Kristina Douglas - The Fallen 1 - Raziel (26 page)

“And he used his teeth, did he not? Pierced your vein?”

“Yes.”

“And you let him continue, almost to the point of death, before Raziel found you and stopped him?”

I glanced at Raziel. I’d never seen him looking so angry. “I suppose so,” I said reluctantly. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I never thought Tamlel would actual y bite me—after al , Gadrael hadn’t. And then I assumed he’d stop when he had enough.” I glanced at Tamlel, who was looking stoic. Was he in the same kind of trouble I was?

“So we have two possibilities here,” Azazel said in his cold, emotionless voice after a long moment. “The most likely is that Gadrael was less grievously wounded than you thought. Don’t interrupt,” he added as he saw me start to protest. “With him, the taste of blood, even the wrong blood, was enough to bring him back.

You are here only as a partner for Raziel, you have no bonding to him, and while it is unusual, it seems likely that you are Tamlel’s mate and neither of you realized it.”

“No,” said Raziel in a low, savage voice.

Ignoring Raziel, I glanced at Tamlel. He seemed sweet, charming, but I didn’t want to be his mate. I didn’t want to kiss him, fuck him, fight with him. . . . I glanced back at Raziel, who looked ready to explode. Raziel was a different matter. I couldn’t begin to know what I wanted, needed, from him, not now, when I was too weary to think clearly. I only knew that I needed him.

Damn it. And he’d probably read that revealing thought, smashing what few defenses I had left.

“Then there’s the other option, which seems unlikely.”

The silence in the room was so thick it was practical y choking, and Azazel seemed in no mood to elaborate. I was beginning to get annoyed. I knew what was coming.

“Are you going to go on, or are we al going to sit here in uncomfortable silence?” I snapped.

“We’ve already discussed the possibility,” Azazel said forbiddingly. “We’re just considering it.”

Why in the world had lovely, sweet Sarah married such a hard-ass? I leaned forward. “But you forgot to include me in this discussion, which seems to concern me the most. I know your patriarchal bul shit style makes you forget that women have brains and opinions, but since this is about me, then you can just spit it out.”

“The only other alternative is that for some reason, by some cosmic joke or bizarre twist of fate, you are the new Source. Which doesn’t make sense. The Source must be the bonded mate of one of the Fal en, and you haven’t had the bonding ceremony. Don’t think you’ve fooled me with your charade—I know perfectly wel it was al an act. Besides, there has always been a long period of mourning before a new Source became apparent. Therefore it’s impossible for you to be the Source.”

“Impossible,” I agreed, my stomach churning. I’d known this was coming. I’d just hoped I was wrong. “But if I were? That doesn’t mean I have to be
your
bonded mate, does it?”

If anything, Azazel looked more revolted by the thought than I was.

“Hardly. The Source can belong to anyone.”

“ ‘Belong’?” My voice was dangerous. Once again I was being discussed as if I were a commodity, and I was getting past the point of being the Good Girl.

“If you are the Source, then it’s always possible your connection to Raziel is deeper than either of you want or realize.”

Al the humor had left Raziel’s face. It was nothing compared to how I felt. He might be the most gorgeous male who had ever put his hands on me, but he was arrogant, brooding, manipulative, and lying, and worst of al , while he might have wanted me, he certainly didn’t love me. And damn it, I wanted love. True love, gushing, romantic, oh-my-darling love. Something Raziel was never going to give again, and certainly not to me.

The only defense I had was to push him away first. “So how do we find out?” I said in a practical voice. They looked startled. Clearly they’d been so caught up in horror over the possibility that I might somehow have a role in their little boys’ club that they hadn’t even thought about that. “What would happen if someone drank from me and I wasn’t the Source? Would he die?”

“Possibly,” Azazel said slowly. “At the very least he would become sick, run a fever, possibly throw up. We can’t tel with Tamlel or Gadrael because their bodies were already compromised by the wounds they had received.”

“Then we need a volunteer,” I said brightly. “It’s the only way we can be certain.”

