by J. R. Ward
He'd never wanted kids. Wasn't interested in them, couldn't have cared less.
Although if there had been a chance of having one with her . . .
Shaking himself back into focus, he dragged a hand through his hair and wished he had a cigarette--especially as he remembered the sight of her across the kitchen, beating the ever-loving shit out of that cake batter. Good God, he'd thought he was going to have to surgically remove that wire whisk from her hand.
"What," she said dully. "Just fucking say whatever it is, okay? At this point, there is absolutely no bad news that is going to make me feel worse than I do."
"I think Devina's inside of you."
As she blanched and stopped breathing, his own fury curled in his gut. That fucking demon. If it was the last thing he did, he was going to--
"What do you mean?" she choked out as she wrapped her arms around herself.
"It's a function of your having been to Hell. At least as far as Ad and then Eddie explained it to me. Even after you left there . . . there's something inside of you."
"I think I'm going to be sick."
As she dropped to her knees and braced her hands on the grass, he knelt beside her. "But I think we can do something about it."
Sissy let out a retching sound, her back heaving.
Gritting his teeth, it took every ounce of self-control he had not to find Devina right at that second and murder her with his bare hands.
"Just breathe," he heard himself say as he helped her stay off the ground.
As a car came around the turn in the lane, he stiffened, thinking that if it was a Mercedes without a hood ornament, he was going to--
Nope. It was a Rolls-Royce, believe it or not.
When Sissy stopped coughing in that horrible way, he took her into his arms and held her to his chest. On the one hand, the difference in their sizes made him feel powerful. On the other, it was just a reminder of how impotent he actually was in this situation: Physical brawn wasn't going to do shit for her.
But one of those crystal knives . . .
Playing back what he'd done to Vin diPietro in the first round got him on the nausea train, too, but what choice did he have? And he certainly wasn't going to trust anyone else to do it.
She pulled back. "How long have you known?"
"About you?" He shrugged. "Not very long. I mean, I think you have a right to be pissed off--but there's another edge to your anger."
"What do you have to do?"
"How about we go back to the house?"
"That bad, huh."
"It's nothing we can't manage." Shit, he hated lying to her. "Come on, let's go back. Eddie knows everything and he can explain what's going to happen--if you decide to go that route."
Sissy went still, then looked up at him. "When is it going to end?" she choked out.
Hopefully not tonight, he prayed. "Soon. And it's going to be okay. I'm going to make it okay."
With a prayer he wouldn't violate that vow to her, he helped her to her feet and put his arm around her waist, taking some of her weight as they went along.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked.
"Doing what?"
"Taking care of me. I know I asked before . . . but, I mean, we don't even really know each other, and yet you're always there for me. Ever since the beginning."
He stopped and turned her to face him. As he traced her face with his eyes, he felt like he had never not known her.
Fuck immortality. If he lost her, he was a dead man walking.
"I don't know," he said softly. "It's just the way it is."
"I think you're a really good savior, Jim." She put her hands on his forearms. "You've always been an angel to me--"
"I love you."
Chapter
Thirty-four
Sissy closed her eyes. She couldn't have heard that right. Had he really said--
"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I don't mean to make shit awkward."
"No, no, that's not what I'm . . . how can you?" Her heart pounded. "I . . . if there's something inside of me . . ."
She couldn't go any further than that.
"That's not you, Sissy. It's got jack to do with you. And when we get rid of it?"
"I'm back to normal."
"Exactly."
She wanted to respond to him, wanted to say the words back, once again wanted to be frickin' normal.
Instead, she was obsessed with the fact that she might not be alone in her own skin. Was Devina going to pop out of her at any second? Take her over?
Oh, God, was her head going to spin around as she pea-souped all over everything . . . or was this an Alien scenario where something jumped out of her stomach?
Thinking back, she realized that, yes, ever since she'd gotten out of Hell, that anger of hers had been out of control, her emotions all over the place--but like Jim said, she'd just assumed it was because she'd been dealt a tragic hand and wasn't dealing with it well. Now, though, as she reconsidered her happy session with the matches and the sheets in the parlor?
She had actually felt as if that rage were something larger than her. Something out of character and wildly destructive. Something that was an "other."
"Come on," he said roughly. "Let's go."
She followed along beside him, her body moving on its own. "Can I infect you?" she asked in a rush.
"No."
Thank God. Except then . . . "What if it doesn't work? Whatever we have to do?"
"It will. I've done it once before, and Eddie's an expert."
"Okay. All right."
Except she felt completely and totally far from "okay" and "all right." And the walk back home didn't change that.
The smell of a chocolate cake in the oven greeted her as soon as she went through the front door, and when she got to the kitchen, she found Eddie at the sink, doing the dishes she had used. Ad was sprawled in one of the chairs at the table, his eyes locked on the other guy, not in a creepy sexual way, but more like he expected an imminent disappearance and was prepared to follow the example.
"So what are you going to do to me?" she demanded.
Eddie looked over his shoulder, dark brows rising. "Nothing. Why?"
