by Sunny
His skin rippled as if a pebble had been skipped across its surface, breaking the calm, stirring the demon beast that lurked beneath. Dante circled him, knife in hand, his lower abdomen torn into ribbons of flesh where Halcyon had sliced him with his nails. His eyes glowed silver with his own power and an aura of danger clung to him like a second skin. But Halcyon, it seemed, was immune to this mesmerizing power.
“No!” I said louder, drawing their attention.
Their forces hit me separately. Dante’s luminescent silver eyes pinned me in place as he whispered, “Stop.” And the silent mental command Halcyon flung at me. Stay.
I froze in place, unable to move, mentally cursing them both as they rushed each other, coming together in a flash of tanned skin—one lighter brown, the other darker gold. Both of them armed. But it was ten demon nails against one silver blade.
Foolish Dante was the aggressor, with Halcyon welcoming his attack with a cruel, taunting smile. They struck at each other savagely, moving with lethal beauty, a dance of fast movement, strikes and countering blows that was almost beautiful to watch were it not so frighteningly deadly.
Dante rushed Halcyon again and again with almost reckless daring, the silver blade flashing in his hand, his metal bracelets glinting darkly at his wrists. Were it not for the wrist guards, he would have been completely torn apart by Halcyon’s nails, which were not even claws yet, just his normal inch-long nails as the Demon Prince wrestled back his beast’s change, retaining his man form.
They came together again in a stunning flurry of strikes and blurring movement, and broke apart with new injuries scored along Dante’s thighs, his arms. Halcyon had only the one knife wound, terrible enough—it had almost caused Halcyon’s demon beast to emerge.
All I could do was watch, frozen by both their wills. And inwardly scream. I found I didn’t have to wait for Hell. It had found and captured me, here and now.
“Do you know who I am?” Halcyon asked, his voice crooning, silky menace. Even in his human form he was a fearsome sight, his red eyes burning with Hell’s fury, his long nails coated with blood, a cold smile twisting his lips.
“You are the Prince of Hell,” Dante said, and lunged at him with the knife. Halcyon danced gracefully away, swiping downward as he did. His razor-sharp nails came up against Dante’s blocking metal bracelet, scraped over it with a discordant screech.
“You know who I am,” Halcyon said, “yet you do not fear me.”
“Why should I fear someone who will never have any dominion over me?” Dante growled, his silver eyes glowing brightly. He attacked again, pressing forward, uncaring of the new wounds he incurred, focused only on driving that knife again into the Demon Prince.
They sprang apart.
“How did you find us?” Dante demanded.
A fast, almost careless swipe of those nails, and the top of Dante’s shirt was sliced open, spilling his amulet into view.
“Did you think your stone’s small magic could keep me from finding my mate? My own blood?” Halcyon’s smile turned mockingly cruel. I’d never seen him like this before.
As if he knew my thoughts, those burning eyes turned to me for a second. “I am not always nice, Mona Lisa.”
Dante chose that moment to strike again. But this time it seemed Halcyon’s inattention had been deliberate. The Demon Prince moved again, so fast I didn’t see him stir, and Dante was suddenly pinned on the ground, the silver dagger now in Halcyon’s hand.
“What’s to stop me from killing you now?” Halcyon taunted as his fangs lengthened to sharp, cutting points.
“Nothing,” Dante answered, his face impassive.
“You still have no fear.”
“I do not fear death,” Dante said. “It’s not staying dead that torments me.”
“I shall do my best to see that you stay dead.” With that silky promise, Halcyon raised the dagger he had seized.
Dante’s smile was brief, bitter. “Not even you can grant me that ease, Demon Prince.”
Power surged, thrummed the air as the demon part of me came to the fore, shattering the separate spells that had been placed on me.
“No, Halcyon!” I screamed. “Don’t. I carry his child.”
I swayed, freed of the mental bonds, but had no power to move. All my energy had been used up.
“Don’t,” I whispered as I sank to the ground. Into dark swirling oblivion.
