“You really think you can trust this motherfucker?”
I smile to myself and shake my head. Even though he isn’t firmly planted at his seat across from Legion, I can clearly picture Cain’s face, screwed in foul bitterness.
The remaining seven of us sit around the dining room table, mugs of coffee emanating with curls of fragrant steam in front of us. Cain is at the hospital. After Toyol and Phenex checked out the situation, and dropped off enough weapons and ammo to defend an entire city block, they raced back home to meet us. When Legion calls a family meeting, everyone attends, even if it is by speakerphone.
“We don’t really have a choice, now do we?” L states, loud enough for his booming baritone to be picked up over the receiver.
“Hell yes, we do!” Cain whispers harshly. I imagine him in Sister’s hospital room, phone pressed to his ear, shrewd gaze pinned on the doorframe. It’s well past midnight, but it doesn’t feel like it. That’s the problem when you run with beasts of the night. You lose all sense of time.
“Cain, the Nephilim agent can get us intel from inside the Alliance. Something we haven’t been able to achieve because of him. And the fact that he has some kind of attachment to Eden leads us to believe that his intentions are honorable. Betraying us would hurt her.”
I spare a glance at Legion, whose jaw is tight with distrust, maybe even a touch of jealousy. He doesn’t return my stare. I’ve apologized a dozen times, and while he claims he’s over it, that Crysis is not a threat to him, I can tell that his distrust isn’t solely reserved for the angel-human hybrid I had been regarding like a dirty little secret. He doesn’t fully trust me.
And I’ve earned that. I kept a secret that could have potentially put him and his family in danger. Maybe if I had been forthcoming from the start, we could have thwarted the attack on my sister. I don’t know how, considering we don’t even know who the hell is behind all this, but I could have done something. And that guilt—that unshakable sinking in my gut that physically makes me ill every time I think about my sister…scared, covered in blood and debris—is something I may have to live with for the rest of my life.
“I don’t know about this, L,” Andras chimes in. He shakes his head, causing a lock of his bright blonde hair to unravel from his man-bun and fall into his sky blue eyes. He brushes it back behind his ear. “I mean, how well do you know him? How well does Eden know him?”
All eyes are on me. I swear, I can even feel the intensity of Cain’s sneer from over the phone. I suck in a deep breath and sift through the chaos in my head, hoping to unearth the right words.
“He’s an asshole,” I begin. “He’s brash and arrogant. He thinks he walks on water. He’s deceptive; lying comes way too easily for him. But…but I feel like he’s telling the truth. I feel—in my heart—that we can trust him. He could’ve turned over info about me a long time ago, making it so I would have never walked out of the Alliance’s headquarters that first night I met him. But I did. He kept his promise even after I told him I wouldn’t steal for him. So yeah…I know him. At least enough to know that he can be trusted.”
It’s silent for a good thirty seconds before Cain groans, “Oh, for fuck’s sake! So we’re working with Nephilim now?”
“Seems like it,” L answers.
“Well, look at it this way,” Toyol begins. “If he steps out of line, there’s seven of us, and one of him. He’s gotta come out of hiding some day.”
I don’t have the heart to tell him about Crysis’s gifts of deflection, making him pretty much impossible to track. It’s exactly why they didn’t detect he was anything more than some ordinary human man the night they showed up at that bar, just in time to stop me from doing something I’d regret. It’s also why their signals would scramble anytime they got close to the Alliance’s headquarters. Crysis is a weapon. And it’s better to have him with us than against us, especially now that we could be up against something virtually indestructible.
Still, it’s not enough.
If the Seraph is indeed involved, we need numbers. Manpower. We need to fight fire with fire.
“Lilith…” I can’t even believe her name is on my lips. Just the act of turning my head in her direction and looking at her pains me. “Do you think…?”
“Fuck that,” Legion growls, knowing exactly where my thoughts are headed.
“L, if anyone would know how to contact him, it’s her. And if we stand any chance of survival—”
“Do you even realize what you’re saying to me? I said, no!”
