by Joy Nash
“Maddie. Maddie. Come back to me, caraid.”
“I can’t—”
“You can. I’m here. Grab onto me.”
The world rolled to the left. Something solid connected with her shoulders. It was the ground.
Cade was there above her. His silhouette blotted the stars. Red light clung to his head and shoulders, and when he moved, the illumination dissolved into a trail of crimson sparks. Need speared her womb. She arched her hips. She had to have him inside her. She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt.
“I need you.”
“I know, Maddie. I know.”
His voice was a cool, soothing balm to the heated insanity. His hand moved between their bodies. His fingers brushed her belly, slipped between her legs. He touched her where she longed for him. Even through the fabric of her shorts, it felt delicious. She nearly sobbed with relief as the frightening madness began to recede.
“Easy, caraid. Easy. I’m here. I won’t let it take you.”
She believed him. She opened her legs wider, and he rubbed with strong, circular strokes. Pleasure blotted the chaos. “Oh, God. Yes.”
His free hand roamed her body, stroking breasts, belly, thighs. The constriction of her waistband loosened; her shorts slipped over her hips. Cool fingers eased into her heated core. They burrowed into the burning center of her need. She hissed, arching, straining.
“Relax, caraid. Not so tense. That’s it.”
His crooning continued—cooling, reassuring, stark in contrast to the rolling fire he stoked between her thighs. His long, strong fingers parted her slick folds, slipped inside her body. His relentless thumb circled her taut bud. The fire leaped, blazed. Burned hotter than the sun. She exploded into bliss.
Again the universe spun. This time, though, she felt no fear, only a deep sense of safety. Of rightness. Cade’s hands were on her body. The pleasure he’d wrought filled her mind. There was no room for madness.
Too soon, the climax ebbed. As the savage wildness drained away, she became aware of his cradling arms. She sat in his lap; he rocked her gently, like a child. His lips touched her hair.
“That’s it. Let go now. It’s over, I’ve got you.”
Words tenderly spoken. But as the real world slowly intruded onto Maddie’s dazed mind, the awareness of what she’d done—how she’d begged him—shoved its way to the front of her consciousness. Cade’s comfort seemed suddenly shameful. With her sudden and insane sexual need sated, reality reared its ugly face.
Dear God. She’d gotten off with a virtual stranger! With a criminal who’d brazenly stolen a vehicle and kidnapped her. She wanted desperately to fling herself out of his arms, but once she did that she’d have to face the gloating satisfaction in his eyes. She wasn’t ready to face that yet. Or him. She doubted she’d ever be.
God. What had happened? Had he slipped some kind of date-rape drug into her canteen? Or was this another trick of the tumor, scrambling the arousal center of her brain?
It was Cade who made the first move to separate. Easing her off his lap to the ground, he rose and paced a few steps away. Maddie was acutely aware that he was still fully dressed. For some reason, he hadn’t penetrated her. Would it have been rape? she wondered. She’d been begging for it.
Face burning, she snatched up her shorts and underwear abandoned in a rumpled heap nearby. She dressed quickly under the moonless sky. When she was done, Cade rounded the jeep to the passenger’s side and yanked open the door.
“Get in. We’ve got to get moving.”
She hugged her torso. “Not until you tell me where to.”
“You’d rather stay here?”
“Of course not.” Here was nowhere but empty desert stretching for miles in every direction.
“At least tell me . . . what that was,” she demanded. She hoped the darkness hid her crimson face. “What we just did, I mean. It sure as hell wasn’t a natural attraction. Tell me the truth. You drugged me, didn’t you?”
He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “No.”
“You must have! I don’t throw myself at men I barely know.”
“Apparently you do.”
She flushed crimson.
“There’s a lot more about yourself you don’t know, Maddie. I’m here to help you face it.”
“By kidnapping me? By stealing Dr. Ben-Meir’s—” She cut off with a strangled sound as an image flashed in her brain: Ben-Meir, sprawled on the ground, neck bent. Glassy eyes, open and staring. This time, she knew it was no dream.
