“She’s safe with Micah and me,” he assured Reid. “I want to get her home now. Please, if you get any more information, let us know. But don’t involve her like this again. It’s too dangerous. He’s watching her. And he’s just waiting to make his move.”
“Sam,” Micah called. “They’re finished.” Lily stood now, snuggling into his side, her arms around him, her eyes huge.
“Time to go. Let me know what you can, Reid? Please?”
She nodded and bid him farewell, turning back to her work. Not as small as Lily, and certainly well able to take care of herself, she looked for a moment quite frail and lost in the twilight. Until she flicked a finger over the radio and began to bark into it again. Sam watched her with growing admiration as she stalked off.
But she wasn’t Lily.
Sam sat in the front of the car on the way back, giving Lily the space she needed, the comfort which Micah could offer her effortlessly. Back at the apartment, he watched them, uncomfortable in the face of their understated intimacy, the way Micah calmed her simply by being there.
Sam couldn’t even begin to think of a thing to say that might give her ease of mind. The killer had snatched her from right in front of them and they hadn’t known. Micah had been the first to realise, not him. The angel had led the way. Only a fluke had brought Sam to her first.
He poured three glasses of twelve-year-old scotch, and neither of them asked where he had found the bottle. Lily wheezed as she tried to drink it. Micah, on the other hand, knocked it back in one go.
Sipping it more carefully, Lily paused only to yawn. She and Micah had settled themselves on the sofa. Sam pulled one of the chairs from the kitchen table and turned its back to them so he could sit astride it. Once she had finished her drink, Lily rested her head on Micah’s shoulder and yawned again.
“You should sleep,” Sam said, his own glass heavy in his hand, the alcohol untouched. “We’ll be here.”
“I know,” she said in a very small voice which told him at once she didn’t quite believe that would make any difference. “But I want to stay here.”
“Lily, you’ve had a hell of a day,” Micah said. “He’s right, my bright one. You should sleep.”
She poked her chin out stubbornly and shook her head. “You’ll leave me in there. Alone.”
Micah’s bright blue eyes lifted to lock on Sam’s. Devastated eyes, that looked right inside the soul.
“No,” Sam said. “We won’t.”
“You want both of us with you, Lily?” Micah asked, a slight tremble in his mellow voice betraying him. She nodded, already almost asleep in his arms. “Then…then we’ll both be there for you.”
Sam inhaled slowly, watching the angel’s dilemma, feeling equally conflicted.
Lily pulled herself free and took Micah’s hand, reaching out at the same moment for Sam’s. He stared at her fingers, tiny little things, but so unbelievably strong. Sam lifted the glass to his lips, never taking his eyes from her hand, her invitation.
It wasn’t what had been in his mind when he had suggested the three of them sleep together. But she knew that. Problem was, right now, this was what she needed and there was no way he could refuse.
He drained the glass, sighing heavily as he put it down. His hand met hers and Lily smiled, a shaky, relieved smile.
She led them to her room and almost collapsed on the bed. Both Sam and Micah caught her at the same moment.
“It’s okay,” Sam said. “You’re safe now, Lily.”
She swivelled her head, trying to take in both their faces at once. Failing, she pulled free of Sam and turned so she could sit down heavily on the bed, which bounced beneath her. She didn’t look big enough to disturb a raindrop.
Lily winced and then brought her free hand up to her shorn hair, raking through it as if trying to work out what had happened. Shock, Sam realised, she was in shock.
“He—he—” Tears spilled from her eyes, cascading down her pale cheeks. “He cut off my hair.”
Micah didn’t seem capable of movement. He held on to her other hand as if afraid to let her go.
Sam knelt before her, carefully pulling her hand away from the mess the killer had left of her hair. He ran his fingers through the remains, stuck to her scalp with mud and water. “It’s just shorter. With the right stylist, you’ll love it. It’ll be elfin. A pixie cut. You’ll see.”
She gave a wary, disbelieving smile.
