My Soul to Keep (28 page)

The sight of the two hunters only made her want to weep for Jonah, at what she was losing … what she would never have again.

“Please,” she whispered, but she wasn't sure who she was asking for help. Sheppard? Or God himself. And why should he help her, a creature not of his making, an abomination. Why would he hear her call?

Her last sight before she closed her eyes and buried her face in Sheppard's chest was the elevator doors rolling open, delivering them from the fire and smoke and returning them to civilization.

S
HEPPARD CARRIED HER
a safe distance into the gathered crowd of onlookers. Behind them the building was gone. In its place, a pile of smoldering rubble and broken, fiery walls cast a deep red glow on the evening. A great serpent of black smoke, several shades darker than the pulsing night, rose into the Paris sky.

A song of sirens wailed, growing closer. She caught a glimpse of the two hunters before they disappeared into the crowd, swallowed up in the press of crawling bodies.

“Clear the fuck out of the way!” Sheppard shouted. Aside from a few glares, no one even seemed aware of them, too fixated on the mesmerizing fire.

“Move!” he snapped, clearly desperate to get away before the authorities arrived. Not an easy feat when the crowd surged and pushed
back at them, more people arriving every second to gawk at the burning hole in the earth. She stared bleakly at the disaster, certain no one was alive in there anymore. She turned away, hiding her face in Sheppard's chest, unable to bear the sight of it … the thought that Jonah was forever buried in the burning ruins.

Then something pulled at her, urging her to lift her head. Heat built at her core and her scalp tightened, tingling. Her heart fluttered wildly beneath her breastbone. She craned her neck for another look at the building she had just decided never to look upon again.

And she saw him.

Materializing out of the billowing black, he staggered beside Mila, one arm draped over her shoulder for support.

“Jonah,” she breathed.

“I'll be damned,” Sheppard muttered, turning to face Jonah and Mila as they approached.

“You brought him?” Sheppard asked as they came together in the throng.

Mila shrugged.

Jonah broke free from her and grabbed hold of Sorcha, pulling her from Sheppard. Even though she doubted he could support her—he could hardly stand by himself—she didn't protest. To have him again, with her, alive, his arms
surrounding her even if they fell to the ground … It was heaven.

But they didn't fall. He staggered for a moment, balancing himself with a hiss of warm breath in her ear. Her name sounded like a prayer on his lips. “Sorcha. Sorcha …
mine.
”

“Jonah.” She closed her eyes, squeezed her lids tight, as though she could trap the moment, lock and freeze it inside her. “Let's go home.”

Where home was failed to matter. Home was the two of them. Together.

The Seattle lights winked through the mist-shrouded city. Sorcha and Jonah barely moved where they lay, wrapped around each other like two contented cats.

Jonah kissed Sorcha's neck, urging her awake. “C'mon, time to head out.”

She blinked unfocused eyes, pulling herself from her sex-sated doze. “How am I supposed to move now?”

He glanced at the clock. “It's the best time to hunt,” he reminded her.

She dragged her pillow over her head and moaned. They'd been back in Seattle for over a month now. It had taken Jonah a while to recover from his wounds, to completely exorcize the poison from his system. Now that he was fully recovered, she could hardly keep up with him when they scoured the city hunting demons.

“You can sleep,” he offered. “I'll be back in a few hours.”

“Uh-uh. Not a chance. You're not going without me.” She tossed the pillow aside and sat up, teasing. “You're not changing your mind on me and leaving me behind while you have all the fun.”

“I haven't changed my mind. We're in this together. This is what you want to do … and what I
have
to do.” His eyes looked far away for a moment before fixing back on her. “I'm not running from anything ever again. Not this …” He rubbed the back of his neck where he was marked, touched by God to hunt demons, to protect white witches from possession. “Not my heart—
you.
I was stupid to let you go.” He winced, and brushed a hand against her cheek, his thumb lingering on the soft skin. “And it nearly killed us.”

She traced his bare chest, scraping him lightly with her nail. “Let's not go over that again. No one made you come after me, but you did. And now we're here, together and happy, and that's not going to change.”

He stared down at her, his eyes stark and fathomless, a sea of blue that she could happily drown in. “There was never any doubt. I'll always come for you. Without you, I cease to exist.”

Her chest heaved with a sharp breath. “Careful, I could get used to you saying things like that.”

Jonah lowered his head, his mouth savoring
hers as he spoke. “Then brace yourself, because you're going to hear it. A lot.”

“I thought we were heading out,” she murmured between deep, drugging kisses, curling her fingers into his muscled shoulders and giving as good as she got.

“We will. We will. But first things first.” Jonah's hand delved between their bodies, finding her pulsing warmth, feeling the beat of her heart, a matching rhythm to his own. “This is important, too.”

She gave a tiny gasp as he invaded her with a touch, a penetrating stroke. “Oh, very important. Life-and-death important.”

She smoothed her palm against the side of his face, relishing the scratchy bristle. “I could get used to this, too.”

He arched a brow. “Yeah?”

She smiled. “Yes. I'm afraid you're stuck with me.”

He released a deep, exaggerated sigh. “Then I might as well marry you.”

She stilled, the blood rushing from her face. “Don't tease, Jonah—”

“I'm not. Trust me. A man doesn't joke about marriage. Especially not me. For us, ‘until death do us part' is a really long time. Marrying me is forever, Sorcha.”

She dropped back on the pillow, shaking her head, her hair tumbling around her, rippling against her shoulders. “Why do you want to marry me? You don't need to. I'm not going anywhere—”

“Sorcha.” A touch of exasperation laced his voice. He feathered her bangs back from her forehead as he leaned over her. “It's what people do when they love each other.”

“Love each other,” she echoed, her belly fluttering as those words wove through her.

“Yes, of course. What else are we doing here?” He stared at her expectantly, as if waiting for her to get it, to understand … to accept.

He was right, of course. Why else had she come back with him to Seattle? Why else had she forgotten about her life in New York—discarded even her determination to kill Tresa? For now, at least. If she ever decided to resume her hunt, she was content with the knowledge that Jonah would be with her, at her side.

Without uttering a word, they had both understood as soon as they left Paris that neither one of them would leave the other's side again. She found more than love in his arms. She'd found her soul.

She nodded, felt a silly, happy grin breaking out on her face. “We're loving each other,” she breathed.
Loving.

“Exactly.” He pulled her flush against him, smiling, sighing his pleasure, clearly savoring the press of her body against his. “I've waited my whole life for you … and I'll spend the rest of it with you. Never apart.”

Never apart.

His voice rolled through her, husky and warm.
Never apart.
Never alone again. No matter what happened, no matter where fate led either of them, they would be in it together.