He didn’t recognize the young girl sitting at the desk in the anteroom of the infirmary. Clearly she’d been left on duty, and he put the Grace of sleep on her lightly, so that she’d wake in a few hours. He didn’t want to put Rachel at risk by knocking her caretaker out so thoroughly, but if she needed help Allie would know and leave her bed. Rachel would be in no danger.
He pushed open the door silently and slipped inside. She was asleep, as she had been those first days after he’d brought her and he wouldn’t leave her bedside. He could recognize her now. Her battered face was no longer swollen, the bruising faded to an ugly yellow. She was healing, slowly but surely.
She no longer had tubes connected to her body, though she looked very small and frail in the big white bed. It wasn’t right. He thought of her as strong, powerful, not a vulnerable human.
She still had bandages around her arms and legs, and her torso looked swollen under the sheet, either from bandages or her injuries. He didn’t want to wake her.
He sank down in the chair Allie had banished him from and watched her, contemplating her injuries. Allie’s gifts as a healer were extraordinary; such was always the case with the Source, and Rachel would be well very quickly, much faster than with normal human medicine. Raziel and Allie had decreed that she would stay. They hadn’t taken her into account.
If he’d learned one thing, it was that Rachel had a mind of her own. The problem was, she wouldn’t be safe anywhere else. Uriel hadn’t finished with her, and only the walls of Sheol could keep him out. At least for now. Uriel had spent millennia trying to figure out how to breach them, and he’d only succeeded with the Nephilim a few years ago. Sooner or later he was going to come up with an answer, though, and there would be little they could do.
She stirred in her sleep, murmuring something, and he jerked his head up, holding his breath. She slipped back into sleep again, and he relaxed, glancing toward the monitors that kept track of her pulse and her blood pressure—only to see that they were spiking.
His eyes swiveled back to her, and she was looking at him with such complete terror that it shocked him.
“Do not scream,” he said, his voice soft so as not to alert anyone.
She was shaking, and he wanted to put his arms around her and pull her against him, soothing her. Except he was the one who was frightening her. “I can’t.” It was barely more than a breath of sound in a raw, damaged voice, and he remembered that Uriel had said her voice had broken.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, starting to rise, but she shrank back, and he quickly sat down again so as not to spook her. “I wanted to see how you are.”
There was no missing the flash of contemptuous disbelief in her face. “Why should you care?” she whispered.
That was one question he couldn’t answer. “Allie is a very gifted healer.” By now he’d gotten used to praising Allie, though it still stuck in his craw just a tiny bit. “She brought you back from the brink of death.”
“No thanks to you,” she whispered. He’d forgotten she didn’t remember he’d saved her. It was hardly enough penance for allowing them to put her through such hell in the first place.
“No thanks to me,” he agreed. “But I promise you, you have nothing to fear from me. Not ever again.”
“And you lie so well.” Her voice was getting weaker, and he knew he was putting a strain on it.
“I never lied to you. I am incapable of lying.” It was the truth. He’d explained nothing, but he hadn’t lied.
“Get out of here.” The words were barely audible, but there was no missing the hatred in them.
It was no more than he’d expected. Not the fear—that had been a surprise. But the hatred and anger were normal. He’d betrayed her in every way a man can betray a woman, sent her off with torturers with his seed inside her. In truth, he was the monster.
No, he wasn’t going to tell her he’d changed his mind and gone after her. Too little, too late.
He rose, and stretched out one hand to touch her, wanting the feel of her to be absolutely certain, but she shrank away in such terror and revulsion that he pulled back, knocking against the chair as he went.
“Don’t come back,” she whispered.
He closed the door silently behind him.
I STILL COULDN’T CRY. GOD, if ever there was a time when I needed to weep, this was it. He was the monster, not me. How could anyone make love with someone and then hand her to her executioner? Not that it was making love. In fact, it was sex, hot and rough and primal, and I’d wanted it just as much as he had. I couldn’t remember much—maybe I’d even instigated it. I knew I’d been waiting, longing for him to touch me again, kiss me again.
