“So I've been told,” I muttered under my breath. Unfortunately, angels and vampires both have excellent hearing. You really would think I'd know better.
“Then why . . . ?” The radiant smile was replaced with a puzzled frown, and then a look that could only be described as stunned amazement. “You don't remember, do you?”
Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a winner!
“Um, I guess not.” I did my best not to sound completely idiotic.
My memory was coming backâin fits and starts. Ever since the dream that wasn't a dream, I'd been remembering all sorts of things at the oddest moments. Usually it was nothing more than a fragmentâa single word whispered in my ear, a glimpse of hair, the lightest stroke of a hand across my skin, a scent both familiar and unknown at the same time. Sometimes, it was such a jumble of images that I knew a much larger span of events was being covered. However, I had no way of putting them in any context. No way of knowing if they took place before or after the incident in the clearing. The only thing I knew with any certainty was that Gabriel's taking my blood had been the catalyst that triggered the chain reaction inside my head. But there were still gaps, and whatever Sebastian was referring to now was one of them.
“So you are not refusing to complete the ritual?” he asked slowly, as a worried frown wrinkled his boyish brow.
“Not intentionally, no.”
“And you're not unwilling?”
“That's kind of hard to answer when I'm not sure what it is I'm supposed to do, but no, I don't think I'd be unwilling.”
He paced up and down a couple of times before coming to a stop in front of me. When he reached out a hand, the tips of his fingers unerringly went to the spot where Gabriel had punctured my vein. “You have given him your blood,” he murmured softly. “This was also done willingly?” I nodded. “Then you have no choice, Rowan. You must complete the ritual.”
“Why?” I moved his fingers from my neck, surprised at how warm they were. “How am I supposed to fix something when I don't know what it is, or how I broke it in the first place?”
“Something has been broken?” Sebastian asked, confused.
“I'm speaking metaphorically.” We both sighed. Mine was an exhale of frustration, his one of thoughtful contemplation. “Look, my memory's been returning, but I haven't got it all back,” I explained, “and I honestly don't know how to make any sense of what it is I am remembering.” The look on his face encouraged me to continue. “I know Gabriel hasn't always been a vampire. I know he was once an angel, a fallen angel, and I know that he gave me something important to keep safe. Something I'm supposed to return to him.” I glanced up at Sebastian's face and gave him an apologetic shrug. “I don't know why you're so concerned when it doesn't matter to Gabriel anymore.”
“Why would you think it doesn't matter?”
“He told me.”
“What did he say?”
“That he was bound by ritual and couldn't tell me what it was, but that it made no difference if I remembered, because returning whatever I had was no longer necessary. It wouldn't change anything.”
I thought Sebastian was going to explode. His face went dark, and his eyes became pools of molten lava. His wings reappeared in a furious rustle, and muttering something completely unintelligible, he hid himself from me. I doubt if more than a minute passed, but it felt much longer. Making the wings vanish, the angel stepped forward, his face once more a perfect representation of a figure painted by one of the old masters.
“You know what it is, don't you?” I said. It was more of a statement than a real question, and I was filled with a mix of excitement and sheer, unmitigated terror at seeing him nod his head. Whatever I'd been given had been important. Something about Gabriel's casual dismissal had caused Sebastian to lose his cool. And it was something he was going to tell me. “I don't suppose it's the title to a garage full of antique cars, is it?”
His mouth became a grimace. “It's a little more important than that.”
I closed my eyes, steeling myself for what I couldn't imagine. “Then perhaps you'd better tell me.”
“Rowan . . .” He hesitated, and I opened my eyes to see his were now lakes of fire. A wave of nausea washed over me, and I began to tremble. Sebastian caught hold of my hands, his extra-jointed thumbs rubbing the inside of each wrist. Suddenly I didn't want to know what Gabriel had surrendered to me. I had the awful feeling that it was going to be so much worse than discovering the man I loved was a vampire. If Gabriel was okay with not getting it back, then who was Sebastian to force it on him?
“I don't want to know,” I said, trying to pull my hands out of the angel's grasp. “Don't tell me!”
Panic was threading its way through me, and the feeling that I was going to throw up was so real I could taste bile in the back of my throat.
“Rowan . . . ,” Sebastian drew me into him, pulling me close and wrapping an arm about my shoulders. “Rowan, you have to be told, and if Gabriel will not speak of it, then I must.”
