Dane. He carried a piece of her with him, inside him. Maybe Dumah wasn’t the only one who could have told me about Joan. I’d never asked if consuming her sins had given him insight into who she was. I hadn’t bothered to learn anything about what he really was or what it really meant to be a Sin Eater. In fact, I hadn’t thought about him since waking in my father’s fortress. Thinking of Dane, what I’d left behind, what I’d thrown away, shot a pain through my heart so fierce it stole my breath.
The longer I was away from Apollyon, the more clarity I had. For once I didn’t enjoy it. I didn’t want to think, didn’t want to remember anything outside the drowning pleasure and dulled senses the Devil offered. While my mind yearned for my next fix, my body had other needs. My stomach rumbled, bringing my attention back to the reason I suspected my father had returned.
Someone to eat.
The Devil’s words rang in my mind. Whatever, whoever was out in the hall was for me. I shuddered at the thought of eating someone, my stomach souring and my appetite disappearing.
Anticipating my body’s needs, my father dragged my meal into the room.
Thomas.
“No. Whatever is happening right now, whatever you want me to do, the answer is no.” I shook my head emphatically, emphasising my point.
It was Dumah’s turn to shake his head, in disappointment.
“You have a lot to learn about what it is to be an Elioud. Perhaps my brother can teach you. He’s done a fine job of teaching you the things that suited his purpose.” Without another word, the demon left the room, locking the door behind him.
Turning my head, I stared at the opposite wall, refusing to look at Thomas. He’d known me when I still had the strength and determination to fight. Before I’d succumbed. Before I’d joined the ranks of the Fallen and fulfilled the first part of my destiny.
The mattress sank under his weight as he sat beside me on the bed. Rolling onto my side, I turned the rest of my body away from him. The sheet stretched between us, exposing my back. His finger traced the wings tattooed on my back. First the outline of the demon wing, lingering only for a moment before paying more attention to the details of the feathered wing representing the angels on my other shoulder. Flinching under his touch, I tried to move away, only to reach the edge of the mattress and still be within his reach.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Touch you? You allowed him to defile your flesh and yet I repulse you?” Thomas remained on the bed, his voice an odd mixture of sadness and disgust.
“Please.” The warmth of his touch was more than I deserved. I couldn’t bear it.
He pulled away, the mattress rising as he stood and crossed the room, walking around the bed to my side, blocking my view of the wall.
“I should have saved you sooner, Elioud.” His shoulders dropped under the weight of the regret in his words.
“What did Dumah want you to tell me?” Comfortable in the familiar territory of teacher and pupil, I ignored the sudden aches and growls coming from my stomach.
“You were made for him. Well, not just you exactly, although he does desire you above all others. Though that could have something to do with you not just being the last Elioud but the last female.” Thomas sighed, brushing the back of his hand across my forehead. “Man wrote stories of women like you, who feed off the souls and sins of others. You feed, and in turn feed him.”
“What?” His words didn’t make sense. Distracted by the increasing pain and rumbling coming from my stomach, I had a hard time following.
“I’m sure even with your limited interest in history and theology you’ve heard the term Succubus?” Thomas gave me a weak smile.
“No.” I shook my head.
“No? I find that impossible to believe. You’ve ignored a lot of your history, but given popular culture, I…” He stopped when he realized that wasn’t what I meant.
“No. Get out.” Pulling the pillow over my head to block him from my sight, I bit my lip until I tasted the coppery tang of blood when the next wave of hunger pains gripped me. “Thomas, get away from me!” My screams were muffled by the down filling of the pillow, but I knew he heard me well enough.
“As if either of us has a choice.” Resolved to our fate, Thomas attempted to get me to scoot over on the bed, nudging me with his knee.
Stubborn in even my weakest and most desperate moments, I refused to move an inch, pulling the pillow tighter around my head. Thomas was undeterred. Equally stubborn, the angel didn’t back down. He slid his hands under my body, scooping me up and dropping me on the other side of the mattress. Peeking out from under my down pillow, I watched him tuck his arms behind his head and make himself comfortable beside me. Stretched out, legs crossed at the ankles, Thomas casually rolled his head to meet my gaze.
