Guardian Demon (GUARDIAN SERIES) (54 page)

Then he did—pausing with the wide head of his shaft prodding at her entrance. Trembling with tension, Taylor waited. But he didn’t move. Not without permission.

She gave it, frustration turning his name into a desperate cry. “Michael.
Please.
”

But he didn’t. He held her still, features stark with need. “This is what I’d do, Andromeda. I’d take you. I’d make you mine.”

“Do it. Oh, God. Do it.”

He didn’t. Still holding himself back, though she was begging him. “I’d watch your face as I pushed into you. I would drink in every sound you made, consume the response of your body under mine. I’d find heaven in the sensation of you around me, tight and wet. Then I’d find it again. And again. Until your eyes flare white and I leap into the abyss.”

When he came.

“Now, Michael.” No more begging. A fierce command. “Now.”

The darkness cleared from his eyes. He drew back just enough to study her face. “You’re certain.”

“Yes.”

Despite her answer, he shifted her higher against his abdomen, away from the delicious pressure of his cock, and released her wrists. “If I take you to bed, will you regret it after you’ve had a chance to step back?”

“No. Goddammit, no. I
did
step back. On the beach, I told you that I didn’t want to rush. And we didn’t.” But she understood why he asked. Why he made certain. Sometimes Taylor
did
blow up when emotion overwhelmed her—and there was no other word for what this need did to her now. “What did I say the other night, that we’ll fit in time for a quickie? That’s what I
don’t
want. If the world comes to an end, I don’t want to bang because we’re afraid we might die and won’t have another chance. I want it to be on our terms. I want to take the time we need, while we can. I want that time to be now. Because I want you more than anything.”

“And I want to give myself to you, in every way that I can.” His head lowered to hers, but not to kiss. With his face against her neck, he drew in a long breath. Inhaling her scent. “I’ll return in a half hour, Andromeda. If you’re still certain, be right here.”

Wait even longer? “I
am
certain. I don’t need to step back.”

He lifted his head and she saw his grin. “But I need to warn Jacob and Selah not to teleport to us in the next few hours, unless it absolutely can’t wait.”

“Oh.” Okay. An interruption would
not
be awesome.

“And I don’t have a proper bed. I’ll find one.”

A waste of time. “We don’t need one.”

The ground would do. The block of stone behind her. The sky.

Learning to hover had to be good for something.

His fingers traced her cheek, his gaze hungrily following the slide of his thumb over her lips. “I have you until seven o’clock. I want to take my time, savor every second. So I’ll have you in a bed.”

Anticipation and heat curled through her. “All right. But hurry.”

“I will,” he promised, then dropped a soft, close-mouthed kiss to her lips.

And vanished.

Michael was hers. On the bed, she might let herself be his. For a short time.

So short.

He found Selah in London first, then jumped to Jacob in San Francisco. He arrived at headquarters, aware that Lilith hadn’t yet gone to sleep, though she’d ordered the other humans to, and that her anger leaked through her shields in a low, sharp hum. Anger at
him
.

Whatever it was, Michael couldn’t think of that now. Only of Andromeda waiting for him.

But she summoned him before he finished speaking to Jacob. “Michael. I need a minute.”

His jaw clenched. A minute that he wouldn’t have in Caelum. But Michael couldn’t ignore her. She would never call him in for a trivial reason. He didn’t always agree with her, but she rarely said anything that wasn’t of some value.

Though she left the door open, Lilith cut her finger and dotted the blood over the symbols scratched in the frame, activating the shielding spell. Instantly, silence descended around the office.

Michael frowned. “What is it?”

Long steps carried her to the desk before she turned to him, her smile like a razor. Though her shields were tight, Michael knew that expression. She was seething.

She adopted a friendly tone—and Lilith only did that when she was at her most dangerous. “What did Taylor do to deserve this? What did she do to make you hate her?”

That made no sense at all. “Explain yourself.”

“You’re not stupid, Michael. If I hated someone, wanted to hurt them—and if I was dying—I wouldn’t tell them. I’d make them think I loved them, and make them fall in love with me in return. So that when the end came, my death would destroy them. Have you told her?”

Michael hadn’t told Andromeda because he
didn’t
want to hurt her. But he didn’t say that to Lilith, not yet. Not until he understood what she was after.

He waited.

“I know you haven’t told her, because when she looks at you, she doesn’t see a dying man. She sees a man who will live forever.” She leaned back against the edge of the desk and crossed her arms. Settling in to tear him apart. “But you’ve been taking her to bed. Did you tell her it isn’t forever?”

“I haven’t said it was.” Michael hadn’t spoken of anything beyond next week. Or of love.