I WOKE UP to find two concerned faces peering down at me. To see pale blue eyes no longer glowing, and dark chocolate ones no longer demon red. Nothing like announcing you’re pregnant and then fainting to get some attention.
I started to sit up, but was pressed back down by two pairs of hands. My handcuffs, I noticed, had been removed.
“Easy, ena,” Halcyon murmured.
“Lie back down, dulcaeta.”
Tender words—wife, beloved. Old words spoken in a tongue that I remembered from another lifetime. Tears sprang to my eyes. Those blasted, stupid tears. But fury was the cause of them this time.
“Get your bloody hands off of me,” I snarled. “Both of you!”
Surprised, alarmed, they did and I sat up slowly. When all seemed fine, no tilting of the ground, no dots of whiteness, I snatched Dante by the two torn edges of his shirtfront. Yanked him to me.
“Don’t you ever freeze me like that again.” I bared my teeth at him and pushed him away.
Snatching Halcyon next, I caught him by the edge of his shirt and shook him. “And don’t you ever command me to stay. Like I am your dog!”
I shoved him away, sick with them both, and slowly got to my feet, batting away the helping hands that reached out to steady me. “Don’t touch me!”
The sight of me screaming and crying seemed to befuddle both demon and Monère warrior alike.
“Don’t cry,” Dante murmured, his hands opening and closing helplessly by his side.
“It’s the hormones surging in you,” Halcyon soothed. His words had the complete opposite effect of what he intended.
I exploded. Literally saw red for a moment. “It’s not the fucking hormones! It’s you stupid men.” Then I was sobbing.
I angrily wiped the tears away and saw that they were tinged red. I was crying tears of blood.
“Calm yourself, sweetheart,” Dante murmured. “It can’t be good for the baby.”
I literally shook with my fury. “And you two trying to kill each other in front of me after freezing me with your commands so that I can’t even speak or move…that’s good for the baby?”
The two men looked at me, then at each other as if seeking guidance on how to handle the pregnant, hysterical, part-demon Monère Queen.
The air trembled with another wash of fury. Then, like a cleansing wave, or perhaps because I could no longer sustain the energy for such wrath, the anger died away, leaving bitter dregs of its ash in my mouth.
“Are you going to kill each other?” I asked in a dull, flat voice, like soda that had lost its pop and fizzle.
They shook their heads.
“No,” Halcyon said. “Dante explained…” He paused. “No.”
“And you?” I asked Dante.
He looked at me with sadness, with weariness. “The Demon Prince and I have come to an understanding. We will no longer try to hurt each other. But you…What will you do?”
What will you do with my child?
I suddenly felt old and brittle and so tired of it all. The worry, the fighting, the hurting of so many people.
“You win,” I said. I was going to leave it to a power, a wisdom greater than mine. “I will do nothing to harm the child.”
He bowed his head. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“And what of your promise to let me go,” I asked, “now that you have secured my promise?”
His head lifted so that I saw the flash of his pale blue irises. “Will you grant me these next few days until the Service Fair? After that, you have my word that I will be gone from your life.”
“Wil
l you?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I nodded. “These next few days,” I agreed. Turning, I walked back to the car.
We backtracked to where we had left Chami, and found a familiar green Suburban parked by the roadside. Chami sat in the shade of the big vehicle, moving once more, freed of the compulsion. Faint redness colored his face, neck, and hands, but that seemed to be the extent of his injuries. Aquila on the other hand, sitting next to him, was more severely damaged, but not as badly as I had feared. Dontaine and two of his men, Marcus and Jayden, who I recognized from the practice session, were field dressing Aquila’s wound. Their surprise when they saw me accompanied by my kidnapper and my Demon Prince was enough to drop the men’s jaws.
I brushed past them to kneel at Aquila’s side. “You shifted back into your human form.” Someone had loaned Aquila a shirt. His legs gleamed pale and naked beneath the cloth. “Were your injuries that grave?”
