Eban (14 page)

Her eyes widened. They were hazel, blue with the slightest hint of brown and green around her irises. She laughed, a genuine smile that reflected her happiness. “We'll have to run away. My father—”

“Don't worry about him now. Do you want to run away with me?”

Gloria dropped to her knees beside him. “Of course I do. I can't live without you.”

All traces of her earlier misery were gone. She glowed with happiness like Rhia had on her wedding day. True love—no mistaking it for anything else. A spark of envy lodged itself under Beryl's heart. Seneca might be a demon, but he was repentant and he'd risked his life to be with Gloria and raise their children.

Beryl glanced at Eban. He watched with rapt attention, his gaze trained on his parents. She saw his face differently now. Seneca's brow and chin, combined with Gloria's cheekbones. Eban was a product of their love, a child born to two beings who cared for one another despite their differences.

They shared another kiss, this one with power behind it. The warm breeze stilled and the street noise declined. It was as if the world stopped to observe their love. Seneca brushed his hand over Gloria's hair, a gesture Eban had repeated with Beryl only hours ago.

Beryl caught a glow from the corner of her eye. She turned toward it, stunned to see Eliakim's form outlined with blue light.

“Love?” she guessed.

He nodded.
“We stand in the presence of it at its purest. The Father smiled on them. He was pleased that Seneca turned away from the darkness. Not all who see the light follow it.”

The scene faded, leaving them in the cemetery again. She wrapped her arms around herself, thinking of Rosemar. The demon swore she'd been responsible for men and women falling in love for eons. Seere had recruited her to bring Rhia and Wystan together, but now that she'd accomplished it, she was after something else. More false feelings and misery. Rosemar wasn't the type to give up her wicked ways.

Eban met her eyes. “They always cared deeply for one another.”

She nodded, biting her tongue so she wouldn't betray her true feelings. The anger and hurt that he'd spoken to her so harshly made her want to retaliate, but doing so after watching his parents' joy seemed wrong.

For the first time, she noticed the half-healed wounds on his face and hands. Small cuts that looked days old, although she'd seen him hours ago and he'd been fine. He'd gotten injured while hunting. A little part of her insisted it was his own fault for foolishly chasing monsters, but the other part imagined him doing battle against impossible odds, slaying the beasts so they wouldn't creep into Berner and hurt the innocent.

“Did you kill it?”

He touched the fading bruises around his throat. “A changesteed. I had some help from Eliakim with the others.”

“I hope you feel better after acting like your brothers.”

She looked away from him, at the smaller headstone next to his parents'. It read
Cassandra Heckmaster
and gave her age as fifteen. A dull pang struck Beryl's heart. The sister Wystan had killed because the parasite demon in her head was under orders to destroy the rest of the family. It wasn't fair that they'd been struck with such rotten fates.

“I'm sorry for the things I said. I've been angry for the wrong reasons and I took it out on you.”

His apology barely covered the scab over the wounds his words had left. “Rosemar made me a deal.”

His eyes hardened at the demon's name. “What did she offer you?”

Her stomach churned as she recalled the conversation and the things Rosemar had shown her. It was now or never. She could tell him the truth, reveal her feelings and let him decide whether he was ready to move on from Rhia…or he might storm away again. Heart thumping painfully, she nodded. “She helped me remember my past. How I ended up in Dakota Territory. It's not pretty, but more importantly, she told me she could make it so that you'd fall in love with me. Forever.”

“You didn't take it.” It wasn't a question.

“Of course not. She's a demon. I'm not an idiot.” She sighed. “I love you. Maybe from the moment we met. I understand that you can't feel the same way about me, and I'm sure I'll recover eventually. But, Eban, throwing yourself at demons won't cure your pain.”

“I know.” He stood in front of her, watching her through half-closed eyes. “If not for Eliakim, I'd have been in real trouble. I came very close to giving Astaroth what he wanted—a Heckmaster to manipulate in Hell.”

The bruises and scrapes were testament to that. “Wystan has said all along that the three of you are stronger together.”

“Much as I hate to admit it, he's right,” he grumbled. He took her hands and she let him despite her reservations. “Why did you come here with Eliakim?”

She looked for the angel, but he'd gone without them noticing. “I wanted to be sure you were all right. He said you called him silently. I thought you might be in trouble. You already found that, I see.”

The bruises at his throat looked painful, even if they were healing rapidly.

“Even after what I said?”

Her throat felt dry, so she nodded.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured. “You're right about the demon inside of me. It wants out, but I'll keep it contained. Give me another chance. It might have taken demons crawling out of the Pit to knock some sense into me, but…dammit, Beryl, I need you. I thought if I could make my way back to you, things would be different. I could do better. I could prove you're not the bad woman you're worried that you are.”

