by Harley James
A great rumble fanned out across the beach. The Guardians lurched airborne, streaming safely away, Sydney in Spencer’s arms as the Earth split open at the water’s edge to swallow Baal whole.
Then the sand sifted, rippling, sliding together flawlessly.
The heavy, black snowflakes twinkled and then exploded in millions of miniature crystalline detonations like black diamond chips crushed to powder by an invisible giant.
In the newly clear skies, morning birdsong rang out amid a growing crescendo of approaching police sirens.
Sydney blinked, blinded in the sunshine after all the gloom. No more fire in the Bay. No beetles, flies, rephaim, or other creatures that would probably always haunt her nightmares.
It was the Baker Beach she’d always known.
Except for the famous bridge, now a twisted, orange wreckage. Sydney brought her hands to her heart.
Like the bridge, she’d never be the same.
But we’re still here. Alive.
She turned to look for Spencer, her smile morphing into a scream for help as her soul mate collapsed, his sword dropping heavily to the beach, his other hand falling away from his belly, blood and entrails spilling in a gruesome flood across the pristine sand.
Chapter 43
Spencer opened the bedroom door, wincing as it creaked loud enough to rouse the dead. He released the handle and turned away to return to his office when Sydney’s sleep-soft voice called to him from beneath the covers. She needed more sleep, but…he couldn’t stay away.
He pushed the offensive door the rest of the way open, then closed it behind him. He paused halfway to the bed, struck as always by her beauty when she pushed the covers back with a sexy, sleepy smile.
“Come here, you hunk of burnin’ English love.”
Damn, he was crazy about her. He toed off his loafers, barely making it onto the mattress before she was removing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m sorry to wake you,” he said, running his hands up her arms. Her skin was deliciously warm and smooth.
“No, you’re not.”
One side of his lips tipped up. “So saucy first thing in the morning. I approve.”
Her eyes clouded over, and she sat back on her delectable ass. “I have no right to be. I still can’t believe I lost the Robe. I’m so sorry. If Alexios finds out, he’ll kill me, won’t he?”
He couldn’t stand to see her so upset. He pinned her to the mattress, staring down into her exquisite eyes that were his favorite color in all the world. “We’ll get it back. Nate said Jinx has a lead on where the condor might have gone with it. If anyone can track it, she can. With her air element, she can communicate with the avian species.”
He didn’t bother to tell Sydney that Nate had lost contact with Jinx a few hours ago, and that her team was growing worried about the demonic activity heating up around her club.
“How can we help her?”
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’ll let you know if something comes up. But she can likely handle it on her own. Jinx’s fragile appearance belies an aggressive, blood-thirsty soul. She’s fooled humans and demons alike since the Twelfth Century in feudal Japan.”
Sydney pushed against his chest to gaze up at him. “Wow. Hard to believe she’s even more ancient than you.”
He cocked a brow, fighting the pull to rise to her challenge. Remember what’s best for her. “You wound me, darling.”
Her lips quirked. He burned to taste them to see if they were as devilish as they looked. Don’t do it. Her fingers skimmed down the center of his spine and his leave-her-alone resolve skidded further down the slippery slope.
She leaned up to press a feather-soft kiss to his lips. “You did whatever needed to be done to protect all of us. Thank you for keeping my family safe and for donating funds so the pharmaceutical company can begin operations in their temporary location. Mom said Joaquin should have his medicine within a couple of weeks. Without you...”
“Without me, your family wouldn’t have even been on Baal’s radar in the first place, so there is need for gratitude.”
“Oh, but there is, for you and for the safe recovery of Shadow and Pepper. We will mourn Atamu and the others, but we also have to hold on to the good news, our successful outcome, and be thankful.”
She grabbed his hand, her eyes earnest. “All my life I’ve believed I’m a product of my choices. If I was ever unhappy, it was my own fault. I still believe we are the creators of our own destiny, but through this experience I’ve also learned that there are other forces at work influencing our paths. If I would have had my way on my birthday, I would’ve stayed home, eating my way through a tub of ice cream. Instead, Laura got me out of my box. I came to Inferno, and I found you.”
“We found each other.”
She nodded. “I feel like my eyes have been opened to so much—hello, demons and possession and holy objects. There is so much beneath the surface. This experience has taught me to look deeper. See more. Thank you for that, too.”
He forced himself to roll off her and lean back against the headboard. She followed him up, scooting to her knees in front of him, the sheet grasped absently to her breasts. He looked away.
“Spencer? I meant that as a compliment.”
He didn’t deserve her gratitude. His chest felt itchy, and his fists burned for a nice expanse of drywall to pound. “Tiana is still shaken up from the events. Perhaps it would be best if I clear her memories.” His voice sounded wooden, even to him.
She grabbed his chin, swiveling his face to look at her. Her eyes snapped blue fire. “One, you will not wipe Tiana’s mind. Two, don’t change the damn subject when I’ve just poured my heart out to you. And three, I love your guts, you contrary Englishman. What are you going to do about that?”
He could do naught, but stare into her eyes. The fire in them softened to a smolder. An answering flame rose up within him. His lips opened, and he leaned into her. I don’t deserve you or your love, he thought, keeping the words to himself.
