That was a mystery. Why not live as a recluse far from anyone else? When she worked so hard to hide here in the city, why not do it in the countryside where it would have been so much easier?
“Well,” he said to himself. “Something to puzzle out after all.”
Next door, Lily laughed. Sam jerked upright, his blood pounding through his body. And with it desire, hunger. He took a single ragged breath, calming himself by force of will.
Time to go, he told himself. His clothes shimmered and changed, re-forming to a simple black shirt and matching jeans. His unruly desires still left him on edge, but by the time he stood outside her door, he was sure he had that under control as well.
He knocked sharply, waited. From inside he heard her voice. Very faint, very quiet. Only supernatural hearing would pick it up.
“Yes. I know. But he isn’t. Micah, you promised.”
Micah?
Sam took a single step back, watching the door warily. A coincidence, surely. It had been a common enough name at one time. And she dealt daily with the spirits of the dead.
And yet, it would explain so much.
“I’m coming.” Lily’s voice sounded a little more shaky than immediately after the mugging attempt. Like she was hopping.
“Are you okay?” he called through the door.
“Yes, I’m just—” There was a thud, followed by a crash. “Ow.”
The same panic rose up again, like a horse taking the bit in its teeth. Sam couldn’t help himself. He brought the full force of his shoulder to bear on the door.
He was about to back up and run at it when she opened it. She wore only one shoe, the other dangling from her fingers. She limped as she tried to step back. Her coppery hair was dishevelled.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Nothing.” But her face flushed red.
She dropped the shoe—a black stiletto—and wriggled a ridiculously shapely foot into it. Then she stood and pushed her hair out of her face.
She had wrought some kind of magical transformation in the time he had given her. Where before she had been dressed in shapeless casual clothes, this new outfit, a simple jersey dress, moulded the curves she had previously hidden. The shoes made her legs even longer and accentuated the line of her calves to a level of sensuality he had not expected.
Her scent carried a hint of jasmine and orange blossom, light and delicate. She wore a golden cross on a delicate chain around her neck. The tones of the metal married with the highlights in her hair. Unconstrained, it flowed down to the small of her back and it gleamed in the light.
“What?” she asked, a little unsteadily.
“Nothing. You—you look beautiful.”
The smile that broke over her face was marvellous to behold. He had seen nothing like it in centuries, perhaps longer.
“So do you.” And she blushed again, flapped her hand at him, flustered. “I mean handsome.”
“Ah, well.” He spread his arms wide, back on more familiar ground now and more comfortable for that. “I clean up well. I made dinner reservations at Chez Henri. I hope you don’t mind.”
Dinner was exquisite, but Sammael barely tasted a thing. All he could do was watch her. No spirits interfered. She smiled, she laughed, she spilled out hints about her childhood, her loneliness, information he could use. He flattered her, nudged her desire for him along, and tried to convince himself that the fact he wanted her just as much was merely a convenience. He took every opportunity to touch her hand or her arm, to walk closer on the way home.
By the time he reached the apartment building, he could hardly bear it. He twined his fingers with hers, brushed the ball of his thumb across the sensitive skin of her wrist and heard her gasp.
Without a word, he lifted her hand to his mouth, turned it over and, watching the frightened expectation on her face, kissed lightly against the throbbing vein just below the heel of her hand.
Lily’s eyelashes fluttered and she sucked in another breath.
“Sam, this is all very fast…”
“Then no more this evening, I swear it,” he said with an indulgent smile. Logic told him he could afford to be patient. His body screamed at him, offering a range of colourful suggestions of what he could do with his logic.
He walked her to her door and she stopped before she went inside, hesitating. Her heart was beating so loud he could hear it clearly, though they stood a foot apart.
Her lips parted, beautiful, tender and begging to be kissed. But he couldn’t rush her. To do that would be to lose her and if he lost her…well, the displeasure of the Nameless was not to be courted.
“Goodnight,” he said. “See you tomorrow?”
She shook her head slightly and then seemed to catch herself. “Tomorrow?”
“When I move in. I’m your new neighbour.”
The confusion melted to mirth, no, to joy. Ah yes, his chest swelled with well-warranted pride in his abilities. Yes, this was better by far.
“Well, that’s nice.” She stammered out the words, shifting from one foot to the other. But she didn’t move inside. He stood very still, watching her, admiring her, and yes, wanting her, though he would never admit it out loud. “Sam…” Her voice trembled. “Sam, why are you here?”
His heart petrified the instant she said it, dropping heavy and cold inside him. Did she know? How could she know?
And that one overheard word came back to him.
Micah.
Swallowing down anger he dared not show her, Sam forced the sudden tension in his shoulders to relax. “Lucky, I guess,” he supplied fluidly. “And my good deed of today is rewarded with both a home and a fascinating neighbour.”
Lily hesitated again, her mouth opening and closing. She looked bewildered and still a little scared. And at the same time, her eyes softened, her fists uncurling.
Bringing up his knight-in-shining-armour routine was a stroke of genius, he had to give himself that. Her fears melted away at the thought of it.
