The taste of blood hardened his c*ck until it ached. He shook her. “I don’t give a shit how I have you. I just want you to stop jerking me around and give up the goods.”
Her hand fisted in his hair and yanked. “Who the f**k are you? Because you sure as hell aren’t Alec Cain.”
Shaking violently, he felt like a drunk in need of booze. The vestiges of Eve’s Novium were leaching into his system, spurring his dark needs further. He changed tactics.
“Come on, angel,” he coaxed. “You know you want it as bad as I do. You know how good it is between us. How hard you come when I’m f**king you. . . until you’re begging me to stop..
Her dark eyes were fever-bright, her lips slick and swollen. “You’re pushing me like Robert,” she said scornfully. “Remember him? My ex from high school who wanted to pop the cherry I saved for you?”
“Eve—” Bloodlust surged at the memory of the cocky blond kid who’d tried to hard-sell Eve into a screw in the back of a Mustang. Alec had known then that he couldn’t allow anyone else to have her.
Don’t let the thing inside you have her.
His grip ripped her jeans further. A second more and there would be nothing left.
She yanked his head down to hers, her mouth slanting across his, wet and hot. Fueled by anger and determination, the kiss punished him so thoroughly his throat clenched tight against it. He hated her like this, hated himself for making her like this.
I’m sorry, angel. .. sorry..
She changed at the sound of his voice. Gentled. A low moan vibrated in her chest, a sound of longing and surrender. The convulsive flexing of her fingers at his nape and the feel of her hand sliding up beneath his shirt conveyed a wealth of feeling. Her tongue pushed past his lips, licking deep and slow. Savoring. She loved him too much to stay mad at him.
And the part of him that had loved her before the ascension knew if he didn’t get her away from his personal demons, they would break her.
He twisted his head away, gasping. He didn’t want her in rushed brutality. He wanted her slow and long. Soft and pliant. It was the thing inside him that wanted to turn what they had into something... wrong.
“Alec.” Eve pressed her forehead to his. “Something isn’t right with you. Isn’t right in you. I can feel it.”
Take her, the voices urged.
“I need to fuck,” he said coldly. Deliberately. “Take your clothes off before I rip them off.”
She pushed away. The pain in her eyes made him desperate to take the words back. He didn’t.
“Alec?”
He ripped open the button fly of his jeans, freeing his cock. “On your knees. I want your mouth first.”
“Fuck you.”
“I’m going to f**k you instead.”
Her arms wrapped around her torso. She backed away a step at a time. He forcibly restrained himself from stalking her further.
A tear slipped down her cheek. “It’s like there are two people inside you. The Alec I know, and a monster.”
“You’re starting to bore me, Eve.” His mark burned at the lie.
“You’re starting to scare me.”
Alec struggled to remain upright, wracked by a pain in his chest that threatened to double him over. But she didn’t seem to see it. No, she saw only the darkness inside him that wanted to do things to her Alec couldn’t allow.
“I changed my mind.” He rebuttoned the fly of his jeans with slow, leisurely movements.
Her gaze was wary, as if she was considering running. He hoped she didn’t. He wasn’t sure he could fight the urge to hunt her down.
“I’ve decided to accept your Dear John speech after all.”
Her gasp was audible, as if he’d struck her. “What?” he queried snidely. “Didn’t you mean it?” Alec turned his back to her, walking around her desk to put something substantial between them. “That’s one of your problems, Eve. You’re a tease. You were fun while we were f**king, but now—”
She reached out to Abel and an instant later was gone, shifted away by his brother before he could say more. Alec leaped over the desk, unable to fight the fury at her loss.
An unseen force restrained his pursuit. His feet were rooted to the carpeted floor, causing him to nearly topple when he attempted to lunge.
Sabrael’s amused voice spoke behind him. “You broke her heart with laudable precision. You always did cut to the quick?”
