His gaze met hers, held it—the satisfaction in the icy blue making her feel as if he’d heard her thoughts. But there was something else there. In his eyes. Something sad.
His lips firmed. “I’ve had a long journey and need some fresh air. Would you take a walk in the garden?”
She nodded. With her hand resting on his arm, her fingers feeling the corded muscles under the sleeve, she strolled beside him as they made their way through the crowd. She held her head high, mindful of the staring looks, the hungry expressions in men’s gazes and the spiteful ones from the women. Looks she was familiar with and tended to encourage. Yet on Rafe’s arm, she wanted to be invisible to all but him.
Outside, the cool air offered relief for her hot skin from the heat indoors. When he took her in his arms, she didn’t protest. Without words, without foreplay, he pressed her against the sturdy lattice of the gazebo and took her with a desperation she only half noted. When he was done, he pulled from her and straightened his clothing, then helped her with hers. She tried to speak, ask him when she would see him again.
He only placed a finger on her mouth and shook his head. “This,” he said and set a hand on her belly, “is all I can give you.”
He gave her a tender kiss and before she could do more than gasp out his name, disappeared into the night. Despite her following him, she lost him in the tangle of trees and hedges. It was as if he’d never been there. Only the dampness between her legs proved he had. And the full feeling in her stomach. She’d known at that moment she was pregnant.
Nine months later, she gave birth to a beautiful girl with blonde hair streaked by darker strands and blazing blue eyes that cooled to ice as she grew older. She knew her daughter didn’t understand why Lillian did the things she did. And she’d never tell her. Nor would she ever tell her about Rafe. After that night, she’d never seen him again. Not after Catherine had been born or when her daughter had turned into an adult. But somehow, Lillian knew he watched. She’d never seen him but she’d felt him the same way she’d felt him that night.
She didn’t know why he left and hid himself from her. She only knew he’d given her this beautiful daughter but had taken a piece of her soul with him. Even his second gift—a baby girl of all things—to her failed to ease the pain of her loss; it only encouraged it. The depositing of his gift had been easily solved which left whatever she had to give for Catherine, her true daughter.
Lillian focused on her daughter again. Catherine would be, and already was, stronger than her mother. Even if she didn’t understand, Catherine would learn to be in control. To never allow someone to be so close only to lose so much. Lillian’s lips firmed. Her daughter would never know what it was like to love someone she couldn’t have.
The vision abruptly cut off. When Mari came back, she was surprised to find her face damp and a hand weighing heavily, but gently, on her shoulder. Hell’s gate, what had happened? She swung her head around and looked up at Jackson. In his warm green gaze, she saw concern mixed with compassion.
“Hey, you okay?” he murmured. “What did you see?”
Before she answered, she noticed Luna hovering near the door. The little woman’s blue eyes were soft and filled with gentle understanding. She winked at Mari then turned and walked out the door. Mari frowned. Who was this little mortal?
“Mari? What’s going on?”
Her gaze returned to Jackson. She shrugged off his touch and stood. “Nothing.” She was not going to share with him the details of the vision. It was enough he’d seen her with such weak emotions. “I know where this Catherine is. Los Angeles. And I know why Beliel needs her. The family line is Raphael’s.”
Jackson reared back as his eyes widened. A second later, they narrowed. “Raphael? It’s been a while since Sunday School, but isn’t he one of the archangels. Like Michael?”
Mari nodded.
“Well, don’t that beat all. You think the bastard knows this?”
“I’m sure he does now if he didn’t before.”
“Do you think this Raphael knows?”
She shrugged. “It’s possible. I got the sense from the woman’s memories he’d created a child with her on purpose. While the archangels do not breed like the Grigori, or Fallen, they did occasionally find a human woman and mate with her.”
“Why would they do that?”
“I don’t know. The archangels keep their own counsel.”
“Christ,” he muttered. “Fucking angels can’t keep their dicks in their pants.”
