Evermore (Descendants of Ra: Book 3)

by Tmonique Stephens

  “Thank you,” he murmured into her hair. He opened his eyes and suffered her worried gaze. She waited for him to continue, finish his tale. He couldn’t. Not when the thought made him psychotic.

  Her soft hands stroked his cheeks. So many questions danced in her eyes, but none left her lips.

  “When you're ready. I’m ready. Okay?” she said, though disappointment tightened her beautiful face. “We have to get back to RockGate. I need to check on Ember. She went missing earlier, but Avery and the others found her at Judge Grayfield’s.”

  “Is she all right?” Roman asked. Losing her last family member would kill her.

  “We’ve just returned from the emergency room. The doctor said she was fine. No reason to keep her overnight. Can you explain how we got here?” She tilted her and her gaze circled the cabin.

  He wished she’d kept the conversation on Ember. Much safer that way. “I needed to get you somewhere safe. The cabin came to mind.”

  She nodded and they were both aware he hadn’t answered the question. She sighed and laid her head on his chest. “And are we safe? Does that place even exist?”

  No. Never existed. Not for him. Now, it never would, but for Stella, he’d create a haven just for her. “I won't let anything happen to you. I’ll send you to the other side of the world if I have too.”

  She punched him, then leaned back so her gray eyes clashed with his. “You don’t get it, do you? I didn’t marry you to be apart. There’s no way in hell you're getting rid of me. I’m not leaving.”

  He silenced her protests with his mouth covering hers, his hands—one palming her rear, the other her breast. A moan eased from her, and hands that had pushed him away dragged him closer. He picked her up and carried her upstairs to the king-sized bed he’d carved eons ago for one purpose.

  Later, Stella propped herself up on an elbow and stared at him while he studied her plump, coral-tipped nipples. “Don’t think your distraction tactic worked.” She hopped off the bed.

  Roman watched her shimmy into her panties and grew hard again. He patted the space beside him. “Come back and let me try again.”

  She saved the sweater for last, yanking the thermal tee over her head. “We’ve only been together for a short time, but I know you.” She stood over him as he lounged and cupped his face. “My soul has known yours for two thousand years. I can wait for whatever you're not telling me. But don’t think you’ve pacified me. And don’t think I’m going anywhere, but back to RockGate. And Baby, your eyes are glowing again,” she added.

  Roman rose from the bed. In the mirror, his eyes glowed with a soft luminescence. He approached his wife and was grateful when she didn’t retreat. “What am I?” The uncertainty in his voice disturbed him on a fundamental level. Yet, the love shining from her face fortified.

  “You’re my husband.” She brought their foreheads together. “Anything else, we’ll find out together. Now, how do we get back?”

  To explain, he would have to admit certain things to himself before he could admit them to her. He wasn’t ready for either. “We get back the same way we came.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and thought of home.

  ***

  “What do we do now?” EJ said as they stared at the empty spot where Roman and Stella stood a few moments ago. EJ and Quin glanced at Thane, the de facto leader when Roman was absent.

  Avery didn’t need Thane’s instruction to know what needed to be done. Secure the grounds and rally the troops. Besides, by Thane’s blank look—and obvious desires—Avery no longer trusted him. Thane was compromised.

  Hell, they all were. Avery stifled a bitter chuckle. “We’re on lockdown. Activate all security systems.” He nodded toward EJ who then headed toward their arsenal next to the garage. “Quin, make sure the police were not called.”

  “Already done.” Quin tapped away at the smartphone in his hand.

  “Roman’s alive. Why come here, snatch Stella, and leave?” Thane said.

  “Two of the men in your inner circle have tried to kill you. One you raised. The other you shared a womb with. We’re lucky he didn’t slaughter all of us and ask questions later.” Avery needed Thane to get his head out of his ass.

  “Stella saved us,” Quin said. “Did you see his eyes? He wasn’t there. The Roman we know has left the building. She bought us time for him to…calm down.”

  What about the sword in Roman’s hand? Looking at the weapon opened a bottomless well in Avery’s core. A security beam swept over him as he approached the screen door before it whizzed open. Hector blocked his path—with a gun in his hand. Suit, ascot, and a 9mm: all he needed was a British accent.

