by Emma Scott
I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him deeper, my tongue sliding against his with a boldness I hadn’t known I was capable of. His taste…I could’ve cried to taste him again. The scent of his skin in my nose, the feel of him beneath my hands was like coming home.
With a growl, he kicked my rickety old coffee table away, and wrapped an arm around my waist, taking me to the floor. Our bodies were like interlocking pieces finally falling into place. He fit perfectly into the V of my legs and my fingers sank into his hair as if I’d done it a hundred times. The weight of him on me…both new and familiar. Fresh lust swept through me, lifetimes’ worth, now unleashed.
My legs wrapped around his waist, my hips strained against his, and I let out a groan as he ground into me again and again, the hard length of his erection seeking entry through our clothes. He braced himself with one arm while his other hand explored, roughly hiking my dress up to get at bare skin. His hand slid up my thigh, under my dress, to my breast. He palmed me, then pinched the aching nipple. All the while, his mouth plundered and plowed mine, the power in him stealing my breath—otherworldly and barely restrained.
Mindful of the burn on his back, I skimmed his bare torso, feeling the muscles move and slide under my touch. Like a starving woman, I feasted on him with my hands, utterly unafraid of the power every touch ignited in him. I wanted it. I’d go mad if I didn’t have him inside me. My own power that had been sleeping for centuries was waking, along with the pure joy that my lonely search for him was finally over.
My Casziel.
My beloved…
“Ki-áñg ngu,” I whispered, the word slipping easily and perfectly from my lips as if I’d spoken it a hundred times.
Cas froze, then reared back, wrenching his mouth away. His eyes widened, boring into mine in the dimness.
“What did you say?”
“I…I don’t know. It just slipped out. But I think—”
He tore himself off of me, and I was bereft at the sudden loss of his heaviness. He stood in the center of my small place, staring at me, his hand carving through his dark curls—a gesture so thoroughly human it made my heart ache.
I got to my feet. “Cas, it was us, wasn’t it? In Larsa…”
“No. No, you can’t… Gods, I’m a bastard. A careless, selfish bastard.”
“You’re not. Finally, I know who I am. Why I’ve been feeling like I’ve been missing something.” I swallowed hard. “It was you. I’ve been missing you.”
“No! No, Lucy,” he said, pleading. Stricken. “We’re nothing because I am lost. You must forget me.” His mouth drew down in grim determination. “I’ll make you forget.”
He took a step toward me, and I backed away.
“What are you doing?”
“The right thing. Because there’s no hope for me.”
I put out my hand to ward him off, keeping the couch between us. “No,” I said, my lip trembling. “You made me forget before, didn’t you? I remember…the flies. And you holding my face…”
He took another step, and I raced away, nowhere to go in this tiny apartment. I put the kitchen island between us.
“Lucy.” His voice was agonized. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand everything,” I cried. “Years of loneliness. Years—no, lifetimes of it. Wanting you. Waiting for you. You were taken from me and I’m not going to give you up again. No more forgetting—”
I shrieked, as suddenly Casziel disappeared and reappeared in front of me in his demonic form. He gripped both my wrists in one large hand. His huge body pushed me against the sink, feathered wings filling the tiny space while his black-on-black eyes bored into mine. The cold, dreadful sucking pull came with that onyx gaze, but I pressed back, let his hips move in tighter.
His eyes flared, and my heart pounded, fear and want warring in me. Every nerve ending sang with terror, even as I gave myself up to him, offering. Wanting the touch, wanting him. A demon with my beloved trapped inside.
I was helpless against his immense power, but I mustered courage from the deep well in me I didn’t know I had.
“Don’t,” I said, meeting his black gaze, unflinching. “Don’t do it. Don’t leave me. Not again.”
He shook his head, anguish and lust writ in every conflicted line of his face.
“There is no hope for me, Lucy.” His voice was rough and hard but frayed at the edges, betraying his pain. “You will let me go. I’ll make you…”
“No!”