“But have you said it
wasn’t
? Because I caught her daydreaming about you. No doubt imagining a happy future together.”

“You’re lying.” She had to be.

“I lie often,” she agreed, amused. “But I’m not the one lying now. You know how Taylor feels. Can’t you admit it?”

“She is fond of me.” And the pain was almost unbearable as he said it. “Attracted. Nothing more.”

Andromeda wasn’t his. She didn’t want to love him—it wasn’t even something she could conceive of. And although Khavi had opened that door, what he’d done in Hell had closed it. He had her trust, but that wasn’t the same as her heart.

Lilith’s short laugh scraped his heart raw. “Have you seen how hard it is for her to become close to people? To call them a friend? But when she does, they all have one thing in common—Preston, Savi, Irena. She loves them.”

“And she cares for me,” he admitted stiffly. “But it is not the same.”

“Are you really this blind? But you’re not. You’re not.” She stared at him, her anger peeling away into confusion. Her brow creased. “You really believe you’re not going to hurt her.”

He’d sworn not to. But Michael knew some pain would be unavoidable. “She might grieve.”

“Might?
Might?
How can you speak as if this isn’t inevitable? She
will
grieve, because you will be dead.” Her incredulous gaze searched his face, looked right through him. Disbelief filled her voice. “You haven’t accepted that you’re dying.”

“I know I am.”

“No. You
say
that you know you’re dying. You just don’t believe it.” Her face hardened again. “But you’re dying, Michael.
You are dying.
Admit it out loud.”

“I have already told you. The dissonance will kill me.”

“No. Say that you are dying. ‘I am dying.’ Just three little words. Try.”

His jaw locked. Rage boiled deep. Even under torture, he wouldn’t have said them now.

And because she was right. He couldn’t. To say the words meant that he accepted that it would happen. And
nothing
was inevitable.

“But you told Hugh there was no hope—and it was the truth. There is no way to heal you.” Her eyes narrowed. “But that could be true, and yet there could still be one hope left. Do you expect the angels to save you?”

“No.” He never expected anything of them.

“Because I asked the wrong question. Do you think they
might
?”

“No. But it’s possible.”

Her mocking laugh possessed the rhythm of a stabbing knife. “So you’re waiting for a miracle? Why? Do you think you deserve it? Is it because you were friends with them, you think they’re going to swoop in and save you at the last second?”

Michael didn’t know. But her words sliced open a part of him that he’d never examined, but which had lurked within him, waiting.

He
did
believe they might save him. Not as a reward, but because they cared for him.

Lilith’s laughter faded into sharp amusement. “Well, if it happens, have fun explaining to Taylor why they healed you and not her brother.”

Before, her words had sliced him open; now they plunged through his chest like a spear. Because the angels did not care for one person more than another. They weren’t like humans, who loved a few people, and only the people they knew—the angels knew everyone’s heart, and they loved them all.

“So you’re holding out hope for that. You can’t bear any other outcome, so you believe the only one you can accept.” Lilith didn’t give that time to settle before she continued, “I
do
hope they swoop in. Because you’re not at full now, and we need you to be. How many days do you have left? Three? Four, if you’re really lucky? You should be focusing on stopping Lucifer.”

“I have been.” Even if the spell holding him together broke, he was determined to keep going until he saw Lucifer destroyed.

“But that’s not all you’re doing. You’re protecting her, fine. But you could have protected her without this. You could have remained distant.” Her anger was rising again. “But you had to get close. You fucking thoughtless, careless bastard. Because you’re dying, and all this time, she’s been falling in love with you.”

Andromeda, in love with him. The mere thought gave him so much joy—and too much pain. “I wouldn’t hurt her like that.”

“But you’re going to.”

Michael could only shake his head.

“You won’t even consider the possibility? You can’t accept it any more than dying. As if you can’t bear to hurt her—or you’ve convinced yourself that you
can’t
hurt her. I don’t know which, except that apparently, the only thing you can bear to believe is that she’s going to be okay. But she’s not. You’re going to rip her heart out.”

“You underestimate her. She’s strong.” Andromeda would always endure.

“I am, too. But let me tell you this. Hugh wasn’t a Guardian as long as I was a demon. We’ll both live longer than humans, but then I’ll outlive him by fifty years. And when he’s gone, I don’t know how I’ll survive. Me! All I’ve done my entire life is survive, and I don’t know . . . I don’t know
how
—” Her voice broke. She stared at him, her face a rigid mask, then shook her head when he stepped closer. Her hand shot out to ward away the comfort he would have offered, and she continued hoarsely, “You can’t give her that hope, Michael. That is what a demon does—gives hope, then rips it away. I know, because I destroyed so many people like that. You
can’t
do that to her.”