  “What?” Avery said.

  Hector looked around him at Quin and Thane.

  EJ pulled up short behind Hector. Armament strapped across his chest, gun in one hand, two swords clutched in the other. EJ tossed one to Avery. He caught the blade before it impaled their favorite butler.

  “The house is secure. Ember is resting in the lavender room. Jackson is with her,” Hector said.

  “Good. Keep them out of the way.” Avery followed Quin to The Hive, his tech cave. The whirl of cooling machines escalated when he opened the door. Monitors covered the far wall and four were on the desk in front of them. Every angle of the property and all the common areas were monitored. Quin dumped himself into his captain’s chair. A few keystrokes later and a view of the backyard displayed on the wall monitors. Together, they watched Reign and Roman appear. Daniel was there shape-shifted into the form of Alamut. Stella and Thane raced into view, both armed with swords. Alamut charged them.

  “He kept me occupied while Reign killed Roman.” Thane leaned closer.

  A red glow flared from Reign’s blade. Avery didn’t need to view the rest to understand what happened but didn’t move from the monitors. For the next few hours, they analyzed every camera in the backyard and the house.

  Quin switched to another camera for a better view. “Your sword hand has improved,” he said to Thane. They’d all been practicing since Roman’s last battle with Alamut at the cabin months ago.

  “Not enough to stop him,” Thane grumbled.

  Avery glanced at the blade EJ had given him. He’d never be able to wield a sword like that, with fluidity. The damaged skin on his shoulder and back prevented full range of motion. As if sensing his thoughts, the area began to itch then seemed to ignite. Flames licked up his arm and scorched a path over his shoulder and back. He smelled his flesh roasting. Lost in his personal hell, a scream echoed in his chest.

  The blade slid from his hand and banged into the computer desk, before landing with a soft thud on the plush carpet, snapping Avery back to the present.

  “Hey, what’s your problem?” EJ murmured, though not low enough for Thane and Quin to miss.

  Avery ignored EJ and snatched the sword up.

  “What’s next?” EJ changed the subject.

  How the fuck should I know? “Ask Thane. He’s in charge.” Avery took the stairs three at time. He didn’t want to be here. The family chafed him, like a tight shirt rubbing against his biceps. His loft in the waterfront district helped to alleviate the chafe, but now wasn’t the time to bail on the family, even if Thane was in charge.

  A giggle reached him as he strode down the hallway to his bedroom, followed by a deeper laugh. He halted at the open bedroom door. Ember was a speck beneath a thick white comforter. Jackson sat in a chair next to her bed.

  Kids. All needs and wants. He didn’t like them. Still, wondered how he didn’t kill EJ in his sleep. Maybe because he was responsible for making him an orphan.

  “Hey, Avery.” Jackson waved. “Ember, Avery is the best hand-to-hand fighter I've ever seen. I bet if you ask nice, he’ll show you some moves so you can take out some haters on the playground.”

  “H-haters?” She squeaked.

  Ember’s timid voice had a cute sing-song quality. It annoyed Avery.

  “You don’t know what haters mean?” Jackson asked. Ember
shook her head. “Don’t worry. When I come back I’ll teach you what they are.” Jackson stretched his lanky body. At seventeen, he was a hair’s breadth away from Avery’s height and still growing. “Nice sword. I practice with one like that.” He held out his hand as Avery approached.

  Avery obliged and had to watch as Jackson went through the motions. The Judge was wise to instruct Jackson in the art. Ember oohed and ahhed. The kid had skills.

  Avery’s burn itched, then seemed to flame as every strand of hair on his body stood at attention. The air became charged as if a bolt of lightning had struck nearby. He glanced at the kids. Jackson’s short curly hair turned spiky while the top layer of Ember’s thick tresses gave her a dark halo. He palmed his gun, clicked the safety off, and pivoted. A bright flare of light flooded the room. Jackson got to the window first. Avery shoved him out of the way in time to see Roman and Stella emerge from an illuminated spot by the pool.

  “WTF! How’d he do that?” Jackson jumped. Ember sat up in bed, her expression pinched and fearful.

