The urge was making his head ache. He had never had to hold back, not once since the day of his creation. Having women or men come to him, throwing themselves at his feet, begging for his touch, had been so easy for him And now he was faced with one who looked at him like he was the devil himself. Patience was definitely not one of his virtues, not where this blond vixen was concerned.
“Fair enough, Miss Thorne, if you insist on keeping this formal. Allow me to finish tending your wounds. Can I at least make you breakfast… again?” He nodded over to the spilled and shattered remains of the tray beside the door.
She turned and winced, slowly looking back at him Her mouth opened and then she closed it and put her hand to her forehead. She sighed and ran those long fingers through her hair. Damn his imagination! He was thinking of way too many uses for those delicate hands when she started talking.
“I’m sorry. Deus, was it? Look, I’m sorry for the forest and the vase. I will pay for it. You have been nothing but kind to me, and here I am being a bitch to you.” He watched as she moved to stand, ignoring the cuts on her feet, and holding her hands before her. “Thank you for looking after me. I would love some breakfast. I promise not to hit you with anything else.”
Deus had to try really hard not to smile at her attempts at being demure and contrite. He got the distinct impression she did not do it very often. He turned his gaze over to his destroyed first breakfast. It had not been much; coffee, some cut up fruit and toast he miraculously hadn’t burned—he wasn’t the chef in the family, but he had been proud of himself. He had never actually made breakfast for anyone before. He was usually gone well before morning because his job was done, the soul was taken and cleansed, and the Blight was removed from the world.
“After you then, Lexi.” He gestured toward the door and she rolled her shoulders back, gathering her humility and determination no doubt. She was a proud woman, this Seer. She turned and stopped. He just smiled wide, glad she couldn’t see him.
“Do you have some slippers, maybe?” Her voice was a little shaky.
“Slippers? Oh, the vase shards. No, I don’t think I do. Your feet are too badly cut for your boots. I am afraid I will have to carry you into the den. If you don’t mind, that is.” Yeah, he was kind of doing that on purpose, but he couldn’t help it, and yes, she knew it.
“Remember that promise I made not to hit you. I lied.” The glare she gave him might have cowed a lesser man, but he just chuckled.
“I figured as much. Besides, if you stop attempting to murder me, how will I ever get better at dodging?” Before she could answer him with one of her snappy retorts he swept her up into his arms—an action he was coming to discover usually shut her up—and walked from the room as she held onto his neck with both arms. Yeah, he could get used to this.
The trip lasted all of ten seconds, but by the tense posture of her body, she acted like he was carrying her into the Underworld or something. He gently set her down, and she jumped away from him as if he had put his hands in some inappropriate places. She glared at him, pulling the shirt down. He was not about to inform her his shirt would never be long enough to cover her, no matter how hard she tried to pull it down. It would always flash the tops of her creamy thighs and give him a delicious tempting tease of her innocent-looking panties underneath. Talk about torturing himself—he couldn’t help but watch her as she tried to pull the front down, only to have the back ride up, and vice-versa.
“See, I got you to the den unscathed.” He even gave her a little bow just to annoy her some more.
“I swear you are the most annoying, pig headed, sarcastic asshole I have ever met! And considering the man my sister is dating, that is saying something!” He just smiled. Her skin did turn a lovely shade of red when she was angry.
Just a little more of a prod. He let a small trickle of his power reach out, temping her to open up to him, to drop her natural shields against those she didn’t trust. It was one of his many tricks that allowed him to get into a person’s mind. Filling his voice with that power he spoke, keeping his eyes locked on hers.
“You mentioned a sister. Won’t she be worried about you?”
“Why do you keep changing the subject? Yes, I have a sister, a twin if you must know. She is shacking up with some muscle-brained nut job who doesn’t even remember his own name, as if that makes it any better. She just expects me to accept him into our family.” She covered her mouth and narrowed her eyes at him. “How are you doing that? I know it’s you.”
“What on earth do you mean?” Feigning innocence, he broke his gaze away and walked past her toward the huge open kitchen and grabbed a clean mug from the shelf. Reaching for the steaming coffeepot, he poured a full cup and raised it to his lips. Her eyes locked on the mug and he smiled, lifting his eyebrows at her.
“Want one?”
“What’s it going to cost me?” Her arms crossed and she tilted a hip. Hell, if he could get her to just stay like that he would give her the damn world.
“Not a thing. I don’t charge… for coffee.” Grabbing another mug, he filled it and offered it to her. She didn’t move, she just stared at him as if taking the mug from him was going to cost her soul. “I don’t bite, Lexi.” But he wanted to.
Why did just going over and taking the coffee from this man make her feel like she was making some kind of deal with him that she wasn’t going to be able to get out of? It was those eyes, she was sure of it. He looked at her like he could see through her, like he was waiting for her to show him something she was determined to keep buried deep inside.
But he had coffee, and she needed her fix. Gritting her teeth against his mystifying power of making her talk about things she didn’t want to, Lexi straightened her spine and walked toward him, reaching out and grabbing the mug from him. Her finger brushed his and she staunchly ignored the fact that sparks numbed her fingers. She lifted his mug to her lips—making sure to drink from the opposite side to where his lips had touched. She kept her eyes locked to his and took a mouthful from the mug.