Alec stumbled as he was freed. He pivoted, flinching from a blinding brightness that put the sun to shame. Blinking rapidly, he engaged the thick layer of corneal lubrication that enabled him to see through the seraph’s glow to the man within. Sabrael sat at Eve’s desk, his six wings tucked away, his feet resting atop the edge of her desk. The wicked spikes that lined the outside edges of his black leather boots glinted in the glare of his luminescence. The brutal footwear was a stark contrast to the white, one- shouldered robe he wore. The visual dichotomy was a physical manifestation of the angel’s temperament. Outwardly a model of his station, Sabrael hid a razor’s edge of cruelty.
“I’m busy, Sabrael. You’ll have to wait in line” The seraph’s eyes filled with the purest, bluest of flames and a hint of laughter that made Alec’s hackles rise. “Relax. I am not here to cash in my chips, Cain. I am here on behalf of your mother.”
“No.” Alec shook his head, anticipating the question. “Not now?”
“You keep delaying her. She is displeased.”
Alec snorted. “Haven’t you noticed the world’s gone to shit? It’s not safe?”
“Gabriel disagrees” Sabrael’s smile was both beautiful and frightening. “He is weary of her complaints, so you have a week to prepare for her. Besides, you have a home now. Surely this visit will be less hazardous than when you were roaming?”
“You’re pissing me off.” The seraphim regularly withheld information from God, but the extent of their subterfuge never failed to astound. “Tell Jehovah what’s going on down here and he’ll settle her. He won’t risk her, you know that.”
Sabrael crossed his massive arms. “You have everything under control, do you not? If you are incapable of the task you requested, simply let me know and I will relieve you of the burden.”
Jaw clenching, Alec fought the urge to attack. With a seraph, it would be suicidal. “I’ve got a handle on things.”
“Excellent. Then there should be no problem with your mother visiting.” Sabrael brushed at his immaculate robe, as if he were not intensely focused on Alec like a hawk with its prey in sight. “Does Evangeline know that this promotion is what you wanted? Did you tell her that?”
“Does it matter now?”
Sabrael laughed softly. “I suppose not.”
“Sara was with Abel for a long time,” Alec said with a shrug, while inside, his discomposure grew. “Relationships aren’t impossible.”
Yes, he’d suspected he would lose his ability to love Eve—if only subconsciously—but he’d planned on her leaving him first. He’d intended for her to be mortal again and moved on with her life when his advancement came. The loss of his ability to love her would have been welcome then. How else would he survive her loss?
But Eve wouldn’t understand. She would see only that his love for her had taken a back seat to his ambition.
“Sarakiel toyed with Abel,” Sabrael argued, “and Abel used her in return. God created us to connect physically by design. But sex does not a true partnership make.”
“I really don’t care about Abel or our anatomy.”
“And now, you do not care about Evangeline either. Life must be much simpler for you.”
“Go away,” Alec dismissed. “You’re annoying me.”
The seraph burst from the chair like a rocket. In a flaming trail of wings, leather, and spikes, he kicked Alec in the chest and ripped through to the other side. The gaping, smoldering hole Sabrael wrought was so wide it nearly severed Alec’s torso in half.
Dropping to his knees with an agonized scream, Alec toppled to the floor, his cheek skinned by the harsh pile of the carpet.
You forget yourself, the seraph roared.
In torment, Alec tapped into the power of his beast and found the strength to extend a middle finger and flip Sabrael off.
There was a moment of terrible silence, when his pained gasps were the only sounds to fill the eerie quiet. Then Sabrael laughed—laughed-—and hauled Alec to his feet, restoring him.
“You amuse me, Cain.” The seraph brushed away Alec’s tears with tender swipes of his thumbs. “Because I like you, I will not tell your precious Evangeline about your choice of ascension over her. Your secret is safe with me.”
Alec slapped the scorching hands away. “Leave Eve out of this.”
The seraph hovered over him with a broad smile. “Might I suggest you purchase new linens for your guest room? Something floral, perhaps? Your mother does love gardens.”
As swiftly as he’d come, the seraph was gone.
Alec began to pace, his mind working judiciously. The seraph clearly needed something else to occupy him. But what?
Then there was Eve.
The time had passed when he could have laid everything out on the table for her. Now he had to find a way to get his shit together. He refused to believe that his brother had been right all those years ago, when he’d shouted the words that had goaded Alec to kill him.