“Oh. My. God.” Hugging her waist, she bent double, gasping. “Oh my God. Dr. Ben-Meir.”
Her knees folded, but Cade’s strong arms interrupted the collapse. Scooping her up as if she weighed nothing, he deposited her on the passenger seat and locked the seat belt around her. Slamming the door, he strode to the driver’s side and took his place behind the wheel. He didn’t turn the key. Half-turned in his seat, he regarded her gravely.
“You remember.”
A crashing wave of terror threatened to suck her under. “He’s dead.”
“Yes.”
“How?” she asked.
“The man was on the floor when I arrived.” Cade seemed to hesitate. “I suspect it had something to do with the amulet in your pocket.”
“Amulet? The Watcher disc?” Her head ached with the effort of remembering. “I gave it to Dr. Ben-Meir. Then I wanted it back. He wouldn’t give it to me. I tried to take it, and then . . .”
The scene reformed in her mind, red-tinged and hazy. “And then something exploded. I think . . . I think it was the stone fragment in the center. Oh, God. That’s impossible!” She shoved her hand into her pocket and pulled the relic out. It lay warm and heavy in her palm. “The stone’s right here. See? It’s safe.”
His expression didn’t change. “That’s an odd choice of word.”
She traced the seven golden circles. Ancient dirt stained the angry crease that nearly split the disc in two.
The few unbroken prongs held the remaining fragment of stone too loosely. She bent the gold prongs, tightening them around the crimson gem. She peered at it intently. She could no longer discern any illumination. Had the light ever been real? Or had it been in her mind?
“This relic couldn’t have had anything to do with Dr. Ben-Meir’s death,” she said shakily. “That’s ludicrous.”
Cade didn’t answer. During the stretch of silence, more fragments of memory assembled. Maddie remembered anger. Her anger. And Ben-Meir’s. Also, perhaps, anger from a third source. From the red stone itself? No. That really was insane.
The scene played over and over in her mind. A flash of light. The archeologist’s head, whipping violently to one side. Her own body flying backward. Pain exploding in the back of her skull.
Cade was telling the truth, she realized. At least about not killing Dr. Ben-Meir. He hadn’t been there when it happened. She remembered crouching on the floor, trying to work up the courage to approach the corpse. The door had swung open. Cade appeared. He stared at the body with a shock that couldn’t have been feigned.
But if Cade hadn’t killed Ben-Meir, who or what had? She and her boss had been arguing over the disc. She might have shoved him. Could she have pushed him hard enough to break his neck? Maybe. But there had been an explosion. She was sure of that, at least. What had caused it?
“Why did you come to the work hut?” she asked Cade. “At that particular time, I mean. Did you see the explosion? Did you hear it?”
“I heard nothing,” he said. “I saw a flash through the window. A dark red light.”
Hot tears stung Maddie’s eyes, which she closed tight. It hadn’t been the tumor. This was real. Cade had seen the red light, too. Cade had seen the red light.
Whatever relief she felt at his confirmation died when she opened her eyes and stared down at the disc. She murmured, “And . . . you think this amulet somehow caused the explosion? But how can that be? It’s just a hammered sheet of gold with a red stone in the center.
It’s harmless.”
“Not harmless,” Cade said. “Not even close. That talisman was formed with Watcher blood magic. It’s deadly.”
Maddie’s head jerked up. “Be serious.”
“Oh, I am. I assure you.”
“But . . . the Watchers weren’t really magical. They weren’t fallen angels. They were men. The legend is just that. A legend.”
“Many legends hold truth.”
“Rational truth, maybe,” she insisted. “Not fantasy come to life.”
“The Watchers are no fantasy, Maddie. They’re real.”
“Real fallen angels living on earth? Mating with human women? That’s just ridiculous.”
“That amulet isn’t ridiculous. It’s lethal. It killed Ben-Meir.”
She stared at the thing. “If you really believe that, maybe we should get rid of it. Toss it into the desert.”
“And risk someone else finding it? Not bloody likely.”
“Destroy it, then.” But even as she spoke, something deep inside her recoiled.
