Mistress of Redemption (10 page)

her nostrils. “Moments ago you were

defiant as a child. ‘This
is
my home’, indeed.”

“This is my home, my Lord. Where I

want to be.”

“This is not where you want to be.

This is where you hide.”

“Do I not serve you well here?”

When she felt His regard over His

cup of wine, she raised her gaze. He

was everything the books said. The

fallen angel, too beautiful to be real,

but also not exactly what they thought

He was. He had many names, none of

which was completely accurate or

defined him. He was as much Hades

to the Greeks as He was Satan to the

Christians or the Horned God to the

pagans. He could be the shadow in

the night or the mightiest of the angels

serving a terrible, fearful purpose.

The purpose that provided a fallen

soul a new beginning when it was

needed. Or the bridge to continue the

journey to enlightenment.

She didn’t mind the smell of sulfur

anymore, any more than she minded

the smell of death, rotting flesh, or

sounds of pain. Those things were

pure in their intent here.

While she did not presume to know a

tenth of the mysteries that governed

the Being before her, she knew He

never lied to her. Even when she

wanted Him to do so.

“You serve me well here.” He

inclined His head. “You’ve taken at

least a thousand souls through

Redemption, delivered them to the

Hall of Souls for their return to

Purgatory. Perhaps somehow that’s

made you believe you belong here.

I’ve watched you be stimulated by

your skill with them, the way an artist

is enthralled by how her hand moves

a paintbrush on blank canvas. Out of

all those thousand souls, you’ve not

once been stimulated by the creation

itself. Until now.”

Unbidden, she saw Nathan in her

mind. The smooth firmness of his

lips, his broad palms. It was not

difficult to imagine his long fingers

stroking her skin. Penetrating her 39

Joey W. Hill

body as he watched her with eyes

that were so blue the lagoon and the

sky couldn’t match their intensity. His

body was sleek lines of muscle,

tough and hard where she was soft.

Where she ached for hardness.

When Nathan had shoved Fiona from

her, she’d been glad he’d fallen to his

knees and bowed his head. He was

far too intuitive and it wouldn’t have

taken much intuition to see the tremor

in her hand, the pulse pounding high

in her throat. She hadn’t seen his

possessive reaction coming. It had

been a long time since anything had

surprised her.

That brief brush of his firm lips

against hers had been like the barest

hint of a rich chocolate, taken away

before it could be fully sampled. His

body so close, the heat of that hard

muscular body, the aroused cock

close enough to brush her skin…

Great Lucifer, the way he’d

crouched, thighs taut and ready, eyes

focused and dangerous, his lip curled

back to snarl at the leopard.

At that moment, she realized she’d

assumed he was a coward, like so

many others in his life had. There

apparently was an important

difference between being

opportunistic and craven. The man

had courage. Where there was

courage, there could be integrity.

She told herself that it was good

she’d broken the kiss before things

had gotten out of hand. Even though

her body wasn’t so sure of that, even

now.

If it was just physical, she would

welcome the images. Like a candy

bar she could consume, enjoy and

discard the wrapper. But those firm

lips could smile. Those blue eyes

could be angry, tender, puzzled,

intrigued. Thousands of expressions

and she wanted to see every one of

them. Every pain he’d suffered

bludgeoned her heart. Every crime

he’d committed tore at her soul. If he

genuinely smiled, teased her without

malice, she knew she’d do anything

to rescue him from himself.

For a moment she hated the Being in

front of her, though she knew she

might as well hate herself, since all

He was showing her was what was

in her own heart. She bowed her

forehead to the ground, found some

reassurance in the position, almost a

fetal crouch of self-comfort. “I don’t

want it to be true, my Lord,” she

whispered. “I don’t want a soul

mate.”

The fire crackled. His foot was

close. When she pressed her cheek to

the heated stone next to it, she studied

the illusion of toenails, bone. If she

closed her hand on the flesh, it would

feel solid, real, even though it was

just a form Lucifer assumed to give

her a point of reference. Nathan was

like that. Everything he appeared to

be wasn’t real.

It was her job to tear away an

illusion that he’d adhered to himself

like skin, rip it all away, leave the

raw nerves exposed and let the

screams of agony from his soul guide

him back to the man he was supposed

to be.

“If I could have spared you the pain, I

would have, child. You know that.”

“I know that. You gave me the

choice.”

Lucifer had called her to Him much

like this, almost a month ago. He’d

told her Jonathan Powell would be

entering their domain soon.

40

Mistress of Redemption

Over five years ago, she’d assumed a

corporeal form to spend time at The

Zone, a fetish club on the mortal

plane. Her purpose had been to

monitor a murderess who would soon

enter Lucifer’s domain. Hell’s

version of administrative work.

Nathan had been involved with the

woman. That relationship had sent

him to prison and lead to the fatal

knife fight, so close to the end of his

five-year sentence. The fight which

had brought him to the illusion of a

dusty ribbon of asphalt, waiting for

his Mistress of Redemption to

retrieve him.

During the time she’d been doing the

survey work on the S&M Killer, she

couldn’t stop watching him, being

absorbed by everything about him.

