Forevermore

by Kristen Callihan

  “Who is Apep?” Layla could not help but ask.

  “Our father,” Poppy said shortly. “A lovely fellow who wanted to steal my husband and my son’s souls.”

  Right. That one. He sounded delightful.

  “Apep,” Sin cut in, “was a sort of Damnation, actually. Augustus told me he was one of the first trials. He fancied himself a demi god after he broke from Damnation.”

  “Always with the secrets in this family,” Miranda muttered.

  “So this Damnation fellow,” Winston cut in, “what can you tell us about him?”

  Sin rubbed the back of his neck. “This one goes by the name St. Claire, though I doubt it’s his real name. He’s a direct get of Cain, the original Damnation. We ran afoul of him last night and barely escaped. He destroyed Augustus’s home, which is why we are here. What you must understand is that this being is unlike anything our civilization has seen in a millennium. He can level the city if so inclined. He can send utter terror into most minds, leaving the victim helpless to defend himself.”

  “Well, isn’t that charming,” Daisy said with a little frown. “So we shall not be having him to tea.”

  Ian spread his palm out on her curvy thigh. “Surely he is not a match against all of us.”

  Sin’s voice was cool and deadly. “The last time Damnation ran amuck, it leveled Pompeii.” He gave a tight smile. “Oh, aye, it was no volcano that caused the destruction. It was a war between Damnation and Judgment.”

  Archer cleared his throat, his voice coming out husky and tinged with pain. “Judgment. You speak of the soul eaters.”

  Sin met his gaze. “Yes. Augustus, as you know, is Judgment. He is the father of them all. Probably why he calls himself Father in the SOS. He defeated that Damnation, and had believed them all destroyed.” His jaw tightened. “St. Claire had Augustus’s wing.”

  Poppy went pale. “What? How?”

  “He’d clearly ripped it off.” Sin’s expression pinched. “We do not know if Augustus lives.”

  Poppy ducked her head, and Winston pulled her onto his knee, his arm going around her thin shoulders. “When you met with this St. Claire last night, what did he want?”

  “He wanted Layla,” Sin said. “I was disinclined to let him have her.”

  “And how did you get away, if he is as powerful as you claim?” Miranda added with a disbelieving look.

  Layla bristled.

  Sin merely looked at her. “I am not without power, Miranda. As you well know.”

  “Oh, I know. As I know of your penchant for falsehoods.”

  Archer murmured a reprimand under his breath, but Miranda ignored it.

  Daisy wrinkled her nose. “You must admit, St. John, you have yet to be forthcoming with us in all your dealings.”

  Poppy gave Sin a hard stare. “You are keeping things from us again. Do not deny it.”

  Sin’s expression was perfectly blank. A sign that Layla now knew meant he was hurting but did not want it to show. “I made a vow to Augustus to hold my own council on many things.”

  Miranda snorted. “Quite convenient, that. Tell me, did he ask you to interact with Mab? To become her lover?”

  Sin’s grip on Layla’s hand went tight before slipping away. “Augustus had nothing to do with her.”

  “So I thought,” Miranda said with a scoff. “And here you are again, in the thick of things, full of secrets, and not divulging them when they are needed.”

  Poppy peered at Sin as though he were an insect. “She speaks true, St. John. Mab’s plans might have destroyed all the GIM. Which includes your sister.”

  Daisy flushed pink at this. And Layla remembered that GIM were those with clockwork hearts. She did not know the particulars of Mab’s threat to them but it had to be horrid if the expression of agony on Ian’s face was anything to go by. He said not a word but he would no longer look at Sin.

  Sin who sat rigid and silent as they all took turns sniping at him.

  “You warmed that evil woman’s bed knowing she was making those you love suffer,” Poppy said in a low voice. “Why? You never said.”

  Sin’s jaw bunched, his eyes narrowing and turning a silver-green. But he would not speak. It seemed he’d lost the ability in the face of their ire.

  “And now you expect us to believe that Augustus has willingly made you privy to all his secrets—”

  Layla snapped. “Oh, enough! All of you.”