I struggled to free myself, but he was too strong. His thumb pressed the skin between my eyes. Pained regret suffused his voice as he said the word that stole him from me all over again.
“Ñeštug u-lu…”
Eighteen
The anguish in Lucy’s dark blue eyes fades. Her gaze sharpens, then widens with fear; I’m still in my demonic form, one hand gripping her wrists, holding her tight to me.
“Cas…?”
“Usa nganu,” I murmur. “Usa nganu. Sleep, my love.”
Her eyes fall closed and she slumps in my arms. I gather her to me and press my nose into her neck, inhaling her sweet scent. I stay there for long moments, feeling the beat of her heart against me and the softness of her body.
You have to let her go.
I lay her down gently on her bed and smooth the locks of dark hair from her face. A different face in this lifetime but no less beautiful in my eyes. And recognizable. I would know my Li’ili in any form; she is the other half of me. I should stop inflicting myself on her, but I can’t. She is my weakness. The sweetest vice. Lifetime after lifetime, I find her and protect her.
Because I was your rōnin, Lucy. I was your Shura.
I curse myself for showing her so much of us. I hadn’t lied that it was my existence spilling into hers—our souls are entwined. But Hammurabi ruined me when he killed her, and I surrendered to damnation because I couldn’t save her. Her eyes were pleading, and then they opened her throat…
Now I’m a fiend. She’s an angel. She won’t find love again until she’s free of me.
But gods, kissing her…
I can still feel her mouth on mine after so many millennia—soft and sweet, warm and wet. I taste her on my tongue, feel her body pressed to mine, eager and willing, wanting to take me inside her. I fight the overwhelming urge to climb into her bed, to wake her and finish what we started…
But I can’t. I shouldn’t.
And Ashtaroth is waiting.
I transform into a raven and take flight through the open window. I’m not a meter from the apartment when the pain wells in me, anchoring me down. The rage and anguish. Touching and kissing Lucy have awakened it like a beast.
I want my wife.
I change course, tilting my wings to circle back to the empty lot behind Lucy’s apartment. I take my demon form and let my huge wings bring me to the ground, where I hunch down and curl with rancor, the vile infection of my corruption. I let loose an inhuman scream of rage that no living ears can hear. My hands make fists in the dirt, grabbing handfuls. The grains fall from my grip, slipping away.
“Her life. I let it slip through my fingers…”
“Oh, jeez, don’t be so dramatic.”
I stand and whirl, my sword already drawn…then bite off a curse and return it to its scabbard between my wings.
“You again,” I snarl.
“Me again. Can’t get rid of me, can you?”
He’s leaning against the wall, glowing with an aura of blue-white light. His hands are tucked in the pockets of his Hum-free Bo-gart and a hat is pulled low over his brow. He clenches a pipe in his teeth, and his shrewd but kind eyes regard me through the curling smoke.
“What do you think?” He tugs the brim of his hat. “I always felt the fedora completed the look, but Lucy refused to be seen in public with me if I wore it.” He chuckles. “Kids.”
“What do you want? I’m late for a meeting.”
His jovial smile tightens. “To offer your pound of flesh? Your meeting
can wait. I have something to say, and you will listen.”
I start to protest but like the obedient son-in-law I’d been, I nod grudgingly.
“That’s better. I just have one question: What the hell are you doing?”
I squat on my heels and fold my wings tight to me. “I’m doing the best I can. But I shouldn’t have kissed her. I should’ve left—”
“You should’ve stayed. You should love her. Let her love you.”
“I can’t stay. There is no redemption for me. I lied to her. Over and over, I lied to her.”
He purses his lips. “Yes, you’ve made quite a habit of that, haven’t you?”
“A habit?” I snort. “I’ve done more than spin a lie or two, old man. You know this.”
“I know what you’ve done,” he agrees. “But I also know what’s in your heart. Russia. Japan. All the lifetimes she can’t remember. You’ve been her guardian angel. Imagine that.”
“Tell your god, then, I’m waiting for my absolution.” I rise and throw my arms and wings open to the heavens. “Well? Here I am. I’m ready.”
