Page 13 of Rapture's Edge (Night Prowler 3)
He was a dozen years older than she, and she’d known him all her life. A servant before they’d fled the catacombs three years ago, he was now second-in-command to her brother, the Alpha, and had been invaluable to them both in the years since. He was utterly capable and loyal, and if she had the occasional strange vibe from him, she tried to dismiss it as nerves.
To be sure, her nerves were not what they used to be.
“The fighting is…well, it’s a distraction.” She shrugged. “And it’s just for show, no one ever gets hurt.” Egos were really the only thing that ever took any damage. In the weekly matches at New Harmony, she fought for money, not for blood.
Silas wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin, still watching her intently. “So it’s the stealing you object to. You don’t like being a thief.”
She grimaced. “Of course I don’t like it, Silas. It’s dishonorable. Even a child knows stealing is wrong.”
He smiled at that, a faint curve of his lips that might have been either amusement or disdain. “You’re only stealing oil painted on canvas, Eliana. It’s hardly a stain on your morality. And in any case, the ends justify the means. Your father knew that. Sometimes we have to sacrifice our own…lofty ideals…for the greater good.”
He would consider honor a lofty ideal. To him, there was only one benchmark by which everything was measured: Is it useful? If the answer was yes, regardless of the situation or ethical questions or opinions of others, it was adopted. She’d never known anyone more clinically pragmatic.
“The greater good of my brother’s fondness for beating prostitutes?”
Silas’s smile only deepened at the acid in her tone, the look of disgust on her face.
“Your brother’s little peccadilloes notwithstanding, he’s willing to do whatever it takes to see your father’s dream of freedom for all our kind come to pass. We all share the same philosophy; unfortunately, you are the only one with the Gifts to get us what we need.” His eyes softened, yet somehow grew more intense. “Believe me, I’d take the burden on myself if I could.”
Uncomfortable under his penetrating stare, she glanced away. “We have almost enough money now to finance the construction of the stronghold. Once that’s completed—”
“Then you’ll stop,” Silas said, reading her mind. The man really didn’t miss a thing.
How irritating.
“Then I’ll stop,” Eliana agreed, nodding. And do what, she wondered. Garden?
Again with that uncanny intuition, he said, “Perhaps then you could consider…” He trailed off, lowering his gaze to the plate of food on the table in front of him. He toyed with the half-uneaten egg. “Starting a family.” His voice was oddly neutral. “Taking a mate.”
“A mate? You make it sound so romantic.”
A muscle flexed in his square jaw. “You’re too smart to think marriage is about hearts and flowers, Eliana. Perhaps for humans it is, but romance is a luxury creatures like us can’t afford. We have to be more clearheaded, look at choices through the lenses of logic, not emotion. Our continued survival depends on creating the next generation, especially now—”
“Seriously?” The fist in Eliana’s stomach started to burn. “It’s not enough that I steal and fight to support us—now my uterus has to support us, too?”
He stared at her, his eyes coal black and flinty. “Your uterus aside,” he said, deadly soft, “there is a war coming. Survival of the fittest is the only thing that matters now, principessa—”
“Don’t call me that, Silas,” she hissed, jerking forward in her chair. He knew she hated to be called that, knew how much it reminded her of the past. “The day my father died I stopped being a princess—”
“A war that will cost many lives,” he forged on, calm and dogged, pointedly ignoring her anger, “and leave us even weaker than we are now unless there are children to replace those lost. And since females only go into Fever once a year and many times do not get pregnant, every Fever that passes is a lost opportunity. You’ve had three since we left the catacombs of Rome—”
“Silas!” He’d been counting. The thought made her shudder.
“—and soon you’ll have another. The clock is ticking, Eliana. And no one else in this colony is better suited for you than I am. Our marriage is the logical conclusion.”
Eliana stared at him for long seconds, both repulsed and curiously deflated by the sudden realization that Silas was talking about marriage to him. Which made absolutely no sense at all; most of the time she was convinced he didn’t even like her.
She said, “That has got to be the least enticing proposal of marriage ever uttered in the history of life on this planet.”
A faint crease in his cheek indicated he was holding back laughter. Or was it a sneer?
“That’s not the only reason you should consider it, though.”
Her brows climbed. “There’s more to this fuzzy, heartwarming declaration of yours? I’m on the edge of my seat.”
He tilted his head and looked at her from beneath a thicket of black lashes, that slight crease in his cheek growing deeper as his lips curved into the faintest of smiles. Something about it set her nerves on edge in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“I guarantee things won’t always be as they are now,” he said softly. “Your brother is…unbalanced. Don’t look at me like that. You know it’s true.”