But I couldn’t remember where we’d been. There was water, and a door behind my back. It was night, but it seemed as if it was always night in the Dark City. Wasn’t that what they’d called it?
Beloch had been nowhere to be seen. My memory was full of holes—he’d been kind, hadn’t he? Almost fatherly, in his book-lined study with the comfortable smell of pipe tobacco. He couldn’t have known that they were—
I couldn’t think about that. About the things they’d done to me. I’d discovered I could refuse to allow certain things into my memory. There were too many lifetimes, too many horrors to withstand, but I could choose to banish those I couldn’t bear. I needed to banish the Truth Breakers, and the knives, and the cooing sound they made.
Gone. It was that easy. Just as I’d banished the hundreds upon hundreds of years of lying down with monsters. It wasn’t this body, and it was over. Gone as well.
I could get rid of Azazel just as easily. Wipe out the memory of his strong hands touching me, his mouth against mine, the way he lifted me on top of him and pushed inside me.
I could get rid of that memory in the pouring rain, when I’d wrapped my legs around him and fought to get more of him. The memory of the climax that had shattered me, thrummed through my body in waves as he’d slowly released me.
And the Nightmen had come.
It would be the wise thing to do. I could remember other sex, unsatisfactory sex with humans, and maybe that was part of my curse. Though wasn’t Lilith supposed to arouse men? And I had, but not for myself. I’d aroused them for their wives, for the babies that hadn’t yet come. While I had been raped by monsters.
Gone. That was gone. And yet, in the Dark City I had only followed my natural course. I had had sex with a monster, although this one was beautiful, and he had been smooth and strong and hard. I’d learned pleasure at his hands—maybe that was worth remembering.
Allie and Raziel would protect me from him. I hadn’t asked who’d saved me—someone must have known there was trouble. I had no illusions about it: Azazel was important here. They had more than likely been watching him, and had come to save Azazel as much as to save the Lilith.
The reasons didn’t matter. I was safe, and would continue to be. Azazel would never hurt me again. Never touch me again. Allie had promised me, and her word was law.
So why did I want to weep?
C HAPTER E IGHTEEN
AZAZEL TOOK ME AT MY WORD. I never saw him, not when I walked along the beach, soaking up the sun that somehow managed to shine through the mists that surrounded Sheol. Not at the communal meals; not in the long, spacious halls of the peculiar building. It looked like an old seaside villa from Hollywood days, part bungalow, part mission style. I couldn’t remember how I knew that much. There were too many lives for me to remember, and I learned to take my arcane bits of knowledge with equanimity. I knew enough of what was important. That my curse was finally lifted. And that I didn’t dare see Azazel.
I wondered if he’d been sent away. I had been welcomed by everyone, the fallen angels whose names were the stuff of legend: Gabriel and Michael, Gadrael and Tamlel, and the lesser-known ones, with names like Cassiel and Nisroc. And their wives, sweet, quiet women whom Allie was trying to drag into the twenty-first century. For the first time in my endless life, I f
elt safe and happy, cared for and at ease, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the fact that there were no babies in Sheol had something to do with it. I wouldn’t have to watch a baby die, ever again.
I could help, though. The women assured me they had willingly traded the hope of children for the rich love they shared with their husbands, and never regretted the loss. They told me this as they wept in my arms, and my heart ached for them. At least I knew I hadn’t brought the curse of infertility to them—it had been a gift from an angry God, along with other curses they refused to speak of.
I worked in the infirmary alongside Allie, tending the small hurts and minor illnesses. Up until recently there hadn’t been so much as a cold among the Fallen, but that had changed. It had started seven years ago, with the loss of so many in the battle with the Nephilim, and the inhabitants of Sheol were slowly becoming more vulnerable.
