Rapture's Edge

45

They’d had a hell of a time subduing D; it was only the tranquilizer Constantine had been smart enough to snatch from the infirmary before they’d left Rome that had finally done the trick.

“He’s going to have one mother of a headache when he wakes up,” Lix said as he watched D’s enormous, slumbering form on the couch where they’d deposited him. They were gathered in the living room at the safe house where they’d found D…but no Eliana.

She’d been here, though. Celian, Constantine, and Lix could all smell her, faint traces of clover and roses diffused in the air, stronger downstairs, strongest of all in one of the bedrooms that looked as if a tornado had passed through. Lix had forgotten how amazing she smelled. An unmated, incredibly powerful, full-Blood female in her lush, exquisite prime…there was nothing on Earth to equal it.

No wonder D had been practically impossible to put down.

“He deserves a damn headache,” muttered Celian from his position in the doorway across the room. He leaned against the doorjamb—the largest of the group at almost six foot eight, his head was one inch from the top—and folded his arms across his broad chest. He sent an ominous glower toward the unconscious warrior sprawled on the couch. “Stubborn, pigheaded, rebellious bastard.”

Lix inspected his forearm and winced. A perfect outline of D’s teeth was embedded in his skin. “Since when is he a biter?”

“Since he fell head over balls for Eliana, that’s when. Which is exactly the same time he lost his damn mind.”

A low groan from the direction of the couch snapped all their heads around. Lix rose, Celian straightened from the doorway, and Constantine—pacing back and forth in taut silence on the other side of the room—stopped short. D’s head rolled first one way, then the other. One of his big hands twitched.

Sounding worried, Lix said, “Should we restrain him?”

“That will only piss him off.” Celian shot a glance at Constantine, who still hadn’t moved. “Let’s give him a minute, see what he does. Keep that syringe ready, though.”

One eye cracked open, then the other. D blinked up at the ceiling. The hand that had just twitched flexed open, then curled to a fist. Then in one blinding fast movement he shot from the couch as if someone had electrocuted him and sank to a reflexive fighting stance, fists raised, knees bent, legs spread apart. A wicked snarl ripped from his lips.

“Easy, brother,” said Celian, low. D looked over at him, black eyes unfocused, and wavered on his feet. “It’s only us. We had to put you down for a minute. That tranquilizer you’ve got in your system is going to make you a little wobbly—”

As if to prove his point, D staggered sideways and crashed into a wooden side table that promptly splintered to pieces. He regained his balance, shook his head like a dog, and growled, “What the f**k?”

“Excellent question,” said Celian dryly, “and one I was hoping you could answer for me.”

“How the hell did you find me?” D reached out and spread his hand against the wall for balance.

“It wasn’t exactly rocket science,” Lix answered in a neutral tone. “Xander was more than happy to tell us the location—”

“Son of a—”

“—of The Syndicate’s old Paris safe house. It was only a matter of putting two and two together.”

D spat, “I knew I should have killed him when I had the chance!”

“Where is she, D?” said Constantine from the other side of the room. “Where’s Eliana?”

At the mention of her name, D drew himself up to his full, bristling height and glared daggers at all three of his brothers. He didn’t say another word.

Celian’s voice was brusque when he said, “Okay. Here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to tell us what happened here, what you know, and what—if anything—she said that might help us determine the location of their new colony. And then we’re going to decide what the next play is—”

“The next play is my fist down your throat.” D uttered this with so much cold, savage fury it actually gave Celian pause, which was a feat in and of itself.

“I told you,” Constantine said to Lix and Celian, his voice defeated. “He’s gone totally off the reservation.”

“Maybe we can use that to our advantage.” Celian seemed almost distracted as he said this, contemplative in a way that had Lix and Constantine sharing a look. “For a while, at least.”

With D watching him with wild eyes, Celian casually crossed to a table set against the wall and seated himself. He stretched his long legs out, crossed them at the ankle, pursed his lips, and began to slowly trace an invisible pattern on the tabletop with his finger.

“Let’s say, for example, you are beyond reasoning with. For the time being,” he emphasized, glancing up at D, then back down. “Let’s say we report back to the Council of Alphas that we did indeed catch up with our love-crazed brother”—D hissed a low warning at that, but Celian went on, unperturbed—“but unfortunately he escaped from us before we could get any information from him about the whereabouts of the missing princess, who he so inconveniently sprung from jail, and her tribe.”