Edge of Darkness (A Night Prowler Novel)
Page 35
“Mmpf.”
He petted her a while longer in silence until he murmured, “Dr. Flores called me.”
Ember’s eyes flew wide open. She glanced at him and he was staring at her with stern adoration.
“We’re going to work on your issues together, you know that right?”
It was useless to argue, she knew that. So she simply nodded and tucked her head beneath his chin, burrowing into the space between his neck and shoulder. She inhaled, smelling his wonderful mix of warm spice and skin, and thought home.
Only she must have said it aloud because he chuckled again and whispered, “Wherever we’re together, that’s home, angel. Though, if you’re open to it, I’d like to go back to Sommerley so the three of us can have a real home. Leander and Jenna really want to meet you, and I want you to meet them. And everyone. You’re something of a legend with my kind now, the human who risked her life to save us all…”
“Not for them,” she sighed into his neck. “For you. Did it for you. And England sounds good. Maybe I’ll even teach you how to drive.”
She felt his chest rise and fall with his deep exhalation. He tightened his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Though her mind was fuzzy, she thought of something and frowned. She lifted her head and focused on Christian’s face. “The three of us? You want Asher to come, too?”
His smile was beautiful. He swallowed hard, and his eyes were bright with unshed tears. “No, angel. Not Asher. Someone else. Someone you’ll love even more.”
He moved his hand from where it had been stroking her arm, and spread his big palm gently on her belly.
Ember blinked at him. This brain swelling might turn out to be a problem after all, because she either wasn’t hearing him right, or her brain was improperly processing what he was saying. She just shook her head in confusion.
“Our little miracle,” he whispered, eyes shining with devotion. “I think he’s even more stubborn than you are; he held on against all odds. He’s a fighter…like his mama.”
Something huge was rushing at Ember. Something so vast, bright, and impossible it didn’t have a name, but it carried with it every hope, dream, and happy ending in the universe, in all of history. She didn’t even dare draw a breath for fear of chasing it away.
Her eyes were wide, wide open, as wide open as they could go.
“No,” she whispered as she stared into Christian’s eyes. “It’s not possible. The accident…the doctors told me—”
“Apparently they were wrong,” he said with laughter in his eyes.
Pressure in her chest, crushing. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Her eyes were wet. Her hands began to shake.
“So you’re telling me…what you’re saying is—”
“It’s a boy,” he gently said when she could no longer go on. “The doctors don’t know yet because it’s too early, but I do.” He tapped his nose, smiling.
The beeping Ember had thought was the clock of eternity began to accelerate, chiming wildly in the silence of the room. It was a heartbeat monitor, and Christian sat up and looked at it, suddenly vibrating tension and worry.
“Are you all right? Are you hurting? Tell me what I can do, tell me what you need—”
“You,” Ember sobbed, curling her hand around the front of his shirt and pulling him down beside her. “All I need is you.”
He relaxed beside her, stretched out like a lazing lion, and cupped her face in his hand. She looked up at him through a prism of tears and he said, “Then we’re both set, because nothing will ever separate me from you. Nothing.”
He pressed his lips against hers and murmured, “Come what may.”
In the early morning hours of March 31, three very important phone calls were made, by three very different men. All three calls would change the course of the future.
Each of these men was a leader among his kind. Each was driven, each was ambitious, each was heartless and cold.
And each of them was badly injured.
Two of them sustained serious injuries that would mar them forever. One man lost a leg, a hand, and a good portion of his sanity when he stepped on a land mine. Another was trapped by falling rock when a tunnel beneath a bunker collapsed but was saved from death by a pair of steel support beams that buckled but didn’t break. He suffered shrapnel wounds from the explosion that triggered the collapse and lung damage from smoke inhalation. He would also develop crippling claustrophobia from being trapped in the blackness below ground for hours before rescue personnel finally dug him out.
The third man—who wasn’t really a man at all—was so mangled and mutilated he was unrecognizable, even to the curious fish who swam up to investigate him, floating face down in the sea, just another piece of flotsam on the water.
It would take the first two men many months to heal from their injuries, to move forward with their lives as before, but it took the third man all of a few minutes before he healed and lifted his head, furiously coughing up sea water, physically right as rain.