Swallowing the black heaven, she felt like herself for a moment before narrowing her eyes at him. Was he trying to unnerve her by staring at her like that? It wasn’t going to work; she lived with a five-year-old and she was a stubborn little thing.
“So you said you argued with your sister—”
“Nope, we’re not talking about Layla. This is so not happening.” She took another long drink and he smiled. Damn him! He was an arrogant one. He knew precisely what he was doing. Was it just his voice, or did he indeed have some kind of gift that made her spill her problems?
“You wound me, Lexi. But if you don’t want to talk that’s okay. I will bring the car ‘round and give you a lift home. I can’t let you go wandering around out there again. Who knows what trouble you will run into without someone to watch out for you.”
“I don’t need someone to watch out for me, least of all you. I can look after myself, I can look after my family from the media, from those fucking angels, from that damn demon in my house!” Geez, had she just come out and said that? What was wrong with her? Lexi never even saw him move, then his hands were on her arms and she was looking up at him, those amethyst eyes bright with intensity.
“Demon? What demon?” The sudden desperation in his voice made her pause. She searched his eyes, and all she saw was worry and a spark of hope. Maybe if she told him, he would think she was nuts and stay away from her? It was worth a try.
“The one my sister is sleeping with. The one with no memory.” His hands dropped from her arms and he stumbled back, reaching for the counter to steady himself. Okay, not the reaction she was expecting. “Hey, you alright? You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“Does he know his name? Anything about himself? Please, this is important, Lexi.” His eyes were shimmering and locked on her, but his mind was clearly on something else. Lexi bit down on her lip. What if this man meant Tan harm? Clearly it was no coincidence that he had bought this house.
>
“I… I can’t…” She knew then in that moment she would protect that man. He was part of her family now because her sister loved him, because he was something to Annabelle, and to her. “He is my family, my sister loves him, so I’m not about to expose him to a stran—”
“He’s my brother.” His tone was serious, his eyes hard as he spoke, and she just stared at him.
“Your brother? As in…”
“I think you know, Lexi, you mentioned what he is. You mentioned the Malakhim, the angels. You know.”
Lexi felt her heartbeat thundering in her chest. How was it even possible that she could run into another one of these Seven Sins demons in Stillwater, Montana? She wanted to run away! Again, this was so not her! Why did her family have to be involved in all this madness? It was a stupid question. She knew why, because of her blood, because of what she and Layla were, because of their powers.
“You’re a Sin, aren’t you?” Best just to come out and ask.
“Straight to the point, I like that. Yes, I am Asmodeus, Sin of Lust. My brother is Tanus, Sin of Wrath. Has been missing for months. He was taken from us by Michael. We have been searching for him. To find him here, it’s a miracle.” Lust. Well, that explained it. No wonder she was feeling all tingly and odd around him.
“You mean you didn’t come here for him?” Her stomach sank. If he had not come for his brother, that meant he was here for something else, and she had a pretty good idea what, or rather who.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Apollo walked out of the bedroom where the injured half-breed Seer rested. The large living room was filled with people waiting for his words, good or bad, on the outcome of his healing attempts on the woman. His eyes scanned the room, pausing on the Seer of Empathy. Sadness flashed over her vision and he sighed; she already knew. Damn, that girl had become a power to be reckoned with in the last few months. Her control had grown in leaps and bounds, and now she could read people when she chose to instead of twenty-four hours a day.
Turning his gaze to Gabriel, he ran his hand through his hair. The angel looked gaunt, weakness threaded through his whole form, not that Apollo could blame the man. The woman behind the door was his daughter—estranged or not they were still blood. Gabriel was a warrior. He knew when bad news was coming and he steeled himself, lifting his chin and pulling his black wings tightly to his back.
“How long does she have?” Despite it all, his voice broke.
Apollo sighed and looked at the demons in the room. Aria was one of the Seers. If she died, their chances of defeating Michael and the remaining angels was slim to none—they all knew it. He wished he had better news for them. The blade she had been impaled with had not been anything special. He should have been able to heal such a paltry wound. It infuriated him that he couldn’t get ahead of whatever it was in her body that fought against his attempts at healing her.
“I am not sure. Whatever it is that is pulling her toward death fights harder when I try and heal her. I have never treated one such as her. I don’t know how Nephilim physiology responds to prolonged treatment like this. Hell, for all I know, it is that blood which is fighting against me.” Abbadon offered him a glass filled with amber liquid, and he took it gratefully. Sipping from the tumbler, he savored the whisky and watched Gabriel as he dropped his eyes to the floor.
“Thank you, thank you for trying. I put you all in more danger by bringing her here.”
“Oh, shut up, Gabriel.” Mammon’s voice broke the torrid mournful silence in the room, his arm slung over his wife’s shoulder. “She is a Seer, that makes her family. You helped us, that means we owe you. It is not like you can just go back to Michael, now, is it?”
“Trust Greed to get to the point of the matter in the bluntest way possible.”