  Avery made for the bedroom door with Jackson close beside him. “Stay here with the kid.”

  “Hell no.” Jackson kept walking.

  Avery hemmed him by the collar. “I said, stay here with her.” He nodded toward Ember. “Wasn’t a request. Was an order.” He glanced at Ember. Her wide eyes and trembling body really pissed him off. Jackson made a choking noise. His hand clutched Avery’s wrist. While his other still held the sword. Pointed down. Wise, boy.

  Avery released him and smoothed Jackson’s plaid shirt. Not that one could decipher wrinkles in the nauseating pattern. “Do you understand?”

  Jackson’s head bobbled. “Yes, sir.”

  Ah, the power of authority. He should have enjoyed the moment more. He didn’t. Being a nanny did that to a guy.

  They gathered in the great room, Avery, EJ, Thane, Quin, and Hector. No one sat on the comfortable sofa and dainty chairs. Roman and Stella stood in front of the huge fireplace, backlit by a dying fire.

  Roman had an eerie, alien quality to him. Could it be the glow emanating from his eyes or the lightsaber sword pulsing in his hand?

  “Someone call George Lucas,” EJ whispered beside him.

  “It’s good to see you alive, Roman,” Thane said from the rear of the pack.

  “Seems I’m harder to kill than even I thought,” Roman said.

  “What happened, Sir?” Hector stepped forward. “Where did you go?”

  Roman’s gaze traveled to each of them as if assessing each man’s threat level. When it got to Avery, it stayed.

  Ice radiated from Avery’s heart and spread through his chest. The muscles in his shoulders seized and that itch returned. The air grew heavy with the possibility of violence. He quivered from the effort to control himself. Why? Because every instinct inside Avery wanted him to slam into Roman and rip him apart. He didn’t understand how that was possible with Roman holding the glow stick of death.

  “Not sure,” Roman answered Hector.

  Sounded like a lie to Avery.

  “You do know you’re kinda glowing.” EJ pointed two fingers at his own face. “Your eyes. Care to share on that development?”

  Roman’s gaze darted to EJ. Avery shifted his weight, ready to shield his idiot brother. Roman’s eyes blazed brighter and for a second, blinded everyone. Then he blinked and the light was gone, replaced by his ordinary blue orbs.

  “We have to find Alamut and the quimaeras,” Roman ignored EJ.

  Moron. Avery thought in a hard gaze to EJ. A slight shrug and lift of the corner of EJ’s lips mocked him.

  “We discovered a house linked to Daniel—I mean Alamut—and a tunnel leading to an abandoned factory across the street...” Quin started.

  “...and a shitload of the bastards nesting there,” EJ finished.

  Hector’s gaze swept over all of them. “The sun is just setting. It has been an exhausting night and day. I think everyone could use some rest before the next adventure.”

  Roman nodded. “Agreed. We meet here in five hours at ten pm. Swords will be the weapon of choice.” With a small nudge and a hand on her hip, he guided Stella toward the archway.

  “What about Reign?”

  Another one who can’t keep his mouth shut. Avery turned to glare at Thane who stood at the rear of the room, but Roman was already up in Thane’s grill. Incandescent eyes giving Thane a tan. How had Roman moved that fast?

  “Hear this—and make no mistake—Reign is mine. No one touches him. But me. Clear?” Roman’s voice vibrated and the room with it. The chandelier swayed, framed pictures tumbled off the mantle.

  They all glanced at each other, waiting for someone to take the lead and address the damn elephant that had parked a load of shit in the center of the 19th century Aubusson rug that Hector preferred they hovered over rather than walk on.

  “Crystal,” Thane said and everyone joined in on the chorus. Roman walked slowly amongst them. The nearer he came to Avery, the more Avery fought to quell the surging tide of fury in his heart and on his flesh. His thoughts swirled, crashed, coalesced for a half second and swirled again. He closed his eyes and prayed Roman kept going ‘cause if he didn’t, one of them would end up dead. And he had no doubt it wouldn’t be Roman.

  A slight redirection of air indicated a body passing. He breathed a sigh and opened his eyes. A thick neck blocked his view. Two inches. That’s how much EJ had on him. His baby brother shot past him at age fifteen and never let him forget the exact day. Avery looked around his brother and caught Roman and Stella exiting as waning sunlight illuminated the room.

