Everlasting (Descendants of Ra: Book 2) Read online

  Kill the beast.

  Save your brother.

  Win your freedom.

  No problem.

  Falling in love with the cop trying to arrest you?

  Problem.

  To save his twin from death, Reign Nicolis will have to bargain with Goddess of the Dead, and once more become what he despises, El Mortem, The Scourge, a killer trained to show mercy to none. But he is haunted by those who have fallen beneath his blade. Their ghostly shapes dog his footsteps, relentless in their torture to make him suffer for what he was put on this earth to do two thousand years ago. Saving his twin ensures Reign’s enslavement to the Goddess. She may own his body, but never his heart.

  Detective Alexis Lever’s career is in shambles. Her only chance at redemption is to discover what happened to the body of Daniel Nicolis. To do that she’ll have to thwart two men: Reign Nicolis and Roman Nicolis. Both belong in jail. But one has stolen her heart.

  Descendants of Ra series Book 2

  EVERLASTING

  Tmonique Stephens

  Dedication

  For my daughter Cyre`

  .

  Thank you for your love and

  unwavering faith.

  We’ve taken this journey together and

  I couldn’t have done any of it without you.

  You are my sunshine.

  Acknowledgements

  A special thank you to author

  Kathyrn Bain and Karen Herblin.

  I am very lucky to have you as

  friends and critique partners.

  Thank you to the friendliest, funniest, and

  most nurturing romance chapter in the world,

  Ancient City Romance Author, ACRA.

  An extra special thank you to

  Charitee Gerow

  for keeping me sane at work and making me

  leave my writing cave for a few hours of fun.

  Let me not forget my best friends,

  author Michelle De Leon and Diane Rora.

  Thanks for your continued love and support.

  You guys always tell me what I can do, not what I can’t.

  COPYRIGHT & LICENSE NOTES

  Everlasting

  © 2013 Tmonique Stephens

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This book is copyrighted and may not be

  sold or duplicated in any form without specific

  permission from the author.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  TMONIQUE’S BOOKS

  Descendants of Ra Series

  Prequel Entrapped (Winter 2018)

  Book 1, Eternity

  Book 2, Everlasting

  Book 3, Evermore

  Book 4, Encore

  Book 4.5, Forever

  The UnHallowed Series

  Only The Fallen

  Only One I Want

  Only You

  Only One I’ll Have

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Epilogue

  Descendants of Ra Book 3

  Evermore

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  Glossary

  About The Author

  Tmonique Stephens

  CHAPTER ONE

  His firm lips kissed the delicate spot above her collarbone. Did he know that would drive her crazy? She grabbed his broad shoulders. Her nipples tightened. Desire coiled low in her groin. His long, midnight hair brushed the back of her hand. She threaded her fingers through the silky strands and arched, bringing her nipples into contact with his hard pecs. Need shot through her.

  His lips stroked up the column of her neck. She turned her head, giving him complete access to the sensitive skin. He chuckled, a deep, sensual sound that reverberated through her and made her want to hear him laugh.

  A velvety touch circled the shell of her ear. She giggled and twisted her head to get away, bringing their lips within centimeters of contact. Would he finally kiss her? Through the fall of his hair, she glimpsed his eyes. Deep ocean blue. She struggled for air as she drowned in their watery depths.

  His hands tightened on her bare hips. Her legs parted and slid up his muscular thighs. She was more than ready for him.

  He said her name. Whispered it. “Alexis. Wake up.”

  Detective Alexis Lever shot straight up in her bed. Her breath hitched and her heart ran a marathon in her chest.

  Wow.

  She’d dreamed of him before, but never so vividly. He was always shrouded. Shadows masked his face and a great distance separated them. Tonight, she felt his touch, glimpsed his face.

  “It was just a dream.” She heaved a disappointed sigh and adjusted her twisted sweatpants.

  A breeze fluttered the curtains and stirred the surprisingly thick October air. A putrid odor flooded the small bedroom. Gagging, Alexis pressed a fist to her lips as her heart kicked into another gallop. Her gaze darted around the moonlight-dappled bedroom of her grandmother’s house.

  No one lurked.

  The hair on the back of her neck rose. She reached for her gun, slid the covers off, and slipped from the bed. Her thoughts turned to Daniel Nicolis, the Village Strangler. The last time she had seen him he was climbing out of the freezer at the M.E.’s office like it was an Olympic sport. The department was in deep denial. They claimed he must not have been dead. Yeah, it’d happened before, but how many walking dead had taken a header out of a high rise building? And the person that gave him the final shove was stashed here, sleeping in the opposite bedroom.

  It could be him, back to even the score.

