Demon (15 page)

He hesitated. “It’s not clear exactly what he is. I expect he’s a demon.”

“Goddamn it!” I snapped. “Why the hell are you so set on wiping me out when you’ve got a demon right there, ready to be smited? Or smote, or whatever.”

“Not all demons are evil.”

“But I am.” I didn’t even bother to phrase it as a question, and he didn’t bother to answer.

“So I’m not sleeping with you,” I said finally. “You can tell Beloch he can just forget about it.”

“Then he’ll hand you over to the Truth Breakers without further delay.”

“And if I did sleep with you? Not that I would, but I’m curious. Does that mean I don’t get handed over to his minions? You’d become my willing slave?” It was an appealing thought. I liked the idea of him being on his knees around me.

“Of course not. Beloch is wagering that you would vanquish me. I know that’s impossible. Bedding you would mean nothing to me.”

“Ditto,” I snapped.” The answer to our problem is simple. We’ll just tell them that we did it. That we’re doing it. Doing the wild thing all night long, and you aren’t quite sure whether you’re going to succumb or not but you’ll need more time to figure it out. Which would give you enough time to come up with an escape plan.”

“There are two fatal flaws in that plan,” he said. “One, you have yet to give me one reason to rescue you. I need that information, and the Truth Breakers will get it for me.”

I wanted to scream at him that I didn’t have any information, but I bit my lip. I hadn’t given up hope of convincing him to save me. He’d saved me once already, when he’d been the one to arrange my death. Beneath his cool exterior beat an actual heart. If angels had hearts. If he really was an angel. “You said there were two fatal flaws,” I said instead. “What’s the other one?”

“He’ll know if we lie.”

“How? Does he have cameras? Microphones?”

“Stop thinking that you’re dealing with mortals, Rachel. Trust me, he would know.”

The sound of my name on his lips was strange, almost sweet, though he didn’t seem to notice he’d used it. “How would he know?”

He bit back a sigh of irritation. “He would smell it.”

“Ew! Does he think we wouldn’t take showers?”

“I’m not talking about semen and sweat and vaginal secretions,” he said with far too much frankness, and I felt my skin heat. “He would smell the changes in your body, in your skin, in your veins. He would know.”

“I’ve had sex before, and trust me, there were no changes that I couldn’t wash away.”

“That’s part of your curse. To drive men mad with desire and feel no pleasure.”

“Great,” I muttered. “And all this time I thought I was frigid.”

He looked at me sharply then, but I couldn’t read the expression in his eyes. Blue eyes in the black-and-white universe. I was coming to treasure that small bit of color when I knew I shouldn’t. Shouldn’t treasure anything about him.

But the ridiculous fact was, I did. I had, from the moment I’d woken up in that dingy hotel room in Australia and looked into his bleak eyes and recognized something. I didn’t know whether it was déjà vu, or shock, or the fastest case of Stockholm syndrome on record. All I knew was that I’d looked into his eyes and seen a … I wanted to say a soul mate, but that was preposterous. But I’d seen a bond, a connection, that existed no matter what he tried to do to me. And part of that bond was a totally unexpected desire.

“So what do you suggest we do?” If he didn’t like my ideas, he could come up with one of his own.

“He will give us one week if he thinks we’re following his orders. If he believes you’re destroying
me. If he knows we’ve refused he’ll take you immediately, and he’ll win.”

“As will you, for refusing to play his game.”

“But you won’t. You’ll be dead.”

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. I’d always known that was waiting for me in the end.

“And why would you care?” I asked. What a stupid, whiny question, I thought, wishing I could call it back. He’d tried to kill me; he’d told me any number of times he believed I was a monster who should be terminated. I was entirely dispensable.

Of course he said nothing. I didn’t think Azazel was capable of a polite, reassuring lie. “It’s your decision,” he said.

I roused myself from contemplating my imminent death. “What do you mean?”

“Beloch will send someone here tomorrow, and if he doesn’t find us in bed together, he’ll take you.”