The first man made his phone call while being transported to the local hospital in the back of an ambulance. Though in shock and suffering from severe blood loss, he still managed to convince the EMT to lend him a cell phone, and he dialed a number he knew by heart. There wasn’t a live person on the end of that call—there never was—but a machine took his message, and it would be replayed later by the one it was intended for, who had the means to set the wheels of pursuit in motion.
His message was simply a license plate number, memorized just moments before he stepped on the mine.
The second man’s call was made to the Vatican, to a private line only a handful of people in the world knew. When the phone was answered, he recited a verse in Latin from the gospel of Peter. “Be watchful; your adversary the devil prowls like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.”
To which a voice on the other end replied, “But we shall devour him first.”
Made from a payphone in the Port Vell marina, the phone call from the third man was collect, as he was nude and had no money. It was as succinct as the other two calls, and consisted of only three words, spoken as the high, shrieking whine of police sirens grew nearer.
“Drop The Hammer.”
It was Easter Sunday in Barcelona, and the world would never be the same again.
As always, I’d like to thank the wonderful team at Montlake Romance, including my editors Eleni Caminis and Maria Gomez, and the author relations, marketing, and proofreading and copyediting teams.
Marlene Stringer of Stringer Literary deserves special thanks for her continued support and sage advice, for taking a chance on an unknown author, and convincing a publisher to do so as well.
A deep bow goes to Melody Guy, who always gives such valuable feedback, and whose ideas make my books better.
To my readers, a warm and heartfelt thank you for purchasing this book, and for the wonderful enthusiasm you’ve shown for my work. I so appreciate you! I also sincerely thank the many bloggers who have so generously reviewed the Night Prowler books and spread the word about the Ikati.
To my very dear gay friends who were generous enough to answer intimate questions about being a gay man and how far we’ve come since Stonewall, I thank you and give you virtual hugs for your bravery and willingness to let me into the most private part of your lives. The Wednesday Night Book Club “ladies” were, in particular, beautifully open with me, and I love you for it. I’d also like to especially thank Anthony Vigliotta for “Carmen MiRambo,” an idea which was originally his own, and he has the pictures to prove it.
Thank you to my parents, Jean and Jim, for staying married for nearly fifty years. You’d be surprised how much that means to me. I’m so grateful for your love, and the commitment you’ve shown each other.
And finally to my own personal Alpha, Jay, the man who is the bedrock on which the foundation of my life is built…thank you for every single thing you do each day to show me how much I am loved. Thi
rteen years ago, you showed me happily-ever-after isn’t the end—it’s just the beginning.
J.T. Geissinger’s debut novel, Shadow’s Edge, was published in 2012 and was a #1 Amazon US and UK bestseller in both fantasy romance and romance series, and won the PRISM award for Best First Book. Her second book in the Night Prowler series, Edge of Oblivion, was a finalist for the prestigious RITA® award for Best Paranormal Romance from the Romance Writers of America. She lives in Los Angeles with her family and is currently at work on book six in the series. Visit her online at jtgeissinger.com.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication Page
CONTENTS
START READING
PROLOGUE
ONE Beautiful Stranger
TWO Quicksand
THREE All Animals Are Equal
FOUR Carnaval
FIVE Pretending
SIX Off Balance
SEVEN Alphas, Betas & Others
EIGHT How to Live
NINE Firecracker
TEN Mystery Man
ELEVEN Sonata
TWELVE Life or Death
THIRTEEN Elsething
FOURTEEN Quid Pro Quo
FIFTEEN Ten Minutes
SIXTEEN Secrets Have a Cost
SEVENTEEN Gift Horse
EIGHTEEN From the Mouths of Babes
NINETEEN Mad Euphoria
TWENTY Hard Lessons
TWENTY-ONE Soul Sick
TWENTY-TWO Struggle
TWENTY-THREE A Troubling Pause
TWENTY-FOUR Oil and Water
TWENTY-FIVE Bloodlust and Holy Missions
TWENTY-SIX Casting Lots
TWENTY-SEVEN Thirteen
TWENTY-EIGHT Marked
TWENTY-NINE Eye for an Eye
THIRTY The Woodshed
THIRTY-ONE Beautiful Monster
THIRTY-TWO Eternal Flame
THIRTY-THREE Operation
THIRTY-FOUR Guerrilla Warfare
THIRTY-FIVE Captive
THIRTY-SIX Come What May
THIRTY-SEVEN Two Words
THIRTY-EIGHT All I Need
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR