She must be daemon. Somehow, some kind of daemon he'd never come across before. He wet his lips. “The Watchers were sent there as punishment.”
“She stripped the Watchers of their flesh and imprisoned them in towers.” Her response was immediate and vehement. “Total isolation from each other and everyone else is the punishment, not Machon. The Watchers cast shadows of blankness so they can't see each other amid everything else.”
His grip tightened on the books he held. “How do you know so much about it?”
This time, she looked away. “The Torah, The Alphabet of ben Sira. All the Holy Books.” She shrugged. “It's all there, for anyone who cares to look, for anyone willing to piece all those books into one story.”
Damn her. Why couldn't she give him a straight answer? “So you're proposing that hell isn't punishment?”
“Not for daemons.”
His gaze shot up, tangling with hers. He had his confirmation.
“For daemons, I rather think heaven would be hell.”
“And I'm not wretched in your Creator's eyes?” He took a step closer.
Her lips parted and her brows drew together. “Why would you think that?”
“I haven't exactly lived the life of a saint.”
She scoffed. “I didn't imagine you had.” She sighed. “I bet if you told me all your sins, I could forgive you every one.”
Christ, that would be a losing bet. “I doubt it.”
“I don't. And I'm just a woman.” She picked up the stack of dishes he'd unpacked, started to turn and then paused to shake her finger at the ceiling. “She created all things with full knowledge of what would happen over the course of all our lives.” With a shake of her head she headed into the kitchen. “You insult Her with such thoughts.”
James stared after her for a long moment.
Was it that easy? Had he been twisting himself into knots all this time trying to be something he'd never be? Something he might never be happy being again? Slowly, he followed.
She'd dragged a chair over to the counter and stood on it, with her back toward him, removing her grandmother's dishes from the top shelf. Just going about her business as if she hadn't just changed everything for him by handing him a bit of hope. As if she hadn't just given him the acceptance and compassion he'd been searching for all these centuries. They were tenuous gifts. He knew that. If she ever did find out about his sins, she wouldn't forgive him. He wouldn't expect her to.
His gaze followed each of her actions, trailing down the length of her willowy form. She'd worn jeans today. The denim hugged her slim curves, shaping to her legs.
She wasn't human. She couldn't possibly be, not with so much knowledge of daemon-kind. She'd claimed him by giving him access to any home she chose to live in. And she'd marked him last night with her heat and her scent.
Like a moth to the flame, he went to her. This wouldn't end well. It couldn't. But right now he didn't give a fuck. Right now, he just needed to be near her. He placed his hands on her hips to keep her steady before urging her to turn around.
“James?”
He wrapped his arms around her hips, pressing his face to her belly. God, she smelled good, the light scent of lavender rode in on each breath, easing him.
“James.” She spoke his name softer this time, her arms cradling his head against her as if this were the most natural thing for him to do.
Gently, he tugged her down until she sat on the edge of the counter. He pushed the chair away with his foot. Those deep brown eyes followed his every move. She didn't appear concerned by his actions in the least—she never had. Just curious. Always curious.
Chapter 18
Butterflies erupted in Lilith's belly as she waited to see what he would do.
He set one hand on the edge of the sink, rubbed the other across his head the way he did whenever frustrated, then set it on the counter on the other side of her.
A warm tingling spread throughout her limbs. She wasn't exactly certain what had brought this on. Didn't understand why he looked at her with such affection. She touched his face. “What?”
He leaned closer, his voice soft and deep, like the rumble of thunder in the distance. “I shouldn't do this.” He met her eyes, his gaze a gentle caress. “But despite my best efforts not to, I'm falling i—”
She placed her fingers on his lips, silencing him. She didn't want him to say the words. She wanted it—she wanted him to love her so much, but she couldn't bear to hear the words, not when she still feared telling him who she was. Not when they were both lying to each other.
They needed to have a long talk, but damn it, she couldn't betray the coven.
Her gaze fell to his mouth, mesmerized by her fingers caressing his full, firm lips. She let her hand fall to the corded sinew of his neck and stroked him there. She dragged her eyes away from his mouth and met his penetrating gaze.
He leaned in closer, until his breath danced with hers. He had her in such a state of heightened awareness her skin felt too tight. Every atom clamoring for his touch.
“This isn't a good idea.” He stroked his thumb over her cheek, softening his statement. “I know this isn't going to end well, but I can't fight this anymore. You need to tell me to leave this house. Tell me to get out. To go away.”
Not a chance in hell. She used her grip on his shirt to pull him closer. The kiss was gentle, lingering, and achingly sweet. She’d just begun learning the feel of him when he pulled away. She couldn't repress the sound of protest that escaped. Her very essence thrust against her flesh, trying to follow.
He searched her face, looking for something. She couldn't say what. Her heart seemed to halt in her chest while she waited for him to make his decision.
Dear gods, don't let him walk away again. “James?”
His mouth slanted over hers again and the universe tilted.
Where his first kiss had been sweet, the second grew demanding, carnal. He held her face in his hands, exerting gentle pressure on her chin with his thumb, until she opened for him. His tongue swept in, sending shivers of desire racing through her. Over and over his tongue thrust, mating with hers until she trembled and clung to his muscular arms, intoxicated by his unique taste. He surrounded her. His strong arms wrapped tight around her, his skin beneath her fingers, his masculine scent infused in each breath.
He pulled her closer, forcing her legs wider to allow his embrace. The long, hard length of his erection pressed intimately against her. Finding the bottom edge of his shirt, she sought out his skin. Traced the edges of the first scar she came across before spreading her fingers wide.
The low growl in the back of his throat encouraged her. She pressed deeper into his embrace.
He tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her head back, deepening the kiss. He wrested complete possession of her mouth.
She wanted more. His hands moved over her body, trying to touch her everywhere at once. Her face, back, hips. His knuckles caressed the sides of her breasts and her nipples hardened in response.
His phone vibrated, jerking them out of the moment. They leaned on each other, foreheads touching, their uneven breathing fanning each other. He took the offensive device out of his pocket, silenced the call, and checked the message before setting the phone on the counter.
His gaze swept over her face and his hand followed, touching her brow, her cheek, his thumb rubbing against her tingling lips. “I should go.” Regret laced his words.
“If you have to.” She searched his face. Did he regret having to leave? Or kissing her?
“I'll see you in the morning.” He gave her one last quick kiss and strode out of the room. She let her head fall back against the cabinets as she fought a riot of conflicting emotions.
Then he came back.
“Damn, but you make me feel like a kid,” he said before their mouths united again.
In the back of her mind, she hoped he would ignore the call and stay. His hand slipped up the back of her tee and she thought her praye
r answered.
The phone he'd dropped on the counter began clattering on the tiles, making them both jump. He silenced it once again, but his attention stayed on her. She cupped his face and drew him back. Their lips barely touched before the house phone started ringing. His cell vibrated again. Her phone rang in the other room. Whoever wanted him to leave, wanted him to do so now.
His hand scraped over his head. “I need to go.” Then he gave her a grin that made her heart melt. There was happiness in his smile. Excitement. “I'll hurry, okay?”
She smiled in agreement, and he dashed out the door.
The phones fell silent.
Not trusting her legs to hold her weight, she remained perched on the counter, and worried for James.
She closed her eyes, murmuring a quick chant to elicit his safe return, as she'd started doing every evening. “Watchers of old, Guardians of night, guide him home safe, before morning's light.”
Upstairs, a door creaked open. Twilight had arrived. With as little noise as possible, she raced to the front door, grabbed her purse from the end table, and let herself out. She let out a shaky sigh with her back pressed to the door. She'd almost forgotten about the ghost. Something had to be done.
Yeah, she needed to visit Kat and get her mom's Grimoire. Her place wasn’t far, maybe she’d just walk. Some fresh air would do her good after being stuck inside Haven House for the last couple days.
James pulled around the side of the house on his bike, stopping by the porch. “You headed out?”
“I'm going to visit a friend.”
He nodded, but he didn't look pleased. “Be careful.”
“You, too.”
Chapter 19
Lilith knocked on Katherine O'Hickey's door. The high priestess' daughter had always been Lilith's contact for the coven and, last she heard, Kat had her Grimoire.
The door opened to reveal a curvy woman with a riot of red curls, wearing a coat and scarf. “Can I—”
Lilith saw the exact moment it dawned on Kat who she was.
“Goddess be praised.” She popped her head out the doorway, glanced both ways and hurried Lilith inside. “Does Mother know you’re back?”
“No. You're the only one.” This wasn't exactly the reception she'd expected and she started wondering if Kat had sent her the notes. “What's going on?”
Kat's green eyes shifted to the side. “Oh, you know how Mother can be.”
“Not really. She kicked me out of the coven when I was ten years old.”
“Right.” Kat pulled her into a quick hug. “I'm sorry. She's been acting crazy lately.” She shrugged. “Here, sit down.” Kat moved some books off a nearby armchair. “Would you like some tea? I just made a pot.”
“Sure. If it's no trouble.” She motioned to the coat and scarf Kat wore. “Were you heading out?”
Kat's hand stroked down the coat and plucked at the scarf. “I get cold sometimes.”
She left room and Lilith took off her jacket. Thick tomes filled bookshelves lining the walls and more books crowded the end tables and chairs. Polished stones and jars of herbs were scattered across every surface. She'd call the place a mess, but a controlled chaos played out amid the disorder and everything appeared impeccably clean. She pulled up her sleeves. Gods, Kat kept her place warm.
The television was on, showing current coverage of that Revelations Industries, Inc. disaster. She glanced toward the kitchen. It must be tearing Kat up, watching all those men suffer, knowing she could help, but not being allowed to. She shook her head. The coven could do so much good if they weren’t so busy hiding all the time.
Kat returned with two cups of tea and after handing one to Lilith, she cleared a spot on the couch and sat. She shut off the television. “What can I do for you?”
Lilith took a deep breath. “I hoped you might still have my mother's Grimoire?”
“I do.” Kat stood and opened a cabinet by the window. She took out a large cloth-covered book and handed it to her. “You know the rules. If you can open it, you can have it.”
Ah, yes. The rules. Rowena had taken the book from her because she'd lost her Magic and couldn't open it. She'd been inconsolable—losing access to the Grimoire was like losing her mother all over again. She'd felt like such a failure both as a witch and as a daughter.
Lilith pulled the cloth off the Grimoire. Her ancestors had tooled a triquetra into the leather cover and she ran her fingers over the design. Her throat grew tight. Gods, she used to sit by her mother's side for hours, watching her perform spells from this book.
I'm bringing it home with me, Mama. She closed her eyes, envisioning heat radiating from her palm. The latches melted away. A little teary, she shot Kat a victorious smile.
Kat winked. “I’m very happy for you, Lil.”
She opened the book and paged through the handwritten parchment pages. Every witch in her line had written spells in this book. Drawings and charts filled some pages, while neat, tight writing scrolled down others. This was her family's legacy. She closed the book and the latches sealed shut.
“It's all yours.” Kat grinned. “Everyone will be thrilled to see you.”
“Really?” She was sixteen last time she'd seen Rowena. The high priestess had caught her trying to rally the other girls into finding a spell that would rid her of Aimee. Rowena had sent her away and forbade her to visit the coven because she feared that the entity might attach to one of the other girls should they try to remove it. After that, she only saw Trina on an irregular basis and when Rowena found out, she'd signed Trina up for the Navy. Ever since then, the only contact either of them had with the coven was through Kat. It had been Kat's idea to hire her as the coven's purchaser.
