Raziel

by Kristina Douglas

  I considered ignoring him. I didn’t want to face him, didn’t want to talk to him after that hot, urgent coupling that undoubtedly meant far more to me than it had to him. I closed my eyes, letting him pull my legs apart, and the wet warmth of the washcloth made me shudder in unexpected reaction. Those were his hands, washing me with an unlikely tenderness, and for some reason I wanted to cry.

  I lay perfectly still beneath as he took care of me, my eyes closed, just wishing he’d go away and leave me. He was going to, sooner or later, and he might as well get it over with.

  “I’m not going away,” he said.

  “Stop reading my mind!” I cried, my voice catching on a sob. I didn’t tend to become emotional after sex, but this was an anomaly on every front.

  He cursed under his breath. And then he simply moved over me, between my legs, and before I realized what he was doing he’d pushed inside me again, fully hard, and I let out a little yelp of shock as I shifted to accommodate him.

  He held very still, and I opened my eyes to look at him, to see the expression on his face. He was staring down at me, his long fingers cupping my face, his gaze intent.

  “Don’t move,” he whispered. He made a small gesture, and the lights dimmed, covering us with shadows. His head dropped, his mouth against my neck, his breath on my skin. “Am I hurting you?”

  I tried to find my voice. It felt as if I were sinking into a dark place of pleasure and forgetfulness. The feel of him inside me was like nothing I’d ever known before, and now that the first, fevered rush was over I could let my body experience it fully. It felt like a blessing, a benediction, a powerful act of claiming that still somehow eluded me. I shook my head, unable to speak, and I knew he smiled against my skin.

  “Good,” he said softly. He kissed my shoulder, and I could feel his tongue, his teeth, lightly graze the base of my neck, and I suddenly went into overdrive. My body reacted instinctively, tightening around him, and I could feel his smile again. “No,” he whispered. “You don’t want that.”

  I wanted to tell him yes, I absolutely did want that, but my voice had disappeared. Just as well—I would probably have begged him.

  “You don’t have to beg,” he said. “Just hold still and let me do this.” He slid his hands beneath my butt, pulling me up close against him, and I wrapped my legs around him. The faint ache disappeared in a second, almost before I felt it, and the shift of position brought him in deeper still, and I reacted once again with that instinctive tightening.

  He lifted his head to look down at me, and I stared up into his strange eyes, mesmerized. I no longer wanted to hide, to look away. He was invading my soul again, just as he had earlier, only this time he was invading my body at the same time, and I wanted more.

  “There’s a limit to what you can take, Allie,” he whispered in my ear, reading me again. “I don’t want to hurt you.” And he began to move, a slow, sweet slide, and I found I could make noise after all, a deep, longing moan, as I slid my arms around his back and held him close, feeling his muscles bunch and release against my hands, wanting the feel of him, the taste of him, all around me.

  The slow, steady rhythm of it was shattering. All I had to do was hold on to him as he moved, and each time he filled me I felt a dancing shimmer of delight wash over my body. There was something devastating about the measured, steady ease of it, no rush to completion, no rules, no judgment, just the thick slide of him inside me, touching places I hadn’t known existed, building toward a climax so powerful I wasn’t sure I could survive.

  It would be a good death. He pulled me tighter against him, going deeper, and I cried out as the first climax hit me.

  We were both covered with sweat, sliding against each other, and I bit his shoulder, tasting him, tasting the salt-sweat of him, and I wanted faster, harder, but he wouldn’t be rushed, thrusting into me at a steady rate that was going to make me scream, I knew it, he needed to stop, I couldn’t bear any more, I needed him to go faster, harder, I needed more, and I clawed at his back in desperation, reaching for a completion like I’d never known.

  He reached behind him and took my arms, slamming them down on the mattress as he rose up, pumping into me. The second climax hit me, and then I couldn’t stop. I needed nothing more than the steady movement of him inside me to bring me to a place I hadn’t believed existed, and I threw myself out into the stars as his hands pressed down on mine and the iridescent darkness closed around us once more.

  I could feel him inside me, coming, and I arched back, wanting his mouth on me, wanting his teeth on me. Please, I thought, and I felt his mouth against my neck and the first sharp bite of his teeth.

  And I was complete.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I COULD TASTE HER BLOOD ON MY tongue. I touched my mouth, drew my fingers away, and saw the blood on them. I brought my hand back and licked it, the richness of her blood pulsing through me. It had been nothing. The slightest puncture. No veins, not the pulsing artery at the base of her neck that was only allowed for bonded mates. This was barely more than a scrape of my teeth against her soft skin. And it was intoxicating.

  I had left her asleep in the middle of the big bed, a small figure wrapped in a down blanket. She looked exhausted, as well she might. I had done my level best to wear her out, and she’d sleep for a long time.

  I could see the mark on her neck, the place where I’d bitten her. At least some tiny portion of sanity had remained and I’d managed to pull back. There was a love mark where I’d sucked at her, and the tooth marks were already fading. It had been dangerously close, though. We were already too tied to each other, with breath and now with semen. If I took any more of her blood, there would be no way out.

