by Ryals, R. K.
Our noses were practically touching when he stopped, his face so close I was almost cross-eyed. The hand on the back of my head tightened, his fingers digging into my scalp. My eyes widened.
"Are you afraid?" Marcas whispered, his breath leaving a trail across my face, and I shivered.
"No," I answered.
Even I could hear the way my voice trembled, and Marcas smiled. His frowns had always been beautiful in that sad, mysterious, dangerous way that made me want to dig through his faceted layers to discover what made him tick. But his smiles . . . those were sexy. They made any doubt of his powers vanish because those smiles could set Hell, Heaven, and Earth on fire.
"You should be," he said softly.
He knew I'd ask. It just wasn't in me not to.
"Why?" I breathed.
Marcas' free arm went around my waist, and he brought me into him, lifting me just enough I could feel my hip against the side of the table.
"Because I have no intention of letting you go. Understood?"
And with that, his mouth crashed down onto mine. There was no time to think about what he said, and I had no desire to answer him. All I cared about was his lips on mine, the feel of his breath against my mouth, the feel of electricity that moved along my limbs as I brought my hand to the back of his head.
My fingers dug as harshly into his scalp as his did into mine, and I gasped against his lips as he lifted me onto the table, his arm dropping to the wood as he leaned over me.
He pulled away only briefly, just long enough to kiss the tip of my nose before moving to my lips again.
"Mine," he breathed fiercely.
His kiss was deep, bruising even, and I held on for dear life, letting emotion sweep me into a place of pure oblivion. Absently, I noted his hand had moved from the table to the skin under my sweatshirt and everywhere his fingers grazed, he left a burning trail. I leaned into his touch, my own hands moving under his black tee to trace the cobra on his back.
It was all either one of us needed. Skin touching skin, lips pressed so firmly together, there was doubt as to where one began and the other ended.
I brought one hand to his face, my hand skimming the stubble on his jaw as I leaned away, firmly holding his face against mine as my lips parted briefly.
"Yours," I promised.
And then I was kissing him again.
No one told me that one day a kiss would mean more than the touch of lips, that it would mean more than a moment of pleasure. No one told me that one day a kiss would define who I would become, that it would rearrange what was and wasn't important to me. No one told me, because I don't think there are words to describe the kind of kiss that Marcas and I shared now. It was the kind of kiss that made promises without words, that whispered secrets no one else would ever share.
In that moment, his hand skimming lightly along my rib cage, his fingers tangled in my hair, his skin against my fingers, I died. And in that moment, his breath against mine, my hand skimming his abdomen lightly, his eyes wide open staring into mine, I was reborn.
Chapter 15
My daughter is a wise girl, her wisdom well beyond her Earthly years. I have always believed I knew her destiny. I was wrong.
~Bezaliel~
I couldn't shake the kiss. Even now, standing at the top of the stairs that led down into the courtyard, I could feel Marcas' mouth on mine, his hands on my skin. It was like he was inside of me now, and I couldn't shake him. It had been the longest short kiss of my life. It had lasted forever. It hadn't last long enough. And when he had finally pulled away, his hands still on the skin under my shirt, he had looked at me and said, "When we go down into Hell, don't let go."
There had been a knock at the refectory door followed shortly by the creaking of the hinges, but neither of us had moved. Even when Monroe's voice had infiltrated the moment, Marcas' hands still remained on my skin.
"I have the amulet," she'd said softly.
And still those words had done nothing more than make Marcas look at the door, removing one hand to hold it out toward Monroe.
"Thank you. I hope you know I'm impressed with your power."
Monroe had smiled at him then. There had always been tension between the two. From the moment Monroe had awoken to find Marcas facing off with me in her bedroom until now, I think she had been wary. But things change, and Monroe was a lot smarter than most of us. Sometimes I think she saw things the way Maria did. I know Monroe had visions. I know those same visions could be powerful, too real. I also knew she had more magic than your average witch. Otherwise, the amulets wouldn't be possible.
"Guard it. It will protect you only as long you wear it," Monroe had said.
Marcas nodded, stepping away from me and stooping so that Monroe could place the amulet around his neck. He winced slightly when it touched his skin, and I knew the magic recognized him as a Demon.
"I won't remove it."
Monroe looked relieved, her eyes moving to me as she backed toward the door.
"In case I don't get the chance to tell you again, be safe. You will make a choice in Hell," Monroe said as she paused at the door. Her eyes searched mine, and I felt the love that would always be between us. No matter how much we grew, how much we changed, she and I would always be connected. "I trust this choice. I'm Wiccan. I don't have the links the rest of you have to Heaven and Hell. But I know this choice is the right one even if it seems wrong."
I nodded. I didn't ask her what she was referring to. She'd had a vision. It was obvious, and I was becoming used to people making vague references to decisions I may have to make. What I respected about Monroe, however, is that she trusted me to make the right one. She would never force me to make one that felt right to everyone else.
Behind her, Luther appeared in the hall and Monroe bumped into him. She placed a hand against her chest, startled, and Luther chuckled before nodding.
"Witch," he'd said softly.
