Temptation, Chronicles of the Fallen, Book 3 (22 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Just as Maggie reached to turn the covers on the bed down, the bedroom door opened with no warning. She nearly jumped out of her skin.

An eerie sense of déjà vu hit her. Gideon stood in the doorway, staring at her in silence. His chest expanding, his shoulders lifting, his expression resigned. Embarrassed still from having listened in on his conversation with Carly, she resolutely turned her focus back to the covers, folding them down with careful deliberation.

“I’m tired, Gideon,” she said, making sure her tone left no room for argument. She caught a faint whiff of Gideon’s scent coming from the pillow as she plumped it. Unbidden, their intimacy returned to haunt her. Ducking her head so he wouldn’t see the telltale heat filling her cheeks, she added, “All things considered, I think it best if you sleep elsewhere tonight.”

“That’s not gonna happen, Maggie.”

Something off topic struck her. He’d called her Maggie. Kyanna and Carly were
darlin’
or
sugar
or some other such endearment. But not her. She was just plain old Maggie. Because the few times he’d called
her
darlin’ had sounded far more like an insult than a compliment. And that didn’t count. A little kernel of hurt settled in the pit of her stomach. Why, she couldn’t figure out. She’d never liked the lovey nicknames to begin with. Yet that he felt so free to use them on others…stung.

That hurt gave her the courage to lift her chin and glare at him. “Well, you aren’t sleeping here.”

“This is my bedroom, darlin’,” he reminded her. And there was that pissed off, insulting tone again. As if she needed the reminder.

Slowly, deliberately, he moved farther inside the room and closed the door firmly behind him. He kept his gaze locked on her as he lifted the hem of his T-shirt. He whipped it over his head, and casually tossed it into the corner.

The spit dried in her mouth.

But then—
finally!
—her pride decided to show its face. Where it had been for the last few days while she’d shamelessly thrown herself at him, she couldn’t say.

“Fine. Then I’ll find someplace else to sleep.”

Back stiff, she stalked around the foot of the massive bed and made to walk past him, bracing herself for the moment he reached out to grab her. She even mentally rehearsed the techniques for breaking an attacker’s hold, the same ones that Gideon himself had taught her. But as she walked by, he made no move to stop her.

Pride smarting at the latest blow, she kept walking, chin up, head held high despite the annoying burn of unshed tears rapidly forming. She made it all the way across the room in oppressive silence, bravely holding the tears at bay. She’d just use the bedroom Gideon had slept in her first night here and come back for her things in the morning.

She reached for the doorknob.

“I’ll only follow you, Maggie,” Gideon said on a deep sigh.

“What?” She whirled around, sure she hadn’t heard him right.

“I said, I’ll only follow you,” he repeated, his expression reconciled.

“Why?” She shook her head, clutching the doorknob as she debated the wisdom of bolting. How far could she make it before he caught her? She’d wager not even to the stairs. And boy, wouldn’t that be the last nail in the casket bearing her pride?

“Ward stones and spells aren’t infallible.”

“Ward stones?” She felt like an idiot, but she couldn’t follow this sudden change in topic. What had ward stones to do with where he slept?

“Ward stones and spells have been breached before. I can’t use Kyanna’s enchantments. They would render me powerless, and I might need to fight. I’m sorry, but I’m not willing to risk your safety, not even for the sake of your pride.”

Now that stung.

“You mean you aren’t willing to risk your precious relic?”

His head snapped back as if she’d struck him.

In a heartbeat, he was across the room and in her face.

“Is that what you think of me, Maggie?” His breath was hot against her cheek. His furious stare burned her. “Really?”

Her first instinct was to step back. To yield. But she’d hit her limit. Caution might be the better part of valor. Right now she was feeling much too reckless to care. Maggie stepped into his space, glaring right back. How dare he play the innocent martyr here?

“But that’s just it, isn’t it? I don’t really know you at all, now do I?”

“Do you honestly want to go there?” he snarled, bristling with aggression. “Because I could vehemently argue to the contrary.” His large hand covered her abdomen with such extreme gentleness that she shot back like she’d been struck by lightning. Safely out of reach.