“I often wondered what I’d done, or perhaps what I hadn’t done, to be saddled with you as an assignment. Joseph would explain the importance of my task, of you, but I wouldn’t listen; didn’t understand.” Uncrossing his legs, Thomas rolled to his side, facing me. “Until one night I watched you standing on that overpass, certain you were going to throw yourself over, unable to intervene. And yet I admit to feeling a sense of relief. As much as it would have pained me to watch you fall, if you’d died, the prophecy foretold could not have come to fruition.”
The pains in my stomach worsened, but I didn’t dare interrupt. This almost felt normal, like when I’d first woken in the apartment in the art district. A long way from home and anything remotely normal, I ignored the insatiable hunger, yearning for the days when I’d thought I was fighting for something good.
“And then he came, the Morning Star. I watched him approach you, torn between following my objectives and a desperate need to smite him right there in the middle of that wretched street. But I wasn’t cut out for rebellion, so I played the good soldier. All the while hating every minute of it.” Closing his eyes, Thomas sighed.
“But you did rebel.”
His eyes snapped open at the sound of my voice. So much regret, so much pain swirling in their depths, I could almost taste his sorrow. Licking my lips, I realized how much I wanted to taste him; his pain, the sins he’d consumed when he’d stood against the higher powers.
“For you. See what you’ve done to me?” His kept his tone playful, but I could still hear the pained truth of his words.
I had done this to him; tainted him. His once pale skin and blonde hair, darkened by the sins he’d taken in…because of me. I reached for a lock of the black silk pooled on the mattress between us like a lake of obsidian and twirled it around my finger. He’d given up everything, and I’d left him a ruined shell of his former self. Without thinking, I came out from my hiding spot under the pillow and scooted closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder. It was a lame attempt to comfort him. We both knew I was the one seeking forgiveness. I’d been searching for it almost my entire life.
And yet here we were, lying on a mattress together in the citadel, just outside the Devil’s door and further from redemption than we’d ever been.
The smell of something sweet, like warm cake or cookies fresh from the oven hit my nose, overpowering the lingering scent of sex in the air. My mouth started to water. Racked with stabbing pains, I pressed a hand to my stomach. The delicious smell intensified and so did my hunger. Drawing in a deep breath through my nose, I tried to find the source of the aroma. I wanted to be repulsed when I realized it was coming from Thomas but I was too hungry to care. He smelled amazing, like a buffet of dessert just waiting for me to sink my teeth into it.
My stomach growled, shattering the awkward silence that stretched between us when it became obvious what was going to happen.
“He drained you. The need will only intensify.” Trailing a hand over the back of my head, stroking my hair, Thomas kept calm as he gave voice to my fears.
I shook my head in defiance despite the uncertainty of how long I could actually hold out. With each second that passed, the angel became
a more enticing meal. I wanted him. Not like I’d wanted Dane or Apollyon; I wanted to taste him, to feel his essence slide past my tongue, to sup on the sins swirling inside him.
“It’s okay, Jax.” Thomas continued to stroke my hair, comforting a monster who didn’t deserve it. “I want you to. Do this for me, please, I beg you. It is wrong of me to ask you to save me when I couldn’t even save you, but I ask it of you nonetheless. Don’t leave me like this. I can’t have you. I’ve fallen too far from grace to stand with Him. I am begging you, do this for me. Free me from this half state of being.”
Thomas leaned in, just the faintest brush of his lips against mine, and all rational thought left me. The most delectable essence seeped from his lips, like a cloud of nectar wafting toward my taste buds. Starved and out of my mind from the overwhelming urge to feed, I grabbed his face with both hands and crushed my mouth against his.
The kiss of death.
I must have heard that saying a million times without knowing it was a real thing, still less that I could execute it. I felt everything; tasted everything. The initial shock of what was happening gave way to acceptance, to something not unlike a fantasy as Thomas imagined something entirely different was happening between us. All of it, every emotion, every soul he’d helped, every sin he’d consumed for Dane passed between our lips.
