A Devil Named Desire (16 page)

“Wait as long as you like,” Gabriel replied, his voice unruffled. “But for now, be gone.”

Hope began to rock back and forth, wanting only for the moment to be over, the smell to be gone, the nightmare to end.

“I exorcise thee,” intoned Gabriel, his voice getting louder, “by the virtue of these names  . . .”—a string of which ensued, none of which Hope could begin to remember or pronounce. “Return to your place, in the name of the One.”

Then, to her surprise, Gabriel recited what seemed to be the entire first chapter of Genesis, starting with, “In the beginning . . .”

Tears squeezed from behind her lids, for Hope was certain that she’d forgotten it, yet the story was familiar, so familiar. As she listened, she remembered her mother and father, dressed in their Sunday best, dropping her and Charity off in Sunday school before going into the sanctuary of Bethlehem Baptist Church. She remembered her Sunday school teacher, Mrs. Webster, beaming at her, handing out bits of candy when she memorized the weekly verses correctly. The smell of the building—old wood and beeswax—the color of the carpet, the big white cross on the wall.

So many things she’d thought she’d forgotten, until Gabriel recited one of the earliest stories ever told, and she remembered.

She clung to those memories, along with the pillow, until Gabe finished, and the silence in the room was absolute.

“Hope.” The bed dipped as Gabriel came to sit beside her. “Are you all right?”

Without thinking, without hesitation, she turned her face into his chest, and wrapped her arms around him. He did the same, pulling her close.

Beneath her cheek, his heart—his human, beating heart—was pounding, as was hers.

She wanted to cry, but didn’t, for she’d had enough of tears. He’d been strong for her, and kept her safe, just as he’d promised, and she wouldn’t repay him by falling apart as soon as the worst was over. Let him draw strength from her for a change, if at all possible.

They sat there for a few moments, his breath on her hair, the broad planes of his back beneath her palms. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

He drew away, and she let him go, wishing she didn’t have to. In the dimness of the hotel room, his face looked drawn, and tight.

“That must’ve been so hard,” she murmured. “I don’t know how you did it.”

He gave her a tired half smile. “To be quite honest, I’m not quite sure how I did it, either. Before, I’ve always had my flaming Sword of Righteousness as a backup.”

Hope gave a nervous laugh at the joke, then let it die when she realized that he was serious.

“I’m pretty sure it took the last drop of residual power I had,” he told her. “From here on out, it’s hand-to-hand combat. No more ethereals if I can help it.”

She shuddered, unable to help herself. “Ethereals?” The memory of that face, that horrible, moldy face . . . She thrust the image away.

“Some demons are ethereal, some are corporeal, like the Dronai in your apartment.” He put out a hand, as though about to smooth her hair, then let it drop. “But that’s enough about them . . . to speak of them gives them power.”

“Then let’s never speak of them again,” she said decisively.

There was a silence, then “You never told me about your parents.”

She looked away, staring at the beam of sunlight that cut across the bed. “It’s not something I like to talk about.”

“I’m a good listener,” he said softly, and so, because the room was quiet and the wounds were already bare, she told him.

“I was twelve,” she said. “Mom and Dad were romantics, I guess, because we always had candles on the dining room table. One night, I couldn’t sleep, and I wanted to read, but I was afraid to turn on the light, because they’d catch me. So I went downstairs, lit one of the candles, and took it into the living room. I curled up on the couch and read for a while, but then I got sleepy.” She smiled a little, remembering how warm and cozy and
smug
she’d felt that night, thinking she’d outsmarted her parents. “Sometime later I apparently woke up and stumbled off to bed, but I forgot all about the candle. I woke up in the hospital, being treated for smoke inhalation. It was the next day before they told me that both my parents were dead.”

Gabe reached out and took her hand, saying nothing, and it was his silence that enabled her to continue. “Charity was only eight at the time. We were separated, put into different foster homes, and it wasn’t until I was twenty and could prove I could support her that I got her back.”

“That must’ve been tough,” he murmured. “Quite a responsibility for one so young.”