Before he knew what was happening, Lily took those brief steps forward, rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. Her hands closed on his broad shoulders to hold herself up. Sam’s lips parted to greet her, to claim her, and he gathered enough of his wits to return the unexpected kiss. As he slipped his tongue into her mouth, hers twined with it, darting around him. One hand closed on the small of her back while the other cupped her head, holding that small weight so he could take control of the kiss she had initiated. Her silken hair tangled around his fingers, and an image sprang unbidden to his mind, of Lara, kneeling before the Nameless, his hand knotting in her hair as he used her mouth.
The thought almost made him break away, but at that moment Lily made a noise deep in her throat, a small moan of need, or surrender, and pushed herself against him. Sam slid his knee between hers, parting her legs, bringing her closer so that she could not miss the hardness of his cock, the force of his arousal. She pressed in, her skin heated and turning wanton beneath his touch. His hand slid lower to mould the cheeks of her ass through the thin barrier of her dress.
Lily tore her lips from his and gasped his name as she struggled to breathe. And, though he had promised himself that he would wait, that he would make certain she was desperate and would do anything for him, Sam threw all his good intentions aside. He was a demon, after all. What place did good intentions have inside him? He kissed her chin, her throat, bent his head to run the tip of his tongue along her clavicle.
“Oh God,” she cried out. “Please, not now, Micah.” And she froze in his arms. Desire melted away from her, leaving…what? Shame?
Sam made his touch gentle again, put hurt confusion in his features. “Micah?” he asked with the innocence of a saint. “Who’s Micah?”
“He’s a friend. Just a—” Her face turned scarlet. He seemed to have a knack for making her embarrassed, though that didn’t help him in his mission.
“I see,” he said, as if he clearly didn’t, and let his hands fall to his side.
/>
Lily stood before him, devastated. Tears glistened in those gorgeous eyes. “It’s not what you think, Sam. He’s an old friend and he won’t—” She dropped her head. “He’s very protective, that’s all.” She sighed again, and her hands folded together, each finger worrying its counterpart. Was she going to tell him? Really? “There’s something you should know about me. Please don’t laugh. I’m a—a psychic.”
He paused a moment, as if letting the enormity of the statement sink in. Most men would laugh, he realised. He wondered how many had. How many had laughed in her face and called her deluded, or mad? So he didn’t. Hurting her would only damage his cause. He couldn’t have that. He would be understanding, a believer. He would be her dream come true.
“As in ‘I see dead people’?”
“Hear them, actually,” she said hurriedly. “Most of the time. But Micah is my…my spirit guide.”
I’m sure he is. Sam kept the knowing smile inside. It had to be him. There was no one else with the gall. And they would never leave someone like her unprotected.
Lily shifted feet again, her luminous eyes expectant. “Do you believe me?”
He hesitated for just long enough. Then he nodded. “I guess I do. If you do.” He reached out and took her hand again, lifting it to his mouth so he could place a chaste kiss on her knuckles. They were white with tension, and her hand trembled. He smiled as his lips brushed her skin. Micah was here. And this had just got a lot more interesting. He wasn’t hunting just one soul anymore, no matter how bright, but two.
And one of them was immortal.
Chapter Three
Micah watched Lily kiss Sammael, hardly able to believe she was the same woman who had left, so nervous that when she had been trying to put her shoes on and hurry for the door she had lost her balance and fallen. Those same shoes now lay by her bed and she was singing to herself, a beatific smile on her face.
I have to tell her. His heart sped up at the thought of such a transgression. I have to. Her soul is at stake.
Like the rustling of leaves in a gale, Micah sensed the approach of another of his kind. He froze, wishing he could escape before this particular confrontation. Once, he had stood high in the Holy Court but that was long ago, as his brethren never ceased to remind him, either intentionally or not.
“Micah, what are you planning?” asked Enoch. A warning hung in the voice, a hint of disapproval.
“It’s Sammael. I can’t just let her continue to walk blindly into his sphere of influence.”
Enoch sighed. He acted as the Metatron, the voice of the Creator, but not in this instance. In this moment, he spoke as a brother, and his tones were both gentle and reproachful. “If you do so, the Holy Court will be forced to remove you from her. She will have no protection whatsoever. If you tell her what Sammael is, what you are, you will fail and she will be damned. Are you willing to risk that?”
“No.” Micah drew in a ragged breath and Enoch withdrew, a trace of satisfaction remaining behind like a smudge on glass. Micah opened his eyes to gaze on her. She looked blissful. And he hated himself both for resenting that and for risking her.
Micah tentatively made his presence felt again. He’d been so relieved when he sensed her outside the door that he’d gone to greet her, only to find her entwined with the bastard demon sent to seduce her. Her response had been to drive him back inside so he didn’t know what happened next. Whenever she came within range of Sammael, Micah’s awareness of her blurred. In fact, if he was not standing right beside her, it was difficult to discern her at all. Sammael seemed to overshadow her. A disturbing thought.
But if Sammael was here to seduce her then why had he left it at just an intimate kiss? Why was he not in here now with her, sprawled on the bed?
The thought of the two of them naked together sent an unexpected flash of pain through him. And something else. Something uncomfortably like arousal. Micah had been watching over her for so many years, but he still left her those moments of intimacy with her lovers. There had not been many, but some had brought her joy like this before they brought her sorrow.
