“Boyfriend trouble?”
“Something like that.” Lily smiled. “He’s feeling powerless. He doesn’t like it much.”
“Most men don’t.”
Lily was about to reply that Sam wasn’t like most men, when it occurred to her that in many ways he was.
“Have you known him long?”
“Not terribly long, no. But he’s not—” Oh God, did Reid think Sam was the killer? Lily balked at the thought. How on earth could she explain that he wasn’t? That he couldn’t be because he wasn’t even human.
“It’s okay.” Reid smiled. “I checked him out before I came.” She put down the notebook. “New neighbour moves in, right before this begins? I’d have been a fool to leave that uninvestigated.”
A crash came from the kitchen and Lily winced.
“You’ll want to watch him though,” Reid added smoothly, picking up her notebook again. “He has the devil’s own hearing.”
Micah leaned against the kitchen doorframe unseen, gazing at the two women and the light that danced above them as they talked. Two souls, their brightness feeding the other. They could have been friends, in other circumstances, in other lives. She had lacked that, a female friend, a confidant. No one would get near to her once her abilities started to manifest. And she would allow no one near her after that.
Reid slid her notebook into her jacket pocket. “I’ll be in touch, but if anything comes up, anything at all, ring me directly. Right away.”
They shook hands and Reid left. Lily looked bereft.
“Are you all right, my bright one?”
She just nodded and crossed to the window. “Who do you think it is, Micah? Could it be someone I know?”
The problem was, there weren’t many options. Given her solitary lifestyle, she had few friends.
“I doubt that, Lily.”
“Then you’re too gullible by half,” said Sam, carrying two mugs of coffee out of the kitchen. He handed one to Lily and then cast a glance over his shoulder towards Micah’s location. “I’d offer you some if you’d deign to join us. No?”
Micah breathed in and out carefully, watching them. The mood changed, just with the arrival of the demon back in the living room. Lily sipped her coffee, her gaze fixed on Sam. For a moment Micah could have sworn she was smiling, but her mouth was hidden. He couldn’t tell for sure.
And that disturbed him more than anything.
“No.” Sammael sighed and turned back to face Lily. “He doesn’t want us to lay eyes on his physical form. He fears it would corrupt him, you see?”
“What? Us seeing him?”
Sammael’s chuckle flowed through the air. It shivered its way across Micah’s skin, like a caress. “What we’d do. An angel is so beautiful, Lily, that mortal women, and some demons, have been known to lose all control at the sight of their bodies. So he hides from us, without realising that what cannot be seen can be just as alluring.”
Sam put his mug down on the coffee table, then took hers and put it side by side with his own.
“Don’t do this,” Micah tried to say. He wasn’t sure if the words reached them or not. “I can’t watch again.”
Sam didn’t respond, and Lily didn’t seem to hear. So Micah watched, against his will, as their mouths joined, and their fingers entwined.
“He’s still watching, Lily,” Sammael said. Without hesitation, Lily stepped away from him and pulled off her form-hugging T-shirt. Her skin was the colour of cream, her breasts clad only in contrasting black lace.
“Stay, Micah,” she said. “Please. Show yourself to me.”
The temptation made his blood run so hot, he couldn’t breathe, not in the calm and mannered way to which he aspired. She maddened him. So did Sam.
“I can’t.”
Lily’s mouth fell open at the sound of his voice, not in her mind but against her ears. She took a step towards him, and Micah jerked backwards. Only to find Sam standing right behind him.
“You want this,” said the demon, his voice like liquid chocolate. Micah froze, trapped between the two of them, caught like a bird in a snare. “You know you want this.”
Sam reached for him, body and mind, and Micah could do nothing to avoid his touch. Sam’s hands slid into him, fingertips trailing through the motes of light that made up Micah’s arm. Sam’s mind brushed against his and it felt like all the joys of reunion, all the wonders of a friend long gone returned. Micah shuddered as Lily approached him, her tongue tracing a gleaming trail along her lower lip. She still couldn’t see him, he was certain of that. Or almost certain.
