by S. M. Reine
They stepped inside and closed the door.
James’s old clothing had been ruined by the trip through Hell, so he was pleasantly surprised to find jeans, a shirt, and a jacket all folded on the chair beside the bed. The pants were too big around the waist. The shirt was too long. Probably McIntyre’s borrowed clothing—the man was girthy.
Underneath the folded clothes, he found a pair of rings. They had been in the pocket of his old jeans.
James contemplated the plain bands in the dim light of the bedside lamp. They were the warding rings that he had designed to put a wall between him and Elise—both for the safety of his secrets and their shared sanity. But there were no secrets left. He was worried that the sanity may as well have been lost, too.
Elise had followed him into the room, so he hesitated to drop the blanket long enough to dress. She stood in the corner, but the closet was too small for any kind of casual conversation, much less privacy.
He could feel Elise’s reluctance to be near him. She barely even looked at him, keeping her eyes on the sliver of floor between them.
“What was it like?” she asked without looking up.
“Which part?”
“His death.”
James studied her features. The grief in her tone was unexpected, as if she were genuinely sad for Adam to be dead, even after everything He had done to her. What did she want to hear?
After a moment of vacillating, he settled on the truth.
“It was slow and painful,” James said. “But there wasn’t much left of Him in the first place, to be honest.”
Elise nodded.
It was hard to be so close to her after spending so long thinking of her, dreaming of her, wishing to be at her side. “You saved me,” James said, reaching out to trace his fingers along her jaw. He was shocked to feel how angry that made her—even though she didn’t pull away, hatred raged through the bond.
Saving him hadn’t been a gesture of love, as he had hoped. Elise was disgusted by his touch.
He stepped back.
“I see,” James said.
Elise put up her walls again, but it was too late to hide her reaction. And the anger was splashed across her face, brutally raw. “What did you expect?” she asked. “Did you think we could just go back to normal, like I’d just forget that you spent twelve years lying to me?”
“I had hoped…” James trailed off. “No. I suppose not.”
“And that’s not it. In the garden, you were everywhere,” Elise said. “Adam looked like you. He tortured me in our dance studio. I even found your body. When I look at you now, it’s like…” Her eyes searched his face, eyebrows joined, lips tight. She pressed a fist over her chest. “It hurts, James.”
“But that wasn’t me.”
“It doesn’t matter. I can’t even begin to try to forgive you for what you did when I can’t even look at you without wishing I could die,” Elise said. “And frankly, I don’t even know why you’re worth forgiving. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“You never would have trusted me. You didn’t even like me, in the beginning; you were constantly on the verge of running. And if you hadn’t trusted me enough to stay within reach, I would have had no choice but to give you to Metaraon, lest you escape completely.” Admitting it felt like trying to rip his own heart out with his fingernails.
“You don’t think that you could have told me later?” she asked. “By the time we bonded as kopis and aspis…I already loved you.”
“I know,” James said, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. “And I knew you would hate me if I told you the truth. I couldn’t bear having you think of me like that. So I buried it. I tried to forget. I think I convinced myself, eventually, that what I had told you was true. That we were both in hiding from the same enemy. To an extent, we were—I wasn’t ready to give you up.”
“But you promised that you would.”
He searched around for words to explain. He couldn’t tell her that it was what the Faulkners had always done. He couldn’t tell her how long he had fought against that destiny, because he had eventually succumbed, and it would be admitting weakness. And he especially couldn’t pretend that the way he felt about her was any excuse. Not when his ethereal blood meant that he might only be fascinated with her like every other angel.
There was nothing he could say to make it better.
“I made the oath,” James said. It was the closest thing to a confession that he could offer.
Her hands balled into fists at her side. “So this is goodbye,” Elise said. “There are things to do now that I’m back. More hybrids.”
“What about Nathaniel?”
“He made his choice,” she said. “I already told you—I trust him.” Elise chewed on the inside of her mouth, eyes distant. She was thinking of their last moments with Nathaniel again. James was, too. “How much does Hannah know?”
He grimaced. “Metaraon,” James said, by way of explanation.
Guilt, sadness, and hate warred within Elise. Not for Hannah, but for Nathaniel. His face was branded into her mind. “He’s a hero,” Elise said. “Being a hero isn’t ever easy.”
“Help me bring Nathaniel back to Earth.”
No. I don’t want you near me.
She didn’t say it aloud, but it hurt just as badly as if she had.
James was done hearing her hateful thoughts. He lifted the warding rings between them, and Elise nodded.
He slipped the ring over her finger.
Elise’s mind shuttered to him. The silence was blissful. But he didn’t need to see into her mind to notice the way that she didn’t pull away from him, and the way that she stared at the place where their hands connected.
Her fingers crept to the hand that still held the blanket at his waist.
“I’m leaving this morning,” she said. “I never want to see your face again.”
James let the sting of it wash over him, jaw rigid, shoulders tight. “You know that I’m going to find my son whether or not you help me. It would be faster if we worked together.”