He closed his eyes to fight the impossible temptation to take. Take like he always had. “I wish you could see inside my black heart for a moment. You would realize how selfish I truly am. Do not mistake your relief in being free of Baal’s nefarious clutches for feelings of love. Once the dust settles and you resume your happy life at work and with your family, you’ll see how impossible it would be to fit into this world I inhabit. You deserve happiness and light, Sydney. Not demons and darkness.” Each word he spoke was a knife-stab in his own heart. But it was for the best.
For her best.
His limbs weighed a thousand pounds as he slid from their warm bed to walk to the window. He tried to summon the apathy and dispassion he’d cultivated—and almost perfected—for hundreds of years, but today it had abandoned him.
He heard the sheets rustle behind him, but he dared not look back. She would dress and leave him. His chin dropped to his chest as an emptiness spread through him. Don’t turn around. Watching her walk out his door would be one more aching memory he’d never be able to erase.
He startled when her hands wound round his naked trunk, and she laid her cheek against his back. He gritted his teeth against a surge of emotion. The way her touch made his body always come to life. His hands crushed hers involuntarily, he couldn’t hold back from touching her, pressing back against her one last time. As unfair as it was to experience such a wrenching goodbye, he was a glutton for punishment. A glutton for her.
They stayed that way, him afraid to move, afraid she’d move, afraid he’d lose the last shred of his honor and beg her to stay with him even though he was every kind of wrong for her.
Her hands began to roam. His body hardened. “Sydney...”
“Shhh.” Her fingertips tested the hollow of his bellybutton. Then the spear of hairs that disappeared beneath his trousers. He held his breath.
“I know you’re a proud man, Spencer. And I know you’re trying to scare me. To push me away because you think it’s for m
y protection. You think you don’t deserve happiness because you’re selfish, but surely you can see that only those who are truly selfish don’t put the needs of others before their own. You have done that over and over for me.”
She slipped between him and the window to peer up at him. The sunlight struck her hair, making it come alive in vivid reds, oranges, golds. He lifted a hand to test the strands to see if they were burning.
She reached up and brought both of his hands to lay them against her chest where her heart beat strong and steady. “Spencer, I want to be with you for however long we’re given. You let me be me. You respect who I am and aren’t trying to make me something I’m not. Believe me, I know how rare that is, and I don’t want to let it get away. Let you get away, no matter what obstacles stand in our way. Please don’t take away my choice...unless you truly don’t want me.”
“The thought of losing you...” his whisper died away in the still room.
The pads of her thumbs caressed his cheekbones. “Worry robs our peace. Our joy. I want you. I love you. Bond with me, Spencer.”
A flood of emotion burned through him, rushing outward in a growl and release of elemental passion as the curtains caught fire. He scooped her up into his arms. He lifted her, pinning her to the wall as flames licked and danced around them, speaking a word of command to confine the destruction to this room.
She dropped the sheet and laughed until his lips, his mouth, his teeth tested the softness of her breasts, her belly. When he eased back up her body, she wrapped her legs around his hips with a shuddering sigh, and it was so right.
So very right.
He turned and brought her to the bed, the covers, the mattress, now liquid fire. Molten magma. His soul hungered for this communal fire with her. God. Yet he hesitated.
“Trust that I am yours,” she spoke in his mind.
His arms shook when he knelt in the frothing lava, tensing when he lowered her, inch by inch into the magma until she sighed and stretched languidly, the smile on her face inviting, naughty, and impossible to resist. He dove onto her body, splashing the lava against the walls, melting the paint and plaster, destroying, burning only as far into the walls and floor as he’d commanded. Their bodies sizzled, cushioned by that which defined his existence as a Guardian.
Fire.
His thighs parted her legs, his erection throbbing as he slid along her crease, teasing, tormenting. Her hands, mouth, fingernails, hips, urging, building a fire as hot inside him as that which licked across his skin. He sucked on her neck, drew her earlobe into his mouth, thumbs tracing her nipples, hands testing the weight of her breasts, his hips rotating, grinding the base of his cock against her clit, his sack full and tight, every part of him restless and insatiable.
She bucked impatiently, hands slapping his ass. “Spencer, please.”
He leaned up on his elbows. Took in the pleasure and pain on her flushed face and in the eyes that would ever anchor him. He gritted his teeth as he forced his pace to slow. He wanted her to be sure. “Once we go down this road, there is no turning back. And know, this road is more often dark than light.”
“I choose you.”
An aching fullness in his throat. He laid his forehead against hers and began to rub against her again, slowly this time until he shifted and poised at her center. He kissed her deeply, then lifted his head to communicate all the years of loneliness, the despair, the self-hatred, and her ultimate healing love. “I am yours and you are mine,” he breathed.
“I am yours and you are mine,” Sydney echoed and took him deep into her body and soul, his heat, his flaws, his goodness and with every sinew and capillary and bone she tried to give back to him everything he’d brought into her world. Her movements matched his in perfect syncopation. Met him, thrust for thrust. Vocalizations rising above the snapping of the magma which was a wonder and an aphrodisiac around them.
