by Joey W. Hill
Raphael studied her, then closed his eyes. As the door slowly swung shut, a cocoon of energy settled over them, as strong as the heat that had surrounded her in the circle, only this was pure comfort, the warmest, safest times of childhood wrapping around her.
Raphael, being the healer he was, knew what was needed. He opened his arms and she went into them, letting the sobs take her.
WHEN she emerged into the bailey, her wings were working properly again, so she stayed in that form, stretching them out to feel the afternoon sunshine. Someone had brought Dante new sunglasses and a belted half-tunic, and he'd moved to a portion of the parapet shaded by the turret. He didn't look toward her, and though she ached to feel his arms around her, hear his voice, she was glad to have this steadying moment to just look at him. Raphael skirted around her, pressing her shoulder briefly before he approached the vampire, likely to check on his physical status.
She felt her father at her shoulder and looked up at him, giving him a smile. "It turned out to be a beautiful day, didn't it?"
Jonah nodded, looked out at it with her. "You're all right?" he asked.
"Yes." She leaned against his side, putting her temple on his shoulder, letting his arm hold her up. White clouds floated past. "The beauty helps, doesn't it? Helps you remember that light and dark are a balance."
He put his fingers beneath her chin. "Yes. And when a male is blessed with a daughter and mate like I have, the light is strong enough to blind him."
She held on to this second, feeling the beauty of the day, his love, Dante's existence and the potential for all of it wrap around her, bolstering her. "I'd like to take him to Eden," she said at last. "May I, for just a little while? He can bathe there and recuperate. I'd intended to ask your permission to take him there earlier, but things got a little derailed." She attempted a smile and failed. "The whole abduction and fight for his life thing."
Jonah's dark eyes roved over her face. Unlike him or even Dante, she'd never be able to hide her feelings behind an impassive mask. She needed to touch Dante, feel that he was alive, back here with her. She needed to be with him without others.
Some of the happiest days of her childhood had been in Eden, playing with the animals and on the grass with her parents. There'd been long afternoons with the three of them napping there, her sandwiched between them, her father's wing stretched over them both, curved around Anna's back like a blanket. Their soft even breath, the rush of the water. It was Paradise. Deep in their ancestral subconscious, all humans remembered it, a dream they all hoped hadn't been one.
Though she could tell Jonah understood, he wasn't entirely placid. There were things they needed to resolve between them. He was probably going to take her to task for taking the lead the way she had, admonish her for risking herself as always . . .
Instead, he turned and placed his hands on her shoulders as she hovered before him, her wings holding her aloft. "You are an angel of these Heavens, just as I am. You need no one's permission to go to Eden. You did what every parent hopes and fears today, Seabird. You surpassed me."
Unbidden, tears returned. As he had when she was little and had scrapes, he plucked a feather, dabbed it like a handkerchief at the corners of her eyes. "Now, enough of that," he said gruffly. "I need to let your mother know you're all right."
"That we're all right." She sniffled and caught his wrist brace, the heel of her palm resting on his. "She worries more about you than she does me. She knows you're far more likely to get into trouble."
His arms and wings closed around her, flooding her with reassurance. Things had changed between them in the past several days, and they could never go back. They would both mourn that, but at the same time, she knew it was all right. Everything would be as it should be.
Pulling away at last, she held on to his hand an extra moment then turned, moving to the parapets where Dante stood facing Raphael. The healer sat upon the parapet with his amused expression back in place.
"He's not letting me touch him," he explained, "But he's moving well enough. His vampire constitution will heal him. He just needs a bath, desperately. After that, I'd recommend a muscle-deep attitude massage."
"Thank you, Raphael." She wanted to smile, but now that she was close to Dante, she couldn't. She could barely breathe. As she turned to face her vampire, the restraint on her frayed emotions nearly crumbled. She'd almost lost him. More than that, she knew how his soul-deep rage at being imprisoned and helpless had nearly consumed what was left of his tattered soul. But it hadn't.
