Kristina Douglas - The Fallen 1 - Raziel (22 page)

T
HE FIRST FLOOR WAS DESERTED when Sarah made her way up from the kitchens. Everyone was too tense to eat, the kitchen staff were in disarray, and it was up to her to keep things running smoothly. The long hike made her a little breathless, and she waited for a moment to regain her composure. If Azazel realized she was having trouble breathing he would overreact, and the Fal en couldn’t afford to have that happen right now.

With everything else he was calm, measured, unemotional, able to make the hard decisions without flinching. He would have condemned Al ie to Uriel’s hel , and he would have been the one to take her, if necessary. He wouldn’t have thought twice about it.

But if he knew Sarah was getting weaker, it would distract him, and right now Sheol needed his undivided attention.

The Nephilim were at their gates. She could hear their howls and moans in the night, the hideous, bone-chil ing sounds as they attacked the impenetrable door. Impenetrable for now, but sooner or later they would get through. Someone was a traitor, the Nephilim horde would be shown a way to break through the barriers, and there would be a bloodbath.

She knew it. Azazel knew it. She wondered how many of the Fal en were aware of what awaited them. Quite possibly most of them.

Her breathing had steadied now. She checked her pulse—it was slow and even. People lived longer, healthier lives in Sheol. But they couldn’t live forever, and her life was drawing to a close. Sooner than it should have in this sacred place, but she accepted it. Azazel, however, would not.

She pushed away from the long sideboard in the front hal and went to her husband. He was down by the water—her knowledge was instinctive and sure. She knew him so wel , knew how he’d fight to keep her. But in the end there was nothing he could do. She would have to leave, and he would go on.

He didn’t turn when she joined him on the moonlit beach. He was sitting on the grass, and she sat beside him, leaning against him as he put his arm around her waist. She pressed her face against his shoulder, breathing in the familiar smel of him. Her blood kept him alive—their joining was so complete they seldom had need for words.

But tonight she felt like talking. “I’ve been talking with Al ie.”

He settled her more comfortably against him. “He real y did bed her, didn’t he?”

“Most thoroughly. Though there was only the slightest scratch on her neck, and it hadn’t healed. But he would have taken enough to be certain—Al ie is not your traitor.”

“I know,” he said, not sounding happy about it. “And how is she?”

“That poor creature,” Sarah said with a laugh.

“She’l manage,” Azazel said with his customary lack of sentiment.

“I’m talking about Raziel. He doesn’t realize what he’s gotten himself into. She knew where he was.”

That was enough to make Azazel sit up straight and look down at her. “Are you certain? Maybe she just guessed.”

Sarah shook her head. “She knew. It won’t be long before she can read his thoughts just as he reads hers. And he’s not going to like it.”

Azazel managed a dry laugh. “He’l hate it. So you’re tel ing me this woman real y is his bonded mate? And she can already hear him? That’s extraordinary.”

“So it appears. No wonder he hauled her back from the pit Uriel had consigned her to. Clearly it wasn’t an accident. What bothers me is why Uriel set it up. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that Raziel was supposed to dispose of his bonded mate.”

“Why should it surprise you? If Uriel can deprive us of our bonded mates, it weakens us. He can’t kil us, can’t send his legion of soldiers against us without sufficient reason. Al he can do is torture us. As long as Raziel has no mate, he wil remain at less than ful strength. That’s the way Uriel wants us, if he can’t have us dead. Too bad for him it backfired.”

Sarah smiled. “Raziel’s stil fighting it.”

“That’s his problem, not ours. He needs to claim her and feed, but he’s a stubborn bastard. He’s going to have to figure this out on his own. I just hope it doesn’t take him too long. We need him at ful strength, the sooner the better.” He looked out toward the ocean, his blue eyes wintry. “What about the woman?”

“Oh, I think she knows, deep inside. She may have always known.

She’s probably going to fight it as wel .”

Azazel sighed. “Just what we need. Soap operas in Sheol.”

A bestial scream rent the night air, and Sarah shivered. “The Nephilim are coming closer,” she said in a low voice.

