“Riley,” he warns. “Whatever it is you’re cookin’ in that pretty little head of yours, stop.”
I take a step toward him. “Or what?”
His hand eases up, reaches down his shirt, and grasps his satchel of herbs. “Don’t make me throw this in the water.”
Slowly, I shake my head. “Are you seriously using your sex appeal against me, Noah Miles?” He grins. “Tsk-tsk, you crazy vampire.” Take your sexy backside and go sit in the lean-to. Now.
Without hesitation, Noah drops his hand from his satchel, turns, and walks into the lean-to. He plops down on the pile of stacked quilts.
And simply sits.
Dusk has taken over the sky, throwing swirls and lines of purple and gray and burnt orange in a canopy overhead. I listen closely to Preacher’s boat motor, and gauge the direction. A quick glance at my beach attire—cutoff jeans and a fuchsia Inksomnia T-shirt—and I decide that will do just fine in the chilly winter waters of the Atlantic. I turn my gaze to the end of Da Island, two hundred feet of shoreline and sand, and I launch myself into a full run. Ten feet from the edge I gather my strength and leap, landing thirty feet in a dive. The water rushes over my head, and I kick a few times before surfacing. Taking a deep breath, I turn in the direction of Eli’s island.
I swim. Fast and hard.
An old fear rises while I swim, and I laugh it off. Sharks? Hell, I’ll punch one in the nose now, no second thought. Within a few minutes, I see the lights strung in front of a lean-to similar to mine, and Preacher’s boat is just pulling up onto the sand. I stop, wade in the water, and wait for Preacher and Phin to get out. Then Seth and Estelle leave, cutting across the sound toward Savannah.
I ease toward the other side of the island and climb to shore. Soaking wet, but unaffected by the cold, I creep toward Preacher’s camp. Remaining are Gilles, Preacher, Jake, Gabriel, Garr, and Phin.
That’s three vampires, two powerful root doctors, and . . . whatever Gabriel is. Plus Eli.
Seven. Against me.
Whatever I am.
I got this.
Through the maritime scrub forest, I make my way to the opposite shore. When I see Preacher and Garr, standing just outside the lean-to, I stop. Everyone except Eli is outside, by the shore. I close my eyes and concentrate. Pushing my energy until it forms a fiery ball in my center. I will it outward, to my fingertips.
And then like some crazy half-cocked inked wizard, I point my hands in their direction.
Everyone take a seat. Do it now.
To my surprise, every single one of them scrambles to find a seat in the sand by the shore.
Look nowhere except out to sea. Ignore me. Ignore Eli. Only stare out to sea. And stay in your seat.
As if on cue, every one of their heads turn toward the water. Since there were only two lawn chairs out, Gilles and Preacher take those. The others plop right down onto the sand. Still as zombies, they stare out.
I smile to myself and make my way to the lean-to.
Palm fronds and pine needles crunch under my bare feet as I push open the quilted doorway and look inside. Eli is lying on a pallet, similar to the one I was on earlier. He looks so peaceful, lying there with his eyes closed, his full, sexy lips soft, slightly parted. His dark hair sweeps over one side of his face, obscuring his eye.
A stick snaps behind me, and I look over my shoulder. A rabbit looks up at me, then hops away, startled. His little white tail flips in the dark.
When I glance back, I gasp.
Eli’s gone.
The hair stiffens on my neck, on my arms, and I know before I look, he’s behind me. Slowly, I turn.
Bloodred eyes stare down at me. Wordlessly, yet with a gentleness that surprises me, Eli grabs my throat with one hand.
I stare at him.
Then I rear back with my free hand and punch him in the side of the head.
His hand drops from my throat.
My knee goes up—hard—into his groin, and he groans.
I don’t wait for a reaction. I take off.
Scrub palms and thick underbrush scrape my legs and feet as I rush through the maritime forest, and Eli’s right on my tail. He lunges, grabs my feet, and we both go down.
I turn and kick him in the jaw, and he flies backward. I scramble up on hands and knees and cut a path through the wood. Just as the sandy beach is in my view, I’m tackled. Eli and I hit the ground in a tangled grunt, and I writhe and clobber him with a piece of driftwood I find next to us. He rolls off me and I’m up and running again. I leap, hit the water, and start swimming. The big splash behind me lets me know Eli’s not giving up.
Good.
My arms cut the water, my legs scissor fast, and I swim as hard as I can to the next little barrier island in the sound. The shore in sight, I kick into high gear, and before long the sandy bottom settles under my feet and I pull myself up onto shore.
Just as I right myself, I’m hit from behind and fall face-first in the sand. The wind is knocked out of me, and a big body lands full-on atop me. My shoulders are grabbed, and I’m flipped over. My hands are trapped, held above my head.
Eli stares down at me, his face drawn in puzzled fury. Bloodred eyes blazing. Confusion. An inner struggle.
I focus. Stare fearlessly into those eyes. Eligius, it’s me. Riley. Your fiancée. Please remember me. I demand you remember me!
He cocks his head to the side, studying me hard. His dark eyebrows furrow.
I’ve missed you, Eli. Come here. Lower. Press your mouth against mine.
Eli hesitates; then slowly, he lowers his head. I brace myself, those venomous teeth inches from my throat.
I’m lost the second Eli’s lips press against mine. He doesn’t move, doesn’t taste. Just . . . lets them be against mine. I inhale, and only then do I notice . . . I can inhale. Air into my lungs. My heart is pounding.
I have a heart.
Eli’s scent seeps into me, and yet I keep my eyes fastened on his, so close to me.
Kiss me, Eligius Dupré. Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me and remember. . . .
Eli’s mouth settles, shifts, and nudges mine apart. His tongue brushes against mine and he kisses me. Gentle at first, he explores and tastes. I lose myself, pushing aside the thought that I’m commanding him to do this with my Fallen powers, to kiss me like this, and it’s not really Eli, but a puppet. At the moment, I don’t care. Couldn’t care less, actually. I can make out with an Eli puppet.
All I think about is Eli’s body pressing into mine, his fingers entwined with mine, pushing our hands into the sand, and his mouth moving erotically over mine. . . .
“Riley,” he whispers against me. His voice is throaty, raspy, and his hands move from mine to hold my head on either side. He rises, looks at me. With those bloodred eyes fastened to mine, he kisses me again. “You don’t have to talk me into kissing you, chère.”
My heart leaps—and at the same time, confusion webs my brain. “Eli?” I dare to breathe his name. I’m scared it’s all going to fade away. That he’ll morph, grab me, kill me. My heart slams against my ribs, and my breath lodges in my throat.
“It’s me,” he says, and presses his lips to mine again. “Why’d you run?”
I look at my fiancé, wide-eyed at first, and then I laugh. “Because you . . . chased me!”
Eli’s head drops, his hands move down my body, and he’s kissing me so deep, so hard, the sand bites into my back, my head. A deep-throated groan escapes his throat, and it rumbles against my chest. “God, woman,” he says, almost whispering, “I didn’t think I could last another day without you.”
I’m kissing him back, and running out of breath doing it. I don’t care. “Eli, your eyes,” I manage in between kisses. “They’re still red.”