He was strangely blank to her right now, but she was certain her belief in that wasn't resting on hope alone. Not trusting herself to say or do anything else, or think about the possibility of rebuff, she glided forward. Sliding her arms around his waist, palms traveling up his back, she hooked his shoulders. She could fly weights greater than her own with her wings for a short distance, but her arm strength needed help.
I'm taking you somewhere to clean up. Can you put your arms around me?
She closed her eyes as his arms slid over her shoulders, hands under her wings, mostly bare legs and feet capturing her tail to steady their passage as she went aloft. Even though he was covered with blood and filth, there was the flutter of dark hair against her lips, the muscles in his body shifting against hers. It was him, and he was alive.
The trip to Eden was a short one, and they didn't speak, though she sensed him gazing around, taking in the magnificent silver spires of the Citadel they'd just left, the sight of other angels in the sky going about their daily business.
Unlike earthly rainbows, Eden's had a glittering substance to it that coated her skin as she passed through it. She remembered times she'd played in the rainbow, positioning herself so those five colors striped one of her wings. She'd giggled, asking Jonah to make it permanent. Those colors passed over Dante's face, highlighting the harsh planes, the set of his mouth.
She landed them near the river. If they'd come a day or so ago, she might have dropped him in for fun. Right now, her emotions had built to the point she could barely speak. It was hard enough to let him go, move back and transform to her human form so her bare toes could grip the soft grass. She discarded the bra, leaving her skin free to feel the soft touch of Eden's breeze and gentle sun.
All she wanted to do was run to him, embrace him, but she couldn't tell by sorting his emotions what he wanted. He moved away from her after they landed, walked to the water's edge to stand under the canopy of a shade tree and stared all around him. She couldn't blame him. She'd grown up an angel, used to seeing marvelous sights, but there was still something about Eden. It contained peace, a quietness of the soul that was contagious while that soul rested within its embrace.
Eden's many magics included this blissful isolation. There might be others here now, but they would not be seen unless the powers that drifted through here knew a soul needed someone else's presence. Now Dante watched a pair of deer move to the water's edge and drink, gazing at him curiously before drifting on. They passed so close he could touch the deer's flank. He lifted a hand as if he intended to do just that, but then his gaze lighted on the blood staining him, and he closed it into a fist.
She couldn't bear it. She knew she should give him a few seconds, but instead she walked down to the water's edge where he stood. Under his silent gaze, she unbelted the tunic around his waist. There was a small pouch hanging from the belt, and when she removed it, the contents were lumpy, hard. When she glanced up at his face, he shook his head, apparently not interested in explaining, so she set it aside with the clothing.
Interlacing her fingers with his, she caressed his knuckles, absorbed the warmth of his palm. She'd intended to lead him to the water, but instead, she just stood there, holding that one hand, staring at it as the tears ran down her face.
His arm slid around her shoulders slowly. As it tightened, she took one hesitant step in, then another, her movements jerky from the emotions gripping her. Then she was against his chest, her face pressed
into his throat, and his hand spread out on her back, a cautious stroke. Reassurance, affection, it was all so new to him, but she didn't care. If anything, it made his stilted attempts all the more precious to her, because she knew he did nothing except that he wanted to do it.
Why are you crying, merangel? I am free.
Because I was afraid I was going to lose you. And I've only had you a few days.
That should have made me much easier to forget if the Fen had killed me.
He handled terrible things so matter-of-factly. She squeezed her eyes shut, let the horror of his words pass. Then she spoke into his skin, because she liked how she could move her lips against him that way. "So I'd be easy for you to forget, too. There are many females in the world, Dante. A lot of them will be prettier, or more like you." She thought of Lady Lyssa's beauty, and a legion of other faceless vampire women, just as breathtaking. "I'm only going to have you a short time."