Her head tilted. “Shouldn’t angels have the same passions and needs as humans? Why should mortals be the only beings to enjoy life?”
“You don’t.”
“I don’t what?”
“Enjoy life. You rarely smile. I’ve never heard you laugh. You seem to resent being on Earth and you definitely dislike humans.”
“I don’t dislike all humans.”
“Just most of them.”
She gazed at a point over his shoulder, unnerved by their conversation. The man was perceptive or she was extraordinarily bad at keeping secrets. She shook her head. “We don’t have time for this ridiculous conversation. We have to go get the woman.”
“Running away, Mari?”
“I’m not running away. We are supposed to be saving the world from Beliel, if you’ll recall. That’s not getting done while we stand here and talk.”
A small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. The sudden urge to press her lips to that spot overtook her senses. Covering the reaction which was likely left over from the intensity of the vision, she turned and picked up her sword from the side table.
“Fine,” he rumbled. She ignored the little shiver that tickled down her spine at the sound of his smooth-as-melted-chocolate voice. “We’ll have plenty of time to discuss your running on the flight to Los Angeles.”
Her spine stiffened. When she felt she could look at him with composure, she met his gaze. “We will not be taking another one of those infernal human torture devices.”
A brow lifted. “Oh? Aren’t you worried about disobeying Michael?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line before she responded. “I’m done taking Michael’s orders on this particular subject. I’m not getting in another one of those things. If you want to go, please feel free to go without me. I’ll meet you there.”
“Ah, no, darlin’, I don’t think so. Where you go, I go.”
She contemplated him for a moment. Stubborn determination darkened his tanned skin. It occurred to her that she enjoyed looking at Jackson’s face. It was not a soft one. Or a hard one. Rather, his features were somewhere between male-model handsome and rugged with depth of character. Deep lines radiated from the corners of his eyes and at his lips. Not the heavy grooves she’d seen on humans of advanced age, but lines that showed he laughed and smiled often. When she was near him, he smelled of the outdoors. Fragrant, sweet grass and sun-warmed earth.
She did not want to apport with him. She’d have to hold him with a strong grip, otherwise he could slip from her grasp and end up lost in the Twilight—the barrier between the earth and spirit realms.
That’s not what you are really afraid of, is it, Mari? You just don’t want to touch him again.
“It will not be pleasant,” she warned him. “Your frail system will not be able to handle the stress.”
“I don’t care. Can’t be any worse than jumping out of a plane.”
The memory of what had transpired between the two of them after the jump flashed in her mind and her gaze went to his full mouth. She ripped her gaze away and said, “It will be if I lose my grip.”
“Well then, beautiful, I suggest you don’t.”
She heaved an internal sigh. There was no choice. She may be willing to flout Michael’s orders by apporting instead of riding in a plane, but leaving Jackson behind would test her relationship with the Archangel further than she wanted.
At this time.
Mari nodded. She firmed her stance then ges
tured for him to come to her side. Knowing this was going to be vastly uncomfortable for both of them—but for different reasons—she moved in close until her hips touched his. A flush of heat tingled through her.
Hell’s gate, what is the matter with you? Her fire nature made her passionate and she liked the attention of men, but she controlled her attraction and desire. And none had ever tempted her like Jackson. Around him, the human form she wore quivered with sensation—a decidedly uncontrolled response to his nearness.
“Put your arm around my waist. Don’t let go,” she warned.
A crooked grin played on his mouth. “Not going to be a problem.” The wicked glint in his eyes made her own lips curl before she compressed her mouth.
“You must keep in contact with me the entire time. If we separate, you will get lost in the Twilight.”
“Twilight?”
“The gray space between realms. It’s home to eidolons, spirits, beings of light and dark energies as well as lost souls, parasitic spirits and soul mates waiting for reincarnation. Jackson, the Twilight has its own rules about power. Who can use it and when. It’s a dangerous place to be, even for angels. Worse for mortals.”