“No, milady,” Aquila was quick to assure me. “Just bruises, some flesh gone from where the bullet struck me in the arm. Nothing broken, though. I shifted back into this form so I could report to Dontaine.”
“Are you hurt?” Chami asked. His quick glance down at my belly, and his wary gaze past me to Dante, told me that he had heard us. That he had been a silent, frozen witness when Dante had taken me in his post-battle frenzy. He knew that I was pregnant, and that Dante was likely the father.
“No, I’m fine. The only one, in fact, who is not hurt.” I stood, said to the others, “It’s over. Halcyon and Dante will explain everything to you later. Or maybe just confirm what you all already know. I’m too tired for that now. I just want to go home.” The last sentence came out plaintively.
When Dante moved to take my arm—I think I swayed again—my men drew their daggers against him.
Explanations, I realized, could not wait.
“Put your weapons away,” I commanded harshly.
Dontaine and his men reluctantly sheathed their daggers.
Maybe it was the steel in my voice. Or perhaps it was just that they were used to obeying the orders of their Queen, unlike my other men. Whatever the reason, I was grateful to be obeyed.
“Dante is likely the father of the child I carry,” I stated. “He is a guest, not a prisoner, for the next several days, until our next Council meeting, at which time he will be departing. I want no one else hurt in this matter. Do you understand?”
There was a chorus of “Yes, milady.”
“Good. Let’s go home.”
EIGHTEEN
THINGS RETURNED TO normal, or as normal as they could be under the circumstances. Dante’s family, who had fled when he had, returned when he called them back. No word was mentioned of this second snatching. Perhaps because all understood now why Dante had done what he had done. What perplexed my people, no doubt, was why I had even considered terminating the life I carried within me.
Still…understanding only carried you so far. They treated Dante differently now. Before, they had seen him as what he had appeared to be—a twenty-year-old, gifted warrior. The knowledge of his previous life—his infamous killing of me, and the curse laid upon him—had brought caution and mistrust to their eyes. Add to this the knowledge that he could compel other Monère—not just humans, but Monère warriors and Queens—and they looked at him not only with wary distrust but active fear, melting away in his presence, not meeting his eyes. Afraid to look into them. Even Dontaine treated him with careful caution, ceding these last few days entirely to Dante. The father of my child.
What was it about seeding life in a woman’s womb that gave a man ownership of her body—in other men’s eyes, at least—during the time she carried that living, growing being? A perception that none others challenged. My bed had remained empty since we had returned.
Halcyon had kissed me and returned to his realm. “Until the High Council meeting,” he had murmured.
It was almost like a mantra muttered among my people and my men. Until the High Council meeting. Until the Service Fair when Dante, and likely the rest of his family, would leave us. Amber had called to say that he would not be coming that Wednesday as per his usual practice. He hadn’t even tried to give an excuse. He’d simply said, “I will see you in a sennight.” Seven days hence, when we would travel down to High Court, the seat of Monère rule here on this continent.
Dontaine slept in the next room—his room now—but he, too, made himself scarce, pressed no demands, made no requests for my bed. And the man the rest of them had ceded my body to…he also pressed no demands for my bed. Just my company.
During our days, when darkness fell—that was when our mornings began—he would sweep into Belle Vista and claim me. He had left me alone in my solitude that first night back. On the second day, he took me on a picnic, on a grassy knoll a five-minute stroll from the mansion, within the boundaries of my land. Chami and Tomas kept watch over us, but stayed a discreet distance away.
Dante fed me food from the basket Rosemary had prepared at his request. It was packed with odd things. Odd things for a Monère, but things I had acquired a taste for. Grapes and other fruits. Rolls of bread. Chunks of cheese, all kinds of cheese—smooth Gouda, sharp cheddar, smoked Brie. None of the others in the household ate this stuff. Only me…and Dante. He popped the cheese in his mouth and chewed with relish. When I looked askance at him, he said, “I grew up among humans, also.”
“This time. What about your other previous lives? Do you remember them?”