Mammon glared at Abbadon and flipped his brother off. The pair looked daggers at one another. Apollo felt a smile pull at his lips. It was amazing to see Mammon whole again—well, less dark and brooding anyway. That had been down to Isabelle.
“Is there nothing that can be done?” The calm, collected voice of Lucifer broke through the bickering of the two younger brothers. Apollo turned to him and shook his head.
“If I knew more about Nephilim, maybe. But as much as Gabriel told me, it wasn’t enough to heal her. I will reach out, see what I can find. I am not the only healing god still around. Bast might know more. There were many more Nephilim around in her day, before the Malakhim wiped them out.”
“Don’t you let her catch you saying that. She will scratch your eyes out for implying she is older than you.” Lucifer had a point. Bast was and always would be a woman who expected to be worshipped. She was as prim and proper as the cats that represented her; she even had the claws to boot.
“I need to return to Hades. Remember, you swore to Persephone you would all attend her early Christmas dinner. I don’t think your father has much longer. I feel Thanatos waiting for him. I think he is holding off for her sake, so she has time to say goodbye properly. I suggest you all make time for your goodbyes. As loyal as Death is to your father, he is still Death, and he has a job to do—even for the soul of Hades.”
All the demons in the room dropped silent, a heavy air settling over them. It was not like any of them had the best relationship with the God of the Underworld or anything. But Apollo knew he was their creator, their father. He had brought them into this world and given them reason for being. And despite his moods swinging from terrible to his most recent of actually being fatherly, they did have some emotional ties. Even he felt some pain knowing his Uncle was passing into shadow.
Apollo looked at the angel. Gabriel looked severely guilty in that moment, and so he should. Michael taking down Hades had been a big fucking mistake. With Hades’ death, all hell would break loose, literally. No one else could hold the prisons of Tartarus closed, not even his sons—and they held some of his blood in their veins. If Michael’s back-up plan had been to release the Titans upon the human world, then he was well on the way for that to happen in little under a week.
“Gabriel, I would go and spend the rest of this time with your daughter.” The angel nodded slowly and flicked his wings out a little.
“Thank you, Apollo, for trying.”
“I wish I could have done more, angel, she deserved better than assassination by demon.” Apollo looked at the Sins again and nodded to them before his body burst into a million pinpoints of sparkling light.
Lucifer pushed himself to standing. Knowing Thanatos was waiting in the wings to take his father’s soul did not sit well with him. He hated it, but he understood that the God of Death was doing his job. Hell, at least someone was. Rubbing his hand over his mouth he let out a long sigh and faced the angel. Gabriel was still staring at the door to his daughter’s room, as if going in would make things worse.
“Angel, just go in there. Trust me, you will regret not being able to say goodbye to her if she passes.”
“And if she tells me to leave?”
“Then she tells you to leave, but at least you will get a chance to speak your piece. Grow a fuckin’ pair and get in there before it’s too late.” Lucifer turned and stormed from the room, heading to his office. To think he had been considering not going to Alaska next week. But knowing that Death was waiting put everything in stark perspective.
He supposed he should have been more worried about the gates of Tartarus falling, but losing his maker, his father, it was all becoming far too real. Lifting his hand, he rubbed the top of his arm where his mark lay branded into his skin. The mark of Pride. He had been the first of the Seven Sins to be created that fateful night when Pandora opened the box, the first to take form and realize his obligations to humanity.
He never expected it to turn out like this, a world overrun with humans, the task of keeping man’s sin in check astronomically impossible. It had become painfully apparent to him long ago they had to focus only on those mortals that would cause the worst Blights. Smaller sins went unchecked, and o
nly the largest swarms of Blights were cleansed to prevent catastrophes. Hell, he felt like they were just putting their fingers in the dam and patching up the holes.
One day soon something would break, and they would not be able to stop the surge. Part of him understood what Michael was trying to do, even if the idiot was going about it the wrong way. The sound of his phone ringing broke him out of his musing. Looking at his phone, he let out a groan. Deus. No doubt he wanted more money or something. He did not even give his brother time to talk.
“I just transferred two hundred thousand into your account. I swear, Asmodeus, if you hav—”
“I found him!” Deus literally shouted down the phone, interrupting Lucifer in the middle of his speech about money and responsibility.
“What?”
“Wrath, he is here. In Stillwater. No memory apparently, but he is here, Lucifer!”
Lucifer sank slowly into his chair. Relief ran through him, his eyes slipping closed. God, was he crying? Pressing his fingers to his eyes, he just sat in silence for a moment as his ears rang and his brain processed the information.
“Lu? Luci? You there?”
“Don’t call me Luci, asshole! That is fantastic news. I’m going to send Abbad—”
“NO. I mean, things are complicated here. Look, if what the Seer told me is true then he has no memory of us, of Father. I don’t think shoving Abbadon of all people in his face is the best course of action. Besides, it looks like he has a woman, a Seer herself. If you can believe it, Satanus, of all demons, found a woman who can put up with him.”
“Deus, try and stay on subject.” He couldn’t believe it. Tanus was alive. He had amnesia, but that could be fixed. Hanging his head, he listened to his brother speaking, a smile on his lips.
Wrath's Patience (Seven Deadly Sins Book 3) Page 22