“Yes.”

“They’re going to get in, sooner or later.”

“Probably sooner,” he said in his pragmatic voice.

She managed a shaky laugh. “Couldn’t you at least lie to me, tel me everything wil be al right?”

He looked down at her, reaching up to brush her moonlit silver hair away from her face with a tender hand. “Now, what good would that do me? I don’t shield my thoughts. Unlike you,” he added.

“You real y don’t want to know some of the things that go on in my tortured mind,” she said lightly. If he knew what was going to happen, he would try to do something to stop it, and there were things that couldn’t be changed. Her death was one of those things, whether she liked it or not.

He rose, pul ing her up into his arms, against his hard, strong body. Once her body had almost equaled his, lithe and young and beautiful. Now she was old, and he stil looked at her, touched her, like she were twenty.

“Let’s go swimming,” he said as another howl echoed in the distance. He reached up to push her loose robes off her body.

She let him, and a moment later he was naked as wel , and they ran into the surf, holding hands, diving under the cold salt water as the bright moon shone down. She swam out, secure in the knowledge that he could get to her at a moment’s notice, and once past the breaking swel s she rol ed over to float on her back, letting her hair drift around her. Ophelia, she thought. He had to be able to let her go.

He came up beside her, and she kissed his mouth, cold and wet and salty, and wrapped her body around his, floating, peaceful.

There weren’t many moments like this left to them, and she was greedy, she wanted everything she could get.

He smiled against her mouth. “Shal we go back to our rooms? Or is Raziel’s soap opera going to demand your services again tonight?”

“You’re the only one who gets my services tonight,” she murmured, letting him pul her in toward the distant shore.

They were back in their bedroom, the doors open to the night air, when she heard the screams of the Nephilim once more.

“Close the windows, love,” she said softly, sliding between the cool sheets.

He did as she asked, not questioning, and then came to bed.

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?” I stared at the woman with horror. I’d been having a hard time not thinking about taking her to bed, but her blithe announcement had driven that straight out of my mind.

“I knew what you were thinking,” she said smugly. “Is that because we had sex? Earlier I knew you were coming here long before you showed up. I realized that was odd because of Sarah’s reaction, and now I can sort of pick up your thoughts.”

“Can you indeed?” I said calmly, wondering if I could get away with throwing her off the balcony and tel ing everyone she’d slipped.

No, I couldn’t, but it was a nice thought.

One she didn’t pick up on, fortunately. So her ability to read me wasn’t that wel developed. Yet.

Shit. Under normal circumstances, there was only one reason a woman would be able to read me—because she was my bonded mate. But for me there would be no bonded mates ever again. This was just an anomaly.

“Not now, of course,” she said, frowning. “Just the occasional thought sort of drifting through my brain. Are you doing that?”

“Letting you read my thoughts? No,” I said, control ing my instinctive shudder. I couldn’t let her know how she affected me.

“This is a fluke—by tomorrow, it should have passed. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried about it. I like it. It gives me something to fight back with,” she said.

Interesting. “Why do you need to fight me?” I asked her.

That stumped her for a moment, and I tried to touch her mind. A mistake. She wanted me, I could feel it quite clearly. It was almost a physical touch, even though she was trying hard to suppress it. That was what she needed to fight.

“I feel powerless here,” she said final y.

“You
are
powerless here.” I moved over to the bank of windows that faced the sea. They were open, the sheer white curtains fluttering inward on the strong wind. I could hear the soothing sound of the ocean as it beat against the sandy shore. It almost—almost—

drowned out the screams from the world beyond. I glanced back at the woman sitting curled up, a stain of color against the pristine white of the sofa. I had an easier time resisting her when she was dressed in white. Why had I ordered those clothes for her? The colors assaulted my eyes, assaulted my senses. They drew me.

“What else did Sarah want?”

“To welcome me into the fold of Sheol sex slaves.”

She was trying to annoy me, as usual, and succeeding, as usual.

“No one is a sex slave around here.”