He sat on the bed beside her and she must have felt the shift, or perhaps simply his proximity.
“Micah?”
“Yes, my bright one.”
She smiled. It pained him that she did. “I’m glad you’re here.”
A thousand answers came to mind, all of which were too petty to voice. “I am glad you are here too.”
“He wasn’t like you thought he would be. He’s wonderful.”
“He’s dangerous. I know you don’t want to hear it, Lily, but it’s true, and however wonderful he seems now—”
“Micah, anyone would think you’re jealous,” she said, laughing. “I’m going to take a shower. Keep talking to me?”
Jealous. That was what she thought? Not concerned for her welfare, or doing his duty to protect his charge. Not guarding her as he had guarded her for all her adult life. Jealous.
And he forced himself to admit that, yes, she was probably right.
And not just of Sammael.
In the ranks of Heaven, the touch of an angel was considered the highest joy, and what was a demon but an angel who had fallen? There he was, a fallen angel, so close, and even though he was the enemy, the eternal enemy, part of Micah yearned to see him, to touch him. To be near him.
No! It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t right. He had to keep Lily away from him before Sammael managed to win both her heart and her soul. He was already halfway there and if he continued along this path, Lily would love him unreservedly in no time. And then she would do anything to please him, even if it meant damnation.
The sound of the water in the bathroom drew his attention back to Lily. And then an image flared in his mind, of what she must look like, naked, water drizzling down her milky skin, beading on her firm, high breasts. Steam wreathed around her while she washed herself, the soap suds trailing between her legs and—
“You’re doing this, aren’t you?” His mental sending was part groan of need and, from near at hand—far too near at hand—he got his response.
“Just giving you a helping hand, Mike.” Sammael’s voice came to him, its mocking tone ringing clearly around his head. “As I remember things, imagination was never your strong point. Thought a few well-placed images might help.”
Arousal surged up through him, from his groin to his brain. A gasp of air escaped him as he saw her again, on the bed, Sammael covering her, filling her. Her body arched and she cried out in wild abandon, clutching the sheets.
“It’s going to be so much fun, Mike. You’ll see. I’ll make sure of that. Every little detail.”
Abruptly the image stopped and Micah was released so suddenly that he staggered forward, gasping for air.
“And if you think that’s good,” Sammael teased, “you wait and see what I do to her next.”
“Micah?” Lily’s voice dragged him back to her reality. She stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, her long hair dripping glistening trails down her exposed skin. “You okay?”
Was he? Demons were demons, and Sammael’s reputation as one of the most dangerous was well deserved. Micah struggled to bring his body back under control. His cock already stood erect and eager for her. How could he talk to her now, share the intimate contact of mind on mind, when his body, however ethereal, was hell-bent on betraying him?
“‘Hell-bent’.” Sammael laughed, his presence hovering around Micah like a shroud. “That’s funny, Mike. Real funny.”
When he didn’t answer, Lily shrugged and let the towel drop. Micah’s arousal turned to steel and he heard Sammael laugh out loud this time.
Next door. The bastard was right next door.
Lily brushed her hair and tied it into a plait, still wet. Micah drew back, trying to escape from the room yet unable to tear himself away from her. Somehow Sammael was holding him here, close to her. But if he spoke now, she’d know he’d been here, that he’d seen her naked.
> His mouth went dry as she turned to face him and he beheld the full length of her.
“You’ve wanted that sweet body for so long, haven’t you?” Sammael said, and it was like breath playing on Micah’s neck and ear. “Tell me, Micah, do angels dream of sex with a woman like her in the way demons do? She’s a light. There’s nothing quite like one. It’s almost as fulfilling as the bliss of Heaven, they say. Do you ache for her, my friend? Is it the innocence that attracts, or is it something else? Let’s see, shall we?”
Lily slipped a silken nightgown on. It tumbled over her curves, clinging to her breasts. It couldn’t hide the erect nipples. Rather it emphasised them. As she climbed onto the bed, she brushed a hand over the swell of her breasts, and a shiver ran through Micah’s body.
Anticipation.
“No,” he told Sammael. “You can’t make me watch this.”
“I don’t have to make you, Micah. You can’t look away, can you?”
True, too horribly true.
Lily rubbed her palm across her breast, the material moving with her, and she sighed. Her other hand slid down to part her thighs, drawing up the bottom of the nightdress. The silk pooled like water around her as she slid a finger inside her depths.
Micah backed up to the wall, but he couldn’t escape, not from Lily, not from Sammael.
“You want her, don’t you?” Sammael said, and something gave Micah a little shove forward. “Go to her, make love to her. You know you want to.”
“It’s a breach of trust.” Micah closed his eyes but it didn’t help. Lily gave a little pleasure-filled moan and lay back on the bed, moving languorously against her own hand.
“Then allow me,” Sammael replied.
Micah’s eyes snapped open as Sammael materialised before him, naked and insubstantial as a ghost, so only Micah could see him. The sculpted muscles of his back flexed as he approached the bed, but Lily didn’t look up. She couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him. She didn’t even know he was there.
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