His crimson gaze was intent on her face as he took her shoulders and held her away from him. Sitting down on the bank, he drew her down beside him, his brow creased in thought. "You are not as clever as I thought you were, Alexis."
Stung, she pulled back, but he wouldn't let her go. "The Fen, though they are not as simple as I thought, are still simple. And yet they saw what you do not."
"What's that?"
He sighed. "I have already seen women in your world. At the park, on your television. Your mother, the seawitch. Many are beautiful, and they all interest me. As everything about this world interests me."
She bit her lip. "See--"
"Hush," he said absently, watching squirrels play in a spiral around the trunk of a tree covered with flowers the color of sapphires. "But from the first dream, you were different. There is something . . . different that happens with you. A lightness inside my chest, when I am with you. Nothing is right, but everything may be, eventually, as long as I have you near me."
Cupping her face, he caressed her worried brow. Alexis savored the contact, pressing into his touch. "There is a connection between us," he murmured, watching her reaction. "I am no longer certain it was only my magic that brought you through to my world. The strength of the bond between us may have been the essential ingredient the magic needed to succeed. And your witch was right. When you pulled me through to your world, I should have been obliterated. Magic does not forgive the breaking of its rules. The only way it was possible had to be because you and I are a part of one another. Which may be the only evidence there are some merciful powers in the world," he added flatly.
When Alexis tilted her face into his palm, pressing her lips to it, he drew away. "I'm filthy with blood. You will not suffer me like this."
She didn't care. She just wanted him. She wanted to have a short hour where she didn't have to weigh her feelings against what he had or hadn't done and decide what to do. All of those things mattered, would have to be dealt with, but this moment was the most important one now. Her emotions were going to overcome her, because everything she'd seen and heard, it still meant nothing against how much she wanted and needed him. And the conflict of that was going to tear her apart if she couldn't lose herself in him for this small bit of time. Eden didn't judge. Eden just was, bringing out the best in every soul. Maybe that was why she'd wanted so desperately to bring him here. To confirm what she'd assured everyone else she knew.
My crimes are not your burden, Alexis. I will deal with them.
But--
He shook his head, the set to his face telling her to leave it alone. Swallowing, she managed to speak, though there was jagged glass in her throat. "Then let me help wash off the blood."
"All right." He rose, taking her hand to pull her to her feet, and when he did, the gravity of the slope took her a step or two into him, bare body against bare body. Despite his intentions to be clean before he touched her, Dante didn't push her away this time. Despite her intention to hold herself in check, Lex had her arms around his neck, body pressed tight against him and face in his neck without any careful deliberation at all. She felt his sigh, and knew it was relief, an easing of pain, for both of them. Bending to put an arm under her thighs, he lifted and took her to the water.
It was shallow, and the water was of course the temperature most conducive to her desires. Cool, but not cold, and balanced by the warmth of the breeze that continued to play along their bare skin. He waded in, stopping at his waist, and let her legs down. Alexis stayed as close as possible, holding him, and he kept a tight grip on her as well, apparently reluctant to part, which reassured her beyond measure. Using her hands to wet his arms and chest, she began to wash the blood away. But he stopped her to take them both under, make them completely wet. When they came up, he was deeper, up to the chest, which put her in to her neck. Twining around him, she used the grip of her legs to hold on to him as she explored his skin, caressing the blood away.
The physical wounds were nearly gone now. Starting at his skull, she stroked his wet long hair, following it down to the water's edge, where the strands floated in the water like a sea fern, only much softer. What was going on in his head? Oh, Goddess, she was a love-struck, besotted idiot. He was alive. Hers. Every wounded, fascinating, tormented inch of him.
Putting his hand behind her neck, he brought her to his mouth, driving every thought from her head as her body surged to life beneath his touch. She cried out in relief against his lips. His other hand spread out further, fingers teasing the top of her buttocks, nudging her against the broad head of a hard shaft that told her where his mind was now, regardless of what troubled waters it had been visiting.