“The women don’t seem to have much else to do. Fuck and let you drink their blood. I’m assuming that only goes one way.”

I tried to keep my face blank. “Of course.”

“Then why don’t you take my blood?”

I turned away from her. She’d have a harder time reading the truth if she couldn’t see my face. “I took enough to make certain you were innocent. That was al I needed or wanted. The Fal en can feed only from a bonded mate or the Source, and you’re neither.”

“Then what am I? Besides a nuisance,” she added, immediately reading my mind.

It unnerved me, but I was determined not to show any reaction. “I don’t know.”

She rose, saying nothing, and the dress swirled around her bare ankles as she moved past me into the kitchen. Her skirts brushed against my legs like the caress of a warm breeze, and without thinking I reached for her.

But she had already moved past, and she didn’t even notice, thank God. She turned, as if aware she’d missed something, but by then I was leaning negligently against the counter, concentrating on the almost imperceptible pattern of the white Carrara marble.

She’d pul ed out a glass bottle of milk when a louder scream split the night, and she dropped it. If I hadn’t been so attuned to her, I wouldn’t have been able to catch it in time and set it on the counter.

“What the hel was that?” she asked in a harsh voice.

“The Nephilim. They’re getting closer.”

She turned pale. “They can’t get in, can they?”

“Presumably not. There are al sorts of wards and guards placed on the borders. The only way they could get inside is if someone let them in, and whoever did that would die as wel .”

“What if someone would rather die than spend eternity trapped here?” she demanded, rattled.

“You won’t be here an eternity. I’l find some way to get you out.”

“God, I hope so. I don’t want to live to be one hundred and twenty without fal ing in love,” she said, and I winced. “But I wasn’t talking about me. What if someone else has a death wish?” She shivered, and I wanted to warm her, calm her. I stayed right where I was.

“There is no one else. The Fal en chose this life. Their mates have chosen the Fal en. No one’s going to sneak out to the wal s and let the monsters in.” I could lie about my reaction to her. Lying about the danger we were in was beyond me. “The truth is, I don’t know,” I said. “They’re beating against the wal s, frustrated because they can’t break in. There’s no way they can break through the wal s that guard this place, no way that anyone can. It’s inviolate.”

She didn’t believe me. I didn’t need to pick up specific words to know that she was fil ed with distrust. If I knew how to reassure her, I would have. I didn’t even know how to reassure myself.

“I don’t think the milk’s going to do it,” she said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I thought some warm milk was going to calm my nerves, but I don’t think it’l work as long as that caterwauling is going on. I don’t suppose this place comes equipped with whiskey? No, I forgot—

whiskey isn’t white.”

“There’s vodka,” I said.

“Of course there is.” She opened the refrigerator to put the milk back, then emerged with a chil ed bottle of Stoli. “You real y need to let a little color into your life, Raziel.”

I looked at her in the brightly hued dress I’d given her. Everything about her was vibrant, colorful, disrupting the calm emptiness of my world. She poured two glasses, neat, and pushed one toward me across the marble counter.

It wasn’t a good idea. Keeping my hands off her was requiring every ounce of concentration I had. Even half an ounce of alcohol might be enough to weaken my resolve.

Then again, getting her drunk would be an excel ent idea. I found drunken women completely unappealing. And if she passed out, I wouldn’t be tempted to put my hands on either side of her head and draw her face up to mine, to kiss her. . . .

She’d already picked up her glass and drained it, giving a delicate little shudder. “I don’t real y like vodka,” she said in a smal voice. She looked pointedly at my untouched glass. “Clearly, neither do

you.”

I said nothing. She wanted me to put my arms around her. I knew it, and wished I didn’t. The noise of the Nephilim was growing louder, the howls and screams, the roars and grunts deeply disturbing. I knew the horror that lay beneath that sound. I thought I could smel them on the night air, the foul stench of old blood and rotting flesh, but it had to be my imagination. I tried to concentrate on them, but her thoughts pushed them away. She wanted my arms around her; she wanted to press her head against my chest. She wanted my mouth, she wanted my body, and she wasn’t going to tel me.