  Three sets of feminine eyes glared at her with varying levels of annoyance. She did not care a whit. Layla leaned forward, her fist bunching. “How dare you give Sin a hard time, toss his love back in his face?”

  Miranda raised a red brow. “Miss Starling, you do not know—”

  “Oh, I know enough. I know that he is your brother. And you turned your backs on him when he needed you most.”

  “He was in league with—”

  “Are you quite serious?” Layla all but hissed. “How can you not even entertain the possibility that he was acting under duress?”

  “Layla,” Sin began, but she held out a hand.

  “No, Saint. No more.” Her glare went round the table, taking in the shocked expressions. “A blood slave, forced to do whatever that foul bitch . . . Bother, I am new to this world, and I’ve heard of blood vows. It shocks and disgusts me that you, who have lived with these laws for years, did not think of it.”

  A ringing silence met her. And Layla grabbed Sin’s cold hand. “He is the best man I know. Loyal to a fault—”

  “Layla . . .”

  “Protective of those he loves. How could you not see he was doing his best in the only way he could?” She rose to her feet, her body quivering. “How could you not have done your best to save him?” Her teeth met with a click. “I cannot . . . No. I cannot stand to look at any of you. You don’t deserve him.”

  She’d have pulled Sin with her but she gathered he’d not go lightly. So Layla quit the room by herself, her eyes burning but dry, before she did these ladies and gentlemen harm.

  Layla exited in a flutter of irate skirts, her head held as high and proud as a queen’s. Ringing silence followed. Sin found her rather magnificent. He fought a smile and looked back at his family. “So then, that was Layla.”

  “She’s wonderful,” Ian said with a wolfish grin.

  “Yes,” Sin said. But as soon as the dust settled and the silence returned, he thought of Layla’s words. She’d told them of his deepest shame. Suddenly he felt ill, his skin crawling with humiliation. It was a sad truth that a large part of him would rather have their anger than their pity.

  The feeling grew worse when he spied their horror-stricken faces.

  A strangled noise left Miranda. “You . . . A blood slave to Mab?”

  Now that Layla had swooped in like a defending angel and said the words, Sin felt his own hurt and resentment bubble up within. They had turned their backs on him. Without a second thought. “Is it so shocking?”

  Daisy made her own little noise of distress, and then he was smothered in velvet and bosom as she hugged his head so tightly he could barely breathe. “Oh, dear boy. My little brother. How could we?”

  “Daisy,” Ian drawled. “He’s in danger of inhaling your breasts.”

  She drew back. “Right, sorry. But they’re inescapable, really.”

  Sin let out a weak laugh, and she replied by kissing his cheeks and forehead before sitting down next to her husband once more. And he sat there a little dazed. He’d missed casual affection, but his heart hurt worse. He’d missed their love.

  Poppy cocked her head and peered at him. “Brother, Layla was right to chastise us. There is no excuse for our behavior. We have wronged you. It was badly done of us.”

  “Badly done?” Winston said with a scoff. “It was shoddy behavior, at the very least.” He pulled his pipe free of his twisted mouth. “My deepest apologies, St. John.”

  “Christ,” Ian said with a slap of his hand to his thigh, “we’re making it worse. A m
an does not need a room full of people falling prostrate on the floor, begging forgiveness. He needs only one emissary. Take Miranda.” Ian cocked his head towards Sin’s silent and frowning sister. “She’s the one who cocked it up in the first place.”

  “Ian!” Daisy clouted him on the head, or tried to.

  Ian was quite good at ducking. “I only speak the truth.”

  An awkward silence fell over the room. Sin would not look at Miranda. He couldn’t. But he saw her rise and then she was kneeling before him. Tears glistened in her eyes, the same jade green as his. “Ian speaks true,” she said in a husky voice. “Sin . . . I’ve been so distrustful of my family, save my sisters.”

  Hurt punched through his chest. Yes, they’d had each other, always. Sin had been the one taken away and hidden.

  Miranda’s hands clasped his. “No one was what they claimed to be. And then to find out I had a brother. I’d always wanted one. It hurt all of us to believe all these years that you’d died. When I found out you were still alive . . .” She shook her head, tears breaking free to run down her cheeks. “I was so angry with Mother. I was angry that we did not get to care for you, see you grow.”

