Mona Lisa Craving Read online

  My fangs burst forth, eager to sink into the meal that was bleeding before me. But it was not to be. With one casual fling, Halcyon sent Dante flying back into the copse of trees lining the lot. One quick glance at me, then Halcyon was gone, moving almost too fast to see, gone after the prey he had casually flung away.

  “No!” I screamed, and wanted to howl with thwarted hunger, with terrible need. I could not think, could not feel with that overwhelming, driving thirst for blood overtaking me.

  The sound of a door opening drew my attention to other prey as the gas station attendant came running out.

  “Hey, what’s going on out here?”

  He was a bald, middle-aged man with a ponderous belly. But it was not his fat belly I was interested in, only his blood. I was on him in an instant, with no knowledge of moving, of snapping the seat belt, opening the door. His heartbeat surged faster, began to race like a thumping rabbit when he saw my fangs. How delectable, that fast rhythmic pounding, that stink of fear.

  “What the—” He gurgled as I struck, fastening onto his neck. He was a big man, bigger than I, weighing almost twice as much, straining wildly, pushing against me with his hands to no avail. Such a delicate creature. So easily broken, was my impression before the richness of his blood filled my mouth and ran down my throat like the sweetest and most intoxicating wine. Yes! I mentally cried as I sucked and pulled with long, succulent swallows, drinking down that potent elixir of life. This is what I need.

  My body sang with the richness pouring into it, and a moan slipped out, mixing with the juicy, slurping sounds I made as I feasted on him. A moan that came not from me as I first thought, but from the thing I was drinking from. Instead of pushing me away now, his arms wrapped around me. It was that protruding belly nudging against me, the odd, alien feel of it, that broke me from my thralling hunger. That made me realize, suddenly, what I was doing.

  I pulled away.

  If you feed your hunger instead of fighting it, you will be able to control it better. It does not take much blood.

  Halcyon’s words haunted me now as my eyes fixed upon the red blood trickling down the attendant’s neck. He seemed completely unaware of the fact that he was bleeding, or perhaps uncaring of it as he reached out to me. I let his beefy arms wrap around me, draw me to him, and bent my head back to the man. Not to drink, but to lick the puncture wounds closed.

  Stop bleeding, I thought, picturing it in my mind, and felt the blood grow sluggish, clotting beneath my tongue.

  Something in me—something still so terribly hungry that had barely begun to have its need met—some demon part of me wept at the sight of that closing wound.

  No! it cried. More!

  But I denied it.

  “Look at me,” I said, my voice trembling, not with horror, but with the effort of restraint. When the man turned to me, I captured him with my eyes. “You cut your neck against the edge of a shelf. You will have no memory of anything that occurred out here. Nor will any further disturbance outside draw your attention for the next hour. Go back inside and cover your neck with some Band-Aids.”

  His arms dropped away, and he walked obediently back inside the store. My control stretched only so far. Only when he was completely gone from my sight—like a box of chocolates covered up once more, hidden from view—was I able to turn my attention away from him and toward the woods.

  Halcyon. That one thought of him and a vision of those demon nails ripping open Dante’s arm flashed to me like a waking dream. In it I saw Halcyon turn and look at me. In that brief moment of distraction, Dante struck him with his dagger, burying it to the hilt in Halcyon’s side.

  I saw, felt the pain of it. And felt the anger, the rage over the spilling of his demon blood. It spewed up like bubbling lava from within Halcyon, making his eyes glow red.

  Leave us, he commanded, and cut the mental bond between us.

  I staggered at the sudden severing.

  “No,” I whispered. Casting my senses wide, I let them guide me, following the pull of the Monère warrior and my demon sire. It guided me to where they fought, and as I came upon them, I saw with my eyes what I had seen in that vision: demon blood dripping sluggishly from Halcyon’s side, his eyes red and enraged, the very air trembling with his fury.

  His skin rippled as if a pebble had been skipped across its surface, breaking the calm, stirring the demon beast that lurked beneath. Dante circled him, knife in hand, his lower abdomen torn into ribbons of flesh where Halcyon had sliced him with his nails. His eyes glowed silver with his own power and an aura of danger clung to him like a second skin. But Halcyon, it seemed, was immune to this mesmerizing power.

