Daughters of Eve Collection (Books 1, 2 & 3)

by Bourdon, Danielle

  “No. That comes from eating fruit from the Tree of Life.” Evelyn folded her hands in her lap, memorizing the strength of his jaw, the masculine bridge of his nose. The scar above his eyebrow only added to his appeal in her mind.

  Rhett met her eyes and held them at the next red light.

  He said nothing else for the rest of the trip to the stronghold.

  ***

  The scent of grilled chicken wafted through the kitchen. Evelyn, impressed with how well equipped it was, decided to help Rhett make dinner. Not bothering to change, she'd found a full length apron to don over her clothing, the strings wrapped twice around her hips and tied off in the front.

  Dusk had settled over the landscape a few minutes before, bleeding orange fingers of light through the windows.

  “Smells pretty good,” Rhett said from the island where he stood piling ears of corn wrapped in foil from the grill onto a plate. “There's salad fixings in the fridge, too. We can do that last.”

  “How many months out of the year do you live here?” she asked, turning over a few pieces of chicken with the tongs. An overhead vent quietly pulled the rising steam away.

  “Months? I don't stay for months at a time anywhere. I move between the strongholds and houses depending on where I'm needed to work,” he said, setting down his own pair of tongs.

  “Oh. You don't have a place of your own for vacations and things like that?” she asked, glancing over at him.

  “I've invested in a couple residences, but I don't live there. If I go on vacation, I choose a destination far from where any work is going on and usually just stay in a hotel or something.”

  “How long has it been since you've had a vacation?”

  “Eleven years or so?” He went to the fridge and took out a fresh bottle of cold water, cracking the lid with a twist of his hand.

  “Eleven years! That's a long time.” Evelyn couldn't imagine waiting that long to have a vacation.

  “Well, how often do you go on vacation? Two or three times a year?” He laughed as he asked.

  “Of course not. But we usually all go somewhere at least once a year.”

  “That's because you have a lazy job.”

  Evelyn darted an astonished look at him. “I do not! I'll have you know--” She paused when she saw the devilish gleam in his eye. Setting down the tongs, she grabbed up a towel and after giving it a quick roll, she snapped it at his hip.

  He dodged her with too much ease, grabbing the end of the towel to suddenly tug her right in front of him.

  “You were saying?” His tone picked up a predatory edge.

  Evelyn couldn't remember what she was saying. His proximity made her forget herself. “You're terrible.”

  “You like it,” he challenged brazenly, setting the towel on the island after she let it go. But he didn't move away from her.

  Evelyn lifted her chin. A small show of defiance. “I like no such thing. I prefer my men demure and--”

  “Metrosexual?”

  She laughed, skirting around him both to get her breath back and to see if there was any wine in their fridge. If there was ever a night she wanted to indulge, it was this one.

  “What gave you that idea?”

  “Just a hunch. Am I right?”

  “Not whatsoever.”

  “So what kind of man do you prefer then?”

  “Why are you asking?”

  “Why are you avoiding?” he countered.

  “If I told you, then I'd have to kill you.” She muffled a laugh against her shoulder while he barked a loud one into the kitchen.

  “You tried that once. Your aim sucks.”

  “Rhett!”

  “I just call it like I see it.”

  “You're an instigator, is what you are.”

  “I repeat—you like it.”

  Evelyn found a bottle of blush and a bottle of burgundy. She took both out of the fridge. “I think you just want me to like it.”

  “There are a lot of things I want you to like.”

  Evelyn set the bottle of burgundy on the granite counter top. The inflection in Rhett's voice drew her gaze. He stared at her in a way that suggested he wasn't teasing any longer. It was both the right and wrong time to address the situation, but Evelyn knew that they needed to before anything went further between them. She glanced through the kitchen; it was empty save for themselves. Less interested in the wine than before, she toyed with the bottle.

  “Such as?” she asked, meeting his eyes.

  He strolled over after turning the grill off and leaned a hip against the counter a foot away. “Me, for one.”

  “I do like you. In fact, I like you more than I should if I'm honest.” As if the events of the day weren't difficult enough, Evelyn found herself forced to begin a conversation that would only make things worse.

  “Why is that a bad thing?”

  “Haven't you been listening to everything we've said, Rhett?” she asked.

  “Of course. It's impossible not to. What troubles you about it?”

  “Don't you know?” Leaving the bottle alone, she faced him. He looked sturdy and solid, like always, as if he could fix anything. Change anything. Make life better just by being present.

  But he couldn't fix this. He couldn't bridge the enormous gap that existed between them no matter how they both felt for each other.

  Astute, he narrowed his eyes.

  “If you think I haven't thought about the immortality, then you're wrong. I have.”

  “It's why we don't have relationships for long periods of time. Minna is the only one of us who has ever made something last longer than a year or so. It's not fair to you, or really, to me, either.” If she allowed herself to fall the rest of the way, Evelyn knew that eventually, when they had to separate, he would not be the only one devastated.

  She'd never felt this way about any man, no matter how fond she'd been of a few of her boyfriends over time. There was something different about the bond she felt with Rhett.

