by J. E. Taylor
He stopped talking, staring at the ceiling with a far away expression and what he said next sent a chill all the way to my bones. “Eve was Athena’s mother.”
Silence settled over the room and I waited with my heart in my throat.
“Lilith had just created a new batch of elixir when Lucifer decided he had had enough. By this time, he was bitter and alone and the jealousy of his brother and of Lilith carving a life for herself just exploded. In his rage, he grabbed both Eve and Lilith and forced them to be the guinea pigs. This batch had a little extra something.” Damian’s chuckle made the temperature in the room plunge and I shivered. “Not only did it contain Lilith’s brew, it also had a dose of demon blood and a curse straight from Lucifer’s lips.” He glanced my way. “But that wasn’t the end of his tirade. He wasn’t done doling out justice and what he did next, broke whatever alliance he had with Lilith, turning her into a bitter adversary.”
His gaze moved back to the ceiling and his jaw tightened at his thoughts and instead of prying, I waited, knowing he would eventually spill the information. Finally, when I couldn’t stand it anymore, I asked, “What did he do?”
“Lucifer took Michael’s firstborn. Watching him devour that little boy drove Lilith right into Eve’s arms.”
I was not prepared for the answer and my arms broke out in a hot rash of goose flesh. I swallowed the disgust blooming in my stomach along with the endless questions but the main question that swirled came blurting out anyway. “Lucifer killed his nephew?”
Damian sent a nod in my direction. “Sick bastard,” he muttered and shifted. “Anyway, Michael fled with Athena bringing her to Greece, to my neck of the woods. He found an honorable family to watch over her and you pretty much know the rest.”
“How did you meet her?”
Damian sighed. “Her husband was my best friend until he was killed in battle with Carthage.” He met my gaze. “Before he took his last breath, I promised him I’d look after Athena and Zoe. It didn’t hurt that I was smitten with her already and had been since we met, but Icarus laid claim to her first.” He shrugged.
“So when did you meet Michael?”
“When I got back from the war. And let me tell you, that was an interesting meeting,” he started and shifted on the couch, rolling so he faced me.
“I’ll bet.”
“I nearly shit my pants,” he admitted, his cheeks turning the rose color of embarrassment.
I grinned, imagining his reaction. “Did you cower?” I prodded, my tone teasing enough to draw a smile.
“No. I didn’t.” The spark of humor glinted in his eyes. “I held my ground and promised to watch after his daughter and granddaughter. I didn’t realize what I was promising, or the consequences of failure but I was sincere. I would have gladly laid down my life to protect them if it came to that and he knew it, so I received his blessing.” He shrugged his shoulder and rolled on his back again. “A lot of good that did.” His expression transitioned from those fond memories to the dark day Lucifer tore Athena to bits.
“You protected his granddaughter,” I said, “Besides, you can’t blame yourself for her death.”
He turned toward me. “I couldn’t stop it, therefore I failed.”
It was a simple statement that had ruled his life for centuries and while I wanted to argue with him, I let it go. I stood and crossed the distance, dropping to my knees by the side of the couch. His haunted gaze tore at my heart and all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around him and erase all that pain.
He reached for me, his hand halting just before he touched my cheek. His fingers slowly curled into a fist and he let his arm drop across his chest. Breaking my gaze, he turned his frustrated stare to the ceiling and his features hardened.
I dropped my forehead into the curve of his elbow, resting it on the soft fabric of the chambray work shirt he wore. The muscles in his arm flexed and the unmistakable sound of teeth grinding filled the room just before his fingers laced into my hair. The tender stroke of his thumb caught me off guard and I yanked away, knowing his fingers would bear blisters.
I stared into the depths of his blue eyes wondering why the hell he would put himself through that kind of pain just to comfort me. He reached for me again and I grabbed his arm through the shirt, stopping him with a shake of the head.
“Don’t,” I whispered. “Intentionally hurting yourself doesn’t help.”
His inhale filled the space between us and an instant later, he stood on the other side of the room, his movement complete within a blink.
“Then I need space,” he said, his voice choked in his throat and I kept his gaze offering a nod. I understood, because being near him was like a time bomb, the closer we were, the less likely we would be able to resist the building tension between us and I didn’t know what kissing him would do. If my skin produced blisters, what in god’s name would my saliva do?
Instead of going to him, I slipped back into the chair, my mind going over everything he just told me. I turned my gaze to him, thinking about Lilith and the vampires we ran into at Valerie’s house five years before. They looked very different from Damian, especially Lilith. They were essentially around the same age, give or take a few decades but she was pale as the snow, beautiful, but still pale. Damian on the other hand hadn’t lost the natural skin tones. It was almost as if...
My eyes widened.
“You’re not from the same batch as Lilith, are you?”
His head shook slowly. “I’m a result of the multitude of her failed experiments, and I’m not sure why I survived without becoming a mindless killing machine like those poor bastards in the pit.”
“Are you the only one that ever survived?”
He nodded. “I don’t think any of the others thought to bite back. I’m just amazed they didn’t destroy themselves long before I was thrown in, but maybe Lucifer kept them fed so they didn’t turn on one another.”