Raziel rose, pushing back his chair, but Azazel fixed him with a look. “You know it can’t be you. If she’s your bonded mate, you’d be able to drink from her and you know it. I assume you haven’t done so as yet.”

“None of your damned business,” Raziel snapped.

“It’s al of our business,” the leader replied. “Sammael, you may try.”

Sammael was sitting near me, and I immediately held out my arm, more curious about Raziel’s reaction than anything else. I could feel the tension and rage washing over him, a mindless, animal response. He hadn’t resumed his seat; he was just standing there, vibrating with something I wasn’t sure I wanted to interpret.

Sammael didn’t look any too happy about the idea, but he took hold of my arm as if it were an ear of corn, and his incisors elongated. I watched with fascination, wondering what set off that reaction. Was it blood flow, like an erection? Did old vampires have trouble getting it up, or down, or whatever?

Sammael set his mouth against my wrist, and I felt the twin pinpricks, just a quick, sharp pain. And then nothing at al as he fed at my wrist.

“Enough!” Raziel snapped, and Sammael pul ed his mouth away quickly. “She has already lost too much blood from Tamlel’s carelessness.”

Azazel was focusing on Sammael. “Wel ? Are you feeling il ?”

Slowly Sammael shook his head. “She is the Source,” he said quietly.

“Shit.” Raziel’s muttered expletive expressed it for al of them, me included.

Dead silence. I considered whining, “But I don’t want to be the Source,” then thought better of it. I kept quiet, letting it sink in.

After a moment Azazel spoke, and his low, angry voice was defeated. “Very wel . As blood-eaters we know that blood doesn’t lie. You’l have to discover who your mate truly is—”

“She’s mine,” Raziel said fiercely, throwing himself back down into his chair. “No one else’s.”

“Wel , we’l leave you time to discover whether that, indeed, is true. In the meantime, the woman wil have to be instructed in the duties of the Source, the proper diet and training, and she—”

“Hel , no,” I said. I’d had enough of this patriarchal crap.

Once more the silence was deafening. “What did you say?”

Azazel demanded dangerously.

“I said hel , no. If you think I’m going to be Raziel’s sex slave and your personal blood bank, you have another thing coming. This is your problem—figure it out yourself.”

My magnificent exit was marred slightly when the flowing sleeve of my tunic caught on the door handle, but I yanked it free as dramatical y as I could and strode from the room.

Once out of sight, I wanted to pump my fist in triumph. Assholes, al of them. I wasn’t about to let anyone push me around, particularly not Azazel and Raziel. They could find someone else to be their goddamn Source, preferably someone more like Sarah, with her serene smile and calm nature.

At the thought of her I wanted to cry, but I dashed the tears away. I needed fresh air and the smel of the ocean to clear my head of al that testosterone. If any of them made the mistake of trying to fol ow me, I would simply head over to the fire and grab a burning branch or something. I could even build a ring of fire around me if I felt the need. It would serve them right and probably make them crazy with frustration. I found I could manage a sour grin.

As I moved out into the sunlight I felt someone behind me, someone tal , and I knew who it was. I turned, ready to lash out at him.

Raziel looked as furious as I felt, which only made things escalate.

“What’s your problem?” I demanded hotly. “It’s not like they’re expecting
you
to be a cross between a whore and a bloodmobile. If you think I’m going to sit quietly by while men suck at my wrist, you’re dead wrong. If you’l pardon the expression.”

“I don’t think that.” His low voice was surprising.

“You don’t?”

“No one is touching you but me,” he said.

S
HE WAS LOOKING SHELL-SHOCKED, and I couldn’t blame her. She’d witnessed the kind of carnage unthinkable for someone of her world, she’d watched people she cared about die, she’d lost too much blood because of Tamlel’s carelessness, and to complete the disaster, the worst possible scenario had come to pass. She wasn’t just bound to me—she was bound to al of us.