“No!” My voice rose to a shriek. “Gabriel doesn't want it! He says it doesn't matter!”
Speaking with just the right amount of calm, Sebastian made me think I wasn't the first hysterical female he'd ever dealt with. “Gabriel cannot make such a decision by himself. If he is bound by ritual, Rowan, then so are you, and this he knows. To allow you no voice in this outcome makes a mockery of you as his Promise, and belittles the vow you made to him.”
The arm around my shoulder dropped, and he stepped back. I took a deep breath to calm myself, waiting until both the nausea and the hysteria subsided. Finally I spoke, though not as calmly as he had.
“What did Gabriel give me to keep safe for him?”
The angel looked as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. “His soul, Rowan. You have Gabriel's soul in your safekeeping.”
CHAPTER 17
I
never really understood the phrase
you could hear a pin drop
until this exact moment. It was as if every living creature on the planet decided to hold its breath at exactly the same time because the earth had stopped spinning and we were all waiting to see if gravity was nothing more than a joke. My rib cage constricted, threatening to crush the lungs it was designed to protect. I opened my mouth, gasping for air, but there was none to be had. The beat of my heart slowed to the point that I could hear the blood moving sluggishly through each separate chamber. I felt strangely heavy, as if my muscles could no longer support my skin and bones.
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so I wound up trying to do both at the same time, spluttering and coughing. Not a good idea. Sebastian patted me on the back as he led me to the swing seat and sat me down. I looked at him with watery eyes, searching for a sign that this was some sort of celestial
gotcha
, but his face was so grave, so solemn, I knew he wasn't kidding.
I was in possession of Gabriel's soul.
How the hell did you pull that one off?
I had absolutely no idea. Ever since I'd first heard I was keeping something safe, I'd assumed it to be something tangible. It never crossed my mind that it might be anything . . . incorporeal.
“You're not messing with me, are you?” I asked. “You know, joking?” Sebastian shook his hair, revealing a red tint I hadn't noticed before. “How is such a thing possible? How can a person exist without their soul, and how can it be given to someone else? You're an angelâtell me how.”
“You really don't remember, do you?”
Now it was my turn to shake my head. “No,” I whispered. “I really don't.”
Sebastian closed his eyes for a few moments, as if trying to make up his mind about something. When he raised his lids again, they seemed more orange than red, and I could see he had come to a decision. “Tell me everything you do remember.”
It didn't take as long as I thought it might, and when I was done, I was filled with a strange sense of relief. Telling Gabriel had been one thing, but this was someone who hadn't been there, who didn't know. Surprisingly, he didn't laugh or think I was in need of some serious drugs. Getting to his feet, Sebastian extended his hand and gave me a blissfully radiant smile. It made me think he really should have been at Christ's birth.
“If you will permit it, Rowan, I can help you recover your lost memories.”
“You're not going to kiss me again, are you?” Allowing him the same catalyst as Gabriel to kick-start my recall process seemed a lot like being unfaithful.
“No, I already know that won't work.” He actually sounded disappointed. “But there is another way I can restore what has been forgotten, only I need your complete trust. Do I have it?”
I doubt there were many women who had ever responded no to that question from Sebastian, and I wasn't about to join their lonely ranks. Instead I placed my fingers in his outstretched palm and allowed myself to be pulled against his body once more. I heard the rustle of his wings as he wrapped them around me, encasing me in a cocoon of fragrant warmth. The scent reminded me of incense and made me think of being in church. A softness brushed against my bare arms.
“Rowan?”
Sebastian's free arm encircled my waist, but it was the gentle tug on my hand that made me look up. I gasped. His eyes were once again lakes of molten fire. It took all I had not to try to free myself from his embrace, but the arm around my waist was now a band of steel.
“Do you trust me, Rowan?” he asked.
I hesitated a moment before nodding my head. I trusted Sebastian, but not my own voice. The wings at my back tightened, his long fingers curled around my hand, and the fire in his eyes intensified. And then . . . I fell.
Â
The Void.
The source from which all that enters the Dark Realm is reborn. The repository of both life and death, hope and despair, dark and more darkness. A knife's edge balance of all that was, all that is, and all that is still to be.
