A Devil Named Desire (21 page)

Samael the Fallen, still clutching his squirming son, cared not, for what mattered to him most was beneath his hand, and to his right. He turned his head to look at Gabriel, and saw that the lopsided grin had returned.

“Did you know about this?” he demanded.

Gabriel shook his head. “I didn’t, I swear it.”

And because he knew full well that Gabriel would never lie to him, he accepted the truth when he heard it.

Cain tugged at his shirt, drawing his attention. “Father?”

He looked down, into pale blue eyes so like his own. “Yes, my son?”

“Don’t be mad, but I think I lost my shoes again.”

Gabriel burst out laughing, the sound of it driving any lingering shades of regret away, to drift aimlessly on other sands, and other beaches.

“I’ll get you another pair,” Sammy told the boy gruffly, “and we’ll get Tesla a pair, too.”

Cain beamed up at him, while Gabriel cuffed him playfully on the shoulder. “Aren’t you going to formally introduce me to my nephew?” he asked.

“In a moment,” he said, memorizing the look upon his son’s face, so he would never, ever forget it.

Taking a deep breath, he then looked up at the Leviathan. “Thank you,” he said, and inclined his head in a deep gesture of respect. “Thank you for the life of my son, and for the lessons I’ve learned here today.”

“You’re welcome,” said the beast. “May they stay with you always.”

Sammy nodded again in acknowledgment, then turned to go. “Come, Cain. Let’s go home.” He walked a few steps, then turned, a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Wait a minute,” he said to the creature. “You told me that Gabriel had the key to the magic that kept you confined to the deep, yet you came here easily enough.”

“O Prince of Darkness, do you not see?” The Leviathan gave him a slow-eyed blink. “I lied.”

Chapter Twenty-three

G
abriel stood over Hope, watching her sleep. Where Sammy had brought him, he hadn’t asked—hadn’t cared—as long as Hope would be waiting for him when he got there. He and his brother had much to talk about, and many issues to resolve (which probably never would be), but he’d been content to leave Sammy alone with his son, for his soul cried out for Hope.

Hope, with her big green eyes and even bigger heart, which had been left with a hole in it when her sister disappeared. She’d tried to fill that hole with endless searching, with work, with guilt, and when the time came that she thought Charity gone forever, the Darkness that had rushed in to fill that hole had overwhelmed her.

What would’ve been the outcome, he wondered, if he’d been there the night Hope had lain down in that bathtub and taken that razor in hand? He would’ve revealed himself to her, surely, and she’d have seen him in all his angelic glory, the way he used to be.

He would’ve saved her from the Darkness, but to her, he would’ve been a creature from another world—a brilliant, gleaming world, to be sure—as far removed from her own as the Earth from a star. Then he would’ve gone away, knowing he’d done the right thing, but missing everything else: the way her green eyes snapped when she was angry, and softened when she wasn’t. The way her short blond hair spiked when she ran her fingers through it, and curled perfectly behind her ear. How rapt her face looked at the computer as she worked, and how she spoke to her cat as though it were a person. The warmth of her home, with its hardwood floors and eclectic furniture, the window that looked out on her neighbor’s garden.

He would never have known the smooth silkiness of her skin, touched the tender curves of her breasts, felt the softness of her inner thigh. The honeyed sheath between her legs would’ve forever remained a mystery, as would the ecstasy that flung him into the heavens in a different—yet just as glorious way—as his wings once had.

Her determination, her strength, her tenderness, her capacity for love; all of it would’ve been lost to him if he’d been the one to find her as her life’s blood drained away.

But Samael had found her first, and despite everything, in a strange, twisted sort of way, for that he was grateful.

A flicker of light caught his eye, drawing his attention from Hope’s face. As he watched, the flicker grew, expanding to become a white ball of light that drew him like a lodestone, growing bigger and bigger until it encompassed his entire field of vision. Then he was weightless, floating, drawn toward the core of the light without any conscious effort on his part, and while his soul drank it in like water, a piece of his heart remained beside a sleeping Hope, reluctant to leave her yet again.

“Gabriel, my son.” The Voice of the One was filled with warmth and kindness. “You’ve done well.”

Near to weeping, for he’d not expected to be once again in his Father’s presence this way, Gabriel bowed his head, overcome with emotion.

