by Lisa Medley
“You’re sure?” he asked again, this time holding her gaze.
“Yes.”
Kylen pulled her little black dress down her arms to her waist, exposing her black bra, and then pushed it over her hips so that it fell to the floor in a puddle. Circling his arms around her waist, he drew her to his chest, skin-to-skin, and she feared they might ignite as the blue energy between them intensified. His body was a wall of heat against hers and tears welled in her eyes at the glory of it. She pressed her cheek against his chest, but he gently nudged her away so that he could look into her eyes.
“Why are you crying?”
“I’m happy,” she said, sliding her palm up his throat, weaving her hand through his hair.
He stiffened under her, worry lines creasing his forehead, but then he scooped her up again, setting her down in the center of the bed. Lying beside her, he propped himself up on his elbow and spread his hand across her bruised throat, his fingers aligning perfectly with the purple-and-black bruise.
“Does this hurt?”
“No. The bruise isn’t your fault. You didn’t hurt me. You saved me.” Olivia caressed his cheek, and he closed his eyes.
“Good. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
“Do we need to take any precautions?” he asked, pushing her hair back from her face.
“Under the circumstances, I don’t think that’s necessary.”
He frowned again, understanding the implication. She didn’t want to ruin the moment with the reminder of her sickness and impending death, but pregnancy and disease were the least of her worries at this point.
Kylen leaned down and took her mouth, pinning his leg across her and tucking her in against him. His tongue probed hers as his hands explored her body. Spreading his body over his, he kissed the hollow of her throat and the top of each breast.
He slid his hands across her ribs, and then brought them up to cup her breasts. Olivia arched her back and pressed into him. With reverence, he leaned down to her breast and took her nipple into his warm, wet mouth. She moaned under him as he laved her, first one breast and then the other.
Kissing his way down her torso, he stopped at the top of her black panties and looked up at her. She smiled down at him in what she hoped was reassurance as he grasped the waistband and drew them down her body. Wriggling beneath him, she helped him remove them, and then gasped as he cupped her core, pressing his palm against her hard nub. Energy raced up her spine, warming her from the inside out.
His finger glided into her. “Kylen!”
Encouraged, he worked his thumb over her nub as his fingers glided through her dampness, deeper and faster.
“So wet.”
She closed her eyes, overcome by sensation, and rocked her hips against his hand while her own hands fisted the comforter, pulling her body farther down the bed.
When he stopped, her eyes fluttered open. He was gazing up at her as he unfastened the buttons on his fatigue pants. Backing off the end of the bed, he pushed them down to the floor along with his black underwear.
He was magnificent.
And very, very naked. Olivia followed the curves of his smooth, muscled pecs down his torso, across his scarred ribcage to the vee of his hips and his marvelously hard manhood. He was perfect. Returning to the bed, he pushed her thighs open with his palms and then plunged his thumbs into her core, spreading her open. When he lowered his face to her center and sank his tongue into her, her hips ground against him, pleading for more.
She gasped, and he grabbed her hips, dragging her down the bed to him. She wrapped her legs around him, and he pushed at her entrance with his erection.
Gliding up her body, he took her hands and drew her arms up over her head as he pushed into her. She was nearly too tight to take him, but he eased in and out in a slow rhythm until she stretched around him, accommodating his length and girth. Withdrawing halfway from her, he plunged into her again, and the air huffed out of her body with the pleasure of it.
Kylen held her in place, his forearms on either side of her shoulders, cradling her head in his palms as he thrust in and out of her, his rhythm increasing in intensity with each stroke. His hands tangled in her hair, pulling her head back as he buried his face against her throat and claimed her.
She couldn’t think. She could only feel. His skin sizzled against hers, and the blue energy built between them, filling her as much as his body was. When he reached down between them and ran his thumb across her nub, her vision exploded in a shower of brilliant blue stars, her entire body tensed around him, riding the wave of pleasure that consumed her.
His breath, hot and ragged against her throat, seared her skin as he came, throwing his head back and finishing into her in two great thrusts. A blue sphere of light surrounded them, and he leaned back onto his knees, pulling her with him so he could stay inside her. Tiny streaks of blue light leaked from her fingertips as she traced the ridges and valleys of the scars across his chest.
He wrapped his arms around her, and she melted into him as they basked in their pleasure.
Chapter Twenty-Six
As soon as Kylen drifted off to sleep, he was assailed by a vision that was more nightmare than dream.
From a balcony just inside the palace of Hell, Kylen watched as Camael oversaw the demons as they offloaded cargo into the writhing pit inside the arena below. The grand lobby and viewing deck had been converted to a new depot to accommodate the increased activity. On a normal Tuesday in Hell, this would have all taken place on a lower ring and at a more leisurely pace. Rashnu sorted the souls, and when they arrived in Hell from Purgatory, it was through a different entrance.
In the hundred years Kylen had spent traveling to and from Hell on similar missions, he had never seen it this busy. It was clear that Camael was preparing to open another portal—the biggest yet, judging from the amassed number of demons.
