Edge of Darkness (27 page)

“Don’t stop,” she begged. “Don’t slow down. Please, Christian, don’t stop.”

He released her wrists and wrapped his hands around her waist. He reared up and pulled her right to the edge of the piano so her bottom hung off.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice still that strange, gravelly whisper. “Say my name.”

He slid one of her legs up and hooked her ankle over his shoulder, and simultaneously pressed forward, deeper inside her, so deep it made her shudder. Her eyes slid shut.

“Christian!”

He slid almost all the way out, then slammed back inside her. A shockwave of pleasure tore through her; she shivered and groaned.

“Again.”

Now his hands were on her breasts, roughly pinching her nipples, sending spikes of pleasure straight down between her legs. His mouth quickly followed his fingers and she felt his tongue, hot and wet, sucking, incredibly wonderful, then pain as his teeth fastened around one sensitive nipple. She cried out and he gentled a bit, sucking again, still greedy and hungry.

“Say it again, Ember!”

His words were a rough command, muffled against her breast. She dug her fingers into his hair, whimpering. When she felt the sting of his teeth again, she gasped his name and he snarled his approval.

“Fuck, I love that—I
love
my name on your lips.”

His hands against her skin were strong and sure, roaming everywhere as he pumped into her. She felt as if she were being consumed, devoured—possessed.

She opened her eyes and saw him there above her, drenched in moonlight, his eyes shining clear and lucid green past the shadows over his face. His shirt was still on and she wanted it off; she wanted to see all of him.

“Take it off,” she panted, tugging at the material. He complied with swift, brutal precision, tearing it off exactly how he’d torn her own shirt off. Buttons popped and went flying as he yanked it apart and tossed it to the floor; she had a moment to admire him, hard, muscular, and beautiful, before he leaned over and took her mouth. He kissed her with vicious intensity, his tongue thrusting in time with his hips, the heat of his body burning her chest and stomach.

Then his mouth was gone, he withdrew, and he flipped her over so quickly she gasped in shock. Her belly and breasts were pressed flat against the cool, slick surface of the piano.

“On your toes,” he hissed, and fisted a hand into her hair. He pulled her hips back with his other hand so her back was arched and her bottom stuck out. She complied without thought, eager to have him inside her again, and was rewarded instantly as he slid between her legs and buried himself as deep as he could go.

Ember made a sound that was part groan, part whimper, part
Thank you, Jesus!

His thrusts came harder, faster. He reached around and slipped his fingers between her legs. When he touched her slick, swollen nub she jerked and cried out. Pleasure sizzled through her limbs, making her knees shake, her breath falter, and her heart throb in her chest.

She was close, so close. Her nipples were hard and aching, rubbing against the piano with each of his thrusts, sending more waves of pleasure through her as he wound her higher and higher with his body inside hers and those clever, demanding fingers stroking between her legs.

“Christian—please—hurry—together!” It was a gasped, stuttering plea, which he answered in a tone so urgent and rough it was nearly incoherent.

“Can’t—ovulating—mouth.”

How he knew she was ovulating was a question she would ask later, but what she gathered from those three disjointed words was he wanted to come in her mouth so she didn’t get pregnant. She lifted her head and looked at him over her shoulder. “No—it’s okay—the accident—I can’t—you can’t get me pregnant.”

He froze for a millisecond. His eyes took on a haunting, uncanny glow, vivid green in the shadows, as if they were lit from behind.

Then he pulled them both down to the rug beneath their feet.

He only withdrew to turn her around again, then she was flat on her back and he was between her legs, his hands on either side of his face, his face contorted in something like agony.

She reached down between their bodies and grasped him, stroked him base to tip as he groaned and shuddered. He kissed her savagely as she guided him inside.

White fire and aching, breathlessness, heartbeats pounding against chests. She ran her hands down his back, loving the flex of his muscles, the softness of and heat of his skin, and cupped his hard ass, pulling him deeper inside as he thrust into her. He dug his fingers into her hair and held her head in place, staring down at her as his breath came harder and more uneven, little groans working from his throat.

The world shrunk to the few short inches between their faces. Christian whispered her name.

It was the way he said it that finally pushed her over the edge. The urgent, desperate plea was both tender and rough; it made her feel wild and delirious. Combined with the expression on his face—astonishment, rapture, stark worship beyond the primal pleasure—it made her feel beautiful.

It made her feel loved.