“What about Lilith and Eve? Weren’t they just as menacing to society?”
“No. They seemed to have some level of control, sort of like I did once Michael freed me. But they were cunning and sly and always together. I scared the shit out of them at first,” he said and shot me a grin that faded after a moment. “We crossed paths a couple of times and all three of us had the same goal to destroy Lucifer. Lilith was curious as to how I survived and wanted to run some experiments, but I wasn’t about to let her cage me so she could figure out what made me tick. And neither was Eve when she found out I was the protector of her bloodline.” He stopped speaking, chewing on his lower lip in contemplation and then his head turned toward the doorway.
“Eve isn’t dead,” he said, swinging his gaze in my direction.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because Lilith would have torn into Lucifer and never done his bidding without something on the line and the only thing she cares about is Eve.” He collapsed onto the cushions of the couch, running both his hands into his hair. “Which means I’ll be on Eve’s hit list regardless of my role as protector of her bloodline.”
“So Lucifer still has another dose of the cure?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea.”
Something about the story didn’t settle right with me and then the disconnect shot into my mind and out my mouth. “What about Michael and Eve?”
Silence fell between us and Damian kept my gaze. “Michael found Eve and Lilith drinking what remained of his son’s blood.”
Just the thought gave me a start and I could see the disgust written in the tight lines around Damian’s clamped lips.
“That was the end of it. He never forgave her but he couldn’t bring himself to kill her either.”
“I’d have to side with Michael on this one,” I said, my stomach rolling at the thought of draining the blood from my lifeless child. “But I wouldn’t have been so kind. She’d be just as dead as her child.”
Damian kept my stare. “Think of it this way, if you found me in that situation, devastated f
rom watching Lucifer kill our child and starving enough to succumb to the scent of blood filling the room, would you kill me?”
“Yes,” I said with no hesitation and his eyebrows rose.
“I’m not sure I’d be able to if the tables were turned,” he said.
Irritation snaked over my skin and he caught it easily enough.
He put his hand out stopping my ramp up to a rant. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d be livid, but I just don’t have it in me to kill you. There’s nothing that would make me want to kill you.”
Struck by the sincerity in his eyes, the bite of aggravation nipping at my skin softened. “That’s very sweet, but at one time, that wasn’t the case.”
A combination of irritation and guilt flashed in his eyes and he turned away. “I wasn’t in my right mind,” he muttered and stalked out of the room.
Watching his backside as he headed toward the bedroom wiped the smile off my face. He has such a fine ass and my hands clenched in response to the pain that accompanied the thought of never touching him again.
A quick glance at the clock told me we had just a couple of hours left and I followed him into the bedroom. He shoved clothing into a duffle bag like the garments had offended him in some manner.
“Are you trying to murder your clothes?”
He looked up at me and there was a clear warning in his gaze before he continued packing.
I couldn’t help the smirk that captured my lips and his muttering growl told me he saw it too. “Come on, where’s your sense of humor,” I said and opened one of my bureau drawers.
“I don’t want to go to New York,” he said.
I paused with a shirt half folded in my hands and met his gaze. “You don’t have an option.”
His bitter laughter rang out and he zipped his bag. “I’m the only one with options at the moment.”
My hands clenched the shirt and I slammed it into the open bag with the same ferocity he had because he was right. Even wrapped up in the get up he brought in last night wasn’t enough for me to get to civilization on my own. He was the only one who could get me out of here.
“Now look who’s murdering their clothing.”
I met his gaze and bit back the expletive that broadcast in my mind. Instead of dwelling on my anger, I sighed. “What about your place in Litchfield?”
A spark lit up his eyes and a dimple appeared. “I think the only thing standing was the garage.”
“And your cars,” I added.
He sat on the side of the bed with his back to me. I finished packing up the clothing that I wanted and waited while he tossed around the idea. I knew it would appeal to him and I also knew he’d weigh the options over and over in his mind. The zip of my bag caught his attention and he glanced over his shoulder.
“Okay.”
I gave him a nod of satisfaction and glanced at the clock. We still had a good hour before the sun set and his silence gave me time to mull over all he said.
“So we are different from the rest of the species?” I asked and his eyebrow cocked along with his head.
“Vampire, humans, whatever?”
“I guess so.”
“Is that why my transition was so quick?”
Damian reached over, grabbed my bag and hauled it off the bed along with his. “I don’t know. I made a couple of attempts at companions over the years, and none of them changed like you did. They all ended up like those beasts in the pit. Mindless and driven for blood and I had no choice but to let them into the daylight. The only explanation I have is it probably had to do with Michael’s bloodline, but that’s just an educated guess.”
“The other vampires you ran into, did they look like Lilith did?”
Damian’s brow knit into confusion.
“You still look human unless you’re in your shadow form. Lilith looked like a porcelain doll.”
Damian blinked several times and shifted, hiking the bags up on his shoulders. “I guess. They were all products of Lilith and Eve.” He crossed to the doorway.
“But shape shifting is unique only to you and I.”
He stopped and turned back to me. “What are you getting at?”
“Maybe my blood won’t kill you.”