“Easier said than done.”
She exhaled in relief as Cade shook his head. “But what if it . . . explodes again?” she asked.
“I suspect as long as I don’t try to take it from you, the way Ben-Meir did, it won’t.”
“He didn’t take it,” she said. “I gave it to him.”
“You said you tried to take it back,” he reminded her. “That’s when it exploded. And killed him.”
“While he and I were struggling for it.” She stared at Cade. “You think the argument somehow triggered that explosion?”
He shrugged. “I think it’s a good possibility.”
Chilled to the bone, Maddie shivered. How had her life turned into this bizarre nightmare? She frowned down at the piece, then, for want of any other option, slipped it back into her pocket. Its heat seeped into her thigh. Somehow she didn’t feel any warmer.
“We’ve got to go back to the dig. Once the sun comes up, Hadara and the others are going to find the . . . the body. I need to be there. I need to tell them—”
“What? That a five-thousand-year-old golden amulet killed their dig leader? You really think they’ll believe that?”
“I—”
He cut her off. “Or will they believe something much more probable? That you or I—or you and I—killed him.”
She gaped. “You think they’d suspect us?”
“Think?” Cade laughed. “Caraid, I know they will. Ben-Meir is dead under suspicious circumstances. In another couple hours, police will be crawling all over the scene, if they’re not already. They’ll be wondering about the missing jeep. And the missing assistant and laborer.”
His scenario was very likely, she realized. And it was highly unlikely the Israeli police would believe a foreigner’s shaky explanations.
“Oh, God. What am I going to do?” She drew a pained breath.
“You’re going to stay with me. No one will get near you as long as you’re under my protection.” He reached out and brushed a curl from her forehead. “Trust me, Maddie.”
She wanted to laugh. Or cry. “You’re kidding, right? Trust you? You kidnapped me, drugged me, made me crave sex—”
“No, Maddie. No drugs. That’s not what’s happening here. It’s . . . Blast it,” he said under his breath. His hands flexed on the steering wheel.
She thought he was going to say more, but he seemed to think better of it. He turned the key but didn’t put the vehicle in gear. At last he sighed.
“Look. I’m making a mess of this, I know. I should have figured out a way to explain a few things before the first wave hit.”
“First wave? First wave of what?”
He shook his head. “Let me put it another way. Why did you come to Israel?”
“I saw Dr. Ben-Meir on TV. On a documentary about the Watchers.”
“Where did you first meet the man in person?”
“I attended one of his lectures. He was in the States, raising money for the dig. I was fascinated.”
“Of course you were.”
She shook her head. “What’s that supposed to mean? It’s not surprising that I was interested. I was an archeology student. The legend is intriguing. And I wanted—” To escape a death sentence. “—to travel. To see something of the world.”
“Before the cancer did you in, you mean.”
She jerked her head around. “How the hell do you know about that?”
He shrugged.
Maddie’s stomach lurched. “You’ve been stalking me, haven’t you? Even before I came to the dig.” That had to be the reason he’d approached her. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have given her a second glance. But why? She couldn’t fathom it. “You know about the cancer. You know I’m terminal. You knew it before you came to find me.”
“You’re the reason I came to Israel, yes.”
If Maddie had been frightened of Cade before, now she was terrified. “Why? What could you possibly want from a dying woman?”
“You only think you’re dying. You’re not.”
His arrogance left her gasping with rage. “I think I’m dying? Think? God damn you to Hell, Cade Leucetius. I am dying. I’ve got inoperable brain cancer.”
“No. You don’t. You’re perfectly healthy.”
Her laugh was tinged with hysteria. “Healthy? I have a malignant glioma! I’ll be underground in six months. Probably sooner. That’s a fact. You can’t tell me it’s not.”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Maddie, you may have had cancer a year ago. But not now. Your disease is gone.”
Hot tears stung her eyes. How many times had she hoped, had she prayed, to hear those words? Your cancer is gone. But, spoken by a doctor. Not by a psychopath.