  “I hate to fall back on an old cliché here, but isn't it better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all?”

  Evelyn snapped a look up from where her gaze had gone distant on the wall. Was he telling her he was in love with her? Or conjecturing about their possible future? One that wasn't a future at all but a progression toward the day when they would have to part for the age differences.

  She would continue on, like this, while he grew old and feeble.

  It did not answer the question he put to her, however. And standing this close, where his scent lingered in her senses, his eyes regarding her so warmly, she felt tested beyond measure. Would the joy of being with him for twenty years outweigh the other thousands she would be without him after he died?

  “A cliché made by someone who never had to watch a loved one wither and fade, and ultimately die. It's easy to make such grandiose statements when you're in your prime, when you're both in your prime, and have the rest of your lives to grow old together. We don't have that luxury.” She rested her palm on the cool counter top. It was surreal to even be having this conversation.

  Rhett continued to maintain eye contact.

  “A cliché made by someone who undoubtedly understood that no matter what else, they wouldn't be able to resist what they want and to keep trying to do so would only result in lasting heartache. Better to seize the moment and live it than to wake up miserable every day, don't you think?”

  “And how resentful will you be when you begin to age and I don't? Hm? How much do you think you'll enjoy that?” Evelyn closed the distance between them, standing so close that she had to tip her head at a sharp angle just to hold his gaze.

  “I choose to live for the moment, Evelyn, not look so far into the future that it taints what we might have today. I could have sworn you'd be the type to do the same.”

  Evelyn of six months ago would have engaged in a brief affair with him and had no second thought about it. But today things had changed. Their secret was out. R
hett was...Rhett. Different than other men she'd dated. She wasn't sure if she was relieved that he knew her so well already or annoyed by the same.

  “You make a good argument for the situation,” she murmured, unable to come up with a suitable reply. “I need a little more time.”

  “There's no rush, despite my ticking clock.” Rhett brought the topic back up to lighter footing with mild humor.

  “What if I decide not to take the risk, Rhett? What if, ultimately, I don't want to put myself through it?” She almost hated to see the gleam in his eyes fade.

  “Then that will be that. I won't fight you over your decision, Evelyn. There's no joy in it if you don't come willingly, with your whole heart.” He turned away without any heat in his words to finish dinner preparations.

  Evelyn tinkered with the bottle of wine and watched him, thinking over everything he'd said. It would be a challenge either way and for a moment, she felt frustrated by their circumstance.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?” Dracht asked from the doorway to his room.

  Rhett glanced up from the bible in his hands. Curiosity had gotten the better of him after dinner and he'd sought a volume out from his father's extensive library. Well past midnight, Rhett was on schedule to take over after Dracht's shift.

  “Can't sleep,” he admitted, slapping the book closed. He set it on the bed beside him. Sitting on the edge, fully clothed, he propped his elbows on his thighs and eyed his sibling.

  “Something happen I'm not aware of? I'm sure you're not worried about tomorrow.” Dracht leaned a shoulder against the door frame.

  “Nah, I know you guys will clean house. Everything ready to go?”

  “Everything's set. The house is wired, videoed and we already have lookouts placed on the street. You didn't answer my question.”

  “Had a talk with her earlier while we were making dinner.”

  “And?”

  “And I don't know if she'll set aside the major difference between us to give this thing a go.” Rhett studied his brother. Dracht didn't bother to hide his surprise.

  “I thought I was just imagining whatever it was I saw between you. Since when do you want something more than a one nighter with a woman?”

  “Pretty much since the first night I met her.” He saw no reason to lie. Rather than fight being baffled over their connection, he sought ways to overcome the problem.

  “Huh.” Dracht grunted. He made the sound often when he was thoughtful. “I don't need to tell you it's going to be tricky. Not just because they live for however long, but because at some point, word is going to leak out.”

  “The Church has kept many things secret for years--”

  “I'm not talking about the Church. Who's to say these guys haven't already told someone else?”

  “Wouldn't we have heard by now?” Rhett asked.

  “Not necessarily. There are a lot of reasons, some we can't even guess at, why they might come forward. Money, notoriety, a shot at becoming immortal.”

  “We'll deal with it then. It's not enough to keep me from trying with her.” He stood up and stretched his back. They spoke at such a low volume that he wasn't worried Evelyn or any of her sisters would overhear. Last he knew, they were all sleeping in their appointed rooms.

  “Leave it to you to fall for someone you shouldn't have.” Dracht snorted.

  Rhett latched onto the thread of humor and smiled devilishly. “You know me. I like a challenge. It'll help tomorrow if you and Dad can slip out without the girls seeing you. That Alexandra asks a lot of questions.”

  “A challenge is what you're going to get.” Dracht laughed. “Yes, she does. I'm half surprised she isn't waiting in the pit for another lesson. We're heading out an hour before dinner, so keep them distracted in the kitchen or something and they'll never know we're gone.”

  “I'll have Christian help me keep their attention diverted. After tomorrow, we can make extended plans. Hey, how do you feel about Crete?”

  Dracht looked perplexed.

  Grinning, he clapped his brother on the shoulder and let him wonder.