Her breath caught. Eban, declaring affection for her? Perhaps his scrape at the Pit had addled his mind. Or the scene he'd just witnessed left him feeling sentimental. She wasn't sure she could trust him.

“You hurt me.”

“Let me make it up to you. Please.”

He looked like his father, telling his mother everything would be all right now that they were together. She closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. Rosemar's offer still buzzed in her mind, louder than before, pressing her to choose the demon's way. He might change his mind again, might push her away a second time. There was no guarantee he wanted to give her forever, but with demon magic, she'd always keep him close.

He'll never know,
Rosemar seemed to whisper.

“Beryl?”

She opened her eyes again. “I feel as though I'll shatter if I don't forgive you.”

“Not you, but I will.” There was already something broken in his gaze. “Please don't let us end this way, because I was stupid, because I—”

She pulled her hands out of his and wrapped her arms around his middle. The soft material of his shirt smelled like him. The unique blend of shoe polish, leather and mint. Her want for him was like a powerful drug, churning through her veins, making her heart race in a tempo that almost cried his name.

“I forgive you, Eban.”

He lowered his head, pressing his forehead against hers. “Thank God. Thank you.”

“You're sure this is what you want?”

She was lost, no matter what he said. Her love for him would never die, even if he walked away for good. It was a curse and a miracle wrapped as one.

“Until I die an old man in my bed or Astaroth gets me.”

A hot, fat tear spilled from her eye. She'd longed for these words and while her mind remained cautious, her heart gave in. Their lips met, a kiss that seared like the heat from the Pit. Wanton desire washed through her, wiping out any worry.

Eban was hers, beyond a doubt.

His hands roamed over her clothes, the swell of her breasts, the tuck of her waist, cupping her buttocks. She itched to bare his skin, drink in the sight of his muscular body, kiss the spots where he was ticklish, tease his hard, flat nipples with her tongue. Not here, not in a cemetery where anyone could wander past, but soon.

“You can't have him, you little bitch!”

Rosemar's voice roared inside her head and Beryl cried out. Pain like sharp talons pierced her skull. Dimly, she heard Eban call her name, but she couldn't respond.

“I'll kill him and you before I let you have him,”
the demon swore.

“Stop! Leave me alone!”

A steady string of vulgar language assaulted her ears. Something tore at her hair and face. Strong hands grabbed hers, shook her hard enough to make her neck pop. She opened her eyes and saw Eban, pale and panting, holding on to her.

“W-what's happening?” she whispered.

“I think you already know.” He had tears in his eyes. “She's trying to kill you.”

Chapter Thirteen

“I don't understand.”

Beryl looked like a lost orphan wrapped in a blanket and sitting on Eban's bed, curled against the headboard. He sat at the foot of the bed, holding a cup of coffee he didn't want just to have something to do with his hands.

How much to tell her, how much to keep hidden? She already suspected Rosemar was inside her. Would explaining help her fight off the lust demon, or make Rosemar stronger?

“She's been with you since before you met Rhia. She's likely the reason you survived the beating at the brothel.” He looked into his pitch-black coffee. “Rosemar is also the reason you got sick. Human bodies aren't designed to maintain a demon presence for long.”

“You're sure she's…in here?” Beryl hugged herself, drawing the blanket tighter.

“Positive. How much do you remember about the day Noem attacked us?” They'd never discussed it at length. She knew that Wystan had died and returned as a full demon, that Rhia had been betrayed and attacked Noem herself, that Tell had destroyed the water tower and flushed the town with holy water, which had sent Noem back to Hell. But how much of her actions were buried in her mind?

She wrinkled her forehead, squinting at the opposite wall as she thought. “Was Rosemar there?”

“Fighting with us because Seere commanded it,” he confirmed.

“Inside my body.” Her voice was flat. “You gave her a weapon. A hatchet with a silver head. She tried to behead Noem.”

“Yes.”

“She killed a lot of them. Using me. Her body is too wasted to give her any benefits in our world, so she needs a host. Eliakim told me about her body. Seere promised her mine.” Beryl winced at her own words. “She always gets what she wants.”

“Not this time,” Eban swore. “Tell's arranging it so that we can ask three royal demons how to get rid of her. We don't care what Seere thinks about it. These demons command more legions than he does. He means nothing to them. His plans mean nothing.”

“Maybe you should kill me.” The suggestion came out corn-husk dry. “If it keeps her from doing God knows what, it's worth it.”

Her skin was pale, so translucent he could see the blue veins beneath. Dark circles shadowed her eyes and his anger grew. He couldn't imagine drawing his blade across Beryl's throat. Not even if Rosemar had full control of her. The coffee cup trembled in his hands and he set it on the floor to avoid spilling it.

“The royals will know what to do. Don't even think about giving up.”

Yet.

It hung between them, giving Eban an itchy feeling between his shoulder blades.

