by Marie Hall
“He held my heart in his hand five times.” I placed his palm flat against my chest. “Can you feel it beat?”
We breathed, and looked at one another. He said nothing, but his palm twitched when my heart lurched. I knew what he was thinking; I could read him like a book.
Asher had branded me, made me his. He’d claimed me, and someone else had held my heart in the palm of his hand. Asher’d failed me.
That’s what he thought.
But Asher had found me, and he was fighting like hell to bring me back. I shook my head. “It wasn’t your fault, Priest.”
His jaw clenched, but he didn’t move closer.
I didn’t know whether I was doing the right thing, but I knew if I didn’t tell him this tonight, then I’d never tell him, and just like with Luc, the chasm between us would grow so large that we’d never be able to find our way back to each other.
I dragged his palm across my left breast, moaning as the rough callouses scratched my peaked nipple. My skin instantly went awash with goose bumps, and Lust writhed inside me.
He didn’t make me frantic or manic; he wanted this to last, just as I did.
“They told me you were a lie, Ash. That nothing could ever love me. That I was unpure.”
“They lied,” he growled, and finally he took the lead. Pushing gently on my shoulder until I lay down, he settled on top of me.
His cock nestled between my thighs, and I closed my eyes. I’d have let him do anything he wanted to me that night.
It wasn’t easy for me to feel this exposed. Where once I’d reveled in my skin, I no longer felt so confidant. I called on Lust’s power to change, concealing the scars from his gaze, becoming the woman he remembered from before.
The one with smooth alabaster skin and a heart-shaped scar above her breast.
He shook his head and swished his fingers over my body as though it was nothing more than a mirage he could brush away. “You asked me once why you never change with me, little demon. Don’t start now. I loved you as you were then. I love you more as you are now.”
I sucked in a sharp breath at his words. “I don’t want you to see me and only see that, Ash. I think it would kill me.”
His lips were gentle as he softly pressed them to mine. “Change.”
I did, and though I still burned with shame, I was also relieved that even after all this Asher wanted me for who I truly was. I’d never been wanted like that before.
He started by leaning over and kissing the tip of the scar on my neck. But he didn’t stop there. He followed the trail all the way, slowly nipping and licking his way down.
I didn’t try to stop the tears from coursing down my cheeks. I shuddered into his touch, my body going languid and liquid in his arms as he touched and teased me. His fingers were firm and tender, running down my ribs, and he didn’t wince with disgust when he touched my flaws.
He worshipped them, worshipped me. There would be no rushing Ash tonight, and I was so glad. Tomorrow could wait; we had right now, and I wasn’t leaving him.
Dragging my fingers through his hair, I sighed as his mouth began to tease its way up my calf, my thigh, and then to the very center of me.
Lust and I purred as I wrapped my thighs around his back, writhing on the sheets as he devoured me with his tongue and lips. My body was a single nerve, and it was exposed—every flick, ever dip of his head made me cry out in agony and ecstasy.
“Come for me, little demon,” he whispered, breathing cool air against my warm center, and I moaned, rocking on him as he plunged his fingers deep inside me.
I was safe.
Safe with my priest.
A war raged outside our doors, and it was calling to us. I knew we couldn’t outrun it, but it was just him and me now, and I cried out his name, clawing at his back as I fractured into a thousand particles of bliss in his arms.
I laughed when I opened my eyes, feeling such joy and peace. So treasured.
He crawled back up to me and kissed me. I tasted myself on him as he slipped his tongue along the crease of my lips, gently coaxing me to open up.
But I already had—all of me, it was his. Broken and bruised and shattered, but his touch told me he loved me anyway, wanted me anyway.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I ran my tongue along his, growling deep in my throat as my hunger grew. I didn’t think I’d ever get enough of Ash. I felt the hard press of his cock nudge my slick heat. I tilted my hips up.
“You’re so wet, so perfect, my little demon.” His fingers feathered along the top of my cheekbone.
“I’m only perfect to you, Priest.”
He nuzzled the side of my neck, and I couldn’t stop my moaning, my wiggling, my moving of our bodies together so that we could finally join, finally become one. After so long, we were here. We’d gone through hell and back and still we’d found each other.
“Isn’t that enough, Pandora?”
He looked me in the eyes, and I spiraled into his warm gaze. The eyes were the truest window of the soul, and when I read that journal, I would remember his eyes, the way they looked at me in this moment like there was nothing else in his world, nothing better, nothing greater than me. This was my priest, not whoever was in that book. I would fight like hell to remember that.
“Yes, Ash. It is enough.”
Then he sank into me, and I bit down on his shoulder from the pleasure that sang through my blood. Where before there’d been fire and fear, now there was this—us—and I felt it, the truth of who us was.
Asher and I were two opposing forces—magnets, meant to repel the other. He’d been sent to end me, I was built to end the world, and yet no matter what fate threw our way, we always found our way back to each other.
His thrusts became deeper, fuller, and his scent of sandalwood… it covered me like a blanket. I knew who I was in his arms.
I wasn’t a demon.
I wasn’t a monster.