  ***

  There was a certain archaic kind of peace to be found within the stronghold. Evelyn imagined centuries of Templars residing here, going on their secretive missions only to come back to rest and recover. Two weeks ago she would have gone cold at the thought of being ensconced within their sanctuary; now she couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

  Strange.

  Standing in front of the swords attached in a line on the board in the sand pit the following evening, she examined them closely. The blades shined. Each one had ancient script carved along the edge, a flowing line of words about strength and honor. Before meeting Rhett and his brothers, she would have laughed at the thought that any of the Knights were honorable. Each also bore an insignia, the same as the iron cross tattooed between the Templar's shoulder blades. It matched another engraved into the gold lined, leather wrapped hilt.

  The weapons were rich with detail, polished and well cared for. A novice, even she could see that.

  She wondered how old the swords were, how many generations they'd been passed down through.

  Blanching, she wondered if any of them had been the instruments of death that had ended the lives of one of her sisters.

  “Not inclined to pick one up?” a familiar voice said near her ear.

  Startled, Evelyn whipped a look back at Christian. She smiled, one hand pressed over her racing heart. “You surprised me. I—no. That's probably not a great idea.”

  “Why not?” he asked, reaching past her. With care, he pulled one particular sword from the grips that held it vertical to the ground.

  Evelyn took two steps to the side to give him room. “I've always had a fear of them, I guess. I'm sure you can understand why.”

  He angled the blade so that it was pointing straight up. Christian followed the shining steel with his gaze right to the tip. The grip he had around the hilt looked firm but comfortable, as if he'd spent a lot of time with the weapon. A corner of his mouth crooked into a half smile when he met her eyes past the glinting metal.

  “I can understand that,” he said with a nod. “Did you see them in action once before or something?”

  “A very long time ago, yes.” Evelyn laced her arms across her front. Overhead, beyond the dome in the ceiling, thunder growled through the sky. A few seconds later, lightning flashed a spear of illumination over the pit. It sounded like a big storm was rolling in.

  “Must not have been very pleasant, judging by the look on your face,” he added. “Then there was the way Galiana died.”

  An immediate pang lanced through her. She winced, looking up from the hold he had on the hilt to his eyes. The upright position of the blade blocked a portion of his face.

  “There was that.” Reminded, her voice lowered to a murmur. “I'm sure Rhett's told you that I'm not a fan of violence anyway.”

  “He didn't mention it.” Christian lowered the blade an inch at a time, until the tip hovered just beneath her chin.

  She was positive that Christian wouldn't ever mean to distress her, but staring down the glinting steel put a sudden ache in her stomach. Not wanting to touch it, she swallowed down a knot of unease.

  It's just Christian. He doesn't know how much I hate these things.

  While they stared at each other, with the storm growing in intensity outside, Christian touched the tip of the sword against her skin. A light rest of cold, hard steel. Evelyn flinched at the contact.

  “...can you move that, please? It makes me uncomfortable.” She half expected him to say it was a lesson. Like the one Rhett taught her that night in the hotel room when he stalked her.

  “And it should make you uncomfortable. You've caused me more trouble than you realize.” His eyes, usually blue as a summer sky, turned flinty.

  Shock froze Evelyn in place. Thunder pounded the night as if a great hammer was trying to crack through the heavens.r />
  Any second, she expected Christian to laugh and withdraw the blade. This was some awful joke, a twisted version of a reality she didn't recognize. She didn't understand the displeased look on his face, didn't—couldn't—comprehend the antagonistic nuance of his mood. It took her several agonizing, long minutes to realize he was serious. Christian wouldn't lower the blade until he'd said what he came to say, or did what he came to do.

  She licked her lips, suddenly nervous.

  “I don't understand. What's going on, Christian? What's this about?” She couldn't detect any crack in his metaphorical armor, no weak spot or vulnerable angle.

  “You're going to come with me, that's what this is about. Don't even think of screaming or calling out for Rhett. He's been detained. Start walking toward the front doors.” He kicked his chin that direction without ever taking his eyes off her.

  Her first instinct was to do exactly that. Call out for Rhett. “What do you mean he's been detained?”

  Christian said nothing.

  Mind racing with implications and suggestions, all of them ugly and unbelievable, she took her first step. Christian kept the blade uncomfortably close to her throat, moving the tip so he could stay at her side instead of in front of her.

  “Have you been working with the other Templars this whole time--” The idea bloomed into place when no other ready answers presented themselves. Christian cut her off.

  “Be quiet. Don't ask questions.” He spoke low. No nonsense.

  Frantic to make sense of it all, she took another cautious step. Surely he hadn't done something to Rhett. And where were her sisters? Dracht? Dragar? Had Christian turned traitor against his own family? Questions raced through her mind while she tried to figure out what to do.

  Instinct dictated that if she allowed him to get her away from the stronghold, she might never get a chance to escape. She couldn't let him just walk out the door with her without putting up some kind of fight.

  On the other hand, her rational half refused to accept that Christian meant her any real harm. He'd spent hours protecting her, keeping her safe. And yet here he was, sword at her throat, indicating he meant to take her away.