After Kylen willingly offered his body to the demon Orithidon, Lucifer realized reapers were the perfect conduit for gathering the souls he needed to expand his demon army. Souls were the raw material he used to mold his children—the demons. Just as God had molded his offspring from the dust of Earth and light, Lucifer created his from the sludge of Hell and darkness. And the more souls he had stewing in his Sea of the Dead, the more minions he had at his disposal.
Kylen’s reaper body accommodated many more souls than the typical human body and wasn’t prone to deterioration on Earth. It also didn’t need to travel through special portals. Human hosts, on the other hand, were about as enduring as a Kleenex tissue. The added burden and toxicity of carrying a demon inside only hastened the decline. Surviving a week of possession was the absolute maximum for a human shell; one or two days was much more common.
Orithidon was a dazzling example of the benefits of having a reaper host. So when Camael took over as Duke of Hell, he instructed his minions to prospect for other such hosts. After all, the new duke had plans, plans that included having a corporeal body on Earth, something that had been torn from him when he fell from grace. Having a reaper host would catapult Camael’s power to new heights. When Orithidon came face-to-face with Deacon, Kylen’s life-long friend, and Ruth, a fresh-faced newbie, in Purgatory on a reaper “fishing” excursion, the demon hadn’t been able to resist the possibility of procuring two potential hosts for his new boss.
After his minion failed in this quest, Camael took things into his own hands. He opened the portals in Meridian and dragged Deacon to Hell. The problem, of course, was that Camael couldn’t force the reaper to be possessed. Deacon would need to invite him in… It was a hard sell, but Camael was confident that with time, it could be accomplished. Kylen was a case in point.
Camael just had to find something to use as an incentive, something that was more important to the reaper than his own life. Something he loved.
Then things went south. Way south. Camael hadn’t counted on Kylen surviving after Orithidon was torn from him… And he certainly ha
dn’t thought that Deacon’s friends would stage a rescue expedition to Hell. Camael had underestimated Kylen: an act of hubris the fallen angel had come to regret.
Camael turned from the platform and fixed his glare upon Kylen, sensing his presence.
“Welcome, friend.”
“We are not friends.”
“Join me. This is where you belong. You feel it. Yes?”
Kylen tried to break the tether, tried to wake himself and pull away from the spiral of evil that clutched at him through his subconscious, but the scene before him was mesmerizing…and familiar.
Each arriving demon spewed forth its cargo, which was then sucked down through the swirling whirlpool to disappear into the muck. Once empty, the demon flung its ruined host body off the platform and into the writhing bottomless pit of flesh and bones below before exiting upward to wait for its chance to return to Earth.
The used hosts were still technically alive and they stayed that way, endlessly churning in the pulsating tumble of despair. Clothing, flesh and—over time—limbs were torn and pulverized in Hell’s shredder pit. The hosts’ memories and personality were attached to their souls. Once the souls were separated from the physical bodies, they were quickly corrupted and all memories faded away. The physical bodies were all but useless except for entertainment purposes.
But the souls! The souls were the true grist for the mill.
“Yes, Kylen. Soon they will take the form their Father commands and rule the Earth.”
“And the humans?” Kylen asked.
“Our demons will burn through them like wildfire, empowering and fortifying their final form.”
“Which will be?”
“A beautiful surprise.”
Hundreds of demons gathered around Camael like pets, floating above his head, waiting for their orders.
Kylen stood in the shadows, on edge, sweat breaking out along his forehead and neck.
“It won’t be long, Kylen. Soon our demons will come and go from Earth as they please,” Camael said with a smile. “Come back to where you belong.”
It would be so easy to slip back into familiarity. To give in. To give up.
Still, Kylen’s stomach turned at the thought of all the things for which he must atone. The draw of the familiar, of evil wasn’t strong enough to make him forget that…
When his eyes sprang open, he was wide-awake. Not in Hell, but lying beside Olivia in her ridiculously fluffy bed.
Clearly, evil had the ability to reach him anywhere. He could feel the imps outside—waiting for him, beckoning for him to join them.
He’d never be free of his past.
Even in his dreams.
* * *
“It’s not safe here.”
Olivia rolled in his arms to face him. “Why?”
“We need to go back. I need to talk to Deacon. ”
Kylen sensed the growing impatience of the imps. Without looking, he knew there were dozens more than before. With no circle of protection to keep them at bay, it was only a matter of time before they grew bored and sought out other entertainment.
Or a snack.
Or both.
It was a bit after 2:00 a.m., and Olivia’s housemates would have returned home. Since he hadn’t heard any screaming, he assumed they were okay, but it might only be a matter of time.
The bright moonlight streamed in through the dormered bedroom windows. He pushed off the sheet, disentangling himself from Olivia’s hold. Instantly regretting the loss of her warmth, he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
His mind was reeling, both from the horrific nightmare—which he knew was a harbinger of so much more—and regrets about what had happened with Olivia. He didn’t know which was worse. After making love with Olivia, he was consumed with what could only be described as…emotions. It made him physically sick, and a lead ball of regret sat cold in his belly. It would end in disaster for him to have feelings for Olivia. It would end in disaster for them both.