I sat back, looking into his beautiful face. Certain, painful death, or being forced to have sex with a man who drew me more than anyone ever had? Oh, twist my arm. “I’ll take sex.”

He didn’t look particularly happy about my noble sacrifice. In fact, he looked dismayed, and I considered taking it back. “You don’t like the idea? You can always lie back and think of England.”

“Why on earth would I do that?” His voice was even, unmoved.

I shrugged, irritated. “It’s a saying. Mothers in Victorian England told their daughters that sex was horrible, but it was their duty and they should lie back and think of England.”

“It’s not my duty.”

“Don’t be so damned literal.”

Silence. I waited for him to approach me, but he didn’t move from the chair. He simply watched me out of those bright blue eyes. In the distance I heard a clock chime one, and my stomach tightened. I was actually going to have sex with this supposedly nonhuman male who looked at me with no emotion whatsoever. Or, I could die.

I waited as long as I could, but patience had never been one of my virtues. “So … what do we do next?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. I rose, nervous. “I think I’ll go take a shower before we—er—do this. Where do you want to meet?”

He simply looked up at me. “I’ll find you.”

Oh. My. God. What the hell was I doing? The only thing I could do, I reminded myself. Maybe I was the one who had to close my eyes and think of England. He seemed totally uninterested in our upcoming sex. I only hoped he could perform on
command, because I certainly wasn’t the seductive type. “All right, then,” I said, unable to hide my nervousness. “I’ll see you.”

“Yes.”

Crap. I practically ran from the room, ran from him. What the hell had I just agreed to do?

SHE RAN FROM HIM.
H
E
wasn’t sure why. Probably because she knew her true self would be revealed once their clothes were off. Not that there was any trace of the demon on her smooth, lovely skin. He’d examined her carefully, and she had the body of a human woman. No sign at all of her demon origin. At least for now. He had no idea what would happen in the midst of coitus. She might turn into a snake or a dragon and devour him. The idea seemed faintly comical.

He should have known she’d say yes eventually. It was her only chance. He wondered why she was nervous. In fact, she was as skittish as a virgin. Possibly because she knew that once she was naked and on top of him, she’d no longer be able to hide her true nature.

And on top she would be. She’d been banished for a reason as stupid as the one he’d been damned for. She had refused to submit, refused to be physically dominated. Refused to lie beneath her husband. And there was no room for a rebellious
female in the world in which she’d been created.

He could feel his blood pounding through him. He’d been counting on her refusal, and he would have dealt with it. He’d been a fool not to realize he’d been bringing her to a certain death. Not that he’d had a choice. He’d survived the Truth Breakers, but she was weaker. She would indeed be broken, and Beloch was not big on mercy.

If she’d said no, he would have come up with a plan to get her out of there, though he had no idea how, or whether he even could. He had to remember that the truth was more important than one small female. So he would take her body. Her agreement was reluctant, which helped. She hated and feared him—he’d done his best to foster that. He had no doubt that her seductive nature would emerge, and he simply had to do his best to resist her siren lure. No man could resist her, but he wasn’t a man. He could take her, fuck her, and there’d be no tie, no bond. His body could do what it had to do, and he could take his release as a physical act, nothing more. The Lilith wanted total capitulation, but he would never give her that. It wasn’t in his nature. He refused to accept the prophecy. He would kill her himself before that came to pass.

But it wouldn’t. He rose, went into his bathroom,
and took a cold shower, the icy pellets pounding his skin. It did nothing to cool the desire that curled in the pit of his gut. Real triumph would be not to want her. Not to grow hard at the thought of being inside her.

But that triumph was out of reach. He could no more control his physical reaction than he could bring Sarah back. But he could control everything else.

He wasn’t going to dress, but if he went to her naked she’d see his arousal, and it would give her too much of an advantage. He pulled on his jeans, carefully, and went in search of her.

It was time.

I
STAYED IN THE SHOWER UNTIL THE
skin on my fingers puckered and the steamy water started to turn cold, and even then I considered putting up with it for another half hour rather than face what was waiting for me. I couldn’t remember sex, except for the relatively unsatisfying times with Rolf. Surely I must have enjoyed it at some point in my life, but if I had, those memories were lost. I couldn’t even remember much about Rolf, except that I was always on top. And it didn’t help.

