Read Mona Lisa Eclipsing Online
Authors: Sunny
Tags: #Paranormal, #General, #Romance, #Fantasy, #Supernatural, #Shapeshifting, #Erotica, #Fiction
Mona Lisa Eclipsing (21 page)
When no one answered my question, I turned to Dante. “Tell me,” I urged softly.
“A Queen caused you a grievous injury,” Dante said, his face carefully free of expression. “I killed her men in retaliation.”
So it was partly my fault
, I thought. “Men, as in plural, more than one,” I noted.
, I thought. “Men, as in plural, more than one,” I noted.
Dante nodded.
“How many men?”
“Thirty in total.”
I absorbed the information in shocked silence. “So many?” I whispered. “Just yourself, against so many?”
Dante dipped his head. “It was a serious harm done against you. Done with malicious intent.”
Serious enough to kill thirty men for? “What did she do to me?”
“If you do not remember it, I would rather not speak of it now,” Dante said. He bowed his head. “Please, milady.”
“He is correct,” Prince Halcyon said quietly. “You can talk of such matters later. She is clearly exhausted. You should allow her to rest.”
Everyone deferred to the Demon Prince’s wishes and all conversation ceased. Dante moved across the aisle to sprawl his length across the bench seat and stare out the window, while Quentin and Nolan busied themselves reading magazines. Chami took out a cloth and began cleaning a wickedly sharp-looking blade; Aquila nodded at me gravely and looked away. Prince Halcyon simply closed his eyes, setting an example of the rest he wanted me to get.
Everyone was cooperating except for me. I tried sitting back and closing my eyes, but my tired brain continued to whirl with Quentin’s words . . .
Could have forced me . . . with a simple command. Probably would have. . . had I been anybody else’s brother . . .
Could have forced me . . . with a simple command. Probably would have. . . had I been anybody else’s brother . . .
Were all Queens like that?
They said I was a Queen . . .
I succumbed to another yawn. My body wanted to sleep, but my mind wouldn’t shut down. Plus, I’d always been a nervous flyer.
After fifteen minutes of torturous pretend sleep, I opened my eyes and looked across the small cabin. My gaze touched on Quentin, his young and open face, the most normal, affable one among them. From there it went to Nolan, Chami, and Aquila, who had all come to my aid, who were supposed to be my friends.
My glance fell upon the dark, resting countenance of Prince Halcyon and skittered away, uneasy, nervous, despite the fact that I was, allegedly, the Demon Prince’s chosen mate . . . maybe especially because of that. How could I accept as fact this supposed betrothal—to a prince of Hell, no less—when I had no recollection of the feelings that had led up to it? The whole story seemed like empty fiction, make-believe.
As to the others, despite all their helpful aid and assistance, I didn’t know them. The only one I trusted here, the only one I knew, was a confessed killer—of me (or, rather, me in a former life!) and thirty other Monère men. Again, knowing something but not remembering it made it seem unreal. The only real thing was what I had experienced with Dante. Absurdly enough, he was the only one I felt safe and comfortable with.
I left my chair and made my way across the aisle. Dante swung his feet down, and I settled into the freed-up space beside him. Ignoring the closed expression of his face, I rested my head against his shoulder. “I’m totally wiped out, but I can’t sleep,” I whispered.
Dante’s stiff, surprised body slowly loosened and relaxed. His arm came around my shoulder, and his other hand stroked my hair in a tender, soothing caress. “That’s all right,” he murmured. “Just close your eyes and rest.”
Held by him, surrounded by his comforting scent, I did. I closed my eyes and felt the tension in me ebb and float away.
H
ALCYON WATCHED HIS mate fall asleep in Dante’s arms, so exhausted she didn’t stir as Dante lifted her up, turned sideways, lifting his legs back onto the seat, and settled her in a more comfortable sprawl across his chest.
ALCYON WATCHED HIS mate fall asleep in Dante’s arms, so exhausted she didn’t stir as Dante lifted her up, turned sideways, lifting his legs back onto the seat, and settled her in a more comfortable sprawl across his chest.