“But you lied to me,” Elise said. “You surrendered me to Him. You forced me to trust you, and love you, and then you betrayed me. I don’t want your help.” She pulled his hand from the blanket at his waist, and it pooled around his feet. “I hate you.”
He didn’t need the bond to know that she meant it, but her body seemed to disagree with her mind. Her hands traced the lines of tattoos and scars on his ribs, down his hips, to his thighs.
James wanted to tell her, But I love you. He didn’t. He had caused her enough pain. She deserved her hatred, her anger, and he deserved to take all of it.
He didn’t try to apologize.
Dipping his head, he kissed her gently, cupping her jaw in his hand. Elise’s lips were sealed tight, even as her nails raked lightly against his hips. But after a moment, she softened. She leaned into him. Her body was as soft as he remembered, and the contact made his heart speed up. She smelled like the garden now—the aroma of bark and rotting leaves, the sweet tang of apples, the cold rush of spring water.
It would be all too easy to let himself suffocate on Elise, but instinct made James pull away, breathing hard.
She stared at him, anger fierce in her black eyes. Ichor streaked her cheeks.
“I won’t ever forgive you for this,” Elise said, pushing him until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he sat down.
She stood between his knees and lifted the hem of the shirt over her head, baring the swell of her hips, a narrow waist, the line of abdominal muscle leading from her navel to her heart, the pale peaks of her nipples. She was wearing nothing underneath the borrowed clothing. Elise dropped it to the floor, then climbed into his lap, pushing him back onto the bed.
James couldn’t tell her how much he had missed her, how sorry he was for his mistakes, or how much he loved her. So he showed her with his touch. He ran his hands up her thighs and held her waist, lowering her body onto his.
; Elise’s eyes closed when he penetrated her, as if it hurt.
“Elise,” he whispered.
She pressed a hand over his mouth and shook her head.
Her hips began to move, slowly at first, and then in longer strokes. The air in the makeshift bedroom was heavy with silence. He was afraid to make a noise, as if distracting Elise would make her vanish.
But he couldn’t control himself for long. She was somehow simultaneously hot and tight and soft and yielding at the same time. Even exhausted, he was on the brink immediately, and Elise didn’t seem interested in slowing his climax.
His spine bowed. His hands tightened on her hips.
They came together faster, messier. Elise put her hand between them to bring herself close, and when James tried to slip in a hand to help, she pushed it away. He put it up to her face instead, not touching, but taking in the warmth of her skin.
And that was enough. He thrust up one more time, holding her tight against him, and tipped over the edge. Elise’s face went slack when she followed a heartbeat later.
It seemed to last an eternity, and when she was done, she folded herself on top of him. Her face pressed against his neck. He tangled his hands in her hair, breathing hard, and unwilling to release his kopis.
Although she smelled like the Tree more than anything else, the scent of her sweat hadn’t changed. Infernal or ethereal, she was still Elise. And he was home.
EPILOGUE
Anthony woke up shortly before dawn the next day. It was still dark outside, but the horizon was beginning to glow deep orange. Lucas was already moving, cleaning his guns, packing their belongings, preparing to leave. Anthony joined them on the back step.
“I thought you were never going to wake up,” Lucas said.
Maybe it would have been better if Anthony hadn’t woken up. He had a hell of a hangover, and he didn’t think it was from the one shot of vodka Elise had given him. “What’s the plan, sensei?” he asked.
Lucas peered down the barrel of his gun, then tucked it in his bag. “There are still hybrids out there. We’re going to find them.”
“I grabbed an SUV yesterday. It’s parked out back.”
“Yeah, I saw that. But I have a better idea,” Lucas said.
They slipped out of the house, fully packed and ready to go, just a few minutes later. Lucas had grabbed one of the Union’s BearCats, and the black box of armored death made the SUV look like a toy car. Slightly more subtle than a tank, but only slightly.
Anthony had to laugh. “Well, that’s discreet.”
“I couldn’t resist,” Lucas said, tossing his bag into the passenger seat.
Anthony moved to follow, but a red light flared, briefly illuminating the dim light of early morning. A cigarette tip glowed as the smoker inhaled. He recognized the shape of the shadows holding that cigarette. Elise stood beyond the BearCat, alone.
“Give me a sec,” he said.
Anthony followed that point of light to find Elise on the edge of Oymyakon. The cigarette was cradled between two of her fingers, sending smoke spiraling into the sky. She offered the cigarette to him silently. He accepted it, keeping an eye on her as he took a drag.
It looked like all of the confidence had been beaten out of her. She only looked indrawn, exhausted, weak. Her black eyes didn’t seem to focus on anything, as if she hadn’t quite woken up yet.
He handed the cigarette back to her.
“We’re leaving,” Anthony said. “Going off to hunt hybrids in an armored truck. Could be fun.”
“Sounds like it.” Elise flicked the edge of the cigarette with her thumb, dropping ash on the dirt. “Can I come?”