But it was like riding a bicycle, I expected. Once you learned, it was easy enough to go through the motions. Besides, most of it would be up to Azazel.

But I was nervous enough, and the cold water was making me ready to jump out of my skin, so
reluctantly I turned off the faucet and stepped from the shower, which was surprisingly modern for a house better suited to the nineteenth century.

There were big, enveloping towels, and I wrapped myself tightly and tried to do something with my ridiculously tangled hair. It was a pain in the butt trying to wash it, especially when the saber cut on my face had started to bleed again under the hot water, seeping across my scalp when I tilted my head back. In Brisbane I’d used half a cup of conditioner in an effort to force it into submission, but the fabulous shower here didn’t come with anything but lavender shampoo. Great. I was going to scare the pants off him. I managed a nervous giggle. That was the point, wasn’t it? And he shouldn’t be surprised if I looked like a crazy woman—he was expecting to bed a demon. At least I could comply as far as looks went.

Unless he did this in total darkness. That would make the entire thing easier. After all, I’d had sex with Rolf and it had been no big whoop. And Rolf’s increasingly limp response was one more sign that I was a far cry from the irresistible siren Azazel believed me to be. In fact, he was going to be pretty disappointed if he expected fireworks and acrobatics. I didn’t know any. I had every intention of simply doing it and getting it over with as quickly as possible.

I walked into my room, planning to find the voluminous nightgown I’d worn the night before. Maybe I wouldn’t even have to take it off—I could just raise it demurely and avert my eyes.

I stopped short. He was lying on my bed, wearing a pair of jeans and nothing else. I should have known he’d be gorgeous without a shirt. His skin was luminous white-gold against the colorless sheets, and his black hair was damp, pushed away from his starkly beautiful face. He was watching me intently, and my panic blossomed.

But there was no place to run. I could do this. I’d done this countless times before, hadn’t I? I looked at him. “Could we turn off the lights?”

“No.”

I bit my lip. “Do you know where my nightgown is?”

“You don’t need it. Come.” He gestured to the bed beside him. That blasted command again. I moved a couple steps closer.

“Can’t you do something?” I said nervously. “Say something nice to me? Hold out your hand?”

“So you can pretend this is not what it is? I doubt it. Remove the towel and get on the bed, and stop pretending you haven’t been doing this for tens of thousands of years. You can use your skills—they won’t have any effect on me.”

“I don’t have skills,” I said, frustrated. “And if they won’t make any difference, why should I try?”

“It is not beyond the realm of possibility that they might speed things up, which we would both appreciate. Take off the towel and get on the bed.”

I got on the bed, keeping the towel clamped around me. He lay back against the pillows, the color of him a striking contrast against the drabness of this world. He was waiting for me to do something, to take charge.

Well, I certainly understood the basics. Tab A fit into slot B and all that. I pulled my legs up underneath me and stared at him. “What if I’m not your mythical baby-eating demon?” I said suddenly. “What if you’re wrong, if you scooped up the wrong person?”

“There is no mistake.”

“How do you know?”

“Because of my reaction to you.”

That gave me pause. And then I rallied. “Oh, I bet you hate a lot more people than just me, and you don’t go around thinking they’re Lilith.”

“I have already told you I do not hate you. And that is not the reaction I’m talking about.”

“Then what are you talking about?” I demanded, frustrated.

On anyone else, that glimmer might signal
amusement. Not on Azazel, of course. But he didn’t answer my question. Instead, he said, “You can stop trying to put this off with meaningless questions.”

“That’s right,” I said, unable to keep the anger out of my voice. “The sooner we do it, the sooner it’s over.”

“Exactly. Go ahead.”

Go ahead?
Shit, and do what? And why was I getting so upset? I wanted it over and done with as much as he did. Clinging to the knot that held the towel together, I moved over to him, careful to keep my lower half covered, which was no mean feat, given that the towel seemed determined to split apart and flash him.