Hope shrugged. “I wanted it. I’d torn our family apart, and I wanted to put it back together. It just didn’t work out the way I planned, that’s all. Charity didn’t need me to be her mother, she needed me to be her friend, and I failed at that. She was always out, always going, always partying . . . and then one night, she just didn’t come home.”

Gabriel sighed, lacing his fingers through hers, almost as though he didn’t realize what he was doing. “I, too, know the pain of an errant sibling.” His broad shoulders seem to slump a bit. “Samael and I were brothers once, you know.”

She didn’t, but kept quiet, letting him have his turn to talk.

“Eons ago, before the age of mankind.” He looked away, remembering. “The universe was our playground. Samael was always a bit wild, more daring than most of our angelic brothers, but never cruel.”

The image Gabriel painted didn’t match the monster she’d come to know, but Hope didn’t doubt his word. He was clearly pained by the memories.

“Everything changed when the One decided to create mankind in His own image. Some of the angels were jealous, some merely curious. Samael was unable to resist spying on them, and it was then that he saw Eve, alone in the garden.”

Hope’s eyes widened when she realized what he was saying. “But . . . but I thought it was a serpent who . . .”

Gabe uttered a low laugh, completely devoid of humor. “Think about it, Hope. Early civilizations were very big on imagery.”

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

“Exactly,” he answered grimly. “Angels mating with humans is strictly forbidden, so when Samael did it, he was punished, severely.”

Hope lowered her head, feeling her cheeks burn with shame. No wonder Gabriel had turned her down, and yet she’d still tried to seduce him. Even without his participation, she’d managed to ruin his life through her own selfishness.

“Samael was cast down, and instead of accepting his punishment as just, he incited a war, an uprising against the One, causing many of our brothers to be cast down as well. Everything he’s done since has been done in an effort to prove that if mankind can be forgiven for being unable to resist temptation, he should be also.”

“That’s pretty twisted,” Hope murmured, doing her best to follow.

“It is,” Gabe agreed heavily. “Samael is nothing if not complicated.”

“You still care about him, don’t you?”

He pulled his hand from hers, using both of them to scrub his face, and didn’t answer.

The urge to comfort him became overwhelming, and greatly daring, Hope put her hand on his shoulder. He froze, but didn’t move away. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured, “I’m so sorry for all of it, including my part in it.”

Gabe turned his head and looked at her, but she couldn’t read his eyes in the dimness. His hand moved to cover the one she’d placed on his shoulder, and her heart skipped a beat.

“He’s not going to stop,” he told her, in a low voice. “He’ll come after us again.”

Instead of being frightened, her heart soared at his use of the word “us.”

“I’m afraid of what he might do to you, Hope, and without my full powers, I’m not sure I can prevent it. The incantations within the Key of Solomon can only hold him back for so long . . . he’s grown stronger through the ages.”

For the life of her, she couldn’t bring herself to say anything more than “You’re stronger than he is, and you always will be.”

“When it comes to you, I’m not strong at all,” he murmured huskily. He leaned toward her, his lips drawing hers like a magnet. Warm, firm, and oh so tender . . . just a brush at first, and then deeper, longer. The next thing she knew she was in his arms, his body hard against hers, and nothing else mattered, on Earth or in Heaven.

A
t the touch of Hope’s lips, so soft against his own, Gabriel was lost. He wanted more of her, more, and before he knew it, he’d wrapped his arms around her and dragged her hard against him. Her mouth opened to his kiss, her breath mingling with his, the heat of it drawing him in like a fire on a cold day. She made a noise, low in her throat, but he barely heard it as he turned, the better to hold her, and pressed her back upon the bed, never taking his lips from hers.

Her arms were tight around his shoulders, yet he wanted them tighter still. The soft globes of her breasts were against his chest, drawing a groan from deep within him. His manhood stirred, pressing against the curve of her hip, and he could no more control it than he could stop the rising of the tide.

For it was the tide that had him now, a tide of desire like nothing he’d ever known, and he would happily, gladly drown in it.