She feels him move behind her, his hands on her shoulders, his breath stirring her hair. Following the gentle pressure of his fingers, she turns and looks up at him. Staring into blue-gold eyes, her hand flutters against his naked chest, where the rapid beat of his heart pounds against her palm. In the clearing she gave her word, and the time has come for the ritual to be completed.
“I am your vessel,” she tells him, “let me keep safe what you can no longer possess.”
His hands move, and her dress slips from her shoulders, pooling like a silken cloud at her feet. The blood roars through her as his eyes roam hungrily over her pale flesh. She is not immune to him, and her tongue licks over parched lips as she touches him. Is it wrong to want him? She, who has yet to lie with a man, would give her soul to lie with him. Right here, right now.
Her breath catches as he cups her breast in his hand, his thumb awakening her nipple with a promise. His other hand, splayed in the small of her back, brings her in closer, allowing his thigh to split her legs. His hands move, spreading warmth from the tips of his fingers to a place hidden deep inside her. She is helpless to resist. The heat increases, searing her lungs and scorching her heart, and though she is afraid, she will do nothing to douse the flame that wants to consume her. This she knows will bind them, one to the other, for all time.
She follows him down to the ground, and he enters her body in one smooth stroke. There is a tearing deep inside, and the pain of him filling her makes her cry out. Biting her lip, she draws blood, but it does not stop her from riding the wave of his desire and permitting him to slake his lust with her. And as he soars on the crest of his need, she realizes it is not her soul that will be given up in this moment of oblivion. It is his.
Matching the intensity of his passion, she opens herself to him. Fully, completely, and with no reservation. Accepting, in a secret place deep inside her, what he can no longer possess. Swathing his soul with her own, she promises to keep it safe until the time when he can reclaim it from her.
“Never let go of me!” she commands, her palm once more covering his beating heart. “Keep me with you always.”
They stand together at the edge of the chasm, knowing that the swirling darkness below will extinguish the last remnant of his angelic light forever. He will be reborn, becoming something else. Something other. Something it was never his destiny to be. But Fate is a fickle mistress, and her temper is not for the faint of heart. Reincarnated as the perfect predator, he will be a slayer of men. Those he once sought to protect will now become his prey. He turns and takes her in his arms. With one last desperate kiss, he bruises her mouth, making her eyes fill with tears. And that is why she does not see him step over the edge and give himself to the darkness below. And she is better for it.
Now she waits. Leaning over the lip of the chasm, she searches the black river below her, looking for any sign of him. She knows he will be returned to the lesser beasts. He must be taught how to use the skills they have so generously bestowed, and while he fulfills this part of the bargain he has struck, he must forget her. He will seek her out, but not until his temper, skill, and appetites are as natural to him as breathing. Only then will he come to her, only then will it be safe, and find her he will.
For she is his redemption . . . his hope . . . his Promise.
She peers anxiously into the dark, and calls his name. Leaning perilously over the precipice, she reaches forward, stretching out her arm. His voice ricochets off the walls of the abyss as he calls to her. She can feel his newly dark presence, feel the violence stirring within him as he searches blindly for her. She cares not that he is now something else. All that matters is that he is hers, and she is his. “GABRIEL!”
Her cry is sucked down into the vat that would swallow him whole, and is returned to her on an echo that becomes a thunderclap in the night. She leans farther forward. In danger of falling herself, she stretches her arm out from her body, willing him to find her, to seize her hand and hold on.
And then, when she has almost given up hope, she feels the cold strength of his fingers grasping hers. The brutal pull on her arm and shoulder as he clings to the lifeline she offers threatens the limit of her endurance. But with a strength only the mad possess, she pulls him from the Void. His body is coated with the slime and filth that is his afterbirth, and it oozes down his newly enhanced frame.
She sloughs off the muck, committing the feel of this new form to her hands as she does so. He looks down at her with eyes now turned to molten gold and leans down to lap at the blood on her bruised lip. Immediately his teeth lengthen, and she understands what he needs from her. Her throat is the offering, and as he strikes, he brings her to ecstasy on a wave of unimaginable yearning. Knowing her blood will make him strong, she denies him nothing of herself.
“I am yours to do with as you will,” he whispers in her ear when it is done, and as he presses his cold lips to her burning ones, they bind themselves to each other.
By word. By deed. By ritual . . . and by choice.