“You'll do it, though, if they don't know.” She lowered her gaze, studying some invisible object on her lap. “You, not Wystan or Tell.”

“I'm not going to behead you.” He used more force than necessary, shooting to his feet before he'd finished the sentence. “It won't come to that.”

“You can't be sure.” She looked up, green eyes shadowed by her dark thoughts. “I don't want her using me again. I don't remember any of it, but what if she hurts you or someone else? It would be the same as if I did it.”

“Stop thinking that way. We're going to take care of this without anyone dying.” He settled beside her, pushing the blanket down so he could stroke her hair. “I promise.”

“She knows. If I know, then she must.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I'm afraid she'll try to stop you.”

“We'll set Eliakim to guard you. He won't let her do anything.”
Except he might behead Rosemar himself.
Eban wiped the thought away.

She dropped the blanket and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face against his chest. Holding her close, he could almost read her thoughts. If Eban wouldn't do it, Eliakim wouldn't hesitate. It was, after all, his job to destroy demons. Rosemar might think she could charm the angel and get away, but he would see right through her.

“Don't you dare,” he growled.

“What?” She peered up at him, eyes wide.

“You know what.” He held her tighter. “I've spent all this time defending your right to live. I'm not quitting now.”

Beryl didn't reply. Her slender fingers ran up and down his back. Soft breasts pressed his chest and the faint scent of floral soap reached Eban's nose. The small woman he held was more his idea of an angel than anything he'd seen so far. The sense of protectiveness welled in him again. He'd fight to his last heartbeat if it came to that.

Downstairs, the door shut firmly against the frame. Beryl looked up, nibbling her lower lip.

He relaxed his grip on her. “It's just Tell. I brought a demon back for him to look at. He wanted to study it better. Why don't you go take a bath while I help him?”

She nodded. “That sounds nice.”

Too compliant, even for Beryl. He narrowed his eyes, but she avoided his gaze, throwing the blanket off and rising.

“On second thought, he can do it himself.” Catching her wrist, he halted her progress across the room. “Wait.”

In the golden glow of lamplight, her hair formed a halo around her face. Pale skin was regaining its color, giving her cheeks a rosy cast. Peculiar green eyes were questioning. Eban got to his feet, standing above her. He lowered his lips to hers, meaning to give her a quick kiss, but she opened her mouth, deepening it. Her sweet little tongue seared against his. Blood pounded between his ears before rushing south.

How had he missed the spark that flared between them? It blossomed into a flame, starting in his middle and spreading outward. He could have her clothes off in minutes, have her spread beneath him on the bed shortly after.

Before he could move his hands, she was already halfway there, pushing his braces down, tugging his shirt out of his trousers and loosening the buttons. Her dress unfastened at the back and he reached for the closure, slipping the buttons through holes with the ease of a surgeon threading a needle. He'd always been particularly dexterous, a talent that came in handy.

She backed away when the dress hit the floor and unfastened her corset before removing her chemise. Pale all over except for a sprinkle of light freckles across her small breasts—his breath caught when he imagined kissing them—and the pink tips of her nipples. She beckoned him without saying a word.

He swallowed hard, barely remembering he needed to step out of his boots before approaching, or he'd fall flat on his face and ruin the moment. He struggled to get out of them, to get his feet through his trouser legs. Then he was free and Beryl was sprawled across the bed, waiting for him.

Eban gritted his teeth, his rod throbbing at the sight of her naked body. She looked small and delicate, but he knew she was made for loving. He approached the end of the bed and settled there, caressing her trim ankles. Lifting one, his kissed the bone, holding his lips there for a few seconds. He repeated the action with the opposite ankle, smiling when she laughed softly. He worked his way up, leading with his hands, memorizing the simple curves of her calves and knees, the muscles in her thighs. Her apex loomed in front of him, inviting, silky and ready. Beryl's head was propped on his feather pillow, watching with an amused look mixed with lust. She pushed her fingers through his hair, raking her nails down his scalp. The effect sent shivers down his spine and back. He nipped the inside of her right thigh, then soothed it with a kiss. Beryl moaned, fingers tightening in his hair. He turned to her center, drinking her in. Her thighs hugged his head, but he went deeper, giving no quarter as he lapped.

She writhed on the bed, moving against him, making low noises until she climaxed. Her fingers were twined in the sheet, head thrown back, eyes closed. Eban drew up beside her on the bed, running his hand over her cheek. If he hadn't been stupid, he might have shared this level intimacy with her sooner. She turned toward him, lips swollen from biting them.

“Do you think Tell heard?” she whispered, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“He probably doesn't have to hear. He knows things,” he reminded her.

Her hand snaked down his body, cupping his shaft in a tight fist. Eban sucked in a breath when she stroked. He ached with the tightness in his gut, the need for release. Her long, slow caresses put him on edge. The temptation to rise and sink himself deep inside rolled over him in waves. She ran her fingernails along his shaft and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was on the verge of his own climax when she released him.