The orgasm that ripped through her was so hard she couldn’t even make a noise. She arched against him, mouth open in a silent scream, eyes clenched shut, the pulsing throb in her core so glorious and encompassing she could only cling to him wordlessly as he continued to pump inside her. He lowered his head and took her nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, and she jerked against him, her throat finally opening to let out a sob.

“Yes, baby.” His teeth and hot, wet mouth drove another cry from her throat as he suckled her. “Make noise for me. Let me hear you come.”

She moaned, loud and wanton, clawing at his back.

He shuddered, his entire body tensed. “Oh God,” he said in a gasped whisper. “Ember—I’m coming, too—angel—”

She opened her eyes, locked her gaze to his and panted, “Yes, Christian…now…give it to me. Give it all to me
now!
”

Her words drove him wild. Hard and uncontrolled, he crashed into her, pounding deep, groaning, all his muscles in his body flexed and rippling. She clenched her thighs around him harder, digging her fingers into his back, moaning louder with every furious thrust of his hips.

Then, with a strangled groan, he faltered. He pumped deep. Once, twice. He gasped her name and came inside her. She felt it—throbbing, twitching, a spreading heat—then he collapsed on top of her with a gusted exhalation and crushed her against his chest.

They lay fused together for long, silent minutes, letting their heartbeats slow, catching their breath, both of them wracked by the occasional spasm, sated and flushed.

Christian inhaled a slow, deep breath against her throat. Then he roused and slowly nuzzled her neck, rubbing his face into her skin, her hair, the space between her throat and shoulder.

Without withdrawing from her body, he shifted and moved slightly lower to rub his face against her breasts.

He did it slowly, with an almost reverent solemnity, dragging his face one way and then the other across her chest, down her ribs, back up to her neck and shoulders, caressing her with his lips and hands, the slight stubble on his jaw tickling her over-sensitive skin. All his wild tension and that edge of raw danger seemed to be gone, replaced by sweet, possessive tenderness.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, stroking her fingers through his hair as he lifted one of her arms and rubbed his face against her bicep, burrowing into her armpit with his nose.

“Marking you.” She thought for a moment she’d misheard him, but he lifted his head and gazed at her, his eyes heavy-lidded and warm. “With my scent.”

Her lips parted, but there didn’t seem to be a correct response to that.

“Because you’re mine,” he softly explained, seeing her bewilderment. “And I’m yours. And the animal inside me is yours. No matter what happens from now on, Ember, that will never change—I want you to remember that.” His eyes grew soft, and he almost looked haunted. “Come what may.”

For a blind, breathless second, she was consumed by panic. “Why does that sound like a good-bye?” she whispered, searching his face.

He smiled, a charming, lopsided quirk of his lips. “I just told you I’m bonded to you, and you take it as a goodbye?”

His smile loosened the knot in her chest and she breathed a little easier. She lifted her hand to stroke his cheek. “Bonded?”

Still buried inside her, his weight heavy and wonderful on top of her, he cradled her face in his hands and said, “It’s the way of my kind. Like swallows and swans, we mate for life. For us, love creates a mark. A fingerprint, if you will, except on the soul. Something is changed inside of us. The bond between two mates is sacred; even attempting to interfere with it is a crime punishable by death. There’s no divorce, no affairs, nothing at all that can separate a bonded
Ikati
from his mate. Not even death.”

The knot in her chest reappeared. Another one formed in her stomach. Her eyes filled with tears and she whispered his name.

His voice both soft and firm, he said, “I’m going to take care of you for the rest of your life, I want you to be very clear about that. You are the most precious thing I’ve ever known. And you’ve given me the most amazing gift, one I’ll always treasure.”

She stared at him, her heart clenched inside her chest, the hand on his face trembling.

Eyes shining, he murmured, “You make me feel free.”

This time she couldn’t even whisper his name, the emotion was so intense. So overwhelming.

“My entire life I’ve been constrained, restricted, forced to follow rules I didn’t create and never wanted to obey. But I did. I had no choice. Until I met you, and you made me realize I
do
have a choice. There was always a choice. I just never had anything valuable enough to risk my neck for. And because you’ve given me all that you have, I’m going to ensure that you never again have to worry about money, or the future, or anything at all.”

When he saw the look on her face, his voice hardened. “This is not a discussion. I’m informing you of the facts. You’re going to sign that agreement for the bookstore, and you’re going to let your wicked stepmother have her share so she’ll leave you alone, and then you can go right back to working there if you want. But you’re going to sign it.”

Dizzy with his declaration and still glowing from pleasure, she decided to argue about the store later. “Wicked stepmother?”