It tasted like heaven.
The excruciating need subsided, but I couldn’t stop. Greedily gulping down everything Thomas had to offer and more, I gorged myself on the angel, draining every last drop until nothing remained. He went limp in my arms. The last of his life force left him, settling into my body with an uncomfortable fullness, like I’d grazed a buffet for too long. There was almost too much of him to fit inside my body, the taste of him lingering at the back of my throat. Needing to breathe in air that didn’t smell like Thomas, I laid him back on the pillow.
Clarity returned after I’d fed, the horror of what I’d done staring back at me through cloudy eyes completely devoid of life. I let go of his face, the skin crumbling like dried leaves when I peeled my fingertips back. The lifeless form I’d drained barely made a depression in the mattress. Scrambling back, I put as much distance as I could between myself and the withered husk that had once been my friend, my guardian, someone who’d loved me despite myself. The reality of what I’d done, what I’d finally become, slammed into me with a fierceness that took my breath away and threatened to empty the contents of my stomach.
Rushing to the bathroom, I pulled my hair back and knelt over the toilet. Heave after violent dry heave, I tried to empty myself of Thomas’s life force. The energy churned in my stomach, pumped through my blood, leaving me both heady and horrified. The rational side of my brain, what was left of it anyway, wanted to purge myself of Thomas, to rid myself of any evidence of what I’d done. Shoving two fingers down my throat, I tried to induce vomiting, hoping something, anything would come up. It didn’t work.
After dry-heaving until my insides were turned inside out, I curled up on the cool tile floor in front of the shower. A headache formed behind my eyes. Exhausted from fruitlessly trying to rid myself of the life force I’d consumed, I lowered my eyelids, blocking out the bright light above the vanity, and drifted to sleep. Images of Thomas continued to plague me, his face haunting me in my dreamlike state. Lying there halfway to unconsciousness, my time with Thomas replayed like a movie in my mind. Everything he’d said and done, every touch. There had been a time when I’d wanted his hands on me, wondered what it would be like if I let myself return his feelings for me.
How different would things have turned out if Tobias hadn’t intervened, if I hadn’t taken his advice and followed my heart with Dane? Would I still be on the floor, hungover and nauseated from consuming an angel? Would my friend still be the withered husk on the mattress, dead by my hand?
I’m not sure how long I lay there, wallowing in self-loathing, cursing my circumstance and wishing for death, before Thomas slipped away and my nightmares receded. The blissful void from blacking out slipped over me. A momentary reprieve from the horror my life had become. One I didn’t deserve, but accepted nonetheless.
Chapter Nineteen
I woke screaming Thomas’s name. Drenched in sweat and racked with chills, I drew the covers up to my neck. Burrowing further under the blankets, I tried to shake off the horrible nightmares I’d had the night before. And then I remembered.
Reality hit me like a sledge hammer to the temple. Thomas. Tears streamed down my face, soaking into the pillow. The pillow. Horrified at the thought that I’d climbed into bed with Thomas’s corpse, I tentatively stretched a hand across the mattress. My fingertips brushed against something; an arm, a leg, it didn’t matter. With a shout, I scrambled out of the bed, hitting the floor and backing myself against the wall.
Shaking myself from the last tendrils of sleep gripping my mind, I forced myself to take in my surroundings. My sluggish brain struggled to process everything, too bogged down in the images of what I’d done the night before.
I killed Thomas; I ate him.
“You’re not a monster, Jacqueline.”
I hadn’t realized I’d said that last part out loud. Of course Apollyon would choose a moment when I was at my weakest to make a reappearance. The sudden realization that I wasn't alone brought with it the awareness that not only was I no longer lying on the bathroom floor, but I hadn't been lying in my own bed either. The limb I'd brushed against and had feared belonged to the recently deceased Thomas in fact belonged to the Devil. I wasn't sure which was worse.
Given my state of undress, I was going with the latter.
In nothing more than my bra and underwear, I remained curled on the floor against the wall, albeit putting a little more energy into covering up the parts of me that the Devil had gotten all too familiar with only the day before. Still, the previous night’s events had left me feeling raw and vulnerable. I didn't need or want Apollyon ogling my girlie bits.
