoving my fingers through his silky hair and tasting him back. I gasp as my broken ribs pinch.

Eli’s hands graze my taped sides, gently now, and he stills them against me. Warmth from his hands makes me sink into him, but he makes no further moves—only deep, possessive kissing. I can handle that.

“Damn. Thought you were hungry. For food.”

I crack open one eye and stare at Luc, wagging a bag of Krystals. Everyone else has frozen in place behind him. How many people? Seven. Gotta love a close-knit family.

Eli kisses the tip of my nose and pulls back. “You need to eat.”

The scent of deliciously greasy burgers rises from the bag and wafts my way. Suddenly, I agree. “You’re right. Hand ’em over, Dupré.”

You may not be able to see what I do, but I know you can hear me, Riley Poe. Know this: you’re mine. You were always meant to be mine, no matter how long a time separates us. My brother isn’t the only one who has watched you over the years. You now have me inside of you. Not just my brother. I was always stronger than him anyway. You’ll come to me. And when I’m finished fucking you, no other will ever be able to satisfy you. Do you know what it feels like to be forever unsatisfied? No longer able to experience an orgasm? Trust me, Riley. You will gladly come to me. And you will beg to become mine forever.

My eyes flip open and I scan the room. I’m in my bed, alone. Daylight streams through the window. I glance at the clock. It’s close to one p.m.

How in the holy hell is Valerian speaking to me in my head? Now he wants me for a lay? For a wife? Whatever, freak.

As I move, I notice I’m not nearly as sore as I was the night before. I’m not positive if it’s the bandaging job Eli did on my ribs, or if whatever dope I was slipped has finally worn off. Either way, I feel better. I walk to my bathroom and flip on the light. Peering at my face, I even see a difference there. Not nearly as swollen, and my eyes aren’t as black as I thought they’d be. Cool. Fast healer. Good because I don’t have time for bullshit. Especially don’t have time for psycho vampires obsessed with me.

Oh, I’m obsessed with you, all right. I’m not psycho, though. You’ll come to me. I can promise you that, my love. Just wait until you get the news. You’ll come. And you’ll know exactly where to find me. If you’re wise, you’ll come alone. Despite how Hollywoodish that sounds, it’s true. Heed my words. And you should be finding out the details about.…now.

Eli throws open the door. His face is, believe it or not, paler than its usual color. I immediately know something’s wrong.

“What?” I say, panic rushing through me. “Eli, what is it?”

“Estelle,” Eli says, barely above a whisper. “She went missing about an hour ago.”

I don’t wait for an explanation. I ask no questions. No need to. I already know what’s happened. I turn too fast and notice my ribs hurt more than I think they do. I ignore the pain though and hurry to my closet.

“What are you doing?” Eli asks.

“Finding something to wear,” I say. There. A clean pair of cargos. I first go to the cabinet of blades, secure the leather sheaths, and stuff each one with silver. I ease into my cargos, find a long-sleeved shirt, and attempt to pull it over my head. Not working. Shirt too tight. I throw it in the corner.

“Riley, stop,” Eli says, and reaches for me.

“I can’t!” I jerk around to face him and cringe as my ribs pull at me. Anger forces the pain away. “I know where she is, Eli, and I’m going to get her.”

His steely grip on my forearm stops me. “Like hell you are.”

I shake him off and try another shirt, one last time. It’s a little looser and I ease it over my head and slowly pull one arm in at a time. On crooked, but on. I yank on my boots and push past Eli.

He stops me.

“It’s me he wants,” I argue. “I can handle myself. Estelle is almost seventy. She might know how to concoct potions but she can’t handle herself against a strigoi.” I head out into the living room and grab my Jeep keys off the counter.

By the time I make it to the door, Eli is already there. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to let you walk out of here alone, Riley,” he says. “Hell no. I’m going with you.”

For a split second, I think of my dog and glance around. It takes me a second to realize Chaz is at the Dupré House. Good. Because I didn’t want to leave him again.

Just like I don’t want to leave Eli. Or do what I was about to do.

There is no choice. Valerian will kill Estelle, and he’ll not only enjoy it, but he’ll flaunt it. And he’ll have no regrets. He fears nothing.

That’s about to change.

“Riley,” Eli warns, his eyes locked solid onto mine. He senses something, and his nostrils flare. His body tenses. “Don’t.”

Before the word is out of his mouth, I use the one tendency Julian taught me to use before leaving Romania. I’d not tried it on anyone, save Julian.

Concentrating, I hold Eli’s gaze. I speak to him in his mind.

Stay where you are, Eli. Don’t move. Don’t leave here until after I’ve gone. Your body is heavy, and my will is stronger than yours. You know it. You feel it. The synapses in your nervous system aren’t firing. You’re paralyzed. You’ll stay that way until I’m gone. Until ten minutes after I’m gone.