“I’m not sure whether that’s a bad or a good thing,” Allie confided one afternoon as we sat out in the sun. For once we were doing absolutely nothing. Allie had an almost feverish energy and was seldom still, but for now we simply sat, our hands idle. “I used to call them the Step-ford wives—everyone was perfect; no one gained weight or had colds or even got so much as a splinter. It was creepy. But once the Nephilim broke through, everything changed. The wives stopped being so acquiescent, the men became less autocratic. Some of the women have even told me the sex is better, though I find that hard to believe. Sex with the Fallen is … miraculous, no matter what the circumstances.”
I felt my face heat, and I turned away to glance toward the mountains, hoping she wouldn’t notice. “Do they have magic dicks or something?” I said in my raspy voice, trying to sound cynical and unconcerned. Everything about me had recovered from the trauma the Truth Breakers had inflicted, both inside and out. Everything but the wound of Azazel’s betrayal, and my voice, now permanently raw and broken. Allie assured me it was very sexy. I couldn’t see any particular advantage in that.
I felt her eyes on me. “Don’t you know?”
So here was the question. Should I lie to her, the woman who had saved my life, and protect my tenuous peace of mind? Or did I admit to a truth she probably already knew?
But Allie was a better friend than that. She simply moved on, letting me avoid giving a direct answer. “I think it’s more a case of the Fallen only taking their true mates. When they’re between wives, they will sometimes indulge in casual sex, but I gather those couplings are simply enjoyable, not life-altering. That’s how I knew I was supposed to be Raziel’s bonded mate. It took him too damned long to admit it, of course; but then men, even the fallen-angel variety, are a pain in the ass.”
Life-altering? The moments with Azazel deep inside me went far beyond enjoyable, but I refused to believe it meant anything. Besides, he was gone, banished, and I didn’t have to—
“Raziel requires your presence.”
I let out a little shriek. I hadn’t heard him approach, had had no idea he was anywhere near. And suddenly he stood in front of us, the dark creature who’d followed me, kidnapped me, loved me, and betrayed me.
No, he hadn’t loved me. He’d simply fucked me, following orders. Orders from Uriel.
Allie’s worried eyes were on me. “What does he want? Tell him he can wait.”
“He can’t wait,” Azazel said, his blue eyes boring into me. Even in this world of color they were still vivid, hard, unreadable. “There is news.”
Allie hesitated, glancing at me again. “Then come with me—”
“No,” Azazel said. His look was physical, like a touch on my newly healed body, like a caress, and I wanted to close my eyes and revel in it. I ignored it and him as I rose, preparing to follow Allie.
He caught my arm. Just like that, he put his hand on my arm, and I was helpless to break free as a rush of feeling swept over me. “Rachel and I have unfinished business. We’ll follow in a moment.”
Allie cast me an apologetic glance. “He’s right. I’ve been keeping him at a distance, but you need to deal with it sooner or later.”
“Deal with what?” I said coldly. Azazel’s flinch was so brief I might have imagined it, but I knew what had caused it. My ruined voice.
So he was capable of feeling guilt. So what?
“The elephant in the room,” Allie said incomprehensibly. A moment later she was gone, leaving me there on the beach, with Azazel still touching me.
“What do you want?” I rasped. In truth, it was a sexy bedroom voice. For what little good it did me. “If you’re going to tell me you’re sorry, I don’t want to hear it.”
“I’m not sorry.”
Now, why didn’t that surprise me? “Then why are we talking?”
“I did what I had to do. I had no choice, and if I had to do it over, I would do it again.” His voice was cool, matter-of-fact.
“Including fucking me up against that door in the pouring rain? That was what you had to do? What you’d do over again?”
“Find me a door.”
I swallowed convulsively. So I wasn’t immune to him. That shouldn’t surprise me. Fucking Azazel was the first sexual pleasure I had known, I told myself, deliberately crude. That was a powerful influence, no matter how epic his betrayal.
“What do you want from me?”
He said nothing, and I made the mistake of looking up into his eyes. They weren’t icy cold at all, I saw with sudden shock. They were filled with heat, an earthy desire that shook me as I stared at him, and I wondered what he could see in mine.