A wry smile crossed his face. “Señor Alvarez had a few choice things to say about our friend Marguerite. A few very
unflattering
things.” He leaned down and kissed her shoulder. “You’re trembling,” he noted, running his hand up her arm.

“Your fault, Mr. Sex God. I probably won’t be able to walk for days.”

He tensed. “Did I hurt you?” he whispered, his fingers caressing her upper arm.

With her heart aching and tears burning her eyes, Ember wrapped her arms around him, and buried her face in his neck. “Never,” she whispered. “I’m just trembling from happiness. You make me so happy, Christian. Thank you.”

He exhaled a relieved breath and chuckled, brushing the hair off her face. “I like this side of you, little firecracker. I certainly hope you’re going to be this defenseless and tender every time we make love.”

“Only one way to find out.”

He chuckled again. Then he swiftly sat up, gathered her in his arms and stood. “Yes, let’s go find out right now. Only I think I’d like to be in a bed this time; rug burn isn’t really my thing.”

He walked swiftly through the dark house and up the stairs, and carried her to his bedroom. They made love again in his huge, soft bed, and this time it was tender and slow and even more beautiful. Afterward, Christian fell asleep wrapped around her, one heavy leg thrown over both of hers, his breathing deep and steady at her ear.

But Ember couldn’t sleep. Even when dawn showed faintly pink and gold over the horizon, she was still staring up at the ceiling, trying to put her finger on the sense of dread that had overtaken her at Christian’s words, his promises she would be taken care of.

I’m going to ensure that you never again have to worry about money, or the future, or anything at all.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that three words were missing from that sentence. Three words that would have been equally at home at the beginning or the end.

After. I’m. Gone.

Dante had a very bad feeling about the man who’d knocked on his door, rousing him from sleep in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t the look in the man’s dark, dark eyes—a look so wild it was nearly unhinged—or his size, which was substantial, or the charcoal drawing he held in one crooked, bandaged hand, or the way he’d demanded to know where the girl in the drawing now lived.

It was the gun he pointed in Dante’s face.

Slowly, with his hands held up in submission, the night air swirling around his bare shins beneath his robe, Dante repeated in a shaking voice what he’d just said, a lie he was hoping wouldn’t get him killed.

“She moved out. I-I don’t know where she went.”

He said it in English this time, because the man with the gun clearly didn’t speak Spanish. Dante had a fleeting, deranged thought that maybe the man spoke Martian. He had an unnervingly alien look about him, all eyes, teeth, and appetite.

Keeping his wild black gaze trained on his, the man silently stepped over the threshold into Dante’s apartment. He kicked the door shut behind him, and Dante retreated, terrified but saying a silent prayer of thanks that Clare was in the hospital, and not in her bed in the second bedroom.

The man lowered the gun to the general level of Dante’s crotch. “I’ll give you three seconds. And then I’m going to start shooting things. Things that won’t kill you right away, but will hurt. A lot.” He paused as Dante gaped at him in horror, then said, “One.”

“I told you! She moved out! I don’t keep records of where the tenants go when they leave. She didn’t tell me where she was moving—”

“Two.” The man grew an ugly smile, a malicious specimen that bared his teeth in a truly horrific, animalistic display.

Dante was sweating. His heart raced, his hands trembled, his bowels threatened to spill their contents onto the tile floor. “I swear!” he shouted, backing away. “I don’t know!”

“
Three
.”

The man’s finger moved to the trigger and every thought except surviving blew out of Dante’s head. “The docks! The docks at El Raval! The building is called
La Brisa Marina!
” He screamed it at the top of his lungs, then sucked back in a breath of dismay, instantly realizing what he’d done.

Ember would be getting a visit from this crazy man next.

Before he had time to contemplate that, the man smiled another of his feral smiles, darted forward in two short steps, and smashed the butt of his gun directly into Dante’s temple.

Fireworks exploded behind his eyes. He staggered, and the ground came up hard to catch him.

Then there was only blackness, and the sound of satisfied laughter, quickly fading to silence as Dante was swallowed by the dark.

The sound of a ringing phone dragged Ember from the restless sleep she’d finally fallen into just after sunrise.

She lifted her head, blinking against the bright sunlight that spilled through the tall windows along the east wall, and yawned, looking around. She was in Christian’s vast, sumptuous bed, alone; he was nowhere to be seen.

