Dark Hope (35 page)

“But seriously,” I added, trying to remind myself that things weren’t normal, and that I still didn’t know what Michael intended to do about me. “Why all the fuss over my birthday?”

Michael’s eyes sparkled in the candlelight, as he suddenly turned serious. “You only turn sixteen once,” he said, looking at me gravely.

You’re lucky you made it this far
, Henri muttered under his breath. I ignored the interruption and pressed my case.

“Most sixteen-year-olds would have cake and candles, not a lobster dinner.”

“Don’t forget the champagne,” Michael retorted with a devilish look, gesturing to the fancy bucket standing next to the table. “We still haven’t toasted you.” He was trying to keep things light, but behind the façade I could see a sudden strain in his eyes.

“You’re in more pain than ever,” I said flatly. It was a statement, not a question, and I could tell from the flash of surprise that he’d been deliberately trying to keep it from me. “Nothing’s changed at all, has it?” I asked him, forcing myself to ask the question.

The smile froze on his face and his eyes grew dark. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said coldly, folding his napkin deliberately and setting it aside.

A jolt of irritation shot through me and I stood up, pushing away from the table in frustration. “Stop lying to me. I’m trying to be serious, Michael. You’ve been treating me like a prisoner for the last two days, and now you’ve turned into Mr. Cheesy Las Vegas, turning on the charm for my birthday. What are you trying to do? What do you want from me? Tell me the tru—”

Before I could finish my speech, Michael pushed away from the table, sending the china and crystal flying, stalking after me. His face was crumpled with rage, his eyes as dark as storm clouds as he grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me.

“Who says I want anything? Do you think I wanted this? Any of this? To be on the run with you, fearing that the worst will come to pass?”

I bit my lip to keep from crying out. I couldn’t let him know how much he was hurting me. As I tried to back away, his fingers only dug in deeper, tendrils of flame twining through my body. He pulled me closer and looked into my eyes, his own filled with wild despair.

“Every minute of every day, I have to look at you, knowing that everything depends on me making the right decision. And every time I do—the pain—”

His voice broke with emotion.

I held my breath, sure that I knew what he was going to say next. I listened as he fought to control his ragged breath, knowing that the only rational thing for Michael to do in this situation—truly the only rational thing he could do—was to take my life.

But as his breath slowed, he bent his head and rested his forehead against mine, pulling me closer and wrapping his arms around me like a desperate man clinging to a life raft in a violent storm.

“I can’t imagine a world without you, Hope. I know in my very spirit that I belong to you. You draw me like nothing else on Earth ever has.” He laughed roughly. “Even your name proclaims it.” He lifted his head and searched my eyes. “Why would God put us together if it wasn’t meant to be?”

I nervously licked my lips and fought off the urge to touch my Mark like a talisman. I couldn’t bring myself to answer his question. We both knew the answer.

“Has the pain gotten worse or better since we’ve been here?” I asked, barely able to whisper as I returned his troubled gaze.

He looked away, unable to look me in the eye. “Worse.”

“Maybe it’s because we’ve been spending too much time looking for Maria,” I suggested, not even believing the words as I said them.

He shook his head and suddenly let me go, turning to the window. “No, that’s not it.”

Ask him if things would be different if you weren’t bearing the Mark
.

I’d forgotten Henri was even here and felt myself flushing with embarrassment, then anger, as I realized he’d been spying on everything that had just happened. Still, Henri’s questions usually served a purpose.

“It’s not just because of the Mark, is it?” I said softly into the night.

Michael hung his head even lower. “No.”

“Then what is it?” I asked, confused. “What more could there be?”

His voice was hollow and flat when he finally answered me. “Even if things weren’t so complicated, we could never be together, Hope. Never.”

“I don’t understand.”

He squared his shoulders and stared out the window intently. “It may be better for you that way.”

“So you’re going to keep it from me? Just like you’ve hidden everything all along? That’s not fair, Michael.”

“No, it isn’t,” he said, turning from the window with a twisted, bitter smile. He ran a restless hand over his face as if he could wipe away his emotions. “Nor is it fair that I might be damned for eternity for feeling as I do, but I can’t help myself. I love you.”

I froze, holding my breath. Shock, disbelief, even fear coursed through me in the instant it took me to realize what he’d said.

“Did you hear me, Hope?” He took my hand, holding on to it as if he was afraid I would break. “I said I love you.”

“I—I don’t believe you,” I said, shaking my head in denial and pushing him away. “You can’t love me.”

He caught my arm and pulled me back against his chest. I could feel his heart thudding ominously. “What do you mean?”

My voice was thick as I answered. “You lied to me.” I licked my lips and stared at him, daring him to deny it.

His hands tightened on me. “I never lied to you. Other than my identity, everything I have ever told you has been the truth. I swear.”

He’s just toying with you. Something to keep the boredom away while he babysits you. How could a majestic Archangel love a simple human girl?

“No,” I whimpered. Henri’s taunts, Michael’s denials, the heat surging through my tired body; all of it was overwhelming. I didn’t want to hear any of this.

You fool. If he loves you, would he have treated you the way he has the last few days?

Michael searched my eyes, refusing to let me go.

“I only did what I had to do to help you find Maria,” he said, answering my—and Henri’s—unspoken thoughts.

In other words, just to keep you here long enough to find the Key. Then he can get rid of you
.

“No!” I shouted. Nowhere was safe. Not here, in Michael’s arms, where I could almost believe he cared. Not listening to Henri’s barbed words. And not out on my own, with no one to protect me, either. I struggled, confused, trying to break free of Michael’s grip, but he simply tightened his hold on me. He held me there, absorbing the few blows I managed to land. When sobs began racking my body, he simply murmured softly to me until the anger drained from me, and I tired myself out. Through my tears, I saw the look of concern on Michael’s face.

“You’re overwrought.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear and then ran his thumb over the line of my jaw. My heart started racing.