Jim came in behind her and took the seat he usually sat in. "We need to do some de-Devina-ing, if you get my meaning."
The other angel took a deep breath and seemed to forget about the dripping bowl in his hand and the fact that he'd left the water on. "On Sissy."
"Yes, on me," she said, going over and looking into the stove.
There were two cake pans in there side by side, and the batter was in mid-metamorphosis, growing taller and darker.
"Jim, can I talk to you for a minute," Eddie murmured quietly.
"No." She straightened. "You can't. Anything that you can say to him, you'd better say to me. It's my body, my problem."
As she faced off at the men, she didn't give a shit if they felt awkward. Assuming she was cursed, she was damn well going to be on the ground floor of her own salvation.
She was done with having fate serve her bad luck, and taking it like a little bitch.
About twenty minutes later, the timer on the ancient stove gave out a cheerful ring of its bell, and Sissy let someone else take the cake out of the oven. As Eddie obliged, she rubbed her eyes, all kinds of horrific pictures making her head swim.
"Are you sure that's going to work?" she asked numbly.
Eddie, who'd been doing most of the explaining, said, "Yes. That's the way it's done."
She held up her index finger, all hold-it. "You didn't answer the question."
"It will work. The question is whether . . ."
As the guy looked over at Jim, she cursed. "Whether I live through it. Right?"
"The ritual is not without risks."
File that under, Well, duh.
There were some knocking sounds as Eddie freed the cake halves onto cooling racks. Then some water running as he put the pans in the sink to soak. In the meantime, the other two an
gels were silent and unmoving as statues.
She glanced at Jim. His handsome, hard face was remote, his eyes focused only on her. "What do I do?" she whispered to him.
"It's up to you." His voice was grave. "It's your decision."
Read: Whatever you decide, I'll back you up, one hundred percent.
"Eddie," she heard herself say. "You died, right? But you came back."
The red-eyed angel shook his head. "That would not be a backup plan I'd get behind if I were you. Death for immortals isn't what you think it is. It's not an ending--it's an eternal stasis. And the reprieve I got? It was a miracle."
"So I shouldn't do this."
"Well, the concern is that, if you don't, what's inside of you will continue to fester and grow stronger."
"So I have to do it."
Eddie looked at the other two men. "I agree with Jim . . . it's your decision. Unfortunately, however, there are consequences if you choose not to move forward."
All she could do was close her eyes. It was either that or scream at the top of her lungs--and she was suddenly terrified to let out anger of any kind.
Jim spoke up. "Why don't we head upstairs and get some rest. You can think about it until morning. There's no reason to rush this."
"But you have to get back to the war."
"Everything can wait for the morning."
Sissy found herself nodding and getting to her feet. Jim was the one who took her upstairs, not because he carried her, but thanks to his gentle steering.
"Will you stay with me?" she asked as they came up to the second-story foyer.
"Yes, I will."
They went down to her room and both used the en suite bathroom one after the other. And then they were in the bed she slept in, him sitting up against the carved Victorian headboard, her curled in his lap.
"When is this going to stop," she choked out. "I just want it to stop. I'm tired of no-win situations--I feel like I can't . . . I can't do this anymore."
But if she "killed" herself, she ended up in Purgatory.
And that was just another color of nightmare.
Jim stroked her hair, running his fingers down the long lengths as she stared out the big-paned windows across the way. She didn't know what was going to change between now and sunrise. But she just couldn't make her mind up right now.
The only thing she knew for sure was that she was glad Jim was with her.
Chapter
Thirty-five
Jim watched the sun rise up through the budding trees outside of Sissy's window. He'd been sitting in the same position for hours, his back braced against a couple of pillows, his legs stretched out in front of him, Sissy's head in his lap. He couldn't feel his ass, and his feet were tingling, but he didn't give a shit.
The fact that the illumination in the sky was a glorious peach and gold didn't uplift him. Actually, the beauty of the dawn just pissed him off: Instead of wasting a miracle on something so everyday and commonplace, so anonymous, why couldn't the Creator, just once, bless the woman who was lying beside him?
What the hell would it cost Him, really? Just rip some storm clouds out over the horizon and shield the magnificence for this one morning--and give Sissy a miracle.
One right after another, all the bad news and bad breaks Sissy had had hit him as if they were his own tragedies--and with each impact to the chest, all he could think of was . . .
Finding Devina and killing her with his bare hands. Just squeezing the life out of her. Making her suffer and then lighting her corpse on fire--
"Will you do it?"
He shook himself out of his murder fantasies. And reinserted his consciousness back in the real-life nightmare. "Yeah," he said gruffly. "I will."
She lifted her head and looked up at him. "And there's no other way, right?"
"Not that we know of. No."
"Okay. Then we go ahead."
He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling like he'd been hit by a car and was in the process of being dragged across rough pavement. "All right."
When he cracked his lids again, she was still staring at him. "I wouldn't trust anyone but you."
"And I'm not going to let you down."
"Make love to me." Not a question. A statement of desperation--and he felt exactly the way she did.