“I wouldn’t.” But his voice was rough, too, and his heart an open wound.

What if he was wrong?

“Just make sure she knows there’s no future. If you’re right and she only cares about you as a friend and a fuck buddy, she’ll know hurt and grief when you die. You can’t help that. But if you can, stop her from falling in love with you. And if she already is . . . have the decency to tell her that you’re dying. Give her some way to protect her heart a little.”

He would always protect her. Even from this. “I will make sure she knows.”

There was no future.

Except for the next few hours. Michael would give to her all the pleasure he could . . . and then carry the memory of it with him into eternity.

*   *   *

“La la la la la!”

Caelum pulsed beneath Taylor’s hand. In front of her, a pillar of marble surged upward. Eight feet tall, ten. High enough. These were just for practice. She couldn’t make herself focus on a full building, not with so much nervousness and anticipation buzzing through her. But pulling enough emotion from her gut to sing with wasn’t a challenge at all. Hope and happiness danced together, and she used them to create column after column in the courtyard.

Although . . . the last couple of pillars were looking kind of phallic. After the process of building them had become more familiar, she’d gotten a little distracted. The marble columns hadn’t been
all
that she’d been imagining while she sang.

Determined to concentrate, she picked out a new spot in the courtyard—then lost every bit of focus when another heartbeat joined hers.

Her own heart thumped wildly against her chest. Rising slowly, she fought the impulse to spin around and throw herself into his arms.

This wasn’t a big deal. It was just sex. No rainbows and unicorns. Just a penis and a vagina.

Taylor didn’t know who she was kidding. Not herself.

She turned to face him. Michael stood a few feet away, wearing the black wings that made his warrior’s body look even bigger than it already was. Obsidian eyes locked with hers before he slowly pivoted, examining the ring of columns she’d made around the courtyard. His gaze lingered on the last few, their mushroomed tops. A faint smile curved his lips before he met her eyes again.

Taylor wanted to laugh but she couldn’t catch her breath. “It’s getting easier. I think I’ll actually be able to do this. I might even have buildings within a week or two.”

His expression shuttered, but he didn’t conceal the sudden roughness of his voice. “I never doubted you, Andromeda Taylor.”

Okay, but something was holding him back now. Or maybe he was just waiting for her. Making sure this was her choice. So the first move would have to be hers.

Without hesitation, she crossed the distance between them. “Did you find a bed?”

“Yes.” His gaze briefly shifted beyond her head.

Taylor glanced over her shoulder. A huge mattress sat on the broken pavers, covered by a simple white sheet. But they didn’t need pillows or blankets. This bed wasn’t for sleeping.

He’d placed it in the one clear spot that still remained in the courtyard—at the center of the ring of columns, like an altar in some deformed temple. She hadn’t intended to build them in a circle—she’d just been moving around. But she kind of liked the effect now. Her own sex temple in her own ruined city.

She looked up at Michael again, found him watching her with hunger drawing sharp lines across his features. So this was going to happen now. And she wanted to just fling herself into it, but she lost herself so easily.

“Will you stand still for a few minutes so I can get my hands on you?” She wanted to touch him before the need swept her away. “Is that okay?”

Fists clenched at his sides, Michael nodded. In the silence of Caelum, the pounding of his heart sounded as loud as hers. Louder.

She tugged at the toga draped over his shoulder. “Can I take this?”

“I am yours, Andromeda. Take anything you like.”

The toga vanished into her hammerspace and he stood, magnificent in his wings and wrapped linen briefs. Nothing but strength and glorious bronze skin. Her head barely reached his shoulder, her mouth at his chest. Leaning in, she pressed her lips to the slab of his pectoral. His body tensed at the first touch of her mouth, muscle hardening to steel. Controlled, but not unaffected. Emboldened by his response, she traced her fingertips over the ridges of his abdomen. Her tongue swept across his small, dark nipple, then she returned for a gentle nip and another taste. No sweat, no salt. Just warm flesh.

Just Michael.

A quiver raced over his skin. Feathers rustled overhead. She licked the small nub again and looked up.

He was watching her. Feathers rustled again when she took another lick, but it wasn’t until her own arousal pushed a small moan from her throat that desire weighed heavy on his features, lowering his lids to half-mast and bringing a flush to his skin.

Still taking most of his pleasure from hers. Then she would do what pleased her most.

Her gaze didn’t leave his face as she lowered her hand. The wrapped linens were soft against her palm, heated by his thick iron length. His jaw clenched. Already obsidian, his eyes darkened. No gleam, just absorbing the light.

Softly, she gripped his erection through the cloth, his width filling her fingers. As hot as the thought of taking him inside her body was, she couldn’t ignore his size. “It’s been a while for me.”