“Sleep now, Lily,” said Micah.
She tugged at her ruined clothes and, belatedly, Sam realised she was still wearing the rags that remained after the killer had attacked her. As she pulled them off, the bandages across her back stood out against the pallor of her skin. She balled her shirt in front of her breasts.
“Here.” Micah handed her another T-shirt, taking the shredded clothes she offered him and throwing them away.
They sat on either side of her as she lay down, closing her eyes, her breathing gradually dropping to the level of sleep. But when Micah tried to rise, her hand closed convulsively on his arm, stopping him.
“Lie down,” said Sam, softly. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Micah sighed but obeyed him reluctantly, stretching out alongside Lily, on top of the bedclothes, still dressed, too tired to argue. Sam waited and then followed suit.
Lily’s breathing levelled out again and finally, finally, he felt her body relax against his.
“Can you really find a hairdresser for her who can do that?” Micah asked, his voice unexpectedly warm and intimate in Sam’s mind.
Sam stared at the ceiling, gently stroking the skin of Lily’s arm, wondering what Micah’s skin would feel like in comparison.
“Believe me, Mike, first thing in the morning, I’m going to track down a fucking award winner and threaten him until he makes her look like a fucking supermodel.”
As sleep took him, Sam heard laughter ring around his mind, Micah’s laughter.
Chapter Thirteen
Lily stirred, feeling two warm bodies stretched out alongside her. Cocooned between them, she had never felt so comfortable, so content or so safe.
Sam lay on his back, his strong chest rising and falling, a panther at rest. On the other side Micah lay on one arm, his face turned towards her, still sleeping, leonine in comparison. She had never imagined they would sleep, nor that they would need to do so. But there was something beautiful about them at peace she had never expected.
As if he sensed her gaze on his face, Micah’s eyes flickered open. Bright blue, alert in that instant, and yet gentle, filled with love.
“Hello, my bright one.”
“Micah,” she breathed.
A hand ran from her hip, dipping down to her waist and up to the side of her breast. “Don’t forget me, sweetheart.” Sam. She could never forget Sam.
She smiled. Safe, she was safe. Lying here between an angel and a demon, she was safe. She would have found it ridiculous if she hadn’t endured a nightmare the previous night.
“Did they find him?” she asked.
Sam’s hand stopped suddenly and withdrew. He pushed himself up on one arm.
“No,” said Micah. “I’m afraid not. But they will. Rest assured, Lily. They will.”
“Or I will,” Sam said in a far more threatening voice. He sat up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. His whole tone changed as he stood. “Coffee? Then we’ll sort out that hairdresser’s trip, okay?”
Lily rolled over, staring at him in bewilderment. “Hairdresser’s?”
Sam smiled. He was almost convincing. “We aren’t staying holed up in here forever, Lily. You can’t let him take your freedom away, not without a fight.”
He strode out, probably in search of that coffee, she thought grumpily.
Micah kissed her cheek, his lips as soft as feathers, his scent as beguiling as ever. “He’s right, though I hate to admit it. Get up, my bright one.”
With both of them nagging her, what choice did she have? She struggled out of bed, feeling
slightly dazed, as if last night had been a nightmare. But as she moved, the dozens of tiny wounds on her back ached in protest, and it all came flooding back.
“Oh God,” she gasped, and her legs gave out beneath her. She hit the ground hard and lay there, trying to breathe until Micah’s hands found hers and drew her up.
“Lily,” he said, “you’re okay.” He helped her to stand. “You’ve got to believe that. He can’t touch you with us here and we aren’t going to leave your side. I swear it.”
Sam dashed into the room, his eyes a little too wild for comfort. “What happened?”
Sudden outrage burst inside her. “I’m not an invalid, or a child,” she exclaimed, shaking Micah off. “I’m not an idiot or crazy. I’m not—”
The sob came from nowhere, tearing out of her body, half in terror, half in rage. She hugged herself and doubled over, trying to stop it before she broke down completely.