“But what about James?” Anthony asked.
The corner of her mouth twitched. “James has other plans.” She sucked hard on the cigarette, making the tip flare again. It painted her skin red for a moment. Then she flung it to the ground and grinded it into the dirt with the ball of her foot. She wasn’t wearing a shoe, but it didn’t seem to hurt her.
There was a silent plea in the curve of Elise’s eyebrows, the tilt of her mouth.
He shrugged. “When it comes to hunting hybrids…the more the merrier. Do you want me to grab anything out of the house for you?”
“I have everything I need,” Elise said, patting her shoulder. She was wearing a spine sheath with a single hilt jutting over her back.
They sauntered toward the BearCat. Lucas already had it running.
Anthony cleared his throat. “You and James are done?”
“You could say that,” Elise said.
“Not going to forgive him for whatever he did?”
“It’s not in the plan.” She stopped next to the passenger door without getting inside. “It feels like I’ve woken up, Anthony. I’m seeing clearly for the first time.”
“Cool,” Anthony said. “Cool.”
He opened the door. She climbed in front and Anthony got in back. Lucas didn’t seem surprised to see her. “All aboard,” he said, releasing the brake.
Anthony flashed Elise a smile in the rearview mirror. She smiled back.
“Let’s go hunting,” she said.
James woke up alone in a bed that was much too small for him. He sat up with a quick intake of breath—and nearly smacked his face into the hilt of a sword.
Elise’s falchion was jammed into the wall, with a folded note draped over the blade.
He knew without having to read the paper what the presence of the sword meant, and the sight of it filled him with grief.
She was gone.
James wrenched the sword free without removing the note. It was harder than he expected, because she had driven the blade several inches into a wooden stud. It was the falchion that hadn’t been damaged by a demon’s ichor. The symbols carved into the blade shimmered when he tilted it in the light.
Even though he knew he had to be too late, he dressed and stepped outside. Elise wasn’t the only one that was gone. There was no sign of Lucas or Anthony, either.
“Hell,” James muttered.
Tucking the sword into his belt, he unfolded the note to read it. Elise’s handwriting was terrible.
I’ll find you when I’m ready.
James crumpled the note in his fist, struggling not to let the swell of anger consume him. There was no point in trying to run after her. If Elise found a good shadow, she could probably spirit herself across the world in heartbeats, as many greater demons could. She was beyond his reach. But not forever.
If she wanted to go, then she could go. He had walked through Limbo for what must have been thousands of years to find Elise, and he had found her. For better or for worse, that was over now. It was time to find his son, repair what family remained, and find forgiveness within himself.
But he knew that he would see Elise again. They were bound until death, kopis and aspis, with their destinies permanently intertwined.
He would find her. Sooner or later, he would find her.
James closed his eyes, tilted his face toward the sun, and took a deep breath.
The wind smelled like apples.
~~~
Dear readers…
The Descent Series was the story of Elise against Adam and the people that controlled her life. Now that she’s won that final battle, this series is over—but Elise and James still have a story to tell. Will Elise ever seek James out again? What happened to Nathaniel and the hybrids? There’s still a lot of story to tell. Elise isn’t ready to retire again.
Elise and James return in Alliance (Book One of The Ascension Series) to start the new chapter of their lives. Even better, it’s going to cross over with characters from my other series (The Cain Chronicles), so it’s a real blast. I hope you’ll join us for what comes next.
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Without getting too gushy (I’ll save that for the next page): Thank you so much for your support throughout this series. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.
Sara (SM Reine)
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I always get kind of sentimental at the end of a series, but The Descent Series is a special case. It took thirteen years for this series to come to its end from conception, and it’s the entire reason I’m a writer. No kidding! Please don’t mind my sniffles while I ramble a little here.
Deepest thanks to those on my editing team: Ashley Davis, Rory Hume, Emily LaDouceur, Kiki Wenzel, and Erin Conroy Zarro. I couldn’t have done it without all of you. Really. I mean it.
Thanks to the former members of S&R, who (very sadly) didn’t make it to the final book as a team. I wouldn’t have my career without your guidance, enthusiasm, and tentacles. Special mentions must go to those who specifically supported these books: Gen, Deb, MFM, Ed, and Phoenix. All of you were amazing, though—even if we don’t talk much anymore.
It feels silly to mention my husband when he’s as much of the process as the air I breathe, but please consider yourself mentioned. Honorary mention goes to my in-laws, who are abnormally supportive, what’s wrong with you.
My readers. Oh, my readers. I could kiss you all.
And my little man, my Jude, my sun and my moon and spaces between. Everything is for you. Everything. May your dreams always be brighter than the stories I write for you.
This series means the world to me, but fiction is nothing in comparison to the people who tolerate me in reality. Thanks to all of the above, and those I didn’t have the wherewithal to mention but still deserve love—you know who you are.
Thanks.
DSC (also known as SM Reine)
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