  She opened her bedroom door and eased out. The dim hall smelled of carpet freshener from a recent vacuuming.

  Alexis raced across the hallway. Please don't tell her she had led Stella Walker, the only survivor of The Village Strangler, into a death trap. If anything happened to Stella, Alexis Lever, NYPD detective, could kiss her career bye-bye.

  She yanked open the door to her childhood bedroom and flipped on the light.

  Empty. The bed neatly made.

  Stella Walker was gone. Not only was Alexis not supposed to take a witness into her home, she damn sure wasn’t supposed to lose her. So much for her good intent
ions. She slammed her fist onto the dresser, rattling the antique perfume bottles. If Stella had stayed in protective custody and hadn’t decided to go it on her own, Alexis would still be asleep.

  The rumble of an engine drew her to the window. Headlights off, a sleek sports car crept down the street. It circled the cul-de-sac and parked across from her house. The car door swung open and Roman Nicolis exited the dark interior. The weak streetlight didn’t soften his hard face. Nor did the leather coat hide his muscular frame. How had he found them at her grandmother’s house?

  The floorboards squeaked in the living room and the rusty hinges of the front door squealed. Stella raced from the house and into his arms. It was amazing how some women fell for a criminal. And make no mistake, Roman Nicolis was a criminal.

  He held Stella close. Not even air separated them. Then he kissed her.

  Must be nice to have someone care that much. Someone who would follow you to the end of the earth and back. Wouldn’t be her, though. That helpless female thing some women did wasn’t her style. Major General Martin Lever and her three older brothers had made sure she wouldn’t need rescuing.

  Alexis ran down the stairs. Stella wasn’t under arrest. Alexis didn’t have the legal right to stop her from leaving, but she couldn’t let her leave with Roman. The man was a mercenary, his brother Daniel a serial killer. Maybe a dose of common sense would make the woman reconsider departing with a man she barely knew.

  As she stepped off the last stair, that smell slammed into her. Rotting. Decomposing…death. The moonlight slicing through the window above the double sinks cast shadows that loomed and concealed the room. Her hand stroked the wall and brushed the switch. Fluorescent lights flickered on. Leftover cartons from the Chinese takeout place littered the countertop.

  She moved forward. The Glock led the way to the back door. Midway in, a low growl froze her. A sliver of fear stabbed her heart and flipped her stomach. Her muscles quivered ready for flight.

  The back door to the kitchen exploded. Lifted off her feet, she landed against the back of the sofa in the adjacent living room. Wood and glass narrowly missed her.

  Alexis rolled to her knees. “What the hell?” Where was her gun? Patting the ground around her, she skimmed the muzzle poking from beneath the sofa.

  The light had shattered. The kitchen door was a black hole to the backyard. Foul air wafted in and smothered her. Alexis doubled over and hurled chunks of Chicken Lo Mein. When she stood, she wasn’t alone. A monster had stepped through the opening.

  She saw it in pieces where the moonlight touched. A flash of a crocodile face. A glint of razor sharp white teeth. And a glimpse of claws as long as her fingers. Before she could raise her gun, a beefy hand grabbed her throat and snatched her close to those rows of teeth. Its fetid breath buffeted her, ruffled her hair. She couldn’t breathe. Terror sapped her strength.

  This had to be the flip side of her dream. Things like this didn’t exist outside of sleep. She brought her gun up, but the monster knocked the weapon from her hand, sending it clattering to the linoleum floor.

  A tongue snaked from its mouth. It lapped her face. Thick saliva coated her cheek. “You’re not her,” the beast hissed.

  Did that mean she wasn’t dinner?

  Its head whipped towards the front of the house. The claw holding her loosened, allowing her to take a wheezy breath. One eye with a vertical pupil rotated and studied her.

  “Next time.” It threw her.

  Alexis flew over the sofa and crashed onto the oak coffee table. Through a fog of pain, she glimpsed the beast crashing through the front door. She rolled and landed between the table and the sofa.

  Stella. Had she escaped? Please God, let her be safe. Clutching her side, she lurched to her feet, freed her backup gun from her ankle holster, and made her was to the destroyed doorway.

  She paused against the shattered frame. Twos and threes of everything wavered, but then her vision cleared. The monster was there, closing in on Roman and Stella in their fleeing car. Strength waning, Alexis fired. She took a step and stumbled over a piece of the broken door frame. Weightless, the pain skittered away, leaving her euphoric. Her vision cleared and the stone stairs leading to the front of the house rushed toward her.

  Or was it the other way around? Not that it mattered. She didn’t have enough strength to brace for impact.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Your brother is in danger. Only you can save him.”