“During your time as a human,” said the One, “you’ve accomplished what you, as an angel, could never have done.”

“I’m glad you’re pleased, O Great One,” he answered. “But I’m not exactly sure what it is I’ve accomplished.”

A soft chuckle reached his ear, like a balm to a wound he hadn’t known he’d had. “You’ve allowed weakness to make you stronger, and better yet, you’ve shown your brother, by example, how to do the same.”

“Samael, he . . .” Gabriel hesitated, knowing that any past arguments on Sammy’s behalf had failed. “He’s changing. He’s not the same defiant child he was, my Father.”

“Well do I know it,” said the One, “but his journey isn’t over. It is, in fact, barely begun. Leave my prodigal son to me, my child, and have faith that I know what I’m doing.”

Gabriel bowed his head, accepting that he knew little or nothing of the One’s plans for the universe, and never would.

“You, on the other hand, have ever been my faithful and dutiful child. I fear that I, like fathers everywhere, may have taken your dutifulness for granted.”

“Not so,” stated Gabriel staunchly, “for there is nowhere I’d rather be than at your right hand.”

There was a pause, during which the Light pulsed, steadily, like the beat of a giant heart.

“Nowhere?” the One asked him softly.

Unable to help himself, Gabriel thought of Hope, sleeping peacefully somewhere far behind him. His body ached for hers, but he knew the body to be corporeal and life to be fleeting. The ache would fade. Over the years, she would grow old, and die, as she was meant to do, while he . . . he belonged to eternity, and the One whom he served.

“You have served me well, my son,” said the One, clearly knowing his thoughts, “and it is past time for me to reward you.”

Lost in his reverie of Hope, Gabriel waved the offer away. “I have everything I need, O Great One.”

“No,” said the Voice, “for you have changed, too, Gabriel. You’ve learned what it means to no longer be upon a pedestal, untouched by human emotion. You’ve felt the ground beneath your feet, and known what it’s like to feel it give way. You’ve known powerlessness, and discovered your own power in the process. You’ve known love, and given it freely in return, untainted by thoughts of duty and purpose. For these things I will reward you, my son, by giving you your heart’s desire.”

Stunned, Gabriel said nothing, for he knew not what to say.

“Go back to your beloved, my child, and grow old together. Give the world children, and raise them to revere and respect me as you have always done. Be a lover, a friend, a protector, a brother, a father, a mentor . . .”

Gabriel felt the Light enter his soul, touching the top of his head in a kiss of benediction.

“ . . . in short, my dutiful, loving child, go forth and be human, knowing we will see each other again when your life span is over.”

“Thank you, O Great One.” Gabriel bowed his head, deeply humbled by the gift he’d been given. “Thank you.”

D
espite her best efforts to stay awake, Hope couldn’t manage it. After her prayers, knees stiff, she’d lain down on the bed and thought of Gabriel, wondering endlessly where he was, if he was still alive, if he thought of her. She’d fallen asleep remembering what it felt like to lie in his arms, her cheek against his bare chest, listening to the all-too-human beat of his heart. She dreamed of his face, the way the hair fell over his cheek as he leaned over her, the touch of his fingers on her skin.

“Hope,” he whispered, and the sound of her name on his lips sent liquid shivers down her spine, pooling deliciously between her thighs. “Hope,” he said again, “my love.” She moaned in response, unable to help herself, offering her lips, her body, her heart, and wishing the dream would never end.

“Wake up, my beautiful one,” said Gabriel, and she felt his lips touch hers, breaking through the clinging cobwebs of the dream and waking her to one that was far, far better.

“Gabriel,” she gasped, looking into his warm brown eyes, so close to hers. “Gabriel.” Throwing her arms around his neck, she clutched him tight, glorying in the way his arms went around her back, pulling her hard against him. “You’re here, you’re alive . . .” She kissed him, then kissed him again, running her hand through his hair, down his back, scarcely able to believe that he was really there, in her arms.

“I’m here,” his said, the words muffled against her lips, “but I might not be alive much longer if you don’t let me breathe.”

Hope pulled away just enough to look into his dear, beautiful, smiling face, then started raining kisses on him again. “Then we’ll both die happy,” she said, between kisses.