  “No!” I said louder, drawing their attention.

  Their forces hit me separately. Dante’s luminescent silver eyes pinned me in place as he whispered, “Stop.” And the silent mental command Halcyon flung at me. Stay.

  I froze in place, unable to move, mentally cursing them both as they rushed each other, coming together in a flash of tanned skin—one lighter brown, the other darker gold. Both of them armed. But it was ten demon nails against one silver blade.

  Foolish Dante was the aggressor, with Halcyon welcoming his attack with a cruel, taunting smile. They struck at each other savagely, moving with lethal beauty, a dance of fast movement, strikes and countering blows that was almost beautiful to watch were it not so frighteningly deadly.

  Dante rushed Halcyon again and again with almost reckless daring, the silver blade flashing in his hand, his metal bracelets glinting darkly at his wrists. Were it not for the wrist guards, he would have been completely torn apart by Halcyon’s nails, which were not even claws yet, just his normal inch-long nails as the Demon Prince wrestled back his beast’s change, retaining his man form.

  They came together again in a stunning flurry of strikes and blurring movement, and broke apart with new injuries scored along Dante’s thighs, his arms. Halcyon had only the one knife wound, terrible enough—it had almost caused Halcyon’s demon beast to emerge.

  All I could do was watch, frozen by both their wills. And inwardly scream. I found I didn’t have to wait for Hell. It had found and captured me, here and now.

  “Do you know who I am?” Halcyon asked, his voice crooning, silky menace. Even in his human form he was a fearsome sight, his red eyes burning with Hell’s fury, his long nails coated with blood, a cold smile twisting his lips.

  “You are the Prince of Hell,” Dante said, and lunged at him with the knife. Halcyon danced gracefully away, swiping downward as he did. His razor-sharp nails came up against Dante’s blocking metal bracelet, scraped over it with a discordant screech.

  “You know who I am,” Halcyon said, “yet you do not fear me.”

  “Why should I fear someone who will never have any dominion over me?” Dante growled, his silver eyes glowing brightly. He attacked again, pressing forward, uncaring of the new wounds he incurred, focused only on driving that knife again into the Demon Prince.

  They sprang apart.

  “How did you find us?” Dante demanded.

  A fast, almost careless swipe of those nails, and the top of Dante’s shirt was sliced open, spilling his amulet into view.

  “Did you think your stone’s small magic could keep me from finding my mate? My own blood?” Halcyon’s smile turned mockingly cruel. I’d never seen him like this before.

  As if he knew my thoughts, those burning eyes turned to me for a second. “I am not always nice, Mona Lisa.”

  Dante chose that moment to strike again. But this time it seemed Halcyon’s inattention had been deliberate. The Demon Prince moved again, so fast I didn’t see him stir, and Dante was suddenly pinned on the ground, the silver dagger now in Halcyon’s hand.

  “What’s to stop me from killing you now?” Halcyon taunted as his fangs lengthened to sharp, cutting points.

  “Nothing,” Dante answered, his face impassive.

  “You still have no fear.”

  “I do not fear death,” Dan
te said. “It’s not staying dead that torments me.”

  “I shall do my best to see that you stay dead.” With that silky promise, Halcyon raised the dagger he had seized.

  Dante’s smile was brief, bitter. “Not even you can grant me that ease, Demon Prince.”

  Power surged, thrummed the air as the demon part of me came to the fore, shattering the separate spells that had been placed on me.

  “No, Halcyon!” I screamed. “Don’t. I carry his child.”

  I swayed, freed of the mental bonds, but had no power to move. All my energy had been used up.

  “Don’t,” I whispered as I sank to the ground. Into dark swirling oblivion.

  I WOKE UP to find two concerned faces peering down at me. To see pale blue eyes no longer glowing, and dark chocolate ones no longer demon red. Nothing like announcing you’re pregnant and then fainting to get some attention.