Of course, nothing happens. The night sky is silent and impassive.
I drop my arms. “It appears what’s in my heart is inadequate.”
“She’s not the only one plagued by demons,” he mutters.
“Enough talk. Go away, old man. It’s too late for me.”
“You sure about that?” His endless patience radiates off of him as strong and vibrant as the blue-white aura. “Tomorrow, at the wedding. Take her in your arms. Dance with her. Hold her and tell her the truth. Stop erasing her damn memory. Stop erasing you from her mind, because no matter how hard you try, you can’t purge yourself from her heart.”
I cast my gaze to the ground. “I can. There is a way.”
“Oblivion?” He shakes his head gravely. “That is not an answer, son. No answer at all.”
“Then tell me what to do, priest. How does it end?”
“With your death, of course.”
I bite off a curse and spread my wings to take flight.
“Casziel,” he says, arresting me with the gentle authority imbued in him, the same that was there four thousand years ago. “What is death but a new beginning? And every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” He cocks his head. “I think I heard that in a song once.”
I fume with impatience, unwilling to let hope take root in the blackened soil of my soul. There will be no more beginnings for me. Only an end. A final end.
He moves off the wall toward me, his aura growing brighter, hotter. Searing my eyes. If I touch him, he’ll burn me. Because I’m damned and he’s pure. His gaze bores into me. Dark blue eyes like Lucy’s. Like Li’ili’s. The deep blue of lapis lazuli, the divine gemstone of Sumer.
Even then he was holy. And she…she was a gift from the gods.
“You were always so hard on yourself, my boy,” he says. “And stubborn? My word! But good too. Honorable down to your bones. Hammurabi tried to torture it out of you. Ashtaroth tried to burn it out of you. The others…they’ve tried to convince you it’s too late. There’s no such thing. Remember that.” He tips his fedora at me with a grin and says in an odd voice, “Here’s looking at you, kid.”
Then he’s gone, and I’m left alone, the night thick and black but for the stars. Pinpricks of light. Like tiny spots of hope in a canopy of darkness that stretches to forever.
My heart swells with every emotion I’d been trying to block out. A barricade that had been falling to pieces, bit by bit over the last days with Lucy. Her father’s words give me hope that I hadn’t earned.
But maybe he was right and all I had to do was love her…
Part III
What would an angel say? The devil wants to know. —Fiona Apple
Nineteen
I gasped awake, anxiety boiling in my stomach, as if I’d overslept and missed something monumental.
The wedding…
I jerked to sitting and glanced at my alarm clock. Not quite seven a.m. I slumped against my pillows. I had hours yet. But a fuzzy, hungover feeling made my head heavy. I took in my empty apartment. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, over Edgar, my wilting houseplant. I was in my bed, but last night I’d been on the couch…
Hadn’t I?
I struggled to remember what happened. Cas was injured. I’d tended that terrible wound on his back and then…
“Dammit,” I said, tears of frustration pricking my eyes.
Something had happened. I’d touched something beautiful, and it slipped away. Again, like Japan. Leningrad. The woman in…where? A few days ago, I’d had another dream but that was slipping away too. My only certainty was that sense of loss, like a cry echoing down a long hallway, finding nothing, just emptiness.
I started the coffee and took a shower, hoping one or both would help wash the mud from my thoughts. Nothing helped, and then it was time to dress for Kimberly’s wedding. I examined myself in the mirror. The empire-waisted dress flattered my figure, highlighting what I wanted to highlight and concealing what I wanted to conceal. I piled my hair on my head like the beautician had done the other day, leaving a few tendrils to curl prettily around my cheeks.
I was pretty. It felt like arrogance to think it but only for a moment because it wasn’t just physical. Despite my tumultuous thoughts, there was color in my cheeks and my eyes were brighter. Maybe this last week had brought out a spark of life in me.
Or maybe it had always been there.