He laughed, and fell into bed with her, rolling her over in one smooth motion so she lay atop him. “More than you know,” he said cryptically, “more than you know.”

“Where’ve you been? What happened? How did you get away?” Questions flooded her mind, and she couldn’t ask them fast enough, all the while staring down into his face, and the gorgeous brown eyes she thought she’d never see again.

“It’s a really long story,” he told her gently, tucking a short strand of her hair behind an ear, “and I think—maybe—that there will be plenty of time for me to tell it. Right now, though”—his eyes slid from her face to her neck, where her robe gaped open—“I’d much rather make love to you.”

“Nothing would please me more,” she told him huskily, shifting so that his growing erection pressed against the vee of her thighs, “but I have something to say to you first.”

His breath caught as she shifted. “Is there a way you could say it really, really fast?”

She shook her head, shifting again, just because she wanted to hear his breath catch a second time, and see the way his eyes darkened with desire. “I want to tell you how very, very sorry I am for everything I did to you . . .”

“Everything?” he murmured, trying to reach her neck with his lips.

“Well, not everything,” she amended, letting him nuzzle her neck for just a moment before dragging herself away. “I mean the way I got you thrown out of Heaven . . .”

“You didn’t get me thrown out of Heaven,” he murmured, merely transferring his lips lower, to her collarbone. “
This
is heaven.”

She nearly melted on the spot, but despite the enticing little nibbles Gabe was giving her, she was determined to say her piece. “I dragged you into all kinds of trouble,” she insisted, “and then I took shameful advantage of you . . .”

“Take advantage of me again,” he urged, pressing his hips upward so she felt every long, hard inch of him.

“You’re not helping,” she murmured, with a groan.

“I don’t want to help,” he breathed, placing kisses on the swell of her breast. “I’ve done enough helping today.” His lips moved lower. “Now I just want to help myself.”

“Gabriel.” With an effort, she caught his head between her hands and made him look at her. “I don’t quite know how, and I don’t know why, but we’re safe now. Charity and I are safe, so you don’t have to watch over me and protect me anymore.”

Gabe quirked an eyebrow at her. “I don’t?”

“You don’t,” she said firmly, even though she wanted him to. “You can go on and live your life without feeling like you have to babysit me anymore.”

He said nothing, merely watching her with those deep brown eyes that she’d love nothing more than to drown in.

“I can take care of myself,” she said, swallowing hard. “I’m done being a burden.”

“So you don’t want to marry me?”

Time stood still.

“What?”

Taking advantage of her stunned state, Gabe rolled, flipping her onto her back and rolling atop her in one smooth motion.

“I asked you,” he said slowly, “if you’d changed your mind about marrying me?”

“You . . .” She couldn’t breathe, and it wasn’t because of his weight. “We’ve never discussed marriage.”

“Do we have to?” His eyes were on her lips, which suddenly felt very dry.

“I’m pretty sure we do,” she answered, licking them.

“All right, then.” He settled himself more comfortably, shifting so that his length and hardness settled once more between the vee of her thighs.

She bit her lip, her eyes half closing at the sensation.

“I want to marry you,” Gabriel said, matter-of-factly. “I want to have children with you, at least one boy and one girl, and I want to take them to the park and read them stories and tuck them in at night.”

Hope’s eyes prickled, but Gabe wasn’t finished.

“I want to take you on vacations and buy you a dog and see your belly grow fat with our child—”

“Children,” she whispered, correcting him.

“—our children, and I want to go to work every day just so I can come home to you at night. I want you to cook for me and laugh with me and make glorious, delicious love with me.” He moved again, just to emphasize his point, and Hope gasped.

“I want to grow old with you, and watch the fine lines as the corners of your eyes deepen with age, and hear you complain about the silver in your hair. I want to kiss your wrinkled cheeks and hold your liver-spotted hand as we walk in the woods. I want to see you smile the first time you hold a grandchild of ours in your arms, and I want to lie down beside you every night for the rest of our lives.”

Speechless, she could only look up at him, clutching his strong, broad shoulders, the shoulders that were meant to bear the weight of the world.

“Now.” Gabriel tilted his head, giving her a lopsided smile. “Have we talked about it enough?”

“Yes,” she whispered, pulling him down for a kiss. “Yes, we have.”