Hands caressed him, Sammael’s hands, so close to an angel’s, so close to hers, surprisingly gentle. Lily stood right before him now. It would only take a single effort of his will to render himself corporeal and be with her, be with them both.
“Micah,” she whispered. “Please.”
Sammael’s laugh rippled through his body, chasing his apprehension ahead of it, driving out his reticence.
And that scared him more than anything.
“No!” Micah broke free of them, tearing himself away. The effort almost shook him to pieces. He fell onto the carpet, and with a brief, remorseful glance at their bereft faces, he fled to his sanctuary.
The main upshot of D.I. Reid’s visit was not what Lily expected. Sam refused to let her out of his sight and Micah had vanished to whatever bolt-hole he hid himself in. Lily tried not to be disappointed. Sam was a considerate and exceptional lover. In that sense she was falling hopelessly in love with him. But she had always loved Micah. Always. Now she was afraid he would never come near her again. Sam tried to comfort her but when she told him her fears, he just laughed.
“No, sweetheart. He can no more leave you alone than I can.”
She tried very hard to believe him. Sam took her shopping and encouraged her to pick out all her favourite foods. He added a bunch of roses to the shopping basket as they reached the till. When they got back to the apartment building, twilight was creeping up the edges of the horizon. Tired and depressed by the events of the last few days, Lily was ready for nothing more than a meal, a shower and a good night’s sleep.
Sam, on the other hand, seemed to feel a need to cram everything possible into the day, like he was afraid it would end too soon. He cooked pollo alla diavola, poured two glasses of Burgundy, melted chocolate over raspberries for dessert and kissed the nape of her neck whenever he walked by.
There was no sign of Micah.
“For a guardian angel, he’s very good at the disappearing act,” Sam sniped when she mentioned it.
Lily pursed her lips to silence a retort. Petulance actually suited Sam. It knocked away some of that raw appeal, made him seem a little more human, with feet of clay. Sam was sulking too, it seemed, and not with her. Once again, he took it out on the only person present.
“You’ve seen him,” she said. “What does he look like?”
Sam snorted, setting his wineglass down on the table. “Like an angel, of course. Beautiful. Perfect. The type of face that looks best when it’s suffering. He gets this sort of noble stoicism, especially around the eyes.”
Lily stared into the deep red wine, trying to picture that while her own reflection stared back. “And do angels love?” She glanced up at Sam. He wasn’t smiling now. His expression was unexpectedly sombre. “Do demons for that matter?”
“Yes.” The single word was a whisper.
Lily let her breath calm before she asked another question. She needed to be calm for this. “Do you?”
“Yes,” he said again. But nothing more.
“Are you evil, Sam?”
The twitch of his lips might have been a smile, or something else. She marked it though and filed it away for later consideration.
“Sometimes,” Sam said. “Sometimes I’m very evil indeed. It’s in my nature, Lily. That doesn’t mean I don’t love, or feel, or want.”
“And why do you want Micah?”
Sam sighed and pushed his chair
back from the table. He gazed at her levelly, with those endlessly dark eyes that seemed ready to devour her at any instant. He was like an animal, a big cat at rest, just a heartbeat away from action, from violence. Her heart beat faster and, inside, her body clenched in anticipation. He aroused her effortlessly.
“Angels and demons were the first children of the Creator. We were the same then, one thing. We lived in complete harmony. Our lives, our hearts, our minds, everything was open and there for the taking. We loved each other without reservation, and everything we did was joy. Then came mankind. Few of the angelic host understood that move. I mean, he had us. What did he need you lot for? The Morningstar, highest among the angels, forged a knife to kill the Creator, but his brother and equal, the Eveningstar, refused to join him. They fought and the Morningstar fell and became—”
“The Devil?”
