Capturing her wrists, he pulled her hands away, revealing his smile. “No. Jane disregards the evidence, or she twists it to fit what she wants to believe. She makes excuses. You don’t. You see the truth of me.”
“And still want to believe? Still want to trust? I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“Evidence and reason are telling me one thing, but I believe something else despite them? That’s called delusion.”
“But it’s also called faith.”
She laughed, and though her last had been bitter and hollow, now . . . not so much, as if talking with him had filled some of that ache, sweetened it. “I used to have faith in you. It was so hard to accept that demons are inherently evil, but after I did, I thought there was a flip side, too. Someone who was inherently good. I thought that was you.”
“No.” His smile faded. “That’s not me.”
“I know. I found that out in Hell. Lost faith in you.” She closed her eyes, shook her head, and admitted, “God, that hurt more than anything else.”
Michael didn’t answer. She looked up and her heart stopped. His eyes were obsidian, his features starkly defined, as if by raw agony. Torment. She’d seen that look before, in the frozen field.
And did she smell blood? “Michael?”
But he wasn’t moving, wasn’t calling in his sword. His throat worked, and his voice was hoarse as he said, “I wouldn’t hurt you again.”
Holding his gaze, she nodded. “Then I’m going to do something really stupid. Even knowing what you are, I’ll trust that you won’t. And I’ll call it a leap of faith.”
“I’ll catch you this time.” His hands cradled her face, his eyes suddenly glowing a warm amber. “I swear it.”
“I’ll hold you to that promise.” She grinned. “And it’s better knowing you aren’t all good, or like an angel. I won’t feel so blasphemous when I imagine you all sexy.”
His rumbling laugh was as warm as his hands, as his eyes. Oh, his mouth. She focused on his firm lips, but her next breath made her stop. That scent was still there. Coppery blood.
“Do you smell that?”
He shook his head. “I’m all right now.”
But he hadn’t been? She pushed under his arm and around his side, following the scent. For an instant, she saw the crimson soaking through the back of his tunic in a familiar pattern before it vanished, leaving only clean white cloth.
She pulled back to frown up at him. “Are your scars bleeding?”
“I’m fine. It should stop in a moment. And—” He stiffened. Before she could blink, he swept her up against his side and pivoted, his spear flaming in his right hand.
Khavi stood on the beach behind them—and looking unlike Taylor had ever seen her before. A bronze helmet covered her dark braids, with guards over her nose and cheeks. More armor protected her arms and legs, and the sun made a gleaming mirror of her breastplate.
Her voice was as harmonious as Michael’s, but lighter, more feminine. “I see that you need to speak with me, Taylor.”
Taylor threw up her hands. “So now you can see our future?”
“No. This is written on your face. You are thinking, ‘It’s about fucking time Khavi showed up.’ But I cannot stay long. Other matters demand my attention. I will keep my shields open long enough for Michael to follow me to Anaria’s camp.”
She disappeared.
A moment later, she came back. “Make sure you’re dressed.”
Then she was gone again.
CHAPTER 11
Khavi had gotten one thing right, at least. Taylor had been thinking that it was about fucking time—and Michael didn’t waste any after she disappeared.
They spun into a dimly lit room. A wall of windows overlooked the west side of the city, the long shadows of the early morning sun. They were going to find Hugh, Taylor realized—so that Khavi couldn’t lie when Michael asked if she was communicating with Lucifer. Apparently Hugh and Lilith hadn’t gone home but had grabbed a few minutes of shut-eye on a sofa in one of the offices.
Sleeping. It shouldn’t have surprised Taylor, except that it was hard to imagine Lilith ever needing to rest. But of course, as a human, she did. Even more surprising was seeing her in a tank and shorts, cradled against Hugh’s side, her legs entwined with his and his shoulder pillowing her cheek. Her long black hair spilled over his chest.
So Lilith could be soft. Taylor would never have expected it.
“Only with him,” Michael said, so quietly that only a Guardian might have heard.
She looked up. He’d been watching her face. “What?”
