The Demon and the Succubus (30 page)

The demon smiled and handed Amalya a cup of tea perched on a dainty china saucer. “Please help yourself. It’s nice now and then to not stand on ceremony. Usually I have to worry about the smallest faux pas showing up in the morning gossip columns.” She sighed, and for the first time Amalya saw the weariness of the millennia in her eyes. “The intricacies of the supernatural world puts the humans’ backbiting efforts to shame, but at least in situations like this, we can be who we are.”

Amalya had often felt like that herself. Only another being who had watched most of human existence go by could understand. But that didn’t mean she was ready to let her guard down entirely. She waited until the demon added cream and sugar to her own tea and then took a drink before she did the same. As a succubus, she was immune to most human poisons, but with a demon, Amalya knew she needed to be on guard—truthful statements or not.

The tea was rich and dark and Amalya wanted to relax back in the chair and sink into the comfort it offered as its warmth spilled through her. Added to the warming effects of the fire, she’d almost begun to feel normal again.

“Let’s not waste time on small talk, shall we? Officially, I’m Cate or Catherine Spencer, the Dowager Duchess of Ashford.”

Dowager duchess. Amalya bit back a sigh of relief. The woman in front of her was Levi’s . . .

“Yes, I’m Obediah’s mother. And as I’m sure you already know, I’m a fire demon.” She gestured toward the fireplace. “I am called Caldriel.” She smiled, but the expression never reached her green eyes.

Amalya stiffened in her seat. “Why would a demon of any type give me her real name?” Names had power, especially among the denizens of Heaven and Hell. That’s why so many beings used false names.

Amalya was glad the same thing didn’t apply equally to succubi and incubi, although it did with Lilith. That was how so many unwary mortals found themselves in servitude to the queen after accidentally summoning her and being tempted into agreements with her. Amalya still wondered what deal Levi had made with Lilith. Lilith had said it was for information that Levi no longer needed, but what could be so important that he’d risk his life to learn it?

Caldriel set down her teacup. “Let’s be honest. I know there’s a price on your head and that you have very little reason to trust me. With you having the power of my true name, we’re on more even footing and we can sit and talk.”

Truth.

Amalya studied the woman across from her. Her words were true, and besides, Caldriel could’ve summoned Semiazas while Amalya had waited for Levi. There was no reason to stall her—for the sake of his revenge, Semiazas would’ve dropped everything and materialized here in an instant. “What did you mean when you said Levi stepped out? He’s not coming back, is he?”

Pain flashed through Caldriel’s green eyes. “No.”

Truth.

“But he was here? Earlier?”

“Yes. He came to see me. We fought, as usual, and he left. Most likely for good.”

Even if Amalya hadn’t felt the quick surge of truth to tell her Caldriel’s words were true, the stark expression and pain in the woman’s eyes was enough.

“Most likely to return to you.”

Caldriel’s simple pointed words sucker punched Amalya in the gut and she swallowed hard, not sure how to react. Could it be true? If she had just stayed at Lilith’s lair and finished recovering, Levi would’ve returned to her? She resisted the urge to laugh at herself and the unreasonable anger that had driven her to come after him.

“Do you love him?” Caldriel’s green gaze had turned intense, burning through Amalya, peeling back all her layers of protection until she felt naked in front of the woman’s gaze.

Her first instinct was to say no outright. After all, she hadn’t known Levi for long, and they were constantly fighting about something. “I care for him . . .” she began, and then trailed off as memories of her time with Levi flashed in front of her. Not just the parts where they’d saved each others’ lives, but the little smiles, the teasing laughs, and even the small gestures of encouragement that existed between the two of them and no one else.

Did that mean she loved him? She shook her head even as her gut answered a resounding yes. “No, I can’t . . .” She glanced up at Caldriel to find the woman watching her. “There’s Lilith . . . and Jethro—” She broke off, her thoughts swirling as she tried to make sense of this new and conflicting information.

The voice deep inside her remained insistent until she allowed herself to entertain the possibility. As soon as that last wall of denial had fallen, she knew.

Dear God, she’d gone and fallen in love with Levi.

That stubborn, pigheaded, chauvinistic, bossy, witty, smart, protective, sexy, wonderful man who made her feel like she was capable of anything she put her mind to. The man who challenged her to be the best person she could be. The one she’d followed straight into the mouth of danger without a second thought because she couldn’t stand the thought of being without him.

She shook her head in wonder as the newness of the realization warred with shock and surprise that she hadn’t figured it out sooner. Amalya raised her gaze to Caldriel’s. “But we fight all the time.”

Caldriel sighed and a small, sad smile curved her lips. “That’s how it was with me and Thomas. Levi’s father,” she supplied when Amalya’s brows furrowed. “He was so stubborn and outspoken it made me crazy. It didn’t matter that he was only a human and that I could live through a bullet wound and lift a carriage by myself. He still treated me as if I were the most precious, fragile thing in the world.” She shook her head, her gaze misted with memory. “I thought I could carve a place for myself in human society and then move on when that human died to the next. But Thomas got inside my skin, past my defenses, and I couldn’t help falling in love with him.”

Her gaze cleared and she looked straight at Amalya. “He knew what I was, and he didn’t love me
despite
it, he just loved me.”

Caldriel’s words resonated inside Amalya and they shared a look of complete understanding.

Caldriel set her tea aside. “I know Obediah hates me.”

When Amalya opened her mouth to object, Caldriel waved away her words before they could be spoken. “I’ve behaved very badly. Selfishly. His ire is no more than I deserve at this point. But he’s my son, and despite the fact of what I am, I love him and I care what happens to him.”