Follow this experience where it may lead you
, the One had said, and his heart filled with gratitude, for once again, the Almighty had shown him grace and wisdom. As an angel, this flood of heat and pleasure was forbidden, but as a man . . .

Gabe ceased to think as Hope’s lips slanted over his, and her tongue touched his lips. Instinctively he seemed to know what she wanted, and opened his mouth so that she could taste him more fully. His heart began to pound as her tongue slipped inside to twine with his, tasting of sweetness and heat, and glorious, decadent deliciousness. Time ceased to exist, for there was only now, only Hope, warm and alive in his arms. Her fingers were in his hair, the scent of her, as sweetly feminine as a rose in a garden, in his nose.

He felt her hands, tugging and pulling at his shirt, and broke contact only long enough to let her drag it over his head before plunging once again into an exploration of her luscious mouth. She arched against his bare chest, running soft hands over his back and hips, and he sensed her frustration at the layers of clothes that separated them, for he felt it, too.

Regretfully, he pulled his lips from hers and rose from the bed, unbuckling his belt as he went. He had no patience with modern fastenings, his fingers tearing at both the button and the zipper on his jeans as he kicked off his shoes. In mere moments he’d stripped them from his body, leaving him naked, his manhood hot and hard in the cool air of the hotel room.

Hope had risen to her elbow on the bed, and gasped as he straightened, her eyes going from his groin to his face, and back again. Modesty had never been a problem for him, and it wasn’t a problem now—he felt himself swell even further with the knowledge that what she saw pleased her.

Offering her his hand, he helped her stand, but as her fingers went to the buttons on her blouse, he stopped her.

“Let me,” he murmured, and proceeded to do what he’d never before done, and disrobe a woman.

Button by button, he opened her shirt, then slipped it from her shoulders. Another button at her waist, a zipper, then he knelt to help her step from her shoes. Still on one knee, he put his hands to her hips and drew down her pants, leaving her clad in lacy undergarments of pink and white. As she stepped free of her jeans, he caught a glimpse of her inner thigh and smelled, for the first time, the scent of a woman’s arousal. It was dizzying, intoxicating, causing him to momentarily close his eyes before hooking two fingers in the scrap of lace that hid her femininity from his eyes, and draw that down, too.

He stared, transfixed, at the golden curls that covered her mound, scarcely noticing as Hope’s hands left his shoulders to remove her bra, letting it fall atop the pile of clothes at her feet. He looked upward then, at the rounded curve of her breasts, twin mounds tipped with pink, and above that, to her face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, and even in the dimness he could see how her lower lip trembled. He put his hand to the soft curve of her belly, and she caught her breath, holding it, as he passed his palm over her warm skin, letting it coming to rest at her waist. He rose, naked and yearning, and caught her against him for another kiss, even more passionate than the ones that had come before.

Then they were on the bed, and he groaned aloud at the feel of her bare skin against his: her leg, hooked over his thigh, her breasts, crushed to his chest. Unable to stop, unwilling to hold back, he dipped his head and drew one of them into his mouth, thinking no fruit could possibly taste sweeter.

Hope gasped, arching her back, offering herself to his lips and tongue, and Gabe took all she offered, and more. His hands stroked and squeezed, his cock surged and throbbed, and everywhere she touched him he felt fire dance along his nerve endings like electricity in a storm. The noises she made inflamed him, and when his fingers slipped down to touch the damp curls at her center, so wet and hot, he shuddered and gasped as much as she. Not content to just touch, however, he slid down and kissed her there, her scent driving him beyond the point of rational thought.

“Gabriel,” she whispered, and the sound of his name on her lips drove a shaft of heat from his lips to his groin. He wanted to devour her, to plunge his tongue within her heated depths as he’d done with her mouth, but she wound her fingers in his hair and dragged him up for another scorching kiss. He gave it to her gladly, feeling her heart pound beneath his hand as he cupped her breast, learning the contours of her body with his fingers and palm, roving over her hip and buttocks. She threw her leg over his thigh again, bringing his manhood close—oh, so close—to her heated femininity, and he surged, unable to help himself, into warm, honeyed bliss.