“Why didn’t you tell me about how you feed?” she demanded, desperate to restore her defenses against this man.
This demon
, she reminded herself, however unfair she was being. “Why didn’t you tell me about how you and Michael used to be besties?”

That froze him in his tracks. “Damn you, Xander,” he hissed beneath his breath.

“
You
should have told me, Gideon.” Maggie crossed her arms, aware she was standing there in little more than a thin nightshirt and panties arguing with a half-naked, very pissed off demon.

A muscle bunched and leaped in his jaw. He drew himself up, his presence taking up more space in the room than she’d thought possible.

“You’re right. You don’t know me,” he informed her in a quiet voice. He took one more step toward her—a step of warning, a step of promise. “So let me sum this up for you in a nice tidy little nutshell. Whether or not you like it, I’m a demon. You’re a Halfling. And, for the time being, you are under my protection.”

He stopped speaking and drew a deep breath, glowering at her, all but begging her to argue. She couldn’t find her voice. Could only swallow, her wide-eyed gaze locked on his.

“You are carrying my child.
My
.
Child
. Not some damned relic,” he stated possessively, making her heart flutter. “There’s also the little matter of these.” He held up the wrist with the cuff on it.

“Take them off,” she whispered. And even having said the words, she prayed he would deny her.

“No.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Why not?”

His lips compressed, and something odd flickered in his gaze.

Frowning, she pressed. “Why not, Gideon? Because without them you can’t touch me? Because I won the catch-a-demon-lover raffle by default? Go me,” she snapped, even as she watched him closely for a reaction.

He drew back, as if she’d somehow wounded him. And that made her feel an inch tall. Damn him. But then he blinked, and that odd light was back.

Guilt. That’s what was written all over his face. Guilt.

Finally, he pointed at his neck. “Notice what’s missing?”

Frowning, she glanced down at his bare, unmarked throat. She shook her head, meeting his gaze in confusion.

“I wore the key to these cuffs on a chain around my neck.” He raked both hands through his hair. “Mortikaï ripped it off in the fight at your place. Now he has the key.”

“Mortikaï?”

“Mortikaï is…” Something very dark and very ugly flickered over Gideon’s face as he spat the name out. “A mortal enemy. He was always jealous that I moved up in the ranks of Lucifer’s army faster than he did. He was jealous of my powers. But he’s lethal in his own right, and very dangerous. Remember the demon I told you about during practice? The one that can summon Hellfire? That’d be Mortikaï.”

She nodded, waiting for him to go on. When he didn’t speak, she prompted, “And without that key?”

He gritted his teeth, making the muscle in his jaw leap once more. “Without that key, these cuffs are never coming off.”

He turned and stalked to the window. Pulling the drapes aside, he stared out into the night. Maggie watched the silvery light play over his muscles, gleaming here, falling away into shadow there, as she struggled to grasp how Mortikaï having the key to the cuffs would affect their situation.

“As long as he has the key to these cuffs, I’m not taking any chances. I won’t risk him getting his hands on you. He could take them off, and then I wouldn’t be able to—” He turned back and a pallet appeared on the floor near the door. “I’ll sleep there,” he said.

The heat had drained out of him now, and he projected weary resignation. She didn’t like seeing him like that. Someone like Gideon was meant to take control of a situation and bend it to his will. He was meant to be filled with spirit and charisma. He was meant to dominate.

“You can have the bed,” he went on. “But neither one of us is
sleeping elsewhere
. Not tonight. Not any time in the foreseeable future. So you better get used to my snoring.”

Long moments passed as she stood there, hand on the doorknob, head bent, searching her soul. As if she had any choice in this matter. Finally, with as much dignity as she could muster, she crossed the room once more and climbed onto the bed. Turning on her side, she pulled the covers to her ears. She’d been deliberately cruel, wanted to hurt him before he could hurt her. But the way he’d recoiled whenever she’d accused him unfairly haunted her.

She’d only managed to make herself feel even worse.

Another long moment passed before Gideon’s footsteps faded across the room. The lights blinked off. Maggie could hear the shuffle of blankets as he settled on the pallet. And then a brutal silence descended.