“Mother is . . . having second thoughts about sending you away.” She met her gaze. “Both you and Trina.”
The news floored her. “Really? Last time I saw her, she said I needed to stay away for the good of the coven.”
“I know. And while I doubt she would ever apologize, I'd like to. The rest of us want you both back. We have for a long time and I think Mother is finally seeing the wisdom in that.”
“Has something happened?”
“No.” Kat sipped her tea. “Yes.”
Lilith sat back in her chair and held her tongue. Kat had always been a little skittish around others. Always sweet, she was the healer of the group, but for whatever reason, she'd never had much confidence.
“Mother has decided that our purpose as a coven is to destroy daemon-kind.”
Lilith's face heated. She forced herself not to react, not wanting to give anything away to the high priestess's daughter. “Oh?”
“Apparently, she's seen a vision of the End Times and says they'll soon be upon us. She says we must take our place as protectors of humans against the daemons or all will be lost.”
Lilith glanced at the television. Times were changing. The world grew darker day by day. Still, she couldn’t quite believe the world might end. “The End Times?” Lilith shook her head. “Seriously?”
“That part, I believe. You remember Brenda?”
Lilith nodded. As a child Brenda had always been very serious—too serious to want to play.
“She developed prognostic capabilities in her early twenties. She's seen similar visions, though she disagrees with Mother's conclusion that we need to protect the humans.”
Lilith paused, her teacup halfway to her mouth. “She thinks we need to protect the daemons?”
“Not exactly. She says it isn't clear, but that Mother's conclusion is drawn from a belief that all humans are good and all daemons are evil, which can't possibly be the case.”
No. She knew all too well how evil some humans could be.
“Mother claims the daemons turned on the old coven during the Clearances.”
“Well, that's nothing new. She's been telling us that since we were kids.”
“She says we're ready to eradicate them. Well, once you and Trina are reinstated, that is.”
&nb
sp; Interesting. “What do you think?”
Sweat beaded on Kat's forehead. “I think the answer to what happened during the Clearances is in the Legacy Necklace.” Kat rubbed her throat, adjusting her scarf. “I think I'm not interested in being part of destroying entire races based on the words of a woman who can't use the necklace.”
“That's a strong statement.” What she really wanted to know is why she should believe that they’d decided to rebel. Rowena had ruled over the coven with an iron fist since before her mother died. So why now? “I don’t remember any of you having problems with Rowena before, what happened?”
The corner of Kat's mouth curved up. “When you're raised to trust everything your high priestess tells you, it can be difficult to come to terms with the fact that she might be lying.” Kat shrugged. “Maybe even to herself.”
“You think that's her problem?”
“I've never been able to ascertain if Mother truly believes eradicating daemons from Earth would benefit mankind . . . or the coven.”
Lilith took a sip of tea. “Without daemons, there would be no one who could challenge the coven.”
“Exactly.” Kat shook her head. “The goddess took great pains in ensuring balance. Of creating checks and balances in nature. What Mother wants to do would destroy the balance and give the coven . . . give her, too much power.”
Which would put the coven at odds with the Watchers they drew their power from. No wonder Kat seemed so nervous. “What are you going to do?”
“Not me.” Kat met her gaze. “You.”
Lilith shook her head. The last thing she needed right now was to get entangled with the coven. “I didn't come back to rejoin the coven. I never even considered the possibility.”
“You have Magic, you opened the Grimoire.” Kat set aside her tea and leaned forward. “Some of the women remember things from when we were young. Things their mothers used to say about you being the next high priestess.”
“No.” Lilith set aside her own tea. This was ridiculous. She was mated to a fucking vampire, no way would the coven want anything to do with her when they found that out. She stood, ready to leave. “Nan repeatedly told me I was nothing. That I'd never be anyone special.”
The Beacon (The Original's Trilogy Book 1) Page 13