Her hand softly stroked his back, and he flinched away. He couldn’t even look at her. If he did, he’d never leave the bed. God help him if he stayed here all night.
He rose and started to gather his clothes, carrying them to the dressing table. Pulling on his fatigues, he caught a glimpse of Olivia watching him in the mirror. He had no idea what to say to her. There was so much he wanted with her, but he knew he couldn’t have any of it…
It was the story of his life.
Sliding his arms into the harness of the scabbard, he took comfort in the feeling of the scythe against his back. He’d been reckless to take it off in the first place, let alone leave it completely beyond his reach. It wouldn’t happen again.
He strapped the sheaths to his legs, over his pants this time since he wasn’t concerned about scaring innocent bystanders this late at night, and tucked the dagger against the small of his back.
Better.
Now, all he had to do was get Olivia to safety. When he finally turned to look at her, he watched her disappear into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
* * *
Olivia pressed her hands flat against the cool surface of the bathroom vanity, splaying her fingers to keep herself steady. Her head, too heavy to hold up, hung down and she closed her eyes to avoid her reflection. She considered pressing her face against the marble as well. Anything to give her some relief from her tangled emotions.
She wasn’t sure which was more mortifying—the inhibitions she’d abandoned in making love to Kylen or his reaction in the aftermath. Both were causing her face to flush with fire.
He. Was. Amazing.
She couldn’t imagine that sex could be any better than what they’d shared tonight.
But what had she expected afterward? Proclamations of love? Promises of a future together? They both knew that was impossible. They were adults. It shouldn’t be this difficult. Obviously, it wasn’t for Kylen. He was already retreating back inside the cold shell he’d constructed around himself. So this was her problem, wasn’t it? She didn’t have a shell. All of her soft parts were exposed.
She didn’t want him to see her emotionally weak and undone. He had already seen her physically weak, so she couldn’t help that. But she would die with dignity and strength, not pining away over a one-night stand. She’d accomplished everything on her list. All but the last one, anyway, and it didn’t look as though that one could be achieved. It certainly wasn’t from lack of trying. She’d have to live with that. Or, in this case, die with it.
Cracking the door open, she peeked into the bedroom. Her clothes were all in a closet on the other side of the bedroom. She wrapped a towel around her body and scurried over there to change.
* * *
Kylen paced in front of the living room window. No matter how many times he glanced into the alleyway, the scene remained the same. The dozens of imps had swelled to at least a hundred as he kept watch. They crouched there, fiery eyes fixed on the third-story window, blinking like malicious fireflies in the darkness. The sheer number of them made his skin crawl.
Sending his senses out into the night, he tapped into the network of darkness. He could feel the demons gathering beneath the earthly realm. They were nearby, waiting for the portal to open. A growing sense of dread filled him. He couldn’t take the chance of walking Olivia the six blocks to the cemetery, not when the portal might open anywhere. He wondered if Deacon, Ruth and Nate were back from the hospital yet. Deacon needed to get Ruth to safety, too. They were running out of time.
Then he felt the surge of power through his tether.
The ground was ripped and rent under Camael’s command. In his mind’s eye he saw that the new portal was opening in a cemetery. Not Maple Park but another place, outside of town. Using cemeteries and church portals as staging grounds for his demons was Camael’s bird flip to the big guy. There was nothing the fallen angel liked better than to desecrate holy places. The demons streamed out by the hundreds descending upon Meridian, but Camael couldn�
��t hold such a big seam open for long. The portal was closed after a few minutes, cutting off the flow, which enraged Camael further. He’d only accomplished part of his plan, thank God. As it was, it would be nearly impossible for the reapers to destroy all these new adversaries.
Kylen snapped back to awareness as the tether snapped. When he heard Olivia’s footsteps behind him, he forced himself to turn to face her, an act which felt much more dangerous than facing the imps that awaited below.
She was radiant.
Her pale skin glowed with life, and her white hair cascaded down her back and across one shoulder. It was all he could do to stop himself from rushing over to her and burying his face against her neck. His pulse beat in his ears like a train chugging down a track, and his attempts at coherent thought were worthless.
“I’m ready.” Olivia shouldered a backpack and stuffed her hands into her jeans’ pockets, looking everywhere but in Kylen’s eyes.
Paralyzed, Kylen knew he should respond to her—acknowledge her comment, tell her about the danger—but all he could see when he looked at her was her body spread across the bed, him buried to the hilt inside her. His cock hardened against his will.
Her eyes finally settled on his, and her face flushed a sweet shade of pink. Was she thinking the same thing? Of course not. God, he was going soft. Only not in the right places. He shifted and headed in exactly the direction he didn’t want to go—away from her, toward the door.
“Do you have a car?”
“Yes. We’re driving now?”
“Only to the cemetery. We have company outside. It’s not safe to walk.”
She headed to the window and looked down. Frowning, she turned to look at him, “There are at least a hundred cats down there. Are you the Pied Piper of cats or something?”
“Those are imps. Trust me, if you could see them in their true form you wouldn’t want to play with them.”
She walked to the door, took her purse from the coat hook and fumbled inside until she extracted a ring of keys.
“The car’s outside in the garage.”