Minutes or hours passed, she couldn’t tell. But, oh dear Jesus, it felt like forever. Every time she moved, the rustle of sheets, the muffled squeak of the bed made her flinch.

It didn’t sound as if Gideon was having any better luck falling asleep. Every time she moved, he shifted as well. Like they were in the same bed, moving in sync to accommodate each other. Sometime after the moon drifted past the slight part in the curtains, Gideon heaved a beleaguered sigh.

“You don’t ever have to fear that bastard again.” Gideon’s soft voice cut through the darkness, making her jump.

What?
Lost, she asked without thinking, “Who?”

“Randy,” came Gideon’s subdued, bitter response. “He’ll never terrorize another young girl again.”

Frowning into the dark, she couldn’t piece this latest conversation together. Shaking her head, she gave up and asked, “Why not? What happened?”

The silence stretched on, heavy with innuendo.

Understanding hit her like a brick to the face. Bolting upright in bed, she gasped, “Oh my God! You
ate
Randy?”

He didn’t answer. She sought his form in the deep shadows of the room. Gideon shifted on the pallet, and the whisper of moonlight revealed his movements as he laid his forearm across his forehead.

At first, she was too shocked to think of an appropriate response. And then the truth of it settled over her. Yes, he’d had to take a soul to survive. She’d thought she’d come to grips with that, until now. But she’d actually known this soul.

However, Gideon hadn’t preyed on an innocent. And as a result, a depraved pedophile wouldn’t be able to hurt helpless children any longer. Gideon had made sure of that.

How many kids had he saved by his actions tonight?

He had to have targeted Randy specifically. After all, what was the likelihood of stumbling upon—

Wait a second. Randy lived in a small town in the Midwest. They were in Tennessee. And Gideon certainly hadn’t shimmered to Randy. If he had, she would have been the first to know.

“How?” she asked before she’d had time to sufficiently form the full question in her head.

He choked. Sitting up, he suffered through a mild coughing fit.

She waited until he calmed down, then clarified, “How did you get to him? He isn’t exactly within driving distance.”

“I had Mikhail find him and bring him to me at a warehouse we use for…ah, questioning,” he explained, lying back down.

“Oh.” She fell silent. So Gideon had asked a friend for a favor, for her. She got the impression the small band often went out of their way to handle personal situations on their own. She wasn’t sure how to feel about any of this.

“Good,” she whispered, the words slipping from her without premeditative thought. Then that same small, vindictive part of her added loud and clear, “I’m glad.”

Gideon remained silent.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Lucifer’s balls,” he exclaimed, aghast, “don’t thank me!”

“Why not?”

“Do you have to argue about even this?” he asked, clearly incredulous, though she couldn’t understand why.

“You did something noble tonight, Gideon, and I just—”

“Noble? Noble!” he squawked. Gideon sat up and twisted to face her, a thin strip of moonlight bisecting his tormented face. “I killed a man tonight, Maggie. He might have been a rank, evil bastard, but he was still human. And I ended him. No, I took pleasure in ending him. And you wanna know what else happened? I’d just absorbed Randy’s soul. His body was probably still warm, in fact. That’s when your father found me. I’d just fed from a human, just like the monster I am. And then your father and I got into a brawl in the alley.”

Shame twisted his features as he turned away and lay back down facing the wall now.

“You’re not a monster, Gideon.”

He remained silent. Ignoring her? Silently arguing? She couldn’t tell, and it was driving her nuts. He couldn’t possibly think of himself that way. He was not a monster.

Before she gave herself time to reconsider, she slipped from the bed and trod across the room. Dropping to her knees beside him, she reached out and touched his shoulder. Gideon’s entire body went rigid.

Maggie pulled her hand back, and clenched her fists in her lap. “I know you, Gideon.” She caught the slight movement of his head, though he remained silent. Well this was one battle she was determined he would not win. “You were right earlier. I do know you,” she insisted. “You’re a lot of things…and not all of them necessarily very flattering…but a monster you are not,” she firmly declared.

He continued to hold his tongue. Frustrated, she did the only thing she could think of. Easing down, she wiggled her way onto his pallet, molding herself to his bare back like a second skin. Oh, he was so warm.