Monroe had glanced at him only briefly before retreating.
"I like her," Luther said as he moved into the room following Monroe's departure.
Marcas lifted a brow.
"You scare her."
Luther grinned.
"That's why I like her."
I couldn't help it, I laughed as I started to move past them to the door, but Marcas took me by the hand before I could make it far.
"Stay close. We'll be leaving soon," he said softly.
I nodded and moved away, leaving the two Demons to discuss what they needed to discuss, brother to brother, friend to friend. My eyes met Marcas' only once before I closed the door behind me, and in that gaze I saw everything I ever needed to know about the two of us.
That had been a little over an hour ago. It was time now to meet in the courtyard. Two hours had passed since everyone had walked out of the refectory and left Marcas and I alone. Only two hours, but we couldn't risk giving Hell a chance to discover what Marcas planned to do.
"Are you ready?" Conor asked suddenly from behind me on the stairs, and I nodded without looking his way.
"I've been there before."
"Not unbound and not to challenge Satan for power," Conor said.
"Maybe," I replied. "But I'm ready nonetheless."
I took a step down, my hand sliding along the bannister as I moved. Conor stayed close behind me.
"She's a hybrid." Conor said softly.
I paused two more steps down and turned to him.
"What?"
Conor's blue eyes met mine. He swept his blonde hair off his forehead, his place on the staircase making him appear so much taller than his already six foot height.
"The girl I was assigned to protect. My mark. She's part Demon."
I gaped at him. Conor. A Demon. It wouldn't seem odd if it weren't for the fact that Conor seemed to hate Demons. He had showed a loathing for Marcas from the moment they'd laid eyes on each other.
Conor must have read the surprise in my eyes because he flinched.
"I'm learning
, Red. I've spent the past two years protecting people from Demons. It's hard for me to see them as anything more than evil."
I understood that. Really, I did. I hadn't exactly been doing cartwheels of excitement when I discovered what Marcas was.
I turned and continued down the stairs, my back to Conor.
"If Marcas succeeds, then maybe it will change things for hybrids," Conor said as we reached the bottom of the stairs.
I reached out and pulled open the door to the courtyard. It was chilly outside, and I rubbed my arms as the wind moved into the Abbey.
"I think it will begin change," I said, turning once more to Conor.
The others were already gathered on the lawn beyond, and I knew time was of the essence, but I took a moment to look at Conor with all of the affection I had ever felt for him.
"I loved you once," Conor whispered.
I smiled.
"And now?"
Conor smiled in return.
"Oh, I still do, but it's different."
I let go of the door and moved to him, taking a deep breath as his arms went around me. It was a comfortable feeling being held by Conor.
"I love you too," I said softly, my arms tightening around him. "You and Monroe have been my family when I had no one else."
Conor sighed.
"And you mine. Be careful, Red."
With that, we parted, and I moved back to the door. I wasn't sure when I'd see Conor next, but I knew when I did, there would be no awkwardness between us. For now, however, there was only Marcas, standing ready in the courtyard, his feet apart, the amulet glowing against his black t-shirt as he held up his hand. I moved toward him, ignoring the stares of the nameless S.O.S. members.
"Ready?" Luther asked as I passed by him.
He fell into step next to me, and I cocked a brow in his direction. He laughed.
"Bad question, right?"
We were next to Marcas now, and he reached down and took my hand in his.
"Remember. Don't let go," Marcas ordered.
I nodded just as the portal to Hell opened, leaving a black, circling vortex in the Abbey's overgrown courtyard. I avoided looking to the place where I knew my mother had died, but I did look up, my eyes catching on a window just above the gardens. There was a face in the glass, a soft yellow glow behind her, and I knew it was Amber. She and I weren't good at goodbyes. I nodded my head at her, and she nodded back. It was enough.
"I could go," I heard Lucas telling my father behind us, but I shook my head, turning just enough to gaze over my shoulder.
"No."
Bezaliel's gaze met mine. That one word said it all. I didn't want anyone's protection. This was my decision. This was Marcas' domain. This was Marcas' battle and Luther and I were going to fight with him. This was not about me.
"Ready?"
This time it was Marcas who asked, and I nodded, feeling my feet lift off the ground before we were suddenly cloaked in darkness. There was no time for second thoughts, no time for regrets, and I did the one thing Marcas asked of me. I didn't let go.
Chapter 16
Hell. Lucifer's domain. It is a dark world that sucks the world of color. It is a dark world that threatens to steal the souls of the living. It is a dark world that eliminates hope, replacing forgiveness with animosity.
~Bezaliel~
It was dark, a disconcerting ebony fall from grace. The journey to Hell was a trip I'd already made once, but the first time hadn't been by choice. The first time had been about escape, about avoiding temptation and death in order to find a Seal. This time, we weren't trying to escape the Underworld. Marcas was attempting to gain his own kingdom.
"Don't let go," I murmured to myself as we fell, my hand clutching Marcas' so tightly my skin was numb, but I didn't relax my grip.
"They are waiting," Luther said from the darkness, and I stiffened.
"They?"