  I started to sit up, but was pressed back down by two pairs of hands. My handcuffs, I noticed, had been removed.

  “Easy, ena,” Halcyon murmured.

  “Lie back down, dulcaeta.”

  Tender words—wife, beloved. Old words spoken in a tongue that I remembered from another lifetime. Tears sprang to my eyes. Those blasted, stupid tears. But fury was the cause of them this time.

  “Get your bloody hands off of me,” I snarled. “Both of you!”

  Surprised, alarmed, they did and I sat up slowly. When all seemed fine, no tilting of the ground, no dots of whiteness, I snatched Dante by the two torn edges of his shirtfront. Yanked him to me.

  “Don’t you ever freeze me like that again.” I bared my teeth at him and pushed him away.

  Snatching Halcyon next, I caught him by the edge of his shirt and shook him. “And don’t you ever command me to stay. Like I am your dog!”

  I shoved him away, sick with them both, and slowly got to my feet, batting away the helping hands that reached out to steady me. “Don’t touch me!”

  The sight of me screaming and crying seemed to befuddle both demon and Monère warrior alike.

  “Don’t cry,” Dante murmured, his hands opening and closing helplessly by his side.

  “It’s the hormones surging in you,” Halcyon soothed. His words had the complete opposite effect of what he intended.

  I exploded. Literally saw red for a moment. “It’s not the fucking hormones! It’s you stupid men.” Then I was sobbing.

  I angrily wiped the tears away and saw that they were tinged red. I was crying tears of blood.

  “Calm yourself, sweetheart,” Dante murmured. “It can’t be good for the baby.”

  I literally shook with my fury. “And you two trying to kill each other in front of me after freezing me with your commands so that I can’t even speak or move…that’s good for the baby?”

  The two men looked at me, then at each other as if seeking guidance on how to handle the pregnant, hysterical, part-demon Monère Queen.

  The air trembled with another wash of fury. Then, like a cleansing wave, or perhaps because I could no longer sustain the energy for such wrath, the anger died away, leaving bitter dregs of its ash in my mouth.

  “Are you going to kill each other?” I asked in a dull, flat voice, like soda that had lost its pop and fizzle.

  They shook their heads.

  “No,” Halcyon said. “Dante explained…” He paused. “No.”

  “And you?” I asked Dante.

  He looked at me with sadness, with weariness. “The Demon Prince and I have come to an understanding. We will no longer try to hurt each other. But you…What will you do?”

  What will you do with my child?

  I suddenly felt old and brittle and so tired of it all. The worry, the fighting, the hurting of so many people.

  “You win,” I said. I was going to leave it to a power, a wisdom greater than mine. “I will do nothing to harm the child.”

  He bowed his head. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “And what of your promise to let me go,” I asked, “now that you have secured my promise?”

  His head lifted so that I saw the flash of his pale blue irises. “Will you grant me these next few days until the Service Fair? After that, you have my word that I will be gone from your life.”

  “Will you?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  I nodded. “These next few days,” I agreed. Turning, I walked back to the car.

  We backtracked to where we had left Chami, and found a familiar green Suburban parked by the roadside. Chami sat in the shade of the big vehicle, moving once more, freed of the compulsion. Faint redness colored his face, neck, and hands, but that seemed to be the extent of his injuries. Aquila on the other hand, sitting next to him, was more severely damaged, but not as badly as I had feared. Dontaine and two of his men, Marcus and Jayden, who I recognized from the practice session, were field dressing Aquila’s wound. Their surprise when they saw me accompanied by my kidnapper and my Demon Prince was enough to drop the men’s jaws.

  I brushed past them to kneel at Aquila’s side. “You shifted back into your human form.” Someone had loaned Aquila a shirt. His legs gleamed pale and naked beneath the cloth. “Were your injuries that grave?”

  “No, milady,” Aquila was quick to assure me. “Just bruises, some flesh gone from where the bullet struck me in the arm. Nothing broken, though. I shifted back into this form so I could report to Dontaine.”

