Page 113 of Rapture's Edge (Night Prowler 3)
He cut her off again with a kiss, this one harder and more demanding. He pressed his body against hers, rolled half on top of her, and when she wrapped her arms around his neck he took both her wrists in his hands and pressed them down to the pillow above her head and held them there, captive.
“Truth with a capital T, remember?” he said, his voice husky, eyes burning into hers.
She managed to look outraged, for about two seconds. Then she dissolved into laughter. “Okay. Maybe I like it a little bit.”
“Better,” he said, smiling now. He released her wrists and brushed a lock of blue hair from her cheek. He tugged at the strand. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about this.”
Her hand flew to her head. “What? You don’t like it?”
“Actually…I do. But you told me before you changed it to blue with black to match your mood. Your usual mood.”
“And?”
“Well”—he brushed his lips across her forehead—“what if that’s not going to be your usual mood anymore? Would you change the color??
?
She blinked up at him, suddenly coy. “How do you know it’s not going to be my usual mood anymore?”
“Because I plan to ensure it, that’s why.”
A smile spread over her face. “Well, in that case—yes, I’d change the color.”
“To what?”
The smile grew dazzling. When she really smiled, she smiled with everything she had. D’s heart soared.
“I don’t know,” his beloved said. “What’s the color of happiness?”
They stared at each other in silence, the future unfurling between them like the loosed strings of a kite.
“You know things are about to get worse,” he whispered. “Things are about to get very bad for us all.”
She nodded, her smile fading. “I know. First the Expurgari, now that group, Section Thirty…”
D stiffened in anger, remembering what the Queen had shown him, Eliana’s memories like a sped-up movie inside his own mind. He’d already taken his revenge on that bastard Keshav for putting his hands on her—he didn’t think he’d be walking anytime soon—but the images of the cold-eyed German doctor were what really stuck with him. Looking into those eyes was like looking into an abyss. His dream had revealed nothing of the German.
“You think they’re another religious outfit?”
Eliana exhaled and shook her head. “Worse—corporate.”
“How is that worse?”
“Religious fanatics, I can almost understand. They’re following a belief, and however warped that belief might be, it’s still based on something they think of as sacred. It makes them more predictable, their goals more clear. They want us dead because they think we’re evil; it’s cut-and-dry, simple. We know what to expect. But with a corporation, only one thing matters…”
“Profit,” he realized, with a slow, sinking feeling in his gut.
Her eyes, gazing up at him, grew troubled. “If they’re after us because of money, because they think somehow they can profit from us…” She swallowed. “The Expurgari just want us to die. But there are far, far worse things than death, Demetrius.”
He didn’t reply, only gazed back at her, knowing without doubt she was right. Worse than death was life in chains. Worse than death was bondage. Slavery. Being captive guinea pigs.
Greed was one of the seven deadly sins for a very good reason.
“I know.” His voice grew soft. “Like being apart from you, for instance.”
She started. “Something you’d like to tell me? Is that what your dream was about?”
He drew her even nearer, cupped her face in his hand, and looked into her eyes. “Baby girl, you’re just going to have to trust me about the dream. Can you do that?”