  “Miranda,” he croaked, not wanting to hear any more.

  But she squeezed his hands tight, sending flares of warmth up his arms, the power of heat and fire that only they shared. “I think . . . I think I was looking for something to keep you away. Because it hurt too much to know how we’d failed you. I was afraid to love you because you might be taken away once more.”

  Sin pulled her close then, and she hugged him tight, her slim body shaking. “Forgive me, St. John. I love you so. If it takes the rest of my life to do it, I will make this up to you.”

  A soft cry from Daisy, and then they were both smothered again. Little flowers popped up on Miranda’s hair, and Sin laughed—Daisy usually chose to use her powers for beauty rather than for defense. A cool hand landed on his shoulder as Poppy came close and kissed the top of his head.

  From beyond the wall of sisters hugging him, he heard Ian groan. “Make them stop, Lane,” Ian said to Winston.

  “You only say that because you’re in danger of weeping,” Winston said dryly.

  “Don’t think I missed you wiping your eye, Lane,” Ian retorted.

  And Sin laughed again, pressing his own damp cheek to a soft arm, Daisy’s he supposed. They were all too close for him to properly tell. When they pulled away, he realized he had to trust them if they were to trust him. Some secrets were harmful if kept for too long, and what he’d become was one of those.

  “Augustus made me Judgment,” he said.

  And the air seemed to leave the room.

  “You took the elixir,” Archer said in a slightly awed voice.

  “Yes.” It wasn’t really an elixir. But Sin would keep that much of Augustus’s secrets. “Unlike you, however, I had someone to teach me.” Sin let himself change, going crystal clear and unfurling his wings.

  “Jesus,” Winston said. “You look just as Augustus did when I saw him in that alley.” The alley where Winston had been mauled by a mad werewolf. Augustus had swooped down and saved him, though Winston bore the slashing scars on his face.

  They all looked awed, but Archer and Miranda appeared haunted. Sin knew Archer had been slowly changing to Judgment. Not realizing that was what he’d been becoming, he hadn’t the skills to change at will.

  “Wings too?” Miranda reached out then halted.

  “You may touch them,” Sin said.

  And she did, shock and awe still on her face.

  Archer stared. “Have you done it? Taken a soul?”

  “Yes, when warranted. I’ve been in Rome, acting there.” Sin vanished his wings and changed back into his human form. “Out of all of us, I am the one most likely to vanquish St. Claire. Some of you might succeed in wounding him, but he will destroy you and those you hold dear.”

  He looked around the room. “Poppy and Win, you have a child. Archer and Miranda are mortal. Daisy is GIM but he is quite capable of persuading you to rip out your own heart.”

  Ian growled, but Sin merely gave him a long look. “You know a little of Damnation; that much is clear. Tell me I am wrong.”

  “You are not,” Ian grumbled. “Nor am I willing to risk my Daisy. However, myself? My fellow lycans? We will stand with you.”

  Daisy’s face pinched but she bit down on her lip as if to stifle her protest.

  “Thank you,” Sin said. “But lycans cannot effectively fight Damnation. It is said that Damnation’s first servants were the wolves and the serpents. He could turn your will at a thought.”

  Ian bristled. “Are you saying you believe me to be that weak of mind?”

  “You? No. But your wolf? Those of your men? We cannot risk it.”

  “Canny wee angel boy,” Ian said under his breath as he glared down at his claws.

  Sin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “London is in danger of falling. We need to prepare. Ian, you are able to mentally reach out to other lycan, yes?”

  “That I can,” Ian said.

  “Then have them search for Augustus.” Sin glanced at Daisy. “The GIM too, if you please. As for the rest of us, there is a good chance that Others with evil in their hearts will strike when Damnation does. As it is, there is a contingent of raptor demons who serve him.”

  “We need Jack,” Winston said. “He is Nephilim.”

  Yes, out of all of them, only Jack had the strength to help Sin fight St. Claire. “I’d like to ask Jack to guard Layla. I cannot worry about her and fight Damnation as well.”