The phone rang and rang and rang. She finally spied it, an old-fashioned black rotary model on a desk across the room. She called out Christian’s name and waited, but heard only the shrill ringing of the phone in answer.

She was nude—her pajamas were probably still shredded on the floor of the library—so she pulled the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around her as she crossed the room. Feeling a combination of anxiety, dread, and ambivalence, she laid her hand on the receiver and stood there debating with herself as the phone continued to ring.

Should she answer it? Should she go back to bed? Should she pretend to be the maid to whoever was calling?

Her mind seized on that idea and curiosity got the better of her. She decided that yes, she would be the maid and take a message for whoever was on the line.

She picked up the phone. Just as she was about to say hello, Christian’s curt voice came on the other end.

“Yes.”

He’d answered it from somewhere else in the house. They’d picked up at the same time. She was just about to hang up when she heard a masculine, accented voice, very similar to Christian’s, but darker, much more tense.

“A goddamn answering machine wouldn’t be too much to ask!”

“I was outside in the garden. Watching the sunrise. It took me a minute to come in.”

Christian’s voice was calm and unapologetic, and for some bizarre reason, Ember was proud of him, standing up to whoever this arrogant caller was without even getting ruffled.

The arrogant caller made a disgruntled sound that also managed to sound full of fondness. “Watching the sunrise? How terribly romantic. Going soft in your old age, brother?”

So this was Christian’s older brother, Leander. Ember’s fingers tightened around the phone. She had the sense to press the mute button, so no sound could be heard on her end. There was no way she was hanging up now.

“You have no idea,” replied Christian.

There was a pause as Leander absorbed that. Then he said, “I got your message. So you found the son of a bitch.”

Ember’s heart screeched to a stop inside her chest.

Christian softly exhaled and made a noise of agreement.

“Tell me everything.”

There was a command in Leander’s voice, gentle but absolute, with a note of assumed compliance. Clearly, this was a man used to being obeyed.

“I caught the scent purely by accident. I’ve been near the spot before, but the wind was right last night, and I got lucky. They’re in an abandoned bunker complex in the hills above the city.”

“Bunker?” Leander sounded surprised.

“A remnant from the Spanish Civil War.” Christian’s voice turned grudgingly admiring. “It’s perfect, actually. Good visibility from within, well-concealed from the outside, easy to protect. There are probably hidden exits all over the place, too. And, from what I was able to gather from the Internet, the network of tunnels and chambers beneath those bunkers are extensive. There’s plenty of room for them to grow.”

“But how are they keeping out of sight? A place like that seems like it would be crawling with tourists, history buffs—”

“The government cordoned off the whole area with barbed wire decades ago. Apparently there are unexploded land mines all over the place, left over from the war. They don’t have enough money to do the necessary clearance and cleanup, so they just blocked it from public access.”

“Jesus,” said Leander. “How long can a land mine stay live?”

“Not sure. The government’s plan is just to leave the area untouched until all the mines are defunct, but in the meantime—”

“It’s a perfect hiding place for a nest of rats,” Leander finished, his voice hard.

“Exactly. And since they can smell where any live munitions are and avoid them, there’s no danger for their colony, but anyone else who might venture near—
kaboom!
”

There followed a long, tense silence. Ember held her breath, hoping neither of them could hear her thundering heartbeat through the phone line.

“Are you…taking care of it tonight, then?”

Leander sounded brusque, but beneath his businesslike tone, Ember heard the raw current of anguish.
Taking care of it
…she assumed that meant killing Caesar. Ember’s hands shook so badly it was difficult to hold the phone to her ear.

Christian made another soft exhalation. “No, tomorrow night. Everything is ready, but I can’t…I need one last day.”

Leander’s swallow was loud enough to be heard clear as if he’d uttered something. His voice very low, he said, “I understand.”

“No, actually you don’t.”

“Christian—”

“I’ve met someone.”

Those three words were blurted out, throbbing with emotion, and they took both Ember and Leander equally by surprise. There was a long, cavernous silence.

“A woman,” Christian began to explain, but Leander cut him off.

“Dear, sweet God in heaven, are you
insane?
”

He was obviously horrified—horrified and furious. The words were shouted, reverberating with condemnation.

But Christian was having none of his brother’s anger. He snapped, “Yes, I’m insane! Because sane people don’t frequently volunteer for suicide missions!”

And with that, the bottom fell out of Ember’s world.

She sank silently to her knees with the sheet clutched in her fist, frozen, blind, deaf except for those two words, repeating themselves over and over inside her mind.

Suicide mission.