He didn't hesitate, but entered her with a smooth stroke. She arched her back off the bed, meeting him before he'd sunk to his hilt. It was impossible to think, only to feel as he buried himself inside her. He held on until she cried out again, then let go, falling with her.

Wystan and Tell were right—he loved her. Maybe he had for a while and was too blind to see it. A life without Beryl was too gloomy to contemplate. She lay on her back, eyes closed, smile on her face as her chest rose and fell. Warmth spiraled through Eban as he watched. He'd die trying to save her, if that was what it took.

Downstairs, something clattered to the floor. Eban groaned. Beryl's eyes popped open.

“He can handle any weapon you give him, but let him near surgical instruments and he turns into a clumsy child.”

“Maybe you should check on him,” she suggested. “I'm going to have that bath we talked about.”

It wasn't unusual to see a bonfire in Berner in the middle of the night. Sometimes dragging demon bodies back to the Pit was something Wys or Tell took pleasure in, but tonight Eban and Tell wanted rid of the lizard-bat. It went up like dry evergreen needles, sending ashes drifting throughout the night minutes after they built a rock ring to contain the flames.

“What's the likelihood that our demon lords actually know how to get rid of Rosemar?” Eban tried to keep his voice neutral, but he knew Tell could read him like a posted sign.

“Between the three of them, I'd say pretty high.” Tell didn't look away from the dancing flames. “You're awful worried for a man who's only in it to save a friend.”

“I guess you know better than that, don't you?” Eban rubbed his chin, relaxing a little as he thought of Beryl's touch.

“The two of you aren't much on subtly.” Tell smiled. “I knew it was coming the first time I saw you together. Sometimes things just shine, if you know what I mean.”

The flames created shadows and lines on Tell's face, making him look much older than he was and, somehow, a little meaner. He didn't know what his brother meant about shining.

“Did you make enough notes about the lizard-bat?”

For someone who never cared about book learning, Tell had drawn pictures and noted oddities about the creature as he chopped and hacked it apart.

“You ought to name it instead of calling it that.” Tell stirred the fire with a stick. “The neezer demon. The blizard. You'll think of something. Kind of hope we don't see too many more of those, though. The bitch had tough skin.”

Tell was trying to take his mind off Rosemar. Even Eban, who only saw what was in front of his eyes knew that.

“Can we be honest for a minute?”

Tell quirked an eyebrow. “I suppose.”

“You've done more studying on the Key than anyone else. Can you see the demons from the book helping us?” He winced when pain flared in his finger. He'd torn part of his cuticle. A dot of blood seeped between his finger and the nail bed.

“They've got no choice. They'll be compelled to answer.”

Evasive. Eban bit the inside of his cheek. Tell's gaze wavered.

“Just like with Astaroth, who told Father how to trap him, these three have to come up with an answer. I don't get flashes of the future—I can't tell you how this'll turn out in the end. I just do the best I can with the information I have.” Tell clapped him on the shoulder. “I'm happy that you're in love.”

“She asked me to do it.” His voice sounded like leaves scraping the boardwalk.

Tell sucked a breath of air through his teeth. He dragged his finger across his throat in question.

“Yeah, that,” Eban confirmed.

“You're not gonna…”

“No.”

“I'll do it. If it needs doing. I'm not afraid of Rosemar.” Tell shifted his weight. “But I don't think it'll come to that.”

“I told her the same thing.” His heart thumped faster in his chest. He only knew what Wystan had told them about beheading Sandra. She'd been mad with rage—no, the creature inside her head had been. It wasn't easy to get her down and hold her still long enough to draw his blade. It had been messy, judging by the shape of the room the next morning. None of them had ever slept in that house again, going their own ways for living arrangements. He pictured Wystan crying over Sandra's lifeless body, though his older brother hadn't said anything about grief. He'd been hard, cold after the fact, but his sorrow was on his face for weeks…years after that.

He cleared his throat. “If it does, I don't know—” His voice cracked. “Sometimes…lately…I don't feel like myself.”

Tell looked up sharply. “You don't think you're turning.”

“I do,” he answered. “I don't want to turn, but it could happen. Beryl said there were signs.”

He'd given a lot of thought to what might happen if his demon half took over. He could wreak all sorts of damage on Berner if there was no one to keep him in check. It was a curse, knowing the dark blood coursing his veins could emerge at the slightest provocation. He'd always felt more human than demon, but if his loss was great enough, his sorrow too deep, there wouldn't be anything to keep him from snapping. It had happened to Wystan, although it had saved his life. It took control to harness the monster inside. Without Beryl, he wasn't sure he'd be able to control himself.

“You're asking me to”—Tell made the slashing motion again—”if you lose it.”