  “Consider it done.” Jack Talent walked into the room, towering over everyone with his great height. At his side was his small and delicate-looking wife. “Apologies for the delay. Mary and I were at the theater and did not receive word until it let out.”

  Sin stood and grasped Jack’s massive hand. “Appreciated, Jack.” He turned to the room. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go see to Layla.”

  Ian grinned, flashing long canines. “Aye, attend to your lady love, and perhaps afterward, ask her to give us simple folk another chance? I’d quite like to keep my head, ye’ ken?”

  Sin laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  She was a coward, shouting at Sin’s family and then running away. She ought to have stayed. She’d left his side, left him to face their ire without her. Layla pressed her knees closer to her chest and hugged herself tight, huddling in the corner of the large velvet sofa in her room. She needed better control.

  Half the hour had dwindled away since she’d gone at their heads. Layla was still riled but she fancied that, if Sin had been rejected by his family, he’d have sought her out by now. Or perhaps he was angry with her for spilling his secrets. She winced. She had not meant to do that. Or had she? Layla’s thoughts were a muddle.

  A soft kiss at her cheek made her yelp and jump. Sin’s grinning face hovered over her shoulder, and she scowled. “You scared the life out of me.”

  He kissed her again, close to the sensitive corner of her mouth. “Not all the life, I hope. I’m rather attached to you.”

  His voice was soft and tender. And she watched him as he rounded the sofa to crouch before her.

  “Sin,” she said, “I’m sorry—”

  His lips on hers rendered her silent. He kissed her softly, deeply, as if her lips were warm wax and he was shaping them to his. His breath flowed into hers, his familiar scent surrounding her. He pulled away, his green eyes searching her face. Silvery tracks of dried tears trailed his cheeks.

  “You’ve been crying.” She touched his cheek, tracing a line.

  Sin pressed his hand to hers, trapping her palm against his skin. “Have I? I suppose I was overwhelmed. Don’t hold it against me, eh?”

  Ridiculous man. “Did they shout at you?”

  “No.” He leaned in and kissed her again. “I think you might have shamed them into the next century. They love me. And I love you.”


  Warmth went through her and she smiled. “I love you too.”

  His answering smile was so tender and carefree, she now was in danger of crying. Sin cradled her face in his hands and kissed her cheeks, her brow, the tip of her nose. He finished with a soft kiss on her lips. “Your love, Layla, is the greatest gift of all. What you did for me back there . . .”

  “I know,” she said mournfully. “I went off like a raving lunatic. Your family surely hates me now.”

  He shook his head, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. “No one has ever stood up for me in that manner. It made me feel . . . I don’t even know how to describe it, but Layla, I will spend my entire life making certain you feel the same, that you know how loved you are by me.”

  “Saint, you’re an immortal,” she felt compelled to point out.

  He was busy kissing his way down her neck. “Precisely. Which means an eternity of practice. Mmm . . . You smell delicious. Your ire has the scent of roasting chestnuts.”

  A scandalized laugh bubbled up within. “Don’t tell me such things. I’m horrified.”

  She could feel him smiling against her skin. “Why? It’s wonderful.” His warm hands coasted down her neck, along her sides, brushing the swells of her breasts and lingering there. Sin’s voice grew deeper. “And your arousal. Gods, Layla. When you’re aroused . . . warm butter and sugar.”

  The tips of his thumbs flicked over her nipples, and Layla arched into the touch, her lashes fluttering closed. “I never thought your sense of smell was so developed.”

  “Only for you, it seems.” His tongue traced the line of her neck, and still he played with her nipples, rubbing them, pinching them so lightly it made her breath come quick. “Like that, do you?”

  She shivered with delicious heat. “More,” she whispered.

  He groaned, tugging at her aching nipples. “Are you all sweet and slippery for me, Layla?”

  She loved that he was like this with her—free, relaxed, and slightly devious. Her fingers trailed over his hot neck, sliding beneath his collar. “Yes, Sin.”

  He hummed in appreciation. “Lift your skirts and let me see.”

  Heat rippled over her skin, and her limbs grew both tight and heavy. Her fingers struggled to gain purchase on her skirts, gathering them up, slowly exposing her stockinged legs.