I was Pandora, a woman loved by this man. I was valuable. I was worthy—more than a vessel, more than prophecy—and Asher wasn’t here to kill me, he was here to heal me, to remind me that no matter what you’d been crafted to be, there were choices, free will.
That was us.
I felt my eyes begin to glow, felt Lust coming fully awake. He leaned back and smiled down on me.
“There you are, little demon. There you are.”
Then he rocked deep into me one final time, and I felt him jerk, felt him tremble.
“Come, Ash, come with me.”
He claimed my lips, and we crested the wave of that little death together.
I was limp in his arms afterward and only opened my eyes when he kissed my nose.
“Now we sleep, Pandora.”
And then his beautiful black wings withdrew from his back, and they were so large they brushed the walls. Rolling me over with him gently, he cradled me in against their velvety softness, wrapping me up in a living blanket, and he was right.
Now I did sleep.
Chapter 14
Asher
It took two days of travel to get to the kissing trees. Weary from flying for the past nine hours straight, I eagerly dropped to the ground, placing Pandora gently on her feet.
She patted my cheek.
She’d been touching me more lately, and been more receptive to my touches too. We’d not slept together again, but I knew that night in the cave had done more for her than the final two months locked in Death’s cage.
The shadows in her eyes weren’t quite so pronounced. And her smiles were coming easier. I knew the demons inside her still lurked, but everyday she grew stronger, and that gave me the strength to keep at it.
“You look tired.” Her fingers brushed my brows.
“I’m okay.” I nipped her pinky, unwilling to let on just how exhausted I really was. But more than exhausted, I was anxious.
My journal didn’t contain anything life altering; I’d told her as best I could what I was, who I’d been, but there were some things
in there I’d not been able to tell her. It was those things that weighed heavily on my mind.
“What does the key look like?” she asked as she began walking up to the trees.
I riffled my fingers through my hair. “It’s a scroll of parchment I’d tucked into a bronze cylinder.”
She paused and glanced over her shoulder at me.
Even her choice of clothing was changing. Today she wore tight black leather pants that looked painted on, a flowing turquoise top with an image of a Dia de Los Muertos skull on it, and a pair of black suede pumps. She’d looked at me shyly when she’d walked out of the shop wearing them this morning, and I’d smiled remembering how much things had changed for us in Mexico.
It was a much more feminine and soft look than I was used to from her, but it was much better than the overly large t-shirts and baggy jeans she’d taken to wearing for a while.
Her hair spilled in soft waves around her face, and I couldn’t help but hope that the outside was a reflection of what was happening on the inside, that she was softening, mellowing, that maybe this nightmare was coming closer to an end. It would never fully go away—the worst spiritual scars never did—but the sharp edges could go blunt, the knife-edge of pain could dull.
When I reached her side, she jerked her chin toward the trees.
They were monolithic, and the bark was an unnatural dark, grayish-brown color. The trunks were thick at the bottom, becoming more slender as they wrapped tightly around each other in a helix of twists leading up toward the tops, which seemed to be leaning in, as if in a kiss.
“This is a strange place to hide the key.”
I didn’t answer her, too busy noting the lack of bird song, or any other signs of life. My body tensed.
“Something feel strange about this place to you, Pandora?” I whispered into her ear, pretending to nudge her swan neck as if ready to give her an amorous embrace. I glanced from the corners of my eyes around the acres of forest behind us; something was amiss.
We were in Massachusetts, the sky was gray, the trees were close to the shoreline of the bluish-gray bay. The gentle lapping of water on smooth river stone and the slightly briny scent in the air made it all seem very bucolic. But I didn’t like it. It felt too affected, too perfect.
Her eyes narrowed as she gazed around. In the last few months, I’d noticed how much sharper Pandora’s senses were; the additional souls had obviously heightened all her abilities, and I found I trusted her judgment more now than even my own.
Slipping her hands into her pockets, she gave me an imperceptible shrug and then laughed and swatted at my shoulder playfully. “You’ve just got a bad case of stage fright, babe.”
But her eyes told me differently. Something, or someone, else was definitely here, and her words had been for their benefit, not mine.
Nodding, I scrubbed at my jaw and grinned back at her. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“I always am.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, slipping so seamlessly into the role she played that had I been anyone else I would have sworn this wasn’t the same woman, would have sworn the horrors she’d seen had been nothing more than my nightmares intruding on reality. It was almost painful for me to see her this way, knowing it wasn’t real.
Ignoring the eyes I felt watching our every move, I wrapped my arm around her waist and yanked her toward me, kissing her forehead hard.
She stayed in my arms for a second, as if understanding how shaken I was, before gently patting my shoulder. “It’s okay, Ash.”
And those words, those were for me.
Realizing the game was on, I stepped away and walked up to the tree, touching the first one and feeling only a curl of power behind it. But when I ran my palm along the line of the second one, I immediately felt the undulating wave of dark power twisting through its fibrous trunk.
“Where do you think it is?” she asked.
Whether the eyes around us belonged to friend or foe, one thing was certain: they knew what this tree was and why we were there. It was why they’d taken such pains to keep themselves hidden—to remove any trace of tracks and to leave no imprint of their having ever been there.