Luther wasn't given any time to reply before our feet were touching solid ground, and I knew the moment the foul smell hit my nose who they were. Hellhounds.
I gagged and stumbled, righting myself as Marcas' arm came around me just long enough to lend support before my hand was in his again, his back straight as he faced the two hounds panting in front of us. I recognized them instantly.
"Brim, Ember . . ." Marcas said with a nod.
The hounds moved out of the shadows, their red eyes unsettling against the black back drop. We were in a wasteland of murky, empty streets, the cobblestone roads as dark as coal. The streets were familiar, but the lampposts from our previous trip had changed. There were fewer now, and the ones that did exist emitted a strange greenish glow that highlighted a blanket of thick fog. The mist was everywhere, a blanket of vapor that circled anything and everything in a sickly grey shroud.
"You are not welcome here," Brim growled, his sharp teeth visible as the skin drew dangerously back from his snout.
The only difference between the two hounds was the color of their fur, and it was a subtle difference at that. Brim's coat was completely black while Ember's coat was streaked intermittently with red. Both of them were massive, both of them occasionally exhaled smoke, and both of them looked entirely capable of killing us.
Ember sat back on his haunches, his sometimes yellow, sometimes red eyes locked on Marcas.
"You're a traitor," the hound said simply. "Returning now ensures your death."
Marcas stood straight, his head held high.
"Traitor? It's a harsh word, Hound, and I'm not sure you truly believe I'm the villain. I am not the one who controls you, who feeds you the lies you are forced to follow."
Ember shifted, his eyes going red, smoke pluming from his nose.
"You tread on dangerous ground," the hound warned.
Marcas appeared unfazed.
"I seek an audience with Lucifer. Tell him I'm here to issue a challenge."
Above ground, the idea of challenging Satan had sounded so much better than it did now, but I didn't falter despite my fear. I came because I needed to see this to the end, because I couldn't handle the idea of staying behind wondering if Marcas had succeeded. I think Marcas knew that. I think he knew I owed it to myself to see this finished, to know that no matter how it ended, it was over.
Ember's gaze swung to Brim and his head dipped.
"As you wish," Ember said before backing into the shadows, his red eyes the last to fade as he ducked out of sight.
I started to tremble. It was only small shudders to begin with, but they built with a ferocity that surprised me. I felt Marcas' hand tighten around mine, and I knew he felt the quivering, felt the way my hand quaked in his. Even my teeth chattered, and I couldn't seem to control the weakness that gradually overcame me. A hand settled on my shoulder, and I knew it was Luther's.
"She doesn't have your Demon blood in her system anymore. He will have a bigger affect on her now," Luther said quietly.
I wanted to ask him what he meant, but when I tried to open my mouth, it was forced closed by the spasms that now consumed me.
"It's an interesting feeling, isn't it?" a low, mesmerizing voice asked. "Weakness. Such beauty, weakness."
I didn't have to turn around to know who was behind us. His voice was like chocolate, smooth and decadent, and his presence alone made my heart stutter. Marcas moved closer to me, and I could feel Luther doing the same on my opposite side. Lucifer laughed.
"I am disappointed really, Naphil. I thought for sure the daughter of Bezaliel would have better control."
"This isn't about her," Marcas said coldly from beside me.
Lucifer paused.
"No," he said finally. "I suppose it isn't. You're here to challenge me I understand?"
One moment there was darkness before us, a sinful voice behind. The next, Lucifer was suddenly inches away, his masculine face a scary reminder of why he was the ruler of the Underworld. His hair was as black and as long as I remembered it, silky and alive, framing sharp cheekbones and eyes that shone yellow.
"Tell me, Marcas, what kind of challenge do you intend to issue?"
Marcas placed a leg in front of my leg, using his back to shield part of me from view. His hand remained locked on mine.
"I want the hybrids you've marked for death."
One of Lucifer's elegant eyebrows rose slowly.
"Do you? I see."
Lucifer didn't move. The trembling intensified. There was a buzzing sensation in the back of my head, and I rubbed at it. Lucifer grinned.
"Damned nuisance not being able to get inside," he murmured as he tapped his forehead with his finger, his yellow eyes cutting into mine.
I rubbed at my head again.
"This is between you and me. I want the hybrids," Marcas said forcefully.
Lucifer sighed. "Yes. I see that you do. And what will you give me for them? I have killed many of them already. Do you really think it wise I release the rest?"
Marcas smiled. It was an eerie smile, confident and calm. Lucifer watched him.
"I think you can't afford to lose them, but I will have them," Marcas said.
There was no emotion on Lucifer's face, but his anger was obvious. I could feel his discontent. The buzzing in my head was strong enough now to send me to my knees, but I remained on my feet. Somehow I remained on my feet.
"And what will you do if I refuse?" Lucifer asked.
The amulet at Marcas' neck began to glow, and I knew by the slight furrow between Marcas' eyes that Lucifer was attempting possession. Luther remained still but watchful. The way his gaze studied his brother made me wonder why Luther had come along. Had Marcas told Luther to kill him if Lucifer was able to take his mind? It was a thought I didn't want to consider. Lucifer stared at the amulet.