He slams his palms against the tabletop, causing the marbled stone to tremble in fear, before jumping to his feet and striding down the hallway. The bedroom door slams, the clash of wood and steel ricocheting around the apartment. I don’t have to lift my head to know that every eye is on me, casting awkward, sympathetic glances.
“I’m…I…” I swallow, my mouth bone dry.
“You can’t do that. After what Lucifer did… After what L went through to get you back. You can’t do that.” Cain’s voice is clear…sober. It reminds me of that night when he caught me trying to sneak out. The night after Legion dragged me back from Hell.
“I just want to help,” I explain, lifting my chin in defiance of my embarrassment. “I’m just trying to find a way to keep all of you safe. I’m not trying to hurt him.”
“Then stop doing it.”
I can’t argue with Cain’s candor. He’s right. Ever since I escaped Hell, I’ve been looking for an excuse to leave. I didn’t feel worthy of Legion. There was blood on my hands, and no matter what I did—no matter how hard he tried to convince me it wasn’t my fault—I couldn’t wash it off. I would never be clean enough for him. Would never be good enough for his secret, sidelong glances and his rare, dimpled smiles, and his searing, heart-stuttering kisses.
Even with all I had done to survive twenty-two tumultuous years as a forgotten freak, nothing would ever compare to the guilt that festered inside my bones like cancer ever since the day I sat in that blood-jeweled dining room and watched as my high school foes were brutally raped. And that cancer spread every night…every-fucking-night…with every vile exhibition that I didn’t try to stop.
And now, I was hurting the very person that wanted to heal me from that sickness. Who wanted to rid my heart and soul of the foulness that bittered my blood, without asking for anything in return.
I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep hurting the only man I’ve ever truly cared about because of fear. Fear of losing him. Fear of losing myself.
I push myself up from the table and take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. This isn’t what I wanted for any of you. And if you all want to bow out and wash your hands of me, I wouldn’t fault you. I honestly don’t know why you haven’t done it already.”
I look around the table, preparing myself for the blow of rejection that never comes. Not even Cain has a smartass remark.
Phenex smiles at me, warm and radiant, and says, “We aren’t going anywhere. Family doesn’t run. So even if it’s five, or fifty, that stand against us, we’re with you, Eden. Whether you like it or not.”
I nod once, unable to form coherent words that wouldn’t result in me sobbing on the floor in the fetal position. I don’t deserve their grace. And honestly, I don’t even know what to do with it. They know me. The ugly scars, the irrational temper, the deadly secrets…they know me.
When I’m finally able to move without risk of breaking down, I turn and walk down to the end of the hallway. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to see me right now, but I can’t let another second go by without him knowing how sorry I am. Cain was right—I’m hurting him. I’ve been hurting him. And he’s too patient and kind and understanding to call me on my bullshit.
The bedroom is dark when I enter, save for the thin strip of light radiating from under the bathroom door. The shower is on, and wisps of steam skate across the hardwood. I lift my fist to knock, but think better of it. Instead, I simply open the bathroom door.
Even his blurry silhouette is spectacular through the fogged glass, and I have to take a moment to simply admire him. With his head bowed in contemplation and his arm pressed against the tiled wall, he takes my breath away. And with the steam intensifying his intoxicating scent, I feel dizzy with the need to touch him, hold him. I’m practically aching with the overwhelming urge to run my fingertips over his water-slickened skin, and collect every tiny droplet with my tongue. And because impulse control has never been my thing, I find myself stripping off my clothing and sliding open the glass door.
He lifts his head, his weary eyes watching me through the hot spray. When he parts his lips to speak, I gently brush his sensual mouth with my thumb while trailing his strong, angled jaw with my fingers.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought him up. I’m just scared, L. I’m afraid and I don’t want you or anyone else getting hurt.”
He nods, and turns away from my touch, leaving behind the cold sting of rejection on my fingertips. I don’t give up. I press my front to his back and wrap my arms around his torso, holding him as tight to my chest as I can stand. His taut muscles loosen just a fraction and he exhales. I close my eyes, my cheek to his back, and listen to the sounds of his breaths, committing each one to memory like the rhythm of my favorite song.