They could just be watchers, or they could be more. The only thing we could do was keep our knowledge of their existence to ourselves and go on with our mission.
I shook my head. “Touch the wood.”
When she did, I leaned over her and pointed at the spot on the tree where it radiated strongest.
“I feel it.” She closed her eyes. “Did you bind the key this way?”
“No.” I glanced up and down the tree; there were no notches in the wood, but that didn’t mean the key hadn’t been spelled into the trunk somehow. I recognized the signature of power; it was my maker’s. “But the one who did it wanted to make damned sure that I never found it.”
Kneeling, she pressed her ear against the trunk and ran her hands around the base of it. “It’s buried beneath.”
“I think you’re right.”
Stepping back, I pointed to the ground. “Ladies first.”
She snorted, but her eyes twinkled. “I see how it is, chauvinistic pig. Afraid to get a little dirt on your hands?”
Grabbing her twirling finger, I flicked at her very human-looking nail. “I’m not the one with claws. I saw what you did to that vampire in South Dakota.”
“Well.” She grinned and immediately her nails gave way to claws, which she curled menacingly in my face. “There is that.”
I swatted her on the ass, then leaned against the tree, crossing my arms as she shoved her hands through the soil like a hot knife through butter. She ripped up chunks of rock and soil, tossing them aside like they were nothing.
She didn’t even breathe heavily.
Pandora was so much stronger now. I’d been the more powerful when we’d met, but I wasn’t anymore. She was a beast, amazing, more than super human. She was a machine.
In less than two minutes, she’d dug more than six feet down. A second later she laughed.
“Well, lookie here.”
Bending over, I leaned in to help her out. Taking my hand, she hopped out and smiled at me with cheeks smudged with dirt. She flashed the cylinder in my face. “I got it.”
I slipped my hand over hers with palms grown clammy. “What if I asked you not to? Does it matter, Pandora, who I was?”
She glanced down at the cylinder and then back at me. She repeated the motion once more before slowly unfurling her fingers and holding it out to me.
“If you ask me not to, I won’t.”
But then she’d never know the truth, and I knew all about her. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Could I expect her to want any less?
I nodded. “You need to kn—”
The words weren’t even out of my mouth when the powerful and violent thrust of a blade slipped between my bottom ribs.
Pandora screamed when I stumbled back a step. Wrapping her in my arms, I shielded her body as best I could from any more surprise attacks and yanked out the three-inch blade. I hissed as my muscles clenched from the white-hot flare of pain that tore down my side. It would heal.
“Pandora, we’re—”
“Oh, it’s too late for warnings, Asher.” A sultry, feminine voice rang out from the brush to our left.
I recognized the voice immediately and glared at the woman who’d once been my associate.
Dahlia was tall for a woman, almost six feet, and waif thin, with sharp angular features and striking silver hair cut to her chin. Dressed in a forest-green robe, she shoved the cowl off her head and gave us a cruel grin.
Materializing beside her was Axel—a barrel-chested, squat man who barely came to Dahlia’s chest, with silver hair that fell past his shoulders. His features were hard and cold, his nose bulbous and large, his lips thin and small on his otherwise rotund features. In all the years I’d known him, he’d always worn a split beard that he braided with gold metal beads from his chin down to his waist. Strapped to his b
ack were two broad swords that he wielded like a reaper with its scythe—deadly and accurate.
Beside him came Ari, olive skinned with deep-set green eyes, a silver Mohawk down the center of his shaved head, and dressed only in dyed green leather skins that molded to his slim physique. He looked much younger than the rest of us, but was actually the oldest. His skin had the youthful fullness of a teen. Of all of them, he was the one you should never underestimate.
“Wow, three against one. Didn’t know this was gonna be a party. I’d have dressed up if you’d only sent me an invitation,” Pandora said, before glancing at me. “I like our odds.”
Dahlia snorted, and with a flick of her wrists, four more knives materialized out of thin air before us. Two of them were the kind of three-inch blade I’d been stabbed with, but the other two were easily twice their length and breadth. Those two were crossed in front of Pandora in an X formation, a clear sign that Dahlia meant to decapitate her.
Calling the sword of Veritas to me—an eight-foot broadsword that licked with curls of flame and always struck true—I held it out before me, tense and ready to battle.
Pandora, however, still had her legs and arms crossed, and her gaze slowly moved among the three of them. Her look was chilling and made all the fine hairs on my arms stand up.
None of the three seemed to be aware of the murder that gleamed in my lover’s eyes.
“Put that toy away before ye hurt yerself.” Axel’s brogue was thick with laughter. “Traitor.” He spat by my foot, glaring at me hotly.
“In bed with a demon.” Ari’s mellifluous voice was full of disgust. “You will not take the key.”
Only Axel grinned. He’d always been the more gregarious of the bunch, laughing in battle, in sex, in life. It was his way, and today, he’d laugh in death. I’d make sure of that.
“Two against the three of us. Ye stand no chance. Bow down to us, traitor. Beg for mercy, and perhaps Allora will grant it.”
I gripped the hilt of my sword tighter. None of them knew of my ability to flash; it’d been a talent I’d kept hidden, knowing—or maybe even suspecting—that someday the element of surprise would do me well.