Beneath the Skin (48 page)

Ready for use.

Cold fingers latched around his heart. One night, one way or another, he would be free--his life, his own. But if this, shovels on the walls of a palace he'd punched a gate into, equaled the first step onto that path, then so fucking be it.

"Unlike any
creawdwr,
yes," another voice said--Gabriel--a voice winding tighter and tighter with anger. "But also a misguided and naive child. How could you allow him to chose a mortal for his first
calon-cyfaill,
Star?"

"She balanced him without even a touch," the Morningstar replied. "That speaks for itself, don't you think?"

"I'm right here. Talk
to
me, not
about
me, assholes." Dante's wings automatically fluttered, fanning the scent of burning leaves into the corridor. Pain rippled along his muscles.

Gabriel's Fallen companions had dropped to their knees, their gazes fixed on the marble floor, all color drained from their faces.

"Y'all should stand up," Dante said. "Don't know why the fuck you'd kneel for anyone--unless it's in the bedroom--otherwise it's annoying as hell."

One pair of eyes, golden and curious, darted a look up, then away again. The other Fallen remained motionless as if they'd already been turned to stone.

Dante sighed. Returning his attention to the Morning-star, he asked, "What's a
calon-cyfaill
?"

"A bondmate," the Morningstar said. "A heartmate. The strongest and most profound relationship among Elohim."

"One that should never be shared with a mortal," Gabriel grumbled.

Dante
moved,
but this time the fallen angel, adrenaline peppering his scent, leaped out of reach before Dante could snag him. But then he tripped over his kneeling companions and sprawled ass and elbows onto the hard floor.

Dante crouched beside him, his wings fanning, then closing, and nearly unbalancing him in the process. "I'll share whatever I want, with whoever I want," he said. "We clear?"

Sweat popped up along Gabriel's hairline, but fury slashed across his face. "You're too young to know what you want," he said, pushing himself up onto his knees. "Or even to know what's in your best interests. You
can't
be bound to a mortal."

"Why the hell not?"

"It isn't done. Simply not possible." Gabriel's gaze flicked past Dante to Heather. "Or shouldn't be, anyway."

"Anything's possible," Dante said. "For instance, you're gonna break the spell you placed on Lucien--my father--and you ain't gonna send anyone after me again."

Gabriel's gaze flew back to Dante. "Your father," he breathed. "I
knew
it." He frowned, replaying Dante's words. "After you again? Are you saying that you're
leaving
? But your place is here in Gehenna on the Chaos Seat."

"Ain't interested. I'm only here for Lucien."

"Perhaps you might consider infusing new life into the land," the Morningstar said, voice low and smooth, "once you've taken your father home and gotten him settled."

Gabriel looked at the Morningstar, his head tilted.

"Maybe, yeah." Dante pointed down the corridor to the cooling hole/gate in the marble wall, capturing Gabriel's attention once more. "You wanna talk to me, just ask nice. But it's gonna be on my terms, my time. Ain't gonna play games."

"I don't think you understand," Gabriel said. "You are all we've dreamed about for millennia. We can't just let you walk away. You need to be bound--"

"Ain't binding me. Not now. Not ever." Dante reached out and pushed Gabriel's whiskey-colored hair away from his ear and whispered into it. "If you wanna push things, you wanna fight me, call me out, and I'll be right fucking here." Blue flames pinwheeled along his fingers. "We clear
now
?"

A muscle jumped in Gabriel's jaw. When he spoke, his voice was pure frost. "Very clear."

"Now break that fucking spell."

WINGS FANNED THE PIT'S sulfurous stench and smoke into the air and through Lucien's fevered dreams. Hot hands pushed his hair back from his face. Held him as others unscrewed the barbs from his shoulders and unclipped the bands from his wings.

Held him tight. Held him close.

Lucien dreamed of Dante. Smelled him, burning leaves and evening frost.

Heated lips kissed his forehead, his eyelids, his lips. Lucien awakened and looked into eyes of deepest brown, blue flames flickering in their depths.

His son's eyes.

"Found you,
mon cher ami, mon pere,
and I ain't never losing you again," Dante said, voice husky. "We're going home."

"I'd like that,
mon fils,
" Lucien whispered. "I'd like that very much."