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking this is some hidden part of her. That if you get beneath the surface, you’ll find that this is what she truly is. But she’s only this with him.”
Good to know. And though they couldn’t have heard Michael and Taylor speaking, both Hugh and Lilith had opened their eyes when she looked back. Lilith had pulled a sword from somewhere.
She sat up. Softness gone, replaced by abs of steel. Obviously, neither she nor Hugh ever skipped a workout. “What news?”
“I am going to question Khavi.”
“In Hell,” Taylor added, because it seemed like an important detail, then wished she’d kept her mouth shut when Lilith’s eyes narrowed on her and swept from head to toes.
Damn it. Taylor tried not to wince. She hadn’t changed before Michael had teleported them here. Wearing nothing but a big shirt, sand all over her naked legs, and with Michael’s arm still possessively circling her waist, she might as well have hung a sign around her neck: Recently Had Brains Screwed Out on a Beach. Except with no real screwing. They hadn’t even kissed.
The wine had been nice, though.
Lilith’s gaze hardened when she looked back to Michael. “You really think this is a good idea?”
That put Taylor’s back up. “You’re questioning the wisdom of visiting Hell, I hope.”
Because Lilith better not be asking whether Michael was making a mistake with her. It was none of her goddamn business.
“What else?” With a sharp smile, Lilith rose to her feet. “Got any pants for me, Sir Pup?”
Taylor hadn’t even realized the hellhound was in the office with them. She looked over her shoulder, and her heart stuttered a beat. He lay in front of the door, blocking the entrance. Even lying down, his back rose almost to the ceiling. At rest, the barbs in his fur lay flat instead of standing out like daggers. Hellfire flickered in the two eyes that he’d opened.
“We’re making an entrance,” Michael told Hugh.
Hugh nodded, looked to the hellhound. “I’ll need my armor, too, pup.”
Lilith hiked up a pair of trousers. “Do you intend to stay while he dresses, Michael? I’ll let you watch if you kiss him.”
“All right,” Michael said.
They only stayed long enough for Lilith to glance up, eyes wide. Hugh sighed. Then they spun into an empty office, Michael’s deep laugh echoing through it.
Taylor was grinning, wobbling. “You called her bluff.”
“It wasn’t a bluff.” He held her against him while she steadied. “And although I enjoy surprising her, the follow-up would please her too well. I couldn’t say the same for Hugh.”
“Or you?”
“Only if it pleased you.” Gently, his fingers tucked a stray curl away from her forehead. “Ready?”
Nodding, she stepped back, brushed the sand from her legs. Her ass. Everywhere. God, it was like water or blood. Guardians could vanish it all at once, essentially cleaning themselves, but she couldn’t quite wrap her head around that trick yet.
She glanced at Michael. “A little help?”
A second later she was squeaky clean. And since he hadn’t taught her how to do it herself, guiding her through the process as he had everything else, she guessed that meant he was in a hurry. She replaced her big shirt with jeans and a tee while on her way to the office door.
> Lilith had already joined Irena, Alice, and Alejandro in the main room. At a nearby desk, Jake sat at a computer, with Drifter looking over his shoulder. Joe waited beside them, his lined face tired—and brightening when he caught sight of Taylor.
Irena glanced over, sized her up. “Do you need armor as well?”
“No,” Michael answered. “She’s not coming with us.”
Taylor wouldn’t argue, but she wanted to know why. “Is there a reason?”
“I don’t know the situation that we are teleporting into. And I don’t want to draw attention to you or your Gift.”
Okay. Taylor wasn’t eager to draw attention to herself, either.
“Take Sir Pup,” Lilith said. “The Rules will protect Hugh from the halflings and demons, but not from Anaria.”
“Or the humans in her army,” Irena said.
“Hugh can defeat any of them.” Michael held Irena’s gaze. “You will protect Andromeda while we are gone. Lucifer’s demons might come for her.”