I sighed. But so what? Was I finally pretty enough that Guy would sweep me off my feet? We’d live happily ever after and that would somehow save the demon I’d been harboring in my apartment for the last eight days?
“I’m an idiot,” I said before Deber or Keeb could.
The wedding was at noon. By eleven, there was still no sign of Casziel. The sense of longing and frustration swelled like a broken limb that refused to heal. I needed help. Guidance. Something.
I glanced around my empty place. “Daddy? Are you here?”
Cas had said he was close because he had unfinished business, whatever that meant. But there was no answer.
“I miss you so much and could really use some advice right about now.”
Silence. And time was running out. I called an Uber just as my phone chimed a text. No name or number, only: #######
I’m outside.
Considering I hadn’t given Cas my phone number—not to mention the fact that he didn’t own a phone—I thought I handled his phantom text well. I didn’t even flinch.
“I’ve dealt with worse,” I muttered.
I grabbed my purse and a lavender wrap and headed out.
Cas was at the bottom of the stairs. He wore a charcoal gray suit, black shirt, no tie. He was even more devastating, somehow, for not wearing all black. He looked like a human man who’d had a rough night. A scruff of beard on his angular cheeks, his hair loose and flyaway in the wind. I couldn’t stop staring at his mouth. His hands. I could practically feel his soft lips on mine—deceptively soft; they concealed biting teeth and a hard, sucking pull that drew me into him…
Those hands have touched me. I’ve kissed that mouth…
God, I was so damn tired of almost remembering.
Cas was staring at me, his gaze moving up and down. “You look…beautiful.”
“So do you,” I snapped. “Did you rob someone for that suit?”
His eyes flared at my confrontational tone. “It’s paid for, Lucy Dennings.”
“I hate it when you call me by my full name. Where did you get the money? Did you rob me?”
“The funds are from a coworker. I intend to pay you back for all you’ve spent on me—”
“Keep it. I don’t want your money.”
He cocked his head. “Something on your mind, Lucy Dennings?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” I said, crossing my arms. They pushed up my boobs, amplifying the cleavage in the square-cut bodice. His eyes flared again, an
d I felt an answering heat in my belly. I cleared my throat. “What happened last night? Tell me the truth.”
“We watched a favorite television show of yours and then you fell asleep.”
“That’s it?”
“You drank some wine. Perhaps that’s why things are a bit hazy.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“What you believe is of little consequence to me,” he said, and I caught a flash of pain dart across his face before he looked away.
Tears sprang to my eyes for a thousand different reasons, none of which I could grasp. Because I couldn’t grasp them. Because Casziel was lying, and it hurt him to do it. I could see the anguish in his eyes and hear it in his voice, hiding behind his cold tone. He was holding me at arm’s length while I wanted to wrap those arms around me…
Silence fell, as thick as the air that was heavy with the promise of rain. A storm was coming, and I wondered what would be left of me when it came.
“Come on,” I said as my phone notified me that the Uber was here. “Let’s get this over with.”
The car took us to Central Park, where we joined a few stragglers—other late-comers hurrying into the Boathouse. The restaurant had been opened up so that guests would be able to move inside and out, between the bar and the patio that would become the reception after the ceremony. Dining tables and chairs had been cleared away from the deck that overlooked The Lake, and white foldouts had been arranged in rows facing an arch of gardenias that laced the air with their delicate scent. The water rippled gently in the breeze that was almost a wind but not quite. Wedding planners kept nervously glancing at the sky.
Ushers guided Cas and me to our seats, one row behind Jana and her husband. She was holding an adorable baby boy in a mini suit of powder blue. His chubby cheek was smooshed against his mama’s shoulder while he slept, oblivious.
I leaned in and whispered, “I’m never going to make it through the ceremony if I have to stare at that cuteness the whole time.”
Jana turned. “Hey, you! You look beautiful. And don’t keep it down for Wyatt’s sake. This guy sleeps through anything. Oh, except the night.” She nudged the man next to her. “Brian, this is Lucy, she of the ingenious shoe idea that you’re going to make Jason attach his tennis star to.”