  “Are you hurt?” Chami asked. His quick glance down at my belly, and his wary gaze past me to Dante, told me that he had heard us. That he had been a silent, frozen witness when Dante had taken me in his post-battle frenzy. He knew that I was pregnant, and that Dante was likely the father.

  “No, I’m fine. The only one, in fact, who is not hurt.” I stood, said to the others, “It’s over. Halcyon and Dante will explain everything to you later. Or maybe just confirm what you all already know. I’m too tired for that now. I just want to go home.” The last sentence came out plaintively.

  When Dante moved to take my arm—I think I swayed again—my men drew their daggers against him.

  Explanations, I realized, could not wait.

  “Put your weapons away,” I commanded harshly.

  Dontaine and his men reluctantly sheathed their daggers.

  Maybe it was the steel in my voice. Or perhaps it was just that they were used to obeying the orders of their Queen, unlike my other men. Whatever the reason, I was grateful to be obeyed.

  “Dante is likely the father of the child I carry,” I stated. “He is a guest, not a prisoner, for the next several days, until our next Council meeting, at which time he will be departing. I want no one else hurt in this matter. Do you understand?”

  There was a chorus of “Yes, milady.”

  “Good. Let’s go home.”

  EIGHTEEN

  THINGS RETURNED TO normal, or as normal as they could be under the circumstances. Dante’s family, who had fled when he had, returned when he called them back. No word was mentioned of this second snatching. Perhaps because all understood now why Dante had done what he had done. What perplexed my people, no doubt, was why I had even considered terminating the life I carried within me.

  Still…understanding only carried you so far. They treated Dante differently now. Before, they had seen him as what he had appeared to be—a twenty-year-old, gifted warrior. The knowledge of his previous life—his infamous killing of me, and the curse laid upon him—had brought caution and mistrust to their eyes. Add to this the knowledge that he could compel other Monère—not just humans, but Monère warriors and Queens—and they looked at him not only with wary distrust but active fear, melting away in his presence, not meeting his eyes. Afraid to look into them. Even Dontaine treated him with careful caution, ceding these last few days entirely to Dante. The father of my child.

  What was it about seeding life in a woman’s womb that gave a man ownership of her body—in other men’s eyes, at least—during the time she carried that living, growing being? A perception
that none others challenged. My bed had remained empty since we had returned.

  Halcyon had kissed me and returned to his realm. “Until the High Council meeting,” he had murmured.

  It was almost like a mantra muttered among my people and my men. Until the High Council meeting. Until the Service Fair when Dante, and likely the rest of his family, would leave us. Amber had called to say that he would not be coming that Wednesday as per his usual practice. He hadn’t even tried to give an excuse. He’d simply said, “I will see you in a sennight.” Seven days hence, when we would travel down to High Court, the seat of Monère rule here on this continent.

  Dontaine slept in the next room—his room now—but he, too, made himself scarce, pressed no demands, made no requests for my bed. And the man the rest of them had ceded my body to…he also pressed no demands for my bed. Just my company.

  During our days, when darkness fell—that was when our mornings began—he would sweep into Belle Vista and claim me. He had left me alone in my solitude that first night back. On the second day, he took me on a picnic, on a grassy knoll a five-minute stroll from the mansion, within the boundaries of my land. Chami and Tomas kept watch over us, but stayed a discreet distance away.

  Dante fed me food from the basket Rosemary had prepared at his request. It was packed with odd things. Odd things for a Monère, but things I had acquired a taste for. Grapes and other fruits. Rolls of bread. Chunks of cheese, all kinds of cheese—smooth Gouda, sharp cheddar, smoked Brie. None of the others in the household ate this stuff. Only me…and Dante. He popped the cheese in his mouth and chewed with relish. When I looked askance at him, he said, “I grew up among humans, also.”

  “This time. What about your other previous lives? Do you remember them?”

  He took his time chewing, then swallowing, while he composed his answer. “My memories are most clear of my last incarnation, and of my first life. That, I never forget. I get random flashes of other lives, occasionally. I think it’s my mind’s natural defense, that selective memory. Remembering everything would probably be too much for one single mind to handle.”