Sam winced, shifted as if suddenly uncomfortable in his skin. “We prefer to simply call him the Nameless and leave it at that. With the Fall that bliss of union and proximity to the Creator was lost. I can’t explain it to you, Lily. Not in a way that would make sense. Imagine that moment of orgasm. Imagine it continuing forever. Imagine the comfort of unrestrained intimacy, sharing everything, your touches and caresses returned without reservation. Then imagine that it stopped and you couldn’t get close to it ever again. Not for more than a few brief moments. That’s what happened. We knew eternal ecstasy and then it was taken away.”
“When you fell?”
“No, not just demons. All of us. The angels too. When some fell, and others were cast out, we all lost that sense of union. Only those kept in the Holy Court can still experience it, because they’re still connected to the Creator’s presence. But the rest of us, Micah included, have just the memory and the loss. When we come into contact with our own kind, our lost brothers, it rekindles. As small an echo of the full sensation as is possible, but it is there. It is real. When I see him, when I touch him…” He closed his eyes and his face relaxed for a moment. “He’s trapped here, you know? Can’t go back. One of them even came to take him, and he refused. He wouldn’t leave you.”
It came as an unexpected shock. Wouldn’t leave her? From the way Sam described it, he would give anything to return to the Holy Court. But Micah had refused, for her.
“Then where does he go? When he’s not here? Where does he hide?”
Sam shook his head. “Somewhere close by. Somewhere that reminds him of home. Quiet, high up, peaceful.”
“The roof,” Lily said, knowing it on some intrinsic level. “The roof garden.”
Sam opened his eyes, and the peace was gone from them. The hunger was back. She recognised it now, like an addict craving a fix. He’d do anything, anything at all to get what he wanted. Cold fingers dragged down her spine at the thought. “Then that’s where we need to go.”
“Sam, you’re scaring him off. You do realise that, don’t you?”
He stood up, towering over her, dinner forgotten. “What?”
Lily took another sip of her wine, using the moment and the alcohol to quell the sudden fear that leaped up inside her. “Let me do this. I made you a promise. I will keep my word.”
Sam glowered at her, obscuring the light. His face fell into shadows. Only his eyes were visible, points of light, far away. Lily opened her mouth to speak, but then the world turned black.
The light overhead sparkled, dancing with the movement of the surface. She reached for it, but her hands and legs were bound. Struggling, she tried to tear herself free, but the knots were too good, professional. Her lungs ached, but she knew that if she tried to breathe she would die. She wriggled again, and this time something gave. One arm was free, then the other, and she tore at the ropes, striking out for the surface, for safety. Breaking the dark water, she gasped in a lungful of fresh air. Safe. She was safe!
Lily swam to shore, collapsing on the shingle of the riverbank, her body spent, drawing in breath after desperate breath. Stones bit into her skin, but she didn’t care. She was alive. She was free. She was…
A shadow fell across her, huge and black, the face lost in shadows. Only his eyes were visible, points of light reflecting the moon. “The water, by which man was baptised, rejects you. Which means, warlock, that it will be the flames.” Something heavy crashed down against the side of her head and the unconsciousness rose around her like black tar, sucking her down into its embrace.
“Lily? Damn it, Lily, answer me!” Sam sprawled on the floor beside her, cradling her against him. As she opened her eyes, he murmured something in a language she couldn’t understand and pressed his cheek against hers. His relief washed over her, ridding her of the darkness and the fear. Tears scalded her skin, her tears, Sam’s tears, slick between their faces. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Her voice came out in a throaty croak. Red wine pooled on the carpet next to her. It drenched the front of her top and dripped down the leg of the table like blood running from a wound. “It was him. Todd Lane.”
“Is he dead?”
“No. Get me the phone. Quick. I have to ring D.I. Reid.”
“Lily?” Micah’s voice burst into her mind, fuelled by anger and afire with rage. “What has he done to you?”
Before she could respond, something sleek and golden barrelled into Sam’s body, tearing him away from her and hurling him to the ground on the far side of the living room. A leonine figure stood over the demon, head lowered in challenge, shoulders squared, hands fisted at his side. His toned muscles rippled beneath the sun-kissed flesh.
He was naked, beautiful, angelic, every idealised image of a man rolled into one.
