Page 97 of Edge of Oblivion (Night Prowler 2)
He dismissed the blushing young handmaiden who’d brought it with a curt nod that made her blush deepen. As she backed quickly out of the room and fled into the safety of the dark corridor beyond, D slowly unwound the tape around his knuckles.
His bare chest was bathed in sweat, the muscles in his arms and shoulders ached, his breathing was heavy, but he was satisfied that the punching bag he’d been beating the life out of for the past hour had served its purpose. He’d be calmer now, his head clearer.
And he was definitely going to need that.
He left the gym with his duffel bag in hand and went to the adjoining multiroomed thermae, where warm spring waters bubbled up naturally from the bedrock far below. He was alone in the baths at this hour, but he didn’t bother with his usual postworkout soak. He got himself clean as quickly as possible, dried off, and dressed, then, after a quick side trip to stash the duffel in his footlocker in the private quarters of the Bellatorum, set out for the sunken church.
On the way, he burned Eliana’s note with a lighter and let the ashes drift to the ground.
No one would miss him at this hour. The Bellatorum were allowed personal time prior to the Purgare, and in any case, Celian, Lix, and Constantine—all now healed—had decided to play with a quartet of nubile young Electi the King had grown bored with and gifted them for their pleasure.
Our pleasure, he thought grimly. But I’m not interested in anything other than what I’m going to meet now.
Twenty minutes later he’d wound through the maze of catacombs and stood silent in the shadows of the sunken church, waiting for her beside a crumbling stone column next to the corridor that led deep into the bowels of the catacombs he’d just emerged from. He stood there breathing, feeling his heart pump in his chest, feeling anticipation clench the muscles deep in his belly.
He felt ravenous. Exultant. Alive.
He sensed rather than heard her approach. She was silent as midnight but carried with her a tangible current of power, refined yet electric. As she passed the threshold into the sunken church and glanced nervously around, he moved swiftly from his position hidden against the column, grabbed her by the arms, and spun her around, her wrists held tightly behind her in both his hands. She gasped as he pushed his body against hers and held her, pinned, to the wall.
“Demetrius!”
“Tell me again,” he said, very low, his face mere inches from hers, “why I’m risking my hide to be here?”
Panting a little, she stared up into his eyes. Her skin was lucid in the moonlight that spilled over the floor from the small windows high above in the rounded room.
“Because you want to,” she said, breathless.
He stared down at her parted lips, feeling the clench in his belly grow into a burn. “Not good enough,” he said, slowly shaking his head.
“Because...I want you to?”
He cocked his head and considered her, enjoying the heat and softness of her body pressed against his, prolonging the moment. Jesus, she looked good enough to eat. Dressed in tight black leggings, black boots, and a black sweater that hugged every curve, she was probably the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
He lowered his face slowly, watching her eyes widen, watching the pulse in her neck grow jagged. Slowly, softly, he ran the tip of his nose down the column of her throat and inhaled, deeply, against her skin. He felt himself harden, knew she felt it too because her breathing hitched and, subtly, she arched into him.
“I need something more definitive than that, Principessa...” he murmured, letting his lips skim her exposed collarbone as he spoke.
“Oh. In that case, how about this?” she breathed, then leaned forward and took his earlobe between her lips.
D froze as heat detonated in his body. Eliana sucked gently on his earlobe, running her tongue over and around that tiny piece of flesh he had never known had so many nerve endings, then lightly pressed it between her teeth. He pulled away, took her face in his hand, and darkly said, “Oh, little girl, you really shouldn’t have done that.”
Then he lifted her up and tossed her over his shoulder so she hung upside down behind his back. He turned and ambled across the moonlit floor, heading to the door that led outside, into the
night.
“Demetrius!” Eliana squealed, pummeling his back with her fists. “Put me down! Put me down this instant!”
He slapped her hard on the bottom and enjoyed her mortified howl.
“Sorry, Your Highness,” he drawled, “but I’m not taking orders tonight.”
She gasped in horror or astonishment, he couldn’t tell which, and D broke into a smile. His arm easily spanning both her thighs, he maneuvered his way through the hidden doorway that led outside and around a thicket of wild raspberries that grew along the rounded wall. Eliana grasped his belt to steady herself as he walked, alternating between pleading and demanding that he let her down.
“Stop squirming or I’ll put you down and take you over my knee,” he threatened, and gave her bottom a soft pinch. She quieted instantly with a sharp intake of breath, and his smile grew wider.
God, this was going to be fun.
On a damp patch of clover around the east wall of the sunken church, he abruptly set her back on her feet. Before she could protest, he put one hand over her eyes—it covered most of her face—and spun her around so her back was against his chest. He pulled her close. “Are you ready?” he murmured suggestively into her ear.