He took his time chewing, then swallowing, while he composed his answer. “My memories are most clear of my last incarnation, and of my first life. That, I never forget. I get random flashes of other lives, occasionally. I think it’s my mind’s natural defense, that selective memory. Remembering everything would probably be too much for one single mind to handle.”
The next day he drove us to New Orleans. We played tourist, ate dinner, and danced informally afterward in the carriageway outside of Preservation Hall, swaying to the music of the boisterous jazz band while Tomas kept an eagle-eye watch over us.
The fourth day, Dante drove me to the county fair, set up in the next town over, while Aquila trailed behind us in another car. At the fair, he bought me pink and blue cotton candy, and treated me to carnival games. We popped balloons with darts, bounced ping-pong balls along the rims of fishbowls, and won stuffed animals, lots of them, which he continued to trade up for a bigger prize until we ended up with a huge, stuffed, purple Scooby-Doo almost as tall as I was.
We twirled on the merry-go-round, the only ride I was permitted on. He stood beside me as I bobbed gently up and down on my carousel horse. It was on the down sweep, with laughter bubbling from my lips, when he kissed me. Our mouths clung, with the sweet taste of spun sugar and the even sweeter enjoyment of the day flavoring our kiss. Then my painted steed started its slow glide back up, and we broke apart with the warm taste and touch of each other lingering between us like fine, heady perfume.
The fifth night, he took me on a picnic again on the same grassy knoll, but this time it was different. This time we were alone.
“No guard tonight?” I asked.
“No guard.” Dante’s silver-blue eyes gleamed at me, reflecting the moonlight. “I promised that we would stay on the property, and asked them for privacy.”
“Why?” My voice came out husky, soft.
“Because I want to make love to you tonight. Will you allow it?”
He’d courted me these last few days. Courted me with laughter, with fun. We’d played among the humans for a few blissful, irresponsible days. He’d made me laugh, giving me a respite from my duties and burdens and fears.
“I want this memory of you and I,” he said softly. “Will you give me that to take away with me?”
The two remaining days until the next Council meeting loomed like a shadow before us. We hadn’t just played among the humans…we’d played at being human. As if he was a normal twenty-year-old boy, and I, a girl he was dating, w
ith the prospect of a happy, finite lifetime together before us, with no other goal in mind than marriage, the 2.4 requisite kids, a house, and a nice-paying job to cover the mortgage. It was a sweet, brief illusion. A paper dream that would rip apart with the first tug of reality. But not yet…not yet. With deliberate choice, I continued to drift us along in that lovely illusion.
“Yes,” I said. “I will allow it.”
He fed me from his hand. Fast food—Chicken McNuggets, french fries, an apple pie—and I greedily ate it down. Food that no one else would have thought to buy for me. His eyes caressed me; he looked at me so tenderly. Why had I ever feared those eyes, I wondered?
Pushing aside the empty bags, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me with lips warm and gentle. He laid me down on the soft blanket, and I sighed at the feel of his body against mine. I pulled the tie from his hair, freed its long length so that it spilled over and around me like a shining curtain of silken honey. He kissed me as if he cherished me, as if he loved me, raining soft kisses down my face and neck to the gentle slope of my abdomen. He paused there and pressed trembling lips against my skin.
“May I?” His hand hovered above my shirt, asking permission. I nodded, and his hand slid beneath the soft cotton to lay gentle claim to what lay below it.
I watched him, no words, emotions held at bay. Just simply watched as he lifted my shirt over my head, tossed it away, as he carefully undid my jeans, pushing down the denim. I quivered beneath his heated gaze, beneath the reverent touch of his hand splayed protectively, possessively, over my belly where our child grew inside of me. My eyes fell on a ring I’d never seen him wear before. I felt the cool metal band warm as it touched my skin. Watched as the smooth, ugly gray stone flared with power, changing into a sparkling aquamarine color. With that pulse of power, two life forces shimmered into view—mine, a pale shimmering golden aura just above my skin, and below it, part of it and yet separate and distinct, was a tiny, delicate blue bubble, not much bigger than a tennis ball.