But then he drew back. Despite the obvious urgent demand of his body, he traced her lips, her cheekbones, absorbed in looking at her. Her legs trembled in their grip upon him as his words resounded in her mind.
Know this. If there had been nothing in this world but you, it would have been worth everything to get here. Do not ever be ashamed of your ability to love, Alexis. Even if I do not understand it yet, I am not such a fool that I don't see it for the treasure it is.
From the first time she'd met him, he'd never said anything carelessly, or without intent, careful consideration. She promised herself to remember that in the future, whenever his lack of spontaneity drove her crazy.
The tears fell again despite the wry thought, and fell even faster when he leaned forward and placed his lips on them, kissing each one away, a strand of emotion that twisted into the physical. He adjusted his position, stretching her ready opening as he began to take her down on his cock. It was passion, but with this emotional connection, it was affirmation, a way to split her heart in two even as she rejoiced at the pain.
The distance between them disappeared, and he was kissing her mouth again. Her arms slid around his shoulders, nails digging in as he seated her fully, and her body rippled in erotic response. Closing his hands on her shoulders, he arched her backward so he could put his mouth on her breast, sucking the water off the nipple and then drawing it deep into heat and a different kind of wetness. Her hips moved of their own accord, but his voice came into her head.
Be still upon me, Alexis. Do not move until I tell you that you can.
That powerful command could be a mere whisper in her mind and still hold her immobile, though a mewl of frustration came from her lips, her body quivering with the desire.
The more you obey me, the wetter you get. I want you that way for me.
Never had she imagined being taken like this in her childhood paradise, but now it became the perfect setting, all the colors, vivid and yet soft, like the enchantment of an Impressionist painting, a soft, dreamlike haze, the most brilliant colors coming from inside her head, spots in her vision as her desire rose.
He was taking his time, nursing her breast as if he planned to do that for eternity, and the longer he did it, the more out of control she felt. Her body stayed still, but she was moaning, pleading, gasping his name, becoming so mindless she was soon going to be saying words that she was sur
e the blessed environment of Eden had never heard among its hallowed trees.
Her muscles spasmed along his length involuntarily and he slid halfway out, then back in. It was enough. With a surprised gasp, she started to come. Realizing her dilemma, he shoved back in, but then held her still on him, letting her muscles milk him and the release come from deep inside of her instead of from her clit, a powerful, stunning reaction that had her shuddering, moaning in deep, guttural sounds.
Holding her close to him, he began to move through the water, the impact of each step an aftershock that had her whimpering. When he reached the bank, he laid her down, holding her with the strength of one arm, keeping them joined. As his palm shifted, he caressed that flame on her lower back, the sign of his third mark upon her.
"Come for me, too," she whispered, reaching up to his face, tracing the pale brow. "Let me give you blood."
He thrust deep into her again, wrenching a raw cry from her throat for he became rougher, finding his own release. Their hands met and he held them out to either side of her, demanding a full surrender. She tilted her head away, knowing everything he wanted and needed from her, and she moaned as he bit into the artery, taking her blood in a shuddering finale that seemed to float on and on, the two of them adrift on a sea of their own desires and deepest wishes.
When he finally let go of her hands, she slid her fingers down his broad back, reveling in his weight upon her, face pressed into her neck, the strands of his hair across her lips. He kept up his movements for a while even after his release, and she moved with him, a soothing, sensual rock that had no beginning or end, the rhythm itself a circular language that could answer every fear and question she had.
Pressing a finger to his mouth, she collected a tiny smear of blood there. He licked it from her skin, causing a shudder to go through her still aroused body, and then met her gaze.
"The beads and ribbons."
"What?" she asked.
"The pouch. Your father gave it to me to hold them. I brought back the beads and ribbons, the things they put on my body from the females I killed." He traced the curve of her face, her lips. "I'm not sure why, but it was important. I thought I should keep them with me."