And yet, even knowing the words were utterly false, she couldn’t suppress an irrational surge of hope. Hope that poured kerosene on the flames of her anger.
“Damn you, Cade Leucetius. Damn you. You think I need your lies? Your sick jokes? I don’t. I know what’s happening to me. I know what’s ahead. Did you really think I would swallow your fairy tale?”
He gave a grim chuckle. “What you’re facing, Maddie, is no fairy tale. But cancer isn’t a part of it. Your glioma disintegrated not long after the brain surgery that nearly killed you.”
“I had chemo after the surgery. That shrunk the tumor.”
“No. It happened naturally.”
She struck out. Her balled fists connected with the solid muscle of his shoulder. “You bastard. What the fuck do you know? Nothing. You’re not a doctor. You’re not anything. Damn you.” She choked on a sob. “Damn you to Hell.”
She pummeled his shoulder, his stomach, anywhere she could reach. He caught her wrists, first one and then the other. He pressed them both to his chest and held them there until the fight went out of her.
“Calm down, caraid. I’m mucking this up, I know. But please. Try to listen. We don’t have much time before the next wave hits.”
“Fuck you, Cade Leucetius. Just . . . fuck you.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I don’t have to listen to this. I’m dying, damn you. Dying. Don’t tell me I’m not. I gave up hope months ago. I can’t . . . Not now, I . . .” Her words dissolved in a convulsive sob.
He released her wrists and grabbed her shoulders. His fingers bit into her skin as he gave her a swift shake. Her sobs stuck in her throat.
“Listen to me, Maddie. I’m not telling you what you aren’t. I’m trying to tell you what you are. It’s no coincidence Simon Ben-Meir’s work drew you here to Israel, to that singularly cursed canyon. The man wasn’t digging up some obscure legend. He was digging up the rotting carcass of your own past. A corpse that is very real. And uglier than anything you could imagine.”
Fear coiled in her belly. “What . . . what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you, Maddie. I’m talking about your very existence, proof of your Watcher forefather’s unforgivable sin. You’re not dying of cancer. You’re
changing. From what you thought you were into what you’ve always been: the forbidden offspring of a fallen angel. A crossbred atrocity, cursed by God and man alike. A human with demon essence where your soul should be.”
He dragged in a breath and said, “Maddie, you’re Nephilim.”
Chapter Ten
The trouble with killing hellfiends, Cybele thought, was that the deed left you feeling dirty and wondering if perhaps you weren’t every bit as disgusting as your victim.
Oh, she didn’t deny it was fun. Exhilarating, even. There was a sexual rush to the chase and the strike. The high lingered for hours after a kill, and the lust . . . The sexual hunger awakened by a kill was fierce. Even the sight of the poor dead human who had been the hellfiend’s host didn’t diminish that. Nor had the bumbling, panicked escape of the three marked humans.
No, it had taken Artur to kill her high. After the hit, he’d simply turned his back and walked away without a word. He’d left her standing alone at the mouth of the alley. She’d spent a full five minutes hurling curses at his back. Blast the man straight to Oblivion; the cold wall he’d erected around his heart just wouldn’t crack. How she wanted to smash it, obliterate it, reduce it to rubble! Sometimes she felt that her heart would never be whole until she’d brought Artur Camulus to his knees. Until she heard him rage, cry, and howl. Until he could feel again.
She wondered if he ever would, or whether it would be better to follow his example herself. If you didn’t feel, there could be no pain. No regrets. Just . . . nothing. A preview of Oblivion. Maybe Artur was already halfway there.
After dealing with the hellfiend, after Artur had abandoned her, she’d returned to the East End alone to find both Brax and Gareth had left Artur’s flat. She had the place to herself. Now, hours later, she was still alone.
Restless, she prowled the bedroom, the living area, the kitchen, and wished the place was bigger. Sick of brooding about Artur, she brooded instead about Cade’s mission in Israel. If all went as planned, he’d return with a slave. The role of slave master would change him in ways she didn’t want to contemplate. Her own bond with him, born during his transition, would be weakened if not broken entirely. As Artur had surely intended, she realized now.