Moving himself down on the mattress, he took her face between his hands and kissed her as he rolled over on top of her. Their clothes seemed to melt away, any barriers that were between them evaporating until they were skin-to-skin. With every caress and each sigh, with all the arching and the soft moans, he was at once completely with her . . . and somewhere else.
All he could think of was that the two of them were going into the jaws of destiny, and there was no telling what was going to be left of either one of them when it was over. Because if he failed her again?
Insanity wasn't going to be the half of it.
Positioning himself at her core, he pressed in slowly and oh, God, the sensation was so good that it shut even his spinning head down. Letting himself go with the rhythm of retreats and penetrations, he rode her with care, giving her all the time in the world to find her pleasure and go flying.
That he orgasmed eventually wasn't the point, although he supposed it did bring them even closer together. But his release was secondary. This was all about her.
When he finally went limp, his head falling face-first into a pillow, his body so satiated he couldn't muster the energy to prop himself up and ease free of her--in fact, he wanted to stay there forever. That wasn't where they were at, though.
Forcing himself to shift to the side, he wasn't surprised to find her crying.
But she did shock the shit out of him.
Reaching her hand up, she touched his face and whispered, "I want you to promise me something."
"Name it."
"Don't blame yourself. If this doesn't work, I don't want you to think for one second you did anything wrong. Sometimes . . . sometimes people get dealt a bad hand and that's just luck. There's nothing you or I could do about anything of this."
Not so sure of that, he thought. He was absolutely going to make Devina pay.
In ways even that demon couldn't imagine.
"Promise me," Sissy said.
He nodded his head once and lied. "I promise."
She stared up at him as the sun rose ever further and the birds began to sing and life across this little part of the world got to its feet and stretched its arms, working its own after-sleep kinks out.
"I love you," she said.
His heart stopped. Then began to thud. Except . . . "You don't have to say it just because I--"
"No, I have to. Because I want you to know in case . . . you know, I lose my chance to. I love you, and thank you--thank you for everything you've done for me. I said it once and I'll say it again. You are my angel."
He dropped his head and kissed her--because he wanted to, but also because he didn't want her to see what was in his expression and she was probably smart enough to recognize what the shit was.
"I love you, too," he murmured against her mouth.
As, meanwhile, he raged inside.
"Can't we just eat this cake? I mean, come on, Eddie."
As Ad shoveled another huge piece of the chocolate with fake vanilla icing into his piehole--or Duncan Hines hole, as the case may be--he prayed that his buddy would just frickin' drop the subject.
No luck. "I want to know."
Ad took a long draw off the rim of his coffee. Eddie had made the java along with the dessert they were having for breakfast, and both were so fucking good--as was sitting across the table from the guy. It was almost like the separation had never occurred.
Almost.
"Ad? I need to know if you can fight in your condition."
"I don't think I'm compromised too much." Ad put his mug down and resumed digging in. Was this his second piece? Or third? "Bit of a limp, that's all."
"And the eye."
"Whatever."
"Can I be honest?"
"Please don't."
Eddie's chair creaked as he leaned back. "I'm really impressed by you."
Ad's brows popped and he lowered his fork. "I, ah . . ."
"Talk about unselfish." Eddie nodded. "Respect, man. Big respect. And I gotta tell you, it's not something I would have thought you'd do."
"Your death changed the rules for me."
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that."
Ad frowned. "What are you saying?"
"I should have heard that harpy. I should have been paying more attention."
"No, it's my fault. I can't tell you how many times I've replayed that whole thing. I let you down." He put up his palm to stop the arguing. "No. I'm supposed to have your back, and I dropped the ball. Matter of fact, that's the way it's always been between you and me. I've dragged you into more dumb-ass shit and dangerous situations--"
"But it's been fun. It's been so fucking fun."
Ad recoiled. "Okay . . . that's not what I thought you'd say. Ever."
Eddie finished his last bite and smiled. "Every straight arrow needs a little chaos in his life. You're mine. We've had some crazy-ass adventures, and yeah, some of it was probably avoidable and very definitely dangerous, but without you? Boring. My immortal life would be very fucking boring."
Ad ducked his eyes and smiled a little. "So this guilt I've been carrying around?"
"Lose it. I make my own choices, too. I could have ditched your ass centuries ago. But the truth is, I'd rather be crashing into some wall with you than going out for a Sunday stroll with anybody else."
"You say the sweetest things."
"Plus, let's face it. With my colossal lack of game, I would never have gotten laid without you."
Ad stiffened. "Yeah, about that. I'm . . . ah, I'm out of commission from now on." As Eddie sucked in a little gasp, Ad shrugged. "But I can still get 'em for you. In fact, you say the word and I'll go on the prowl. Hell, I can live vicariously through you."
"Jesus . . ."
"Come on, it's not like true love was in my picture anyway. Besides, there are only so many ways to pick up a penny, and I've done them all about a hundred and fifty thousand times at this point. Sooner or later, the shit was going to get old, and now I don't ever have to worry about tenting up my pants over some hot piece. So there are advantages."