The darkness in him smiled at the memory and his lips curved in a mirroring movement before he caught himself.
Who the f**k was running the show in his body?
He inhaled and exhaled, restoring a semblance of his usual equanimity.
One thing at a time. Sabrael. Eve. Himself.
Hand to his stomach, Alec still felt the tearing of the seraph’s boots through his entrails.
Black leather. Spikes.
An idea formed.
He shifted to another part of the building and paused, eyeing the lone blonde on the indoor shooting range. Tucked away in the bowels of Gadara Tower, the range provided a convenient place for Marks to hone their marksmanship. Silver bullets were still the swiftest way to vanquish werewolves.
Sensing his perusal, Iselda Seiler—Izzie, as the other Marks called her—turned her head and met his gaze. She set her gun down and removed the glasses and hearing protection that was less critical for Marks than mortals, but still necessary. She studied him with a now familiar odd intensity that had taken him some time to become accustomed to. There was an air of expectation about her, a sense that she was searching for something in his speech or expression.
His gaze lowered from the kohl-rimmed blue eyes, to the purple-stained mouth, to the spiked leather collar around her neck.
Malice made him smile. “I have a task for you, Ms. Seiler.”
Her eyes glittered. “I’m at your service.”
Eve wished she could cry. As it was, she felt as if her heartbreak was bottled up inside her, building in strength until something exploded.
“Ugh.” Abandoning the drawing table, Eve moved to the desk and woke her computer. She logged into the Gadara Enterprises system and opened the file that contained her report of the Upland incident. When she’d been told that the mark system kept secular records as well as celestial ones, she had been shocked at what she considered a security breach waiting to happen. But both Gadara and Alec had assured her that a divine hand protected the information. God liked the status quo.
As she refreshed her recollection of the report, she noted the sidebar with various links that ran along the right side of the main text. There were reports from Reed and Mariel—both handlers who’d lost Maiics to the heithounds—as well as the guards who’d been present, Alec, and Gadara himself. It was the latter she was most interested in, so Eve clicked on it. A password prompt box appeared and she frowned.
What would Gadara use as a password?
Archangel. God. Celestial. Mark. Christ. Jehovah. Bounty hunter Christnws.
Nothing worked. Eve growled. A warm breeze moved over her skin. Her eyes closed.
Reed.
She reached for him, into him, farther than was necessary, running the name “Raguel” through his mind to see what stirred.
He who inflicts punishment upon the world and the luminaries.
“That doesn’t help.” she muttered.
Eve was drawing a supporting column in her preliminary sketch when Montevista shouted from her living room.
“Hey, Hollis! Wanna play?”
She finished the precise line before answering. “No, thanks. You two go ahead.”
“Aww, man,” Sydney complained. “I’m getting tired of kicking his ass at Wii tennis.”
“Try the bowling.”
She glanced at the clock on the wall. Staying focused for longer than fifteen minutes was impossible when she felt as if her world was falling apart. In her mortal life, her brain would have overridden everything and allowed her to lose herself in her design work. As a Mark, her body was a machine that no longer listened to her brain. The mark tapped into her roiling emotions and channeled them into a nearly overwhelming desire to run, hunt, kill...
Alec dismissed me as f I meant nothing to him.
Quit digging, he admonished, with warm amusement. I’ll be there soon, and you can ask me what you want.
Breathing deeply, Eve closed her eyes and reached out to Alec. She moved tentatively, furtively, like a blind person searching through an unfamiliar room.
Until she was snatched by thick, talon-tipped fingers and tossed into the darkness.
CHAPTER 8
Alec’s mind was like an ocean in the midst of a hurricane. Eve was tossed, battered. Dunked beneath the surface, only to emerge gasping. How would she ever find anything inside him? She couldn’t even find Alec.
What do you seek?
She ceased her thrashing. The voice was only vaguely familiar, yet alluring in a way only Alec’s could be. Floating among the flotsam of his emotions, she waited with bated breath for another word from him that might reassure her.