The two were lovers again; their intermingled scent clinging to each other’s skin. He didn’t begrudge the comfort sought and given, then or now. Indeed, Halcyon was grateful for it even while still bleeding from the sword thrust of her innocent question.
I’m sorry. You seem familiar. Do I know you?
I’m sorry. You seem familiar. Do I know you?
Oh, my love . . .
It hurt even more than Mona Lisa’s wariness of him. To be forgotten—everything they had shared. That brief, warm touch of her love on his lonely existence.
Halcyon could likely, in all probability, restore her lost memory. A simple compulsion, a command to remember. But his demon presence had not stirred up the demon essence—
his
demon essence—in her. A curious thing.
his
demon essence—in her. A curious thing.
There was no sign of demon bloodlust at all. Was it because she didn’t remember?
Memory—belief—were powerful things. Did she no longer react to him because of that lost memory? Or was she truly different now after Mona Louisa, the other dead Queen who resided in her, had been ripped out of Mona Lisa’s soul, and then remeshed together when the two of them, separate and apart, began dying. Had the experience physically altered Mona Lisa that much, so that the demon essence no longer held sway over her anymore? Was she no longer
Damanôen
, demon living? Or would that affliction return to her if she regained her memory? Or, another thought, if Halcyon used his demon powers on her, would that cause the weakened essence to grow strong within her once again?
Damanôen
, demon living? Or would that affliction return to her if she regained her memory? Or, another thought, if Halcyon used his demon powers on her, would that cause the weakened essence to grow strong within her once again?
Mona Louisa’s dead, entwined spirit had trapped Mona Lisa in NetherHell, the cursed realm of the guilty dead. Tearing Mona Louisa out of her had been the only way to save Mona Lisa. It had even been her choice. But it had been Halcyon who had had to inflict horrendous pain to do so. He still remembered Mona Lisa’s screams. Indeed, they replayed all too vividly in his nightmares. He had saved his lady and then lost her, because afterward she had feared him. Feared the remembered pain associated with him from that point on.
No. Even with the quietly bleeding wound of Mona Lisa not knowing him, not remembering what they had been to each other, Halcyon would not tamper with her damaged memory. She was wary of him, yes, but not fearful.
Dante, however,
could
restore her memory, his powers of compulsion almost as strong as that of a demon. Interesting that he, too, had chosen not to do so. But then, his advent into Mona Lisa’s life and his leaving had been filled with violence and tragedy, both then and now. He almost pitied the poor bastard even though he held treasure, the woman they both wanted, in his arms now. The tide could turn, not if but
when
she remembered. Halcyon had hurt her. But Dante had killed her.
could
restore her memory, his powers of compulsion almost as strong as that of a demon. Interesting that he, too, had chosen not to do so. But then, his advent into Mona Lisa’s life and his leaving had been filled with violence and tragedy, both then and now. He almost pitied the poor bastard even though he held treasure, the woman they both wanted, in his arms now. The tide could turn, not if but
when
she remembered. Halcyon had hurt her. But Dante had killed her.
And not just her but everyone she had once loved.
EIGHTEEN
I
SLEPT FOR hours, so deeply that I didn’t wake until someone roused me. “We’re home,” Dante murmured, touching my face.
SLEPT FOR hours, so deeply that I didn’t wake until someone roused me. “We’re home,” Dante murmured, touching my face.
I slowly blinked awake, drifting up to that familiar voice, that pleasant touch. “Where’s home?” I asked drowsily. It took another lazy blink to realize I was draped on top of him like an intimate blanket of arms, body, and legs across the seat we occupied. And that we were in a plane full of other people, who carefully kept their faces turned away from us as they left the plane.
“Louisiana,” Dante said, helping me sit up. “We’re at Lakefront Airport. It’ll take another fifty minutes to drive to your house.”
Outside, we were met by a teenage boy—an older teen. His ginger red freckles were framed by flame-bright russet curls. “Mona Lisa!” he cried, pulling me into a hug. “We were so worried. Dante, good to have you back. Thaddeus wanted to come, as did my mom and sister, but Amber said not to overwhelm you. Is it true that you have some sort of amnesia? That you don’t remember us?”
I nodded, a bit overwhelmed as it was with all the names he’d pelted out of all the people I apparently knew. Who were they? Neighbors?