Neither of them moved and for that she was grateful. Slowly, determinedly, she gathered her strength and put her self-control back together. Shaking like a leaf in a storm, she straightened and then made herself face them. They stood side by side, angel and demon, light and dark, both completely silent, watching her.
“Don’t treat me like one,” she said. “Please. Don’t.”
Micah’s breath escaped his lips in a sigh. It wasn’t pity, but a strange combination of regret and self-recrimination.
“Given what happened last night, Lily,” he said after a moment, “I thought you might be frightened, or defensive. I didn’t mean to imply that.”
Sam just looked confused but held his tongue. He didn’t know, she realised. She thought he knew everything about her, even though she had only known him a short time. He seemed to know her intimately. But he didn’t know the whole story of her past.
“They tried to lock me up,” she said in a flat tone. “My family, my neighbours, everyone. My gran got me out, brought me home. And when she died they tried again. So I left the house and came here. They used to talk to me like that. ‘You’re okay Lily, it’s going to be okay,’ until I thought I’d go insane anyway, just because of them.”
Sam took a wary step towards her and when she didn’t react, he wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know.”
“I did,” Micah admitted, his head bowed. “And I should have realised. Forgive me?”
Tears stung her eyes again. “Of course I do.” She stretched out her arms to him and he took her from Sam, holding her close. “I hate this tension. It’s like he’s already here, with us all the time, breathing down our necks and making us turn on each other.” She turned back to face Sam and reached out a hand, which he took, holding it gingerly. “I know this isn’t ideal. But I can’t lose either of you right now.”
“You won’t,” Sam assured her.
Micah’s chest expanded against her back as he breathed. “No,” he said finally. “You won’t. But it cannot last, my bright one. You know that?”
She didn’t know what to say to that, so she ignored it, accepting only the first half of the statement. No, you won’t. That would have to be enough for now.
Sam shifted uncomfortably, reading the same tension she did. He stroked her hand with his fingers and then fingered the shorn locks of her hair beside her cheek.
“At least let me try to do something with this. If you really won’t come out.”
She nodded and to her surprise realised Sam had turned his attention to Micah, as if asking his permission as well. Part of her knew she should be outraged, but she wasn’t.
Before she knew what was happening, she was sitting on a chair in the kitchen, swathed in a towel, while Sam stood over her with a wickedly sharp-looking pair of scissors and Micah made an early lunch.
“Hold still,” Sam told her calmly, holding the scissors up high. “Trust me now.”
She did, she knew that. Even though all reason told her that it was foolish to trust a demon. But she couldn’t help but do so when Sam smiled, when Sam asked. Micah cleared his throat, although he might have been suppressing a laugh, and she couldn’t have that.
“All right then.” She sighed. “Let’s get started.”
It took only a matter of minutes. The scissors blurred, the snips like the chorus of crickets in the evening on some sun-drenched foreign shore. Her hair brushed her cheeks and shoulders as it fell.
When Sam stood back, he wore a speculative expression. “Well?” he said at last. “Go take a look.”
Lily went to the mirror over the mantelpiece and stared at the woman whose reflection stared back. A neat style framed her face. She looked younger, brighter, and far more chic than she could remember ever looking in her life. Her grey eyes were huge in a slender face and her copper hair flared out around her cheekbones in—just as he had promised—a pixie-like style.
“It’s perfect,” she managed. And the tears started to flow again.
Micah had never experienced cabin fever before. He might have hated going out but at least he had the option. In the confines of the apartment, he was aware of every movement of the other two. It was liable to drive him mad. Lily’s scent was ever present, but so was Sam’s. He passed so close on occasion that Micah could feel his body heat in the air. Lily slept for part of the afternoon, and the two of them circled each other as warily as possible.
When Lily rose again, she showered and dressed, taking her new hairstyle as a cue to pick herself up. In a plain white blouse and jeans, she had never looked so beautiful. As she entered the room, he froze, just watching her cross the living room, stop by the window and pull back the blind so she could look out.