She didn’t want to feel that way,

couldn’t understand how she knew

his real name was Nathan and why

she was certain he belonged to her,

though they were divided by the

plane between life and death.

Lucifer wasn’t in the habit of calling

her into His presence to notify her

personally of arrivals, but His

reasons became clear when He gave

a name to the connection between her

and the mortal who looked like a

blond Norse god.

You feel this way for him because he

is your soul mate. You will feel him

the moment he
enters our world,

which is why I am telling you he is

coming. He is a difficult case. The

best
thing for him is Hell. I will let
the fires and torments purify his

soul, erase all that he is. Then he

can begin his life cycles over again

from the beginning, as it must be

with those who have gotten
so lost.

Her response to that hadn’t been a

conscious decision. Her heart

screaming in protest at the idea, she

opened her mouth before she even

knew herself what she was going to

say.

I can redeem him. I know I can do it.

Let me do my job.

Dona closed her eyes, remembering

the conversation. “I’ll do my job,”

she said.

“That’s what concerns me.” She felt

His heat as He bent over her, His

voice a quiet rumble. “Even when

you lived as a mortal years ago, you

sought this man, though your

conscious mind didn’t know it. Your

fetish clubs considered you

somewhat of a dangerous Mistress

because you pushed your submissives

so hard. You were

practicing. Waiting for him.

Anticipating his need. The true bad

boy, the one so far gone down the

dark path you’d have to risk your

own soul to bring him back. I

shouldn’t have been swayed by your

desire.”

“You knew there was a chance I

could do it, my Lord. Else you

wouldn’t have permitted it.”

There was a significant pause. The

pressure in the room increased,

sending a surge of terror through her.

Why had she not guarded her tongue?

She was not concerned for herself,

but for Nathan. She had to finish. Had

to succeed.

“I can’t let him go to Hell without

trying my best, my Lord. If I let him

go to save myself anguish, I’ve

sentenced him without a fair trial.”

41

Joey W. Hill

“Dona, you do not sentence souls. I

do. If I send him into Hell, it is

because his soul deserves

purification—”

“I
am
sentencing him, if I let him go that way. I can’t—”

His voice cut across hers. “Whether

or not he can be redeemed is

irrelevant. You believe he can be

because there is no other choice for a

soul mate. You have faith in him,

even when he is undeserving of it.”

“My lord, I have the objectivity to do

this. When I saw him at The Zone,

when I was there at your bidding, I

never touched him. Never

approached him.”

“I don’t know if that makes you the

most disciplined minion I have, or

the loneliest.” Before she could say

anything further, He reached down

and touched her.

The sulfur, the fire and all the

trappings just vanished. It was only

her soul, tired and afraid, surrounded

by the warmth and power of His

essence, the white light of divinity

that connected Him to the All moving

around her, embracing her, giving her

His pity and forgiveness. She felt the

irresistible tug of it, the screaming

desire it created to go to the Hall of

Souls, the privilege she’d earned but

could not face. Hell could cleanse a

woman’s soul, but it couldn’t heal the

fears of a shattered heart, no matter

how many years had passed.

The touch gave her something else

she didn’t want. It forced her to

experience her connection to Nathan

in its full power, a link she’d only

been able to face in small, controlled

pieces on her own. The energy rolled

over her and tore her shields away,

letting her feel her soul mate’s

proximity, every touch she’d shared

with him, hear every word he’d

uttered. It was like having her skin

ripped away a strip at a time. In his

presence she felt alive, passionate.

She wasn’t lonely. She hadn’t felt

that way in so long.

Hadn’t wanted to feel that way, not

even now.

Even Nathan, trapped in the evil he’d

allowed to take him over, had felt it.

She saw it in his eyes, his confusion

warring with the frightened rage that

stoked his desire to hurt her if she

showed a moment of weakness. She

cursed the so-called gift of soul

mates that allowed her to see the man

behind all of it, the man she loved

with everything she was.

She touched the energy, weeping.

When it withdrew, it did so slowly,

not unkindly, leaving her back in the

study with Lucifer.

“Yes, he senses it too. But he does

not have what he needs to truly

understand why he responds to you

this way, why he wants so badly to

serve you. It’s not your time to be

together. He’s got much further to

go.”

“I can help him get on the right path.”

She tasted her tears on the seam of

her lips.

“Professional pride, my Lord. I

started the task. Please…” She

swallowed. “I beg you.

Let me finish it.”

“I’m afraid it will finish you.”

She opened her mouth, but He waved

her away. “I gave you my word. Go

back and see what you can do with

him. Just remember, when you’re

done, he’s gone.” His 42

Mistress of Redemption

brows drew down. “So are you. It’s

time for you to return to living. Your

debt is paid and your place is no

longer here.”

“I have a choice—”

“So do I. To fire you.” His lips

curved without humor. “That leaves

you nowhere to go but the Hall of

Souls.”

Even she knew when not to argue

with the Devil, though her heart

seethed with frustration. She nodded,

rose to her feet and backed out of the

chamber, quelling a very childish

urge to slam the heavy oak door,

illusion though it was.

Don’t even think of it. I already

have a headache from you as it is.