And then I knew, as he leaned down and covered my mouth with his, and instead of pushing him away I came closer, my body drifting against his as his arm came around my waist.
He held me there, his hand on my hip, and I could feel his erection. My reaction was immediate: I was wet, longing for him, my nipples hardening in anticipation, my secret flesh quivering for his touch. His tongue pushed inside my mouth, as I wanted his cock pushing inside me, and I wanted him so desperately that everything disappeared, his betrayal, the pain, the horror. I needed him inside me; I wanted to shove him down on the sand and mount him.
I shivered, trying to fight it, but I was kissing him back, and that knowledge was a shame so great I froze.
He must have felt my sudden chill. He set me away from him, seemingly without reluctance, and his eyes were hidden by hooded lids. I didn’t have to look down to know he was still hard, to know he wanted me. Though I wondered why.
He had had others, better. Women he’d loved, presumably, though the idea of Azazel and love seemed inconsistent. “Is this part of some sadistic entertainment for you?” I said in my newly husky voice. “New ways to inflict pain?”
He didn’t react. “You have had ample time to deal with your ordeal in the Dark City.” He was cool and even, as always. “You need to come back where you belong.”
I was breathless at his gall. “And where is that?”
“In my bed.”
Fury and disbelief overpowered me, and I simply stared at him in disbelief. He took my arm, and I yanked away, stumbling back.
“We need to join the Council,” he said patiently. “I’m not about to ravish you on the sand.”
I wanted him on the sand. I was suddenly reminded of an old children’s book. In a chair, in the air, on a boat, in a coat. On the sand, with your hand. Every way I could take him. I drew myself up to my full height, hoping I was radiating dignity but knowing I probably simply looked sulky. “In your dreams,” I said.
“And yours.”
Had he seen my dreams? The wickedly erotic memories that woke me with mini climaxes? No, there was no way he could see inside my mind.
“I can read your thoughts,” he said with horrifying frankness. “Not all of them, but enough, if I try, though you are more difficult than most. I can’t see much of your dreams, but I can imagine. I have the same dreams.”
I couldn’t stand another moment talking to him. I started past him, heading toward the house, and if he’d tou
ched me I would have run. But he didn’t. He simply fell into step beside me, and it wasn’t until we’d made our way to the door of the meeting hall that he whispered, “Mini climaxes?” in a soft voice, and I could feel the heat rise and stain my face.
They were all gathered. The Fallen were seated around the table, with one chair left for Azazel. The only woman at the table was Allie—the other wives were seated in the back, and I’d started toward them when Azazel took my hand. “She belongs at the table.”
I desperately wanted to yank my hand free, but there were too many people watching, and I felt suddenly shy. “He’s right,” Allie said. “Someone get her a chair.”
“I don’t need—” I began, but Azazel overruled me.
“This is of concern to you as well.”
Someone drew another chair up to the vast table beside Azazel’s, and I had no choice. I sat, trying to keep apart from him in the confined space, but when he slid in next to me his thigh brushed against mine, and there was no way I could retreat, short of climbing into Michael’s lap—and even I stopped short of climbing into the archangel Michael’s lap, whether he’d fallen or not.
“Word has come to us,” Raziel said. “Uriel has found Lucifer’s tomb.”
This meant nothing to me. Allie had told me the Fallen were searching for the place where the Supreme Being had imprisoned the first of the Fallen, but it had nothing to do with me.
But all eyes were upon me, an unsettling situation, and I felt Azazel’s hand on my thigh, calming me, restraining me, copping a feel, I wasn’t sure which. I wanted to scuttle out of the way, but Michael was too close, and with his shaven head and tattooed body he looked almost lethal. I stayed where I was.
Finally Allie said, “Stop looking at her. Don’t you realize she doesn’t have any idea what’s going on?”
It was Raziel who spoke. “You told Uriel where Lucifer is,” he said, his measured voice expressing no censure. “That’s what the Truth Breakers were trying to retrieve from you.”
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