Suicide mission.

Like the pieces of a dark, twisted puzzle, it all clicked into place. All the little things he’d said, hints of his plan and purpose, the research she’d done on the Internet, the look on his face, the look in his eyes when he told her she’d be taken care of for the rest of her life. Now it all made perfect, terrible sense.

He was here to kill the man who’d killed the pope, she knew that. But—according to eyewitness accounts from the Swiss Guard who’d attempted to gun Caesar down—he couldn’t be killed. He’d been riddled with dozens upon dozens of bullets and had simply revived within seconds with a smile.

So how did you kill a man who couldn’t be killed? Incinerate him in a super-heated fire? Melt him in molten steel? Blow him to smithereens in a huge explosion?

She didn’t know. But if a gun wouldn’t work, it had to be something far more violent, something that would obliterate all traces of a form that could simply regenerate itself when damaged.

“Anything that can be made can be
un
made; it’s a natural law. Unfortunately, sometimes Nature needs a helping hand…and someone willing to get those helping hands dirty.”

Christian had given her this terse explanation when she’d broached the subject on one of their walks. By his dark tone and even darker glower she’d understood that was the end of the conversation, but then he’d sighed and stared off into the distant horizon. He took her hand and an expression of quiet melancholy settled over his features, replacing the glower. Then in a soft, haunting voice, he’d added, “Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good.”

“Sacrifices? Like what?” she’d asked sharply, hearing something in his tone. He’d looked at her and smiled, shaking his head as if dispelling an unpleasant thought.

“Like being away from you when all I want to do is spend every minute by your side.”

He kissed her then, a soft press of his lips against hers before he pulled away, but it was enough to distract her. And his words were enough to flatter her into dropping the subject.

But now she realized the sacrifice Christian had been talking about…was
him
.

Whatever he had planned for Caesar, whatever mechanism he’d decided could kill an unkillable man, it would also take his own life in the process.

And he was going to do it tomorrow.

Tomorrow
.

A hot whirlwind of panic descended on her. Shaking uncontrollably in shock, she sagged against the desk, unable to support her own weight.

Leander exploded. “Jesus, Christian! You’re involved with a human woman? Of all the stupid things to do! How much does she know—”

“She’s trustworthy!” Christian shouted back. “She’d never do anything to put me in danger—”

“It’s not just you—it’s the rest of us, too! How do you know she isn’t some kind of spy, trying to get information about the rest of the colonies—”

“For fuck’s sake, Leander! Give me some credit!”

“There’s a huge bounty on all our heads, Christian! You think some
human
is going to pass up the opportunity to cash in—”

“
You’re talking about the woman I love!
”

It was a primal thing, those seven screamed words, and Ember’s body reacted to them on a purely primal level. She went cold then hot. Sweat broke out over her entire body. Her heart hammered against her breastbone and her chest constricted so tight she had to fight to breathe. It was only when she felt hot wetness dripping onto her bare leg that she realized she was crying.

Leander and Christian were both breathing hard, silent, the tension between them thick and sharp as knives. Finally Leander’s voice, deadly soft, cut the silence.

“And this woman who you
love
—does she know why you’re there? Does she know there’s a ticking bomb over your head?”

Christian didn’t answer.

“Right. So what’s going to happen to her once you’re gone?” His voice turned caustic. “Let’s assume for an idiotic moment that you’re right; she’s trustworthy. She won’t tell anyone anything, all our secrets are safe with her. Have you given any thought to what your death might do to
her?
”

His voice cracking, Christian said, “She’ll be taken care of. I’ve made all the arrangements. This house is going to be hers—my inheritance will go to her—”

“So she’s a gold digger, then? All she cares about is your money?”

Leander was being an ass, but Ember knew the point he was trying to make. And so did Christian, evidenced by his anguished, hollered answer.

“I KNOW IT’S WRONG, ALL RIGHT? I know it’s fucked up and she’ll get hurt and I’m the biggest, most selfish asshole in the world, but I didn’t mean for it to happen! What the hell do you want me to say, Leander? I didn’t mean for it to happen, but I fell in love with her! She makes me feel alive! She makes me feel like my life wasn’t a complete waste! She makes me happy—you can understand that, can’t you? She makes me happy the way Jenna makes you happy—was there ever any choice for you that you
wouldn’t
fall in love with her? Did you have any control over that? Did you tell your heart, ‘No, not going to go there, it’s stupid and dangerous?’ Because believe me, I tried! And it didn’t fucking work!”