“Sounds like Chicago.”
By the twist of his mouth, she could tell he was joking. She didn’t know how to tell him how bad the Twilight could be for the unwary. She hated going there but it was the only way she could traverse the realms. Oddly enough, Mikos seemed to not have the same problem. Before Lexi, he’d spent a lot of his time there.
Jackson’s arm came around her waist and she fought to keep from stiffening and jerking away. Get a grip, Mari. This is the only way to do this since he’s adamant about coming with you. His fingertips pressed into her side, his body’s heat penetrating through the layers of clothing to her skin. A shiver moved along her spine.
Her gaze traveled over the firm jawline where the hint of a beard shadowed his tanned skin, down to his throat where his pulse throbbed. He smelled of comforting spices and the outdoors. Very uniquely Jackson.
“Okay,” he murmured. The rumble of his chest as he spoke trembled through her. “I’m ready.”
She inhaled then exhaled with a slow, smooth breath. “One more thing. While time passes fast in this realm, in the Twilight, seconds will feel like minutes and minutes like hours. It will seem we will be in the Twilight much longer than we will truly be. It can be quite disorienting.”
No more disorienting than being this close to him.
Mari shook off the mocking words inside her head. She could do this. She could be this close to him and not be affected. With resolve pounding through her head, she took a deep breath and apported.
Chapter Thirteen
Luna walked back into the room just as the angel and mortal disappeared. A slight smile tugged at her lips. “Ah, Marisol Asheni, you have so much to learn.”
“You play games, old man.”
The darkness-soaked tone of the man who had spoken drew her focus. Despite the danger coming up behind her, she unhurriedly turned around. In the shadows caused by the falling light as day made way for night, a man stood. Piercing blue eyes stared at her from the dark.
“Twice in the same millennium, Lucifer? To what do I owe this visit?”
Lucifer, or Morningstar as he used to be known, moved out of the shadows. The waning sun caught the man’s hair, turning the blond strands into burnished gold. Leathery, batlike wings flapped then settled into place at his back. The sharp tips stabbed upward like horns. Always flaunting the fact he was no longer one of the heavenly host.
“You come dangerously close to breaking our agreement, Father.”
Luna crossed her arms over her chest and stroked her chin. “What makes you say that?”
Lucifer gestured at Luna, his lips curling over his teeth to reveal sharply pointed canines. “This…this mortal shell you wear. You interfere by revealing the child of Raphael.”
“Ah, but that was only after you permitted your servant to bring Pammon into this plane. Balance, my son, is everything, as you well know.”
Lucifer frowned, his bright-blue eyes narrowing. “It is not the same.”
“Of course it is.”
In a fit of pique, which was always his main problem, Lucifer swept his hand out. A large crystal lamp near the window exploded from within, throwing shards of glass outward. Pieces—large and small—flew at Luna but never touched her. They hit an invisible surface and shattered into tiny, glistening shards.
“Temper, temper. I see that hasn’t changed.”
A snarl rumbled. Lucifer opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to change his mind. “That form is ridiculous.”
Luna smiled. “Ah. I see. Would you prefer this?” she said and her form shimmered and grew taller, rounder and male.
“It is still one of them. A human.” The tone of his voice suggested something abhorrent.
Big Joe, as he was more commonly known, shook his head. “All these years and you still cannot find it in you to accept.”
“I’ll never accept that you created humans to stand in our place, Father. That you tossed your first children aside for these inferior beings made of flesh and blood.”
“I made them to stand with you, my son.” Big Joe pointed a finger at Lucifer. “You chose to stand against them. Even now, you don’t see.”
“No, Father, you don’t see. You don’t see that these creatures you set above us are not worth the air they breathe. They mock you, fight battles in your name for the sole purpose of killing each other. These are the beings you want to save.”