  It had been enough to give me the answers I needed. Uriel could cloud a great many things. He had the harsh powers of a Supreme Being, without the mercy or compassion or any interest in them. But even Uriel couldn’t keep a veil up when she reached her completion and lay cocooned in my wings. And there was no way her blood would be so pure, so rich, so nurturing, if Uriel had touched it. It would have been as bitter as acid.

  I should have stopped with the one time. No one in Sheol could deny her right to be here from this point onward. I had claimed her, tasted her. No one else could touch her now. She was my responsibility, nothing more, I reminded myself. Little wonder that I’d lost myself in the sweet welcome of her body.

  I’d been celibate too long.

  But with my mouth on her neck, breaking through the frail barrier of her flesh, I had almost made an irrevocable mistake. At least I’d managed to pull away before I’d poisoned myself. She’d been reaching for it, not knowing what she sought. Arching her neck against my mouth, offering herself, but it was my fault, my responsibility. And after that first light taste, I was consumed with need.

  It was a need I could control. I washed and dressed, then headed out onto the narrow balcony. I could sense where she’d been sitting, and it jarred me.

  It was a long terrace—she could have chosen any number of places. Why had she sat in the same spot where I usually stayed, looking out over the ocean, my wings outspread to the night air?

  I didn’t think she’d noticed my wings wrapped around her. She’d been too caught up in her climax to realize when my wings unfurled and surrounded us tightly, a protective hood.

  It doesn’t always happen. It hadn’t with any of the women I’d used over the last decade or so to relieve my needs. It should have surprised me that it happened this time, but it didn’t. Nothing about Allie Watson surprised me anymore.

  My body was still humming with satisfaction and rekindled desire. I could have stayed in that bed, but the closer to her I got, the greater my hunger.

  It would be so much easier if I could send her somewhere else to sleep, but that would cause too much gossip. With luck I’d be able to convince the Council that she was no threat, and I could keep my distance, keep the ties between us from growing any stronger. I’d been very careful not to touch he
r more than strictly necessary in a vain attempt to keep the act impersonal. If I could just shut off this sudden raging need for her, I’d be fine.

  Her sleeping mind was a blank to me, and her waking mind was fading with each sex act. If she’d known that, she probably would have jumped me earlier. Between bonded mates, the mental link lessened and evened out between the two. It was easy enough to read human sex partners, but after multiple couplings that ability lessened, probably from lack of use. The women I’d slept with were straightforward and simple to read, just as Allie had been in the beginning. I’d known perfectly well that she wanted me, or at least thought she did. But I’d also known she was uncertain about something as simple and logical as sex, despite her experience. And that she didn’t like her body, which amazed me, since I thought she was close to perfection. Her body had distracted me from the very beginning, the sheer lushness of her curves, the delicious softness of her thighs, the high, round butt. I’d done very well not thinking about it, skittering out of her mind whenever she allowed herself to fantasize.

  I’d been too caught up in my own reactions during sex to see hers, beyond her blind pleasure. For me the sex had been disastrous—so much worse than I’d expected, because I’d been shaken by it, so overwhelmed by the power of it that I’d had to repeat it immediately. The wiser thing to do would have been to walk away from her. Instead I’d thought I’d tend to her, be gentle and distant, and within moments I’d been inside her again, lost in her.

  With luck, she’d be disappointed. I’d heard and seen her fantasies—no one could live up to that. With luck, my ability to read her would have faded enough that I wouldn’t see anything that might . . . precipitate something. Touching her again would be very unwise.

  Now, if only my cursed body understood that.

  IT WAS EARLY AFTERNOON WHEN I finally awoke, alone. I knew he wasn’t in the apartment, though I wasn’t sure how. I could drag myself out of bed and into the shower without running into him. It was a small blessing, but I’d take it.

  I wasn’t sure what I’d say to him. How to react. I knew instinctively that this wasn’t the start of a love affair. If I went up to him, touched him as a lover would, I could just imagine his reaction, and I shuddered. I would have to do my best to read him. If he was suddenly affectionate . . . the thought was seductive in ways far more dangerous than simple sex. Not that sex was simple, in particular sex with Raziel. Sex with an angel. Sex with a vampire. The best sex of my life, afterlife included.

  But that wasn’t the way it was going to be. As sure as I knew he was gone, I knew he was going to act as if last night had never happened. And I could damned well do the same.

  I was going to have to be careful, though. He could read my thoughts, see my fantasies, and he’d never believe my lies. Really, that was as close a definition of hell as any. A place where you couldn’t fool your lover.

  Your lover. He wasn’t my lover. He was the man who’d taken me to bed last night for reasons I hadn’t quite understood. It had been necessary, he’d said. For an act of duty rather than desire, he’d managed pretty damned well, I thought, letting the shower pound down on my body. But why had he done it a second time?