  “Well, that was fun!” EJ’s maniacal grin split his face. “I’m hungry. Hector, how about dinner?”

  “I’ll pass,” Avery said as the rest of them headed toward the kitchen. He headed toward the front door and ran into Jackson.

  “Ember’s asleep. Roman and his wife stopped in to check on her. What’s going on here?” Jackson asked as if he expected an answer.

  Even if Avery knew, he wouldn’t divulge the information to a 17-year-old who wasn’t an immediate part of the family.

  He walked out of the house and didn’t look back.

  Chapter Eight

  Emeline pushed open the door to the last pawn shop on her list and once more suffered the musical chime announcing her presence. The shop wasn’t too crowded today. Only five people in line. Some of the faces she remembered from previous visits to sell her stuff.

  She balanced the box on her hip, jostling contents that weren’t hers. She’d already pawned everything she could stand to part with in order to pay the back taxes on the house and keep her grandfather out of a nursing facility. The items in the cardboard box belonged to Grand, stuff he’d collected during his extensive travels in Egypt. She hoped he’d never find out, or would forgive her if he did.

  She needed money so that when the time was right, she could get Grand out of town. A vacation in Florida was great this time of year. That’s if he would go. As long as Grand was in the crosshairs, her hands were tied. Not good when she had two enemies closing in for the kill. At any time, she expected a phone call from Ridley putting her plan in motion, or turning a corner and running into her stalker—again. It took all night for her to wrap her brain around bumping into him at the hospital.

  It could’ve been a coincidence. Yeah, but mercenary plus coincidence equaled death. She’d spent the last few hours probing her memory of Avery’s files. Each entry detailed his expertise. The known body count and the speculated. His habits and his associates, male—his biological sibling, EJ—and female. Mainly one night stands, but those were few and Emeline had never witnessed the event. A stab of jealousy speared her and she shoved the emotion away. Now was not the time to indulge in fantasies when her reality could end her life.

  Oscar nodded her way, drawing her away from her spiraling thoughts. Emeline gave him her best smile and a wave. Sexy sells, as a bartender and in everyday life. Even though it was mid-November, she had s
queezed into a low cut top to use her double D’s to her advantage. She needed cash and wasn’t above showing a little skin to get better prices on her items; also, Oscar wasn’t as astute as his Dad. The kid wanted a date, while his father wanted a profit.

  Emeline was next in line, making gooey eyes at Oscar when his father exited from the backroom. “Your sister’s waiting on you,” his father said.

  A blush crept up Oscar’s neck and colored his pale cheeks. He grabbed his jacket and stepped out of the bulletproof cage.

  Damn! There goes the plan.

  “Hi, Emeline. How’s the job hunting going?” Shifting from one foot to the next, Oscar’s hopeful grin tweaked her conscience.

  Not good. “Fine, filling out applications.” Hundreds of them since dropping out of college.

  “I kept telling my Dad, having a college degree doesn’t guarantee shit nowadays, but he won’t listen.”

  So says the 19-year-old dependent still claimed on his parent’s tax return. Not exactly what you should say to someone who’d spent the last five years of her life bartending to get a college degree. She returned his eager grin with a feral one. All teeth and a sneer. His grin didn’t falter.

  Dense.

  “Oscar,” his father barked.

  He flinched. “Gotta take my sister to some dance recital, otherwise I woulda taken care of you.”

  “That’s okay.” No, it wasn’t. “Your Dad’ll be fine,” she said, dismissing him.

  Her turn came. Vito, Oscar’s dad, and owner of the shop gave her a slow perusal as she stepped forward. Her ribs still ached from Ridley throwing her into the wall and kicking her. Emeline ignored the pain and heaved her box onto the counter.

  “What is this junk, urrgh, stuff?” Vito peered into the box.

  “Jewelry, artifacts, antiques,” She said, but he didn’t seem impressed. “Some of them are Egyptian.” One of Vito’s eyebrows raised, mocked her. “I’m telling you the truth. My grandfather is Egyptian. He brought a lot of this stuff with him when he immigrated here.”