“There’s a police car across the road,” she said. “I suppose it would be nice to go out, but I don’t think Reid would approve. I’d like some fresh air though.”
“What about the roof?” he asked, the words out of his mouth before he realised what he was saying. The roof garden, as they jokingly called it, was his place, his sanctuary. True, it was just a few clusters of potted plants and a ragged-looking deckchair now, but in summer, looking out over the city at night, it was so quiet, so peaceful. He’d never brought Lily there, though she knew of it. And since Mrs. Chandler moved into her retirement home, no one used it at all. Her plants would have withered and died without his presence. It was his place, his sanctuary. And if he had brought Lily there, she might have realised he could take human form. But now? What did it matter now?
Sam opened one dark eye but otherwise didn’t move from the couch, where he was stretched out, pretending to read an old newspaper. How he thought he could fool them with his eyes closed, Micah didn’t know, but Sam didn’t seem to care.
“Mind if I give it a miss?” he asked.
It wasn’t a question aimed at Lily, Micah knew. It was as important to Sam as to Micah that she should not be left alone for even a second again.
“No, we’ll be fine,” Micah said, trying to keep the relief from his voice. As they slipped out of the main door, Lily wrapped her hand around his arm and his skin tingled with her touch. His step faltered.
“You okay?” she asked. Micah just nodded and led her up the stairs to the roof.
The breeze was warm and all around them the city was humming with the wind-down to evening. Lights were flickering downtown, where the clubs and bars were just getting started, and the lines of cars heading home gleamed in the setting sun.
Lily stopped, inhaling the scent of jasmine and geraniums. They flowered profusely all around the doorway and doused the area with their fragrance, drowning out the mug of city air.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her hand tightening on his arm. “I had no idea.”
Micah found himself trembling. He had almost lost her last night. She had almost been taken from him forever. He wouldn’t let that happen again, no matter what.
“What is it?” she asked.
He started. “What?”
“The way you were looking at me. The way your expressi
on was almost—”
“What?”
“Dangerous.”
He tried to smile, but couldn’t make his mouth obey. “Do you know what angels were, Lily? In the beginning, I mean? The reason we were created?” She shook her head, waiting. “Vessels. Vessels to hold the Divine Will, the Word and the Light, the One. And then, as mankind strayed, He made us something more, enforcers of that Will. Soldiers, if you like, guardians, yes, but more than that. There was a war in Heaven. We fought, we killed, we did dreadful things. I sometimes think that caused the Fall, not the Morningstar, or the God Knife. What we did to each other. How could we ever recover the harmony we’d known? And yet, I’d do the same thing again. I’d take up a flaming sword and fight my brother.”
“I see.”
“Do you?” With a passion that surprised even him, he pulled her against his body. He was hard already, aching for her from head to foot. “I will not allow that madman to harm you. No matter what it takes. Do you understand?”
She nodded, her eyes darker now in the fading light, their colour melting to shadows with desire. He felt her pulse leap, saw it in her throat, just beneath her skin, erratic and ready for him.
“Lily.” His voice rumbled from within and he seized a handful of her newly cropped hair, holding her back so his mouth could plunder hers. She squirmed closer, her nails clawing at his shoulders, pricking his skin through the light cotton of his shirt. “Lily, I could have lost you.”
She gasped for a breath as he released her mouth, but her lips continued to brush against his. “Never, Micah. Never in a million years. You know that, don’t you? I love you.”
They tumbled to the ground, heedless of comfort or luxury, pulling at their clothes until they could finally sink into each other and be one. As he moved within her, Micah cried out an exaltation that might have seen him cast out of the Holy Court forever if they heard. And they heard everything. He knew that, but he didn’t care. He felt her body close and clench around him, heard his name on her musical voice, and he came, no longer caring about his fate, no longer able to care about anything but her.
Edge of Heaven Page 15