Spencer ground into her, his eyes burning intently. The heat inside her began to spark, her head twisted in the thick, red-orange, buoying liquid. She grasped his slick body, pulling him closer, her legs wrapping around him.
“So deep.”
“Never going to leave,” he growled in her mind, head close to hers, the tips of his hair brushing her cheeks as he looked down to where their bodies meshed. He slid, full, thick, throbbing into her once more, and she gasped, her body seeming to melt, solidify, then expand outward in a million frigid shards of ice. She shivered deliciously, moaning with the sensations—heady, breathless, consuming.
She brought her hands to her breasts when Spencer leaned back to grind, to watch with dark, hungry eyes as her orgasm continued to build, until that great dam burst, and she flowed expansively, violently, a shattering and a remaking.
She felt him, felt his attention, felt his rising passion, his expanding darkness like a cocoon around her. She welcomed it, whispered to it and then it broke against her, an earthy, old-as-time knife edge of pleasure that sharpened her own.
Spencer. Mine. His essence pouring into her as his lips opened next to her ear. Her name, then foreign words, erotic and primal, spilling from his mouth. Binding them. Their lives. She felt it, reveled in it.
Forever.
Beyond her death. Beautiful. Thank you.
She held him to her as his thundering heart slowed against her.
Gradually, she became aware of the change in the room. Under them. Cold. Icicles hung from intact curtains that had been in flames moments ago. Her teeth chattered, and wow, it felt exhilarating. She laughed, confused as she tried to push Spencer up so she could take a better look around the room.
Spencer scraped his stubble against her neck, nuzzling, his breath hot and arousing against her skin. She scraped her fingernails against his back. “Something’s happened.”
“Mmm, I’ll say. Let’s do it again.” He did the roll-thing with his hips once more and heat shot up her body.
“I’m serious. There are icicles on the walls and curtains that we torched a bit ago.”
He rolled over and hauled her onto his chest. He went still, taking in the extreme changes. Not only was there ice on the walls and curtains, but there were fat snowflakes falling down on the remaining pools of lava, sizzling as they hit the surface and then merging with the magma, changing both elements into a glimmering jewel, one side obsidian, the other as crystalline and sparkling as a diamond.
“Bloody brilliant!” Spencer scooted up, pulling Sydney with him.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
“Hold out your hand. Can you make a fire as before?”
She lifted her right palm and focused on building a spark. But instead of flames, a transparent shard of ice appeared. She gasped and closed her hand into a fist, and it was gone. He smiled at her, an arrogant, reassuring lift of his lips. “Try again, but this time, keep trying to build whatever appears.”
She did, and the shard of ice was soon accompanied by snowflakes, which became a snowball and pretty soon, a roiling mini blizzard in the palm of her hand. “What? How is this possible?”
“I suppose this is what you might refer to as yin and yang.” Spencer passed his hand in front of him, making the icicles break apart with a spear of fire. He directed more heat at the curtains, and they burst into flame once more.
He smiled. “Send your icy storm at the curtains, let’s see what happens.”
She thrust her hand outward, launching the living weather at the silk. When her cold met the heat, the elements once again merged into a light and dark jewel, plunking heavily onto the walnut floor.
She laughed and clapped her hands. “That’s amazing!”
He laid back down on the bed, then grabbed her around the waist to pull her on top of him before she could scoot off the bed to grab one of the jewels for closer inspection. “You’re amazing,” he said, huskily.
“We neutralize each other.”
“Nay, my goddess. We create something altogether new,” he corrected.
She liked his version bett
er.
“How will this help us fight the demons?”
“I’m sure we’ll find out. Between this new discovery and Jessie’s angel feathers, perhaps the Guardians will finally begin to make some headway on the world’s demon problem.”
She leaned down to kiss him, then used all her willpower to break away. But if Spencer could be unselfish, she needed to be, too. “We should check on Jinx, see if anyone’s heard from her yet.”
His large hands wrapped around her upper arms to bring her back, flush against his chest. “Hell will break upon Jinx’s club soon, of that we can be certain. But in the meantime, I think we should rest and recharge. I have lots of ideas how we can do that.”
She smiled into his twinkling eyes. “Is that you being patient or impatient?”
“It took me four hundred years to find you, Sydney. How’s that for an exercise in bloody patience?”
She laughed. “Okay, point taken. But if we don’t hear from Jinx in another hour or two, let’s go looking for her.”
He tweaked her nose. “Agreed. Until then, I have another mission I plan to take very seriously.”
How very convincing he could be. She stretched sensuously on top of him, delighting in the sudden darkening of his eyes. “And what might that mission be, my Lord Jameson?”
He grasped her cheeks and kissed her soundly. “Oh, you are a treat.” He leaned up to nip at her bottom lip again. “Well, my lady mechanic.” He grasped, then lifted her hips to sheath himself in her body, eliciting groans from them both. “How about I show you?”
And show her he did.
With five hundred kisses and five hundred strokes, he loved her. The jewels born of their loving spilling across the floor, dark and light, gleaming weapons of hope against the evil that was soon to come.
A Gift For You
Want to be in the know and get new release updates and news about me and my books?