“Naomi…” he started, but his gaze dropped to my throat and then bounced back to my eyes. “Even if it doesn’t, you don’t have the ability to heal and last time I checked, a severed carotid is fatal.”
“Who says it has to be my throat?” I said and turned my wrist in his direction.
He took a step forward, the hunger flaring in his features. “What if you’re wrong?” he asked and stopped.
“Then we die here,” I said with a shrug.
The hardness that captured his features, made me step backwards. “I will not sentence you to death.”
Damian stormed out of the room and I sank onto the bed and my heart followed, sinking into the depths of my belly. I wasn’t trying to doom us to annihilation; I just wanted to figure out a way for both of us to survive.
Together.
Chapter Eight - Naomi
Damian stood in the doorway with his back to me, scanning the landscape. “I’ll be back in a little while,” he said.
“Where are you going?” I asked, pulling the snow pants over my jeans and long underwear.
He glanced back at me. “I need to rent a car,” he said and smiled back at me. “Any preferences?”
“Something fast with a big trunk.”
Dimples appeared and he turned, taking a few steps onto the snow and then he morphed into that beautiful hawk, cutting through the sky carrying the duffel bags with our clothing. All that was left behind was me and the computer backpack. I sighed and closed the door, deciding to do one last walk through of our home. I wandered around the cavern and stopped in front of the mural, shaking my head at my idiocy. There was no way I was leaving this behind and I slid it off the hooks. After neatly folding it, I slid it into the bag with Damian’s computer equipment. There wasn’t much left and I opened and closed drawers, wandered into the kitchen and opened the cabinet, finding only soup, which I already had for breakfast and lunch.
My stomach growled and I debated, but closed the cabinet on the soup when I heard the shuffle in the cabin. I stepped into the living room as Damian opened the door. Flakes of snow peppered his dark hair and the bloom on his cheeks told me it was colder than usual. He smiled and dangled a key attached to a U-haul key ring.
“It isn’t fast and it isn’t a luxury sports car, but it will provide a dark space where I can hang during the day.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me?”
“Nope and we’ll need to drop it off in New Haven when we get there. Of course we’ll have to wait until just after sunset.”
“But a U-haul?”
Now he was laughing at me. “Yes, baby, a U-haul.”
I sighed and nodded. “I packed the mural.”
“I knew I was missing something. I’m going to do one more walk through while you finish getting dressed,” he said.
I let him do his last search of our home without me looking over his shoulder. Instead, I stepped into the cabin where a gas lamp sat on the rustic table. The soft glow filled the room and I slid into the warm coat and slipped the helmet over my head, tightening all the components until I had a snug fit. The gloves actually snapped onto the parka, creating a buffer between me and the frigid air outside and I got one on and had to wait for Damian to help me snap the other one in place.
He stepped out with the backpack in his hand and gave me a quick scan before his lips twisted into a smile.
“I guess that is a look,” he mumbled and slid the backpack over my arms and secured it around my waist before he snapped the gloved hand I raised to him. Damian crouched down and snapped the pants to my boots as well before standing and staring at me through the dark helmet glass.
“Are you ready?”
Ready. The question gave me pause and I glanced around at the barren cabi
n before giving him a nod. The knot in my stomach twisted the moment he reached for the door knob and I almost stopped him. Instead, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. My exhale steamed up the visor and I stepped out into the night behind him.
Before the fog cleared, the strong grasp of his talon wrapped around me and I was flying. With each beat of his mighty wings we rose higher into the sky and I forgot about my pang of sadness in leaving our home behind. I forgot just about everything except for the exquisite rush filling my blood and the panoramic view of the mountains below. I had never experienced flying with Damian from human eyes and it was even more exhilarating than I recalled, especially with little more than a chill penetrating the cocoon of fabric wrapped around me.
Damian seemed to understand my joy and he swooped like a rollercoaster, his cry sounded much more like a laugh than the scream of a hawk. When he went into a roll, my scream bounced around the interior of my helmet, nearly drowning out his cry. If I was prone to a weak stomach, this flight would have been my undoing, but the moment we landed, I flipped my visor back and spun to face his bemused expression.
“Can we do that again?”
His laugh filled the dark alley and the beep of a security system answered my question.
“Maybe, when we get settled wherever we end up,” he said and opened the passenger door for me, helping me strip off the backpack before I climbed into the cab.
He slid into the driver’s seat and grinned at me. “I keep forgetting just how much you like to fly,” he said and started the engine.
“I hate airplanes,” I mumbled and pulled the helmet off, putting it behind the seat in the small storage space. I shook my head, freeing the curls from the make-shift bun and running my fingers through my hair before I glanced in his direction.
“What?” I asked at his intense stare.
“Nothing,” he said and put the vehicle in gear, navigating the side streets until he pulled onto Interstate 76 heading east.
I peeled off the snow pants and tucked them behind the seat, shifting the jeans to make the remaining layers of clothing fall into a more comfortable position. The radio was useless and after fifteen minutes of fiddling with it, I gave up and turned the static off. Damian glanced at me and then back at the road, that amused expression still formed on his handsome face.