“It’s okay. You’ll get your memory back. I’m Jamie, your friend.” He bestowed a sweet smile as bright as the color of his hair, and continued his excited stream of words. “Any more bags or luggage? No? Man, I can’t wait to hear what happened to you guys. The car’s parked over here.”
The car turned out to be a Suburban that all eight of us were able to squeeze into with surprising comfort. All the while, I puzzled over Jamie. Who—or exactly,
what
—he was. He didn’t have the full, rich presence of a Full Blood Monère or even that of a three-quarters Mixed Blood like me and Roberto—his power signature was noticeably dimmer, though not as muted as Prince Halcyon’s.
what
—he was. He didn’t have the full, rich presence of a Full Blood Monère or even that of a three-quarters Mixed Blood like me and Roberto—his power signature was noticeably dimmer, though not as muted as Prince Halcyon’s.
“Are you Monère, Jamie?” I finally asked.
He glanced over his shoulder at me as if surprised by the question. “Partly. I’m a Mixed Blood like you, as is my sister, Tersa. But we’re a half-half mix. You’re three-quarters Monère, one-fourth human, like your brother Thaddeus.”
It was the greatest shock. “I have a brother?”
“Yeah . . . I’m sorry,” Jamie said, growing more subdued. “You didn’t know?”
“I have a brother?” I asked, turning to Dante.
Dante nodded confirmation.
“How?”
“I was not with you then,” Dante said. “The others will have to tell you.”
“You found him right after you became the acknowledged Queen,” Chami said, sitting between me and Dante in the second row. “He grew up like you, thinking himself human. After his adoptive parents were killed, he came to live with you.”
“How old is he?” I asked, trying to contain my emotions.
“He’s seventeen.”
“Oh!” Tears blurred my vision. “I have a brother.” I wiped my eyes, then laughed tremulously as Jamie passed a box of tissues back to me. “I’m okay,” I told him. “That’s good news. Wonderful news, in fact.”
Dante’s arm came around me. “You’re trembling.”
“It was quite a shock. But a nice one.”
“Perhaps it would be best if we tried to keep the shocks to a minimum,” Dante said, catching Jamie’s gaze in the rear-view mirror.
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t blame him,” I said, elbowing Dante.
“I don’t,” Dante said. “But the idea of easing you back into things is sound.”
“What about the other people I’ll be meeting? Maybe you better tell me about them so I don’t embarrass myself.”
“You will not embarrass yourself,” Dante said, reassuring me. “They are all your friends, who care about you, and are aware of your memory loss. Meet them first, see if it triggers any memories.”
I had a feeling what Dante really intended was to space out the shocks. The first one came as we pulled into a long, private driveway. The house that loomed into view was a huge plantation home. The grand, white-columned building was so resplendently well maintained that one could almost be fooled into thinking it a new construction if one didn’t notice the live oaks, draped in lace-like Spanish moss, so thick around it would take two men to hug their girth, proclaiming that this was the real deal, something built a couple of hundred years ago.
“What is this place?” I asked in awe. “A hotel?”
“No, milady,” answered Aquila. “It’s your home.”
Shock number two was the number of people that came running down the front stairs, calling my name. Not Lisa, but the other one—Mona Lisa.
There was an onslaught of quick impressions and then I was surrounded by a happy babble of voices. There were two men, two women, and two younger people about Jamie’s age—a petite girl and a lanky boy matching my height. As one of the ladies ran with a glad cry to embrace Dante—his mother?—my eyes fixed on the lanky boy. He looked like any other seventeen-year-old kid with dark hair and eyes—unremarkable if you could not feel his presence. I searched his pleasantly attractive features for likeness, similarity.
“Thaddeus?” I said, my voice lifted in question.
Everyone quieted.
“Yeah, it’s me,” the boy grinned. “Hey, I thought you didn’t remember us.”
“I don’t. Jamie told me about you in the car.”
“Oh. So I’m like a stranger again to you, huh?” There was kind intelligence in those brown eyes so like my own. “Must be weird being greeted by a bunch of people you’re supposed to know but don’t.”
I laughed. “Yeah, a little.”
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