  Reign Nicolis refused to take the bait Nephythys, the Egyptian Goddess of the Dead had laid. His shoulders were embedded in the wall of her palace on the sacred Isle of Chemmis, his feet dangled off the floor, over a pool of his cooling blood. His chin didn’t move from its place on his chest. “My brother is dead.”

  “He is alive, for the moment,” Nephythys said.

  She stood before him. Her voice filled with faux concern for the brother he hadn’t seen in two millennia. He wouldn’t meet her gaze or give her anything she wanted. But he couldn’t stop himself from answering.

  “You lie.” His voice vibrated with anger. Her words and everything between the crown of blue hair on her head to the tips of her toes were a deception. That’s how she had tricked him to Chemmis, the home of the Egyptian Gods. With subterfuge and innuendo. He wouldn’t fall for it again.

  “You know I cannot lie.”

  That much was true. Nephythys dealt judgment to all followers of the Egyptian Gods. Her words determined their final resting place in the underworld. Either ascension to the stars or perpetuity roasting in Duat.

  “Come, I will show you.” She waved her hand.

  Reign dropped to his feet and slumped against the same wall that had imprisoned him. His bones creaked and his muscles ached. Whether days or years, he could not guess how long she’d left him hanging until he obeyed. He’d tired of her games long ago. Using Roman was a new tactic in her latest attempt to bend him to her wishes.

  Two thin, translucent strips of linen stretched across her small breasts and lean hips. Her display didn’t inspire the lust she sought to invoke. Cold contempt was all he could muster. Nephythys turned and led the way through the dim passages of her white palace to a sunbaked room. So long in darkness, the light stabbed his eyes.

  “Look into the Scrying bowl. The first waters of the Nile will show you the truth.” She pointed at a bowl waiting on a table in the middle of the room.

  Made from beaten gold, with hieroglyphics carved into the surface, Reign couldn’t ignore his interest. He wanted to see, needed too, but— “How will I know it is not a memory you have stolen from my mind and manipulated?” He took in her alabaster skin and pale blue hair. Once, her petite body enthralled him. He’d gladly become her slave. Now…

  She glided closer. Her whisper-thin linen coverings showed more skin than they hid. The delicate fabric molded to her curves, drawing attention to her pert nipples and the vee where her thighs joined. This display was beneath her station. He almost wished he could feel something other than disgust and betrayal when he looked at her.

  “You will know, Reign. Have trust.” Her lips curved.

  He laughed. A brittle sound, which surprised even him. Trust was not something he would ever do again with Nephythys. Her pouty lips trembled with artful dismay. He waited for a tear to fall just to see how long it would take for her to give up the futile effort. A full minute passed before she lowered her dry eyes. The Goddess of the Dead did not cry.

  Reign turned to the bowl and looked into the muddy waters drawn from when the Nile was but a spring. An image appeared in the swirling liquid. His face on another man’s body.

  “Roman.” Relief and sorrow tore through him. For the first time in two millennia, he saw his twin, who should have been long dead. How had he survived all this time? The image faded, but not before he caught a glimpse of a nightmarish creature that stalked his brother.

  “No!” He grabbed the bowl. A force shoved him to the opposite side of the room. “Bring him back.” He demande
d.

  “There is no way to reform the link. You have destroyed it. But I can give you more than a watery image of your brother.” She rushed through her words as if she read from a prepared script.

  “Give me? You let me believe Roman was dead.” He struggled against the power confining him.

  “You never asked if he was alive. You never cared to know what happened to him. All you had to do was ask.”

  “For a price.”

  Her words struck bone. He didn’t ask, not because he didn’t care about Roman’s fate, but because the answer was too painful to face. Their last moments together were filled with acrimony after they’d both failed in their duty.

  “There is always a price. To help your brother, I can send you back.”

  Reign stared at the bowl. He’d be a fool to trust her. “He has survived this long without me—”

  “Anubis’s champion stalks him.”

  “Why? What could he have done to draw the attention of your son?”

  “Anubis believes I sent you to stop his involvement in the human realm. He thinks Roman is you. Your brother fights your battle. And he is losing.”

  That was not possible. Other than him, none surpassed Roman on the battlefield. “My brother is a warrior—”

  “He is not the man he once was. Time has softened him. You saw him. He ran from the battle, not toward it.”

  Though it pained him, he couldn’t deny her words. “You do this out of the kindness of your heart?” He chuckled at the absurdity. As Judge and Jury of the pantheon, she had no understanding of kindness.

  “I have a price.” Nephythys released him and then sidled closer. “All I need is a promise that you will return to me—”

  “—to be a slave to your whims?” He couldn’t let her get that close to him again. “No.”