“Does he know?” The words were out before Amalya could think better of them, but rather than offense or pain, a look of puzzlement flashed across Caldriel’s features.

“That’s a good question. I’m not sure I’ve ever told him that. I’ve been too busy trying to convince him to do my bidding.” She laughed, but the sound was bitter. “I’d always thought the experience of becoming pregnant and having a child was overrated until I experienced it firsthand. I loved my son and raised him to be smart, independent, and most of all, a survivor. But I always took it for granted that Obediah would want the same things I did. I realize now that those very traits I instilled in him, drove a wedge between us when I tried to manipulate him.”

A twinge of regret sliced through Amalya. Succubi and incubi couldn’t reproduce. God periodically gifted Lilith with new fully formed succubi, but Amalya would never be able to have Levi’s child. “I think if I were gifted with a son, I’d want to make sure he heard those words as often as possible.” Her words sounded wistful and she forced a smile. “It’s never too late to tell him.”

Caldriel laughed. “It’s about bloody time I showed him, but my pride rebels against even that.” She waved away her own words. “When you came here looking for him, I was angry. You’d taken him away from me, lured him, tempted him.”

Amalya’s protective walls surged to life and she stiffened, waiting for the betrayal that still might come.

“But then I realized after speaking to you that I’m very glad Obediah has at least one woman he will accept love from. You should take your own advice and tell him.”

Amalya squirmed under Caldriel’s intense scrutiny, but damned if the demon wasn’t right. She’d be a coward not to confront Levi and at least be honest, no matter what the outcome. She set her tea aside and slowly stood. “It was nice to meet you.” She was surprised to find that statement true as she held out her hand and Caldriel rose and took it.

“Jenkins will see you out.” When Amalya relaxed her hand to pull away, Caldriel didn’t release her grip. “Take care of him.”

“I will,” she promised, and silently added,
Whether or not he lets me
.

Amalya made her
way to the front doors without bothering to find Jenkins. The poor man probably had enough to do without walking her down a hallway and opening a door. Besides, too much of what she had learned still churned through her mind, leaving her off balance.

As she reached the front foyer, the large front doors beckoned like the promise of freedom as an overwhelming urge to find Levi burned through her.

Amalya stopped suddenly on the polished marble tile as icy tendrils of premonition tickled down her spine.

She stiffened as every sense came to full alert and told her to run.

The doorknob turned and the door swung inward before she could obey the command.

Too late!
her fear screamed through her.

A familiar tall figure blocked the way.

“Semiazas.”

The word fell from her lips in a hissed whisper. She instinctively backed away, reaching inside her pocket to close her fingers over the comforting hardness of the switchblade. She yanked it from her pocket, pressing down the button until the blade slid out with a soft snick. She brandished it between them feeling silly when he only smiled down at her.

He stood wearing a suit that was straight out of Regency days complete with starched neckcloth and kidskin breeches that clung to his muscular thighs and tucked into dark boots. His dark hair curled over his high collar and his piercing blue eyes pinned her in place. He would be handsome except for the hate-twisted smile that curved his full lips and the hard coldness in his blue eyes.

“Hello, Amalya. It’s been too long.” He advanced so quickly she had barely registered the motion before he grabbed her hand that held the switchblade and forced her backward. She glanced left and right but knew, short of a miracle, there was no way she could run from Semiazas. He’d found her, and on the power scale he was a dragon and she was a kitten.

Amalya waited for fear or resignation, but instead all she found was anger and indignation. She refused to cower and beg in front of this demon who had scattered her family and forced her to live in fear and look over her shoulder for the past seven hundred years.

Amalya stood her ground, raising her chin to glare up at Semiazas. “It hasn’t been nearly long enough if you ask me.” She raked a gaze over his costume and raised an eyebrow as if he didn’t still have her hand and only weapon in a death grip. “A little overdramatic isn’t it?”

He smiled down at her, a combination of amusement and a leer as interest sparked in the depths of his blue eyes. “There’s no such thing as overdramatic.” He twisted her wrist in a quick flick and a sharp sting lanced against her throat.

Amalya gasped and brought her free hand up to touch the small warm trickle of blood that had welled where Semiazas had cut her. She set her teeth together against the wave of anger that tried to swamp her.

Semiazas held her gaze as he leaned down and sensuously licked the blood from the blade of the switchblade.

Revulsion shuddered through her and she tried to wriggle her hand out of his iron grip, but he only laughed and yanked her against him. “Don’t tell me you have an issue with ingesting a little blood, my beauty, it smells and tastes like you’ve used several liters as an upgrade since I last saw you.” He wrapped his free arm around her waist holding her against him while he held her hand with the switchblade out to the side so he could bury his nose against her neck. The prickling sensation of Semiazas’s hot breath against the sensitive skin of her neck made her gag. She tasted the sharp tang of bile on the back of her tongue as she bit back the urge to whimper.

Blood. Archangel blood.

Semiazas smelled it inside her pumping through her veins and she’d forgotten all about it.

That much power flowing through her had to have an effect of some type, and the power that usually beat against her in biting waves whenever she’d been in the same room with Semiazas was now only a low hum. She hadn’t noticed it when she’d first opened the door because her fear was too busy sending her the fight-or-flight signal to run.

The new blood obviously hadn’t made her strong enough to break Semiazas’s grip, but she hoped she lived long enough to find out what benefit Raphael’s gift to her
did
have.

Semiazas held her tight while he looked up over her shoulder. “Thank you for your service, Caldriel. It will be remembered and rewarded.”

Betrayal stabbed deep, tightening Amalya’s chest until she thought her heart would stop.

After everything they’d said between them, Caldriel had summoned Semiazas.