“Micah?” she ventured, pulling herself up onto her knees. She couldn’t make herself rise any further. Micah glanced over his shoulder with eyes the colour of lapis lazuli. Lily sucked in a breath, her mouth hanging open in wonder. There was more than anger in those perfect eyes. Quicker than her pitiful human senses could follow, he bent down and seized Sam by the throat, hoisting him into the air.
“What have you done?” Micah growled, and the air trembled around him. No trace of the gentleness she knew remained. This was her guardian enraged, an avenging angel.
“She had a vision,” Sam gasped, struggling to breathe. In the end he just gave up. His eyes glowed again, that taint of crimson infecting the brown. For a moment he became the demon she knew him to be, menacing and dark, secretly thrilling. “You’re going to have to put me down eventually, Mike. I haven’t hurt her. I can’t, remember?”
“Micah, I’m okay,” Lily said. “He’s telling the truth.” Slowly, like an expert trying not to spook a wild animal, she got to her feet. She approached warily, one footstep carefully placed and grounded before she took the next. He was real, corporeal, and so beautiful it made her heart ache.
Reaching out her hand, she tried to still her trembling fingers before she touched him. They vibrated in the air, millimetres away from his skin. She felt his warmth, like sunlight, emanating from him to brush her flesh.
Oh God, she thought, he’s actually real. He’s actually here.
Lily laid her hand on his shoulder. Beneath the silken skin, his body was iron hard. The muscles shifted in response to her touch, tightening, and her hand tingled. The sensation travelled up her arm and her throat closed in sympathy. She tried to breathe on a dry mouth but her chest didn’t seem to be working. She just couldn’t get enough air.
“Micah.” His name was a prayer, a song on her lips. His head lifted, tilting back. His eyes closed, his lips parted, he shuddered from head to foot.
The spasm reached his hand and he released Sam, who slumped to the carpet at his feet. Neither Micah nor Lily moved, the contact between them rooting them to the floor.
Getting up, Sam brushed himself off, like a cat who knew someone had seen him tumble accidentally into the dirt. Lily only afforded him a brief glance. She couldn’t look away from Micah. Not now. Not when he might vanish again and then try to deny he was ever real and corporeal. S
he knew it now. She could feel him beneath her touch. His skin felt warm and smooth. The echo of his erratic heartbeat ran through her. His chest rose and fell, the air rushing in and out of him. He was real. She could touch him. She didn’t want to stop.
“Lily?” Sam asked warily. She wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted but she recognised the question in his voice.
“What?” she breathed and Micah trembled again, like a caged lion, held captive by her touch alone. Even though a moment earlier he had been wild, untameable, her fingers on his skin held him still.
“It’s your choice,” Sam said, with shades of warning in his voice. His desire swirled in his eyes. He wanted them both, she knew that, had made no bones about it. But not now. Not this time. She’d waited twenty years for this. Ever since Micah had first come to her shortly after the nightmare of her twelfth birthday, she had wondered what he looked like, had fantasised about the feeling of his skin against hers. This feeling. This moment.
“Later, Sam. I need you to go.”
“But Reid, Lane…”
Damn, no! Breath stopped in her throat and her fingers stiffened. If she moved, if she focused on something else, would Micah vanish? Only the thought that Sam had hurt her had brought him here. Only the fact that he had lost his temper, had given in to his anger and fear, had made him visible to her.
Sam’s voice came again, rich and sultry, more certain of his position once again. “Micah won’t go, if that’s what you’re scared of. Will you, Micah? It’s time you two had this out, after all. Twenty years is a long time for a human. You owe her, angel. What do you say?”
Micah hung his head again. He hadn’t opened his eyes, not since her touch stilled him, but now the lids parted a little. She saw a sliver of blue, so bright. Sam was right, though it pained her to admit it, suffering suited him more than she could say. He looked like a true martyr. Now, when he knew it was over, that the thing he feared had come to pass, he accepted the turn of affairs with noble stoicism, just as Sam had said. And he was so, so beautiful.
Edge of Heaven Page 10