  I wrapped myself in one of the huge bath towels, white terry cloth, of course, and went to the closet, resigning myself to white cult couture. Instead my eyes were met with an explosion of colors, rose and green and aqua and pale yellow. For the first time, my heart lightened. Sarah had come through. And how Raziel would hate it. It was enough to cheer me up.

  I pulled out a swirling dress of rainbow colors. The neckline was too low, exposing my abundant charms, and I almost chickened out. But I pulled it on anyway, heading back into the bathroom to check it out.

  It fit perfectly. I stared at my face in the mirror, shocked. I looked like me, and yet like a stranger. My thick brown hair curled around my face, my eyes were huge, my lips . . . I had to admit it, they were swollen from his mouth.

  But that wasn’t the only place his mouth had been. I saw the mark on the side of my neck. Not the distinct puncture marks from vampire movies, but a scrape, made by something sharp. His teeth? He’d tasted me, I realized, but he hadn’t fed.

  He’d had sex with me, but we hadn’t made love. And I was suddenly depressed.

  As far as I could tell there were no clocks in Sheol, but I surmised it was somewhere around midday, both by the level of the sun in the misty sky and by the growling of my stomach, which was impressive. I climbed out one of the windows and went out onto the parapet. The damp sea air caught my hair and tossed it back, and I breathed in deeply. Suddenly looking at the ocean wasn’t enough—I needed to be down there, walking barefoot in the grass, wading in the gentle surf. I was tired of being a pariah.

  The apartment’s front door opened easily, to my relief. I passed people on the stairs this time, but the hostility I’d felt from them seemed to have disappeared. No one glared at me—they even managed a friendly smile here and there—but clearly I was the least of their worries. Something was going on, and my self-centered mopiness faded as a real sense of anxiety began to intrude.

  I made it all the way down the endless flights of stairs, though I knew that was the easy part. I half-expected one of the angelic gatekeepers to stop me as I went toward the door, but no one seemed to have any time for me, an absolute blessing.

  I stepped outside onto the thick green grass and quickly kicked off the sandals I’d found. The wind was blowing in from the sea, and I let the damp air sweep over me, closing my eyes in pleasure. My skin would taste of salt, I thought. His skin would taste of salt. And that familiar/unfamiliar heat surged between my legs. Where he had been.

  I walked over the grass, then the layer of small stones, then onto the sand, leaving wet footprints as I moved toward the retreating waves. It was odd that I’d never learned to swim, when I loved water so much. I think I’d always been slightly afraid of it, certain that I’d drowned once in a past life. How strange to think that in truth it had been in an afterlife, while trying to save a fallen angel.

  I looked around me. The grounds spread off to the right, and for a moment I stared. It almost looked as if there were a shimmer at the distant edge, like a heat mirage, but the weather was temperate and there was no bright sun. I started toward it, walking in the sand, half-expecting it to move. Would I be able to touch it? Put my hand through it? Could I walk through it, to the other side and the real world that Raziel insisted no longer existed for me?

  I would be a fool not to try.

  I thought it might coalesce as I got closer, but it didn’t. I was close enough to feel it, and I stopped short, staring at it. It was some kind of Star Trefe-ian energy field. It pulsed, almost as if it were alive, and I reached out my hand to touch it—

  “Move away from the wall, Allie,” Sarah said, her tone sharp, and I jumped back, startled.

  “Is that what it is?” I said disingenuously. What else could it possibly be? But for some reason I didn’t want Sarah to know I was thinking about running away.

  “That’s what it is,” she said, her usually warm blue eyes flat. “What were you doing?”

  I shrugged. “I was curious.”

  She surveyed me for a long moment. “You’re lying,” she said eventually. “And I don’t know why. Raziel told us he lay with you, that he used the Grace of Knowing and even tasted your blood, and that there was no darkness within you, so it must be true.”

  “He told you?” I said in a strangled voice. “All of you?”

  “All of us. Otherwise you’d be back where he was told to leave you. Most of the Council wanted you gone anyway—only Raziel and I fought for you.”

  “Raziel fought for me? Why?”

  A small smile curved Sarah’s mouth. “You’ll have to ask him. I know you have a reason to be here in Sheol, but I see things others don’t. Maybe Raziel was simply being stubborn. Maybe it was something more. But you need to come away from the wall. The others won’t be as open-minded. They still
think Raziel might be blinded by . . .” She let the words trail off, and her smile widened.

  “By what?”

  She threaded her arm through mine. “Never mind. Let’s just get away from here. It will be getting dark soon, and the Nephilim are near.”

  I shivered, suddenly cold, remembering those howls during the long night when I’d watched over Raziel’s body. Time seemed suspended, moving oddly. It seemed so long ago that I’d curled up next to him, and it was only three days.

  I’d heard those unearthy screams last night as well. Before Raziel gave me something else to think about.

  By the time we reached the grass, I’d almost managed to shake off my feelings of dread. Until I looked into Sarah’s eyes. “What’s wrong? Where is everyone?”

  She looked at me for a long moment, considering. “They’re going to break through. Everyone knows it, we just don’t know when. Someone has led them to the gate, and someone will let them in.”

  “Not me!” I said in horror.