Even as Irena nodded, Taylor shook her head. “You think I’m still in danger? They took Colin, Savi, and Katherine. If they need tainted blood, they have it.”
“Yes, but that is not why.” His jaw clenched briefly before he said, “Yesterday, Lucifer saw that I care for you.”
And he’d returned full of rage and fear. But although Taylor loved that he so easily acknowledged his attraction to her, that shouldn’t have made any difference. “You care for a lot of Guardians.”
“It wouldn’t matter if Michael cared for you or hated you,” Lilith said. “Any demon would enjoy hurting you, regardless. That Michael cares would be a bonus, but Lucifer would torture you just for the fun of it.”
Michael’s eyes darkened. “He specifically threatened her.”
Okay, that was different. “Then I’ll hang around here with Irena for a while.”
“You can hang right there.” Lilith pointed to the desk facing Jake’s. “Bradford sent over the initial surveillance about an hour ago.”
Worries about Lucifer and his threats fled. Why hadn’t Lilith already shot her a message about the surveillance? With luck, Taylor would find the vampire or demon who’d bought Mark Brandt’s food—or at least their vehicle. And since Michael didn’t look like he was leaving in the next second, she could take a look at how much Bradford’s men had dug up.
Joe straightened a little when she joined him. Judging by the shadows on his face and the size of the coffee in his hand, he’d had a long night. Up late with Drifter, looking over those cases and searching for a connection to Brandt.
Taylor hoped that she hadn’t kept him up for nothing. “Did you find anything?”
“Not yet. We’ll be waving the vampire’s photo in front of the families today.” His gaze searched her face. “You and me—we’re okay?”
It killed her that he even had to ask. “I think we’re better than okay.”
“I threw some heavy shit at you.”
“Well, we’re all dealing with some heavy shit. And what good is a partner if she can’t take an extra shovelful now and then?” She shrugged. “It all washes off.”
He smiled and shook his head before giving her a once-over. “You look better today.”
“I feel better.” Not quite as ready to crack. “Though I’ll feel even better when we find Colin and Savi.”
Joe’s gaze shifted beyond her, and his expression suddenly appeared exactly as it had the night before, when he’d said that two miracles had landed in his lap. “I think you will.”
Taylor glanced back and her knees went weak. Holy shit. Michael had worn the hell out of a three-piece suit, and she’d already seen his Big Warrior Guardian look. But that was nothing compared to what he could do for armor.
The arch of his wings rose to the ceiling, the feathers so black and dense they seemed to absorb the light, as if he carried darkness itself on his back. Unlike Khavi, he didn’t wear a helmet, but instead of leaving him vulnerable he just looked tall and untouchable, and completely unconcerned that someone might dare take a swing at his head. A sculpted steel cuirass molded to the muscles of his chest and back, following his form as closely as Taylor’s fingers had less than an hour before. The metal didn’t gleam. Dull with use and stained with dried blood, it spoke of untold battles, of thousands of opponents who’d fallen before his sword. Undecorated bronze greaves did less to protect his legs than to emphasize their strength.
Gorgeous. Terrifying. As if he’d stepped straight out of a classical painting, made by an artist plagued with visions of angels sent by a very angry God.
And his feet were still bare.
His obsidian gaze locked with hers. Taylor’s heart stopped. Dimly, she was aware that Hugh and Sir Pup had joined him. That Michael had the spear in his hand. But she couldn’t look away from his face long enough to see anything else.
Then he disappeared, and she could breathe again.
“Christ Almighty,” Drifter said, followed up with a low whistle. “If he was coming after me, I’d piss myself.”
“If we could piss,” Jake agreed. “So we’d probably manifest it as a new Gift on the spot. We’d call it the Wicked Stream of Yellow-Bellied Fear.”
No, not fear. The sight of Michael like that filled Taylor with the opposite of fear: a ridiculous amount of hope.
And that could be just as dangerous.