"There's no need for modesty. I know every inch of your beautiful body. I daresay better than you do yourself. Come here, Jax." The Devil patted the spot on the bed I'd just vacated. "Jax, you're not feeling guilty about last night, are you?" Tracking the tears flowing down my face with his eyes, he drew back the covers and moved closer to the edge of the bed. "You are, aren't you?"
I didn't respond. I'd thought my emotional state fairly obvious. I’d drained Thomas, could still feel him swirling inside me. “Guilty” was the understatement of the fucking century for what I felt.
"My sweet, sweet girl." Dropping to the floor in a movement so graceful and fluid a cat would have been jealous, Apollyon pulled me onto his lap. With a show of compassion I'd not thought him capable of, the Devil attempted to sooth my frayed nerves and shattered spirit. With a gentle sway, he rocked me in his arms, brushing his fingertips along my spine. "There, there, my darling Jax. It couldn't be helped. It had to be done."
I wanted to rail against him, scream at the top of my lungs that it could have been helped. My father had brought Thomas to me, given him to me, knowing full well what I'd do. On Apollyon's orders, no doubt. They'd set me up. Forced me to do it.
But that wasn't entirely true.
Dumah had given me a push, but I'd had one foot through the gateway already. I’d set out for Purgatory all on my own. Apollyon, and through him Dumah, had brought me to the citadel, but I’d been too far gone in my transformation to put up much of a fight. I'd gone toe-to-toe with Apollyon before and walked away. The circumstances had been different then only in that I'd wanted to get away.
As much as it pained me to admit it, I was exactly where I deserved to be. I'd never deserved anything else, anything better. Saving myself had been a cruel delusion. Murderous, selfish, demon-ilk off-breed of a fallen angel who serves the Morning Star? None of those were redeeming qualities.
"You've tried so hard to be who you thought you should be, you couldn't see you were denying who you really are. You belong here with me, Jax." Apolly
on pressed my head against his shoulder, and I instinctively nuzzled in.
He was right, of course. I’d fallen too far from grace to attain such heights again. Looking back over the series of events leading up to the moment I’d found solace with the Devil, my previous employers hadn’t been all that great. The angels had played both sides, having me search for the weapon that would kill me, not to keep it and me safe but to use it against me. For them it hadn’t been a matter of if I fell, but when. All the while convincing me that Apollyon wanted me dead, when in fact it had been quite the opposite.
Apollyon wanted me very much alive. He needed me alive, or Tartarus wouldn’t be reopened and his brethren would remain locked away, keeping his greatest wish – to be the most powerful being – just out of reach. With him I was desired, revered. He didn’t want to keep me under his thumb, binding me and forcing me to deny what I was. He wanted me because of what I was.
“Let me help you.” He stroked my hair, fingertips grazing my neck, sending tendrils of pleasure throughout my body. “You can’t hold it inside for too long, my darling, or your mind could be overtaken by what you saw when you fed, trapped in the consciousness of another. Like multiple personalities.”
Still cradling me, he stood and carried me the few feet to the bed before setting me down and crawling in beside me. Scooting closer, he worked his knee between my legs. With one hand cupping the back of my head and the other cupping my ass, he pulled me against him. The move left me breathless and wanting more. I managed to draw in one quick breath before his mouth was on mine, his tongue sliding between my lips, coaxing me, teasing me. Opening myself to him, I kissed him back.
Something happened during the kiss. Something equal parts erotic and disturbing. I felt Apollyon, felt him inside me, like I’d felt no other. He literally filled every part of me, touched every inch of me, and then the caress shifted. His focus moved ever so slightly from me to what was inside me. Like the snap of a rubber band, I felt the tendrils of Thomas’s essence unfurl from the hollows where my soul should have been. The sensation of fullness, the pressure from holding so much inside me, which I’d almost forgotten since waking up next to Apollyon, returned. And then, just like that, it eased. Apollyon coaxed it, drawing it up and out.
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