It wasn’t as if I hadn’t had plenty of warning. I had simply refused to recognize it. She was reading me, more and more. I had a wil of iron, yet I hadn’t been able to keep away from her. I had known, deep in my heart, and I could deny it no longer. She was my bonded mate. I would watch her grow old and die, and just to twist the knife further, I would have to watch the others feed from her narrow, blue-veined wrist, and there wouldn’t be a thing I could do about it, even as my atavistic blood roared in response.

And I had hurt her. When I’d returned from sealing the wal , I’d found her down by the edge of the water, sitting back on her knees, Tamlel’s head in her lap while he drank from her. She was pale and dizzy from blood loss, and rage had swept over me, a kil ing rage that had only just abated. I’d ripped her away from Tamlel, too blind with jealous fury to realize what I was doing.

I’m not sure what I would have done to Tamlel if I hadn’t heard her quiet moan. I spun around in the blood-soaked sand to see her lying against a rock, and guilt and panic swept away the rage. The healers were too busy with the dying to help her—al I could do was bring her back to my rooms and tend to her as best I could, washing the blood and gore from her, letting my hands soothe and heal her.

We al had healing power, some more than others, and it was always stronger with our mates. I should have known, when I’d held her hands and healed them, that she was mine.

I
had
known. I had just refused to face it.

I stil didn’t want to. Uriel must have known she was my mate. Her sins were too slight to deserve either an escort or a sentence to the flames. Uriel had assumed I would fol ow orders and throw her over the precipice, denying the Fal en their next Source. So that when his traitor let the Nephilim in, there’d be no one for the survivors.

I didn’t know how much she was reading from me. We were too new—her sense of me would deepen, and then the natural boundaries would develop. Whatever she could hear from me, she didn’t like it.

She backed away when I tried to touch her, shaking her head.

“You hate me,” she said flatly.

I control ed my flare of irritation. Of course she thought so—my anger was so powerful it would swamp any other feeling. “No I don’t,” I said, trying to sound reasonable and failing.

“I’m not doing this.” She was close to tears, which surprised me.

Throughout the last few days, no matter what she’d had to deal with, I’d never seen her cry, something I was profoundly grateful for. I hated it when women cried.

“Yes,” I said. “You are.” And before she could avoid me, I scooped her up under her arms from behind and soared upward, deliberately keeping her mind open, not shutting it down as I had the last time I flew with her.

I heard her gasp over the sound of the wind as it rushed past us. I crossed my arms over her chest, holding her against me, and I could feel her heart racing. She was warm against me, despite the cool air, and after a moment I felt her stiffness relax so that she flowed against me, sweetly, like a reed in the water, and her skirts covered my legs as we climbed higher.

I’d only meant to take her as far as our apartment on the top floor, but the moment I felt her joy I changed my mind. I soared over the huge old house, turning right to avoid the oily smoke of the funeral pyre, heading deeper into the virgin forests with their dark trees, past sparkling water. I rose above the mist, where the sun was bright overhead, warming me, and I let that warmth flow to her, sending tendrils of heat throughout her before she could be chil ed by the atmosphere. We went up, way up, over the peak of the mountain, and out of instinct I cal ed for Lucifer’s faint voice. Uriel’s plans had worked wel —the fierceness of the Nephilim attack had kept us al too busy to search for the one man who could save us. I cal ed, but there was no faint whisper. For once al I could hear was Al ie’s longing, singing to me, her body dancing with mine even as her mind stil fought it.

We banked, passing a startled flock of Canada geese, and I felt her laugh against me, felt the sheer joy that suffused her, just as it suffused me when I flew, and my arms tightened imperceptibly, holding her even closer, somehow wanting to absorb her into my bones.

My wings spread out around us as I headed back toward the house. Al ie was relaxed now, warm and soft and yielding against me, and I knew the unexpected flight had been a wise idea. Not that she wouldn’t be ready to fight me al over again, the moment we set down. But at least for now she had accepted my strength, accepted my touch. She would again.

I landed on the narrow ledge lightly enough, planning to hold on to her until my wings had folded in, but standing stil on the terrace felt too good, and instead I put my face against her neck, breathing in the sweet smel of her, until she panicked and jumped away, turning to stare up at me with an expression of shock.