* * *
A few weeks would be enough. It would be. Even now, he held her exquisite taste upon his tongue and his memory. If an hour on the sand marked the end of his days, he would have nothing to regret. Of the millions of hours that had come before it, none had given him so much pleasure or so many moments to hold close to his heart. Andromeda’s every sigh and scream, the curl of her toes and the flavor of her skin, her need for anger and order and meaning. Each response was worth a lifetime of hours, and he’d had them all in one.
Yet instead of contentment, rage blasted through him like fire. Michael teleported to five miles from Khavi’s location. He looked over the army of human and halfling souls under Anaria’s command, to Belial’s army of demons in the far distance, and Lucifer’s tower rising on the horizon—and his only thought was to destroy them, to slay them all before they might harm her.
But this army might be the only chance to stop Lucifer, and a few weeks was not enough time to kill them all.
“Do you carry binoculars, puppy?” Hugh said beside him.
Sir Pup shook his left head. Hugh sighed and looked to Michael. “What do you see?”
Some of his rage dissipated, replaced by humor. They had done this before. When Hugh had been a young knight, still human, his poor eyesight blurred detail at a distance. Now he wore corrective lenses, but he still needed Michael’s description. Human, Hugh couldn’t see clearly from five miles away. Neither of them wanted to teleport blind into the middle of an army.
“They are arranged like a Spartan camp.” In quarters, with two wide avenues dividing the sections of tents. A demon army would never have included such accommodations; they didn’t need to sleep or eat. None of these soldiers would need to, either, but they’d all been human once. They would enjoy the camaraderie, the familiarity of tents and private spaces. “Almost a thousand halflings in the sky. They look to be practicing combat maneuvers. Others are on the ground, training with swords.”
Though Hugh nodded, a frown creased his brow. “Why Sparta? There are others more efficient.”
“The arrangement would have come from Khavi.” She’d always studied human military tactics and training, and the Spartan army had been the strongest at the time she’d been trapped in Hell. “Except for the general’s tent in the middle. That must have been Anaria’s decision. Khavi would never let herself be surrounded on all sides.”
And Anaria would never believe that she might be betrayed.
At the mention of Michael’s sister’s name, Hugh’s expression hardened. His friend did not hate many people. After Anaria had crushed Lilith’s chest and almost
killed her, she had become one of the few.
“Do you intend to take your revenge?” If so, Michael wouldn’t stop him. He’d have to help Hugh, instead—and he’d rather make preparations here, before entering the camp. Slaying Anaria would never be easy.
Sir Pup growled and grinned all at once. An expression of hope, not intent. Michael waited, watched the struggle on the other man’s face.
Saw the resigned anger that settled in him. “No. Finding Savi comes first.”
The hellhound whined his disappointment. Hugh scratched Sir Pup’s nearest chin, though he had to reach above his own head to do it.
“Lily would never forgive either of us if we were killed,” he said to the pup. “We should not trade the hundred years we have left for revenge. No matter how tempting.”
Sir Pup gave another whine, licked his hand. Hugh gave him a final scratch, then looked to Michael. Ready, then. But Michael could not go yet.
“Will a hundred years be enough?”
The bleak expression on Hugh’s face told him before he answered, “Yes.”
So Michael was not the only one who lied to himself.
Two heartbeats appeared behind him. Sand shifted under his feet.
Michael pivoted, the dragon spear in hand. Jacob held a dizzy Alice against his side. Michael was not surprised. Irena had worried when he and Hugh had gone alone.
“We’re not heading into the camp with you,” the young Guardian said. “We’re just the backup.”
“Irena sent you?”
“Yep. You give the shout, I’ll start frying them.”
With his electrical Gift—one of the most powerful weapons that Michael had ever seen a Guardian wield. Though demons could heal from lightning strikes, the electric shock temporarily stunned them into unconsciousness. Against a Guardian’s speed, that was as good as death. A second was long enough to finish them off with a sword.
Steady now, Alice looked across the sands, her eyebrows pinched together in a frown. “What are those screams? Are we near the Pit? They sound as if they originate from the camp.”
Guardian Demon (GUARDIAN SERIES) Page 30