“Eden…” My name is a groan rumbling in his chest, vibrating through his body. I feel it against me…inside me.
He breaks my hold and slowly turns to face me, his expression shadowed by his dark, wet hair. I gaze up at him, my heart pounding in anticipation. Either he’s going to tell me to get out of his sight, or push me up against the wall with my thighs squeezing his waist. I’m praying for the latter.
Legion cradles both sides of my neck with his hands.
“Do you not trust me enough to know that I would die for you? Kill for you? Is that not enough?”
“It is. You are,” I reply on a cracked sob. I lean forward and press my lips to his smooth, tanned chest. “You are, L. You’re enough.”
I repeat the mantra over and over between kisses, starting at his pecs then bending down to lick and tease his abs. I fall to my knees, yearning to taste more of him. He groans loudly when I take him my mouth…all of him.
“Eden,” he moans, lovingly stroking the wet hair out of my face. “God…Eden. Fuck.”
His show of approval motivates me to suck a little harder, take him a little deeper. I withdraw to the tip slowly, using my tongue to draw circles up his shaft. L gasps, his grip on my hair tightening. I glance up to find his head thrown back and his other palm braced against the tiled wall.
I pick up the pace and grasp L’s ass as he begins to fuck my mouth. Every time I moan around him, he jerks, his thighs flexing with the sensation. I know he’s close. He feels harder, thicker. I apply more pressure with my tongue, coaxing his orgasm then drink every single drop of him.
I’ve just barely released him when L bends down to lift me up and press me up against the shower wall. Still unbelievably hard and pulsating, he pushes inside of me, reaching deeper than I’ve ever felt. I cradle him within my womb, my walls clenching and contracting with every thrust. I’m dizzy. The room is spinning. My heart is beating so fast and hard that I think it may fall out of my chest.
I explode from the inside out, a million, multi-colored diamonds falling in slow motion around us. With Legion’s face buried in my neck, I feel him shudder and grunt out his own release with jerky, shallow strokes. I brush his hair with trembling fingers and kiss his head, cherishing his vulnerability as he comes down from his heavy cloud of ecstasy.
This part is easy. Loving him…fucking him…it’s easy. That’s why we’re so good at it. The other shit—the part where we strip down to our bare bones and be completely honest with each other—that’s the hard part. It’s the things we don’t say that will kill us both.
He sets me on my feet, and we silently wash and rinse. After L shuts off the water, he steps out, his body dripping wet, and opens a towel for me.
“Thank you.”
“Of course.” He wraps me in warm, soft terry cloth, taking the ends and brushing them along my cheeks to catch the droplets running from my hair. Such a tender gesture. A month ago, I could barely get him to look at me without snarling. Now, the very thought of being without his touch fills me with dread.
I should tell him how I feel before it’s too late; we may not have another chance like this. But as I stare up at him, my wide eyes searching for something—anything—to prove that he feels the same, I can’t find the words. Because at the end of the day, I’m a silly, stubborn girl who is too peculiar for my world, yet too human for his. And he’s a fallen angel turned demon in search of his redemption. We don’t fit. How can we? When the very thing that brought us together is the very thing destined to rip us apart?
“What?” he muses, reading the desperation in my expression.
Tell him. Just tell him, a voice echoes in my head. Before you can’t.
I shake my head, dispelling the phantom whisper. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
L lifts a dark brow in suspicion. “Nothing.”
“I was just thinking about…”
But the voice will not be ignored. It roars louder in my skull, urging me, begging me.
You don’t have enough time. Tell him now while you can.
I bite down on the madness that tries to claw its way up my throat, choking down truth, and shake my head again.
“I was just thinking that I’m hungry. Want me to make us something?”
A small frown pinches the space between L’s brows for just a moment before he turns away, retrieving his own towel.
“Sure.”
He opens the bathroom door and strides into the bedroom, taking the humid heat with him, and leaving me with nothing but startling cold and that specter’s voice in my head.
Coward.
“I know,” I whisper under my breath. “I know.”