“Lucifer, if you continue down this path, if Beliel should succeed, you will destroy everything. Not only the humans you hate, but all you know. Your realm. Your people. There is a balance that must be maintained. Do not let your son destroy that balance.”
“As your Defenders maintain the balance?”
“Yes. As they do.”
“Even Asher?”
Big Joe froze for a mere second then bent his head. “The Slayer has nothing to do with this. He is your servant.”
A slight smile, one devoid of mirth, pulled back the Dark Lord’s lips. “Is he? I wonder.”
“I will say once again: Do not let your ongoing pride and hatred of mortals destroy the balance you and I fought hard to blend.”
Lucifer stepped backward, sliding into the shadows from where he’d come. “It is not my pride and hatred—it is your faith. Your faith in creatures who are faithless. My son will show the world what they should believe in.”
As Lucifer’s shape faded, blending with the dark, Big Joe made one last plea, “Beware your son.”
With the hint of brimstone in the air, Lucifer disappeared as suddenly as he’d arrived. Big Joe stared at the space, his brow furrowing. While he hadn’t expected the demon to embrace his words, neither had he expected to still hear the scalding bitterness in the former angel’s tone.
He stroked his chin. Much depended on the free will of the players. Would they make the right choices?
Since he didn’t trust himself to speak without sounding like a bullfrog, he nodded. Before he could blink, the earth seemed to fall away and the dizzying sensation made him close his eyes.
Jackson tried to ignore the press of Mari’s firm but supple body against his. He thought this would be no big deal. Thought he could tease her about her reactions but found that it was all he could do to keep his own body from devolving into animal attraction. Damn, the woman was hot and he didn’t mean the temperature of her skin.
When she shifted away from him slightly, he opened his eyes. His first impression of the Twilight was of bright colors overwashed with gray.
Silence pulsed around him. Muted grays swirled into a gentle calm. In the distance, a low cloud seemed to settle over the environment like a morning fog. A fog that didn’t leave any moisture behind. The air was light and seemed to move but there was no wind.
Under his fingers, Mari’s body seemed to have changed. Instead
of warm suppleness and the soft brush of fabric, cold metal met his questing touch. He looked down at her, past the top of her burnished hair and his gaze stumbled over what he saw.
Holy hell, the woman wore armor.
He started to step away when she grabbed his hand. “Remember, don’t let go.”
She curled her fingers, interlacing them with his. Like everything else, her grasp was hot against his cool skin.
Moving away while keeping his hand in hers, he scanned her from head to toe. She wore embossed, polished silver armor and a smooth breastplate with a starburst motif. Her elbows were covered with the same shiny material. At her waist, over a scarlet short skirt, silver plaits dangled and made a tinkling sound as she moved. Covering her luscious auburn hair was a helmet with side pieces that protected her face. Under all that steel, her eyes glowed crimson.
“Damn, Mari, you look scary as hell.” Sexy too, but he wasn’t about to tell her that.
“That is the purpose. I always take these precautions in the Twilight.”
“Well, seems like a bit of overkill, but okay.”
She didn’t respond, merely raised a brow then looked off into the distance. He followed her gaze but didn’t see anything except a weak yellow glow far away.
Ghosts vaguely shaped like humans, and other shapes he didn’t recognize, drifted by close enough at times he could reach out and touch them. Most ignored the demon and the human—others gave them a cursory glance. Some looked at him with hunger in their eyes, while others’ gazes held a sense of loss. He didn’t know which expression was worse. The one where he felt like, given a chance, the hungry spirits would snuff out his soul or the ones with such deep expressions of hurt and pain his own heart seemed to ache in response. Like the environment, their forms were washed out and flimsy.
“The eidolons,” Mari murmured from his side.
“Are they prisoners?”
“Some,” she said then paused. “But most aren’t. They can pass into the lower spirit realms or the divine realm but they choose not to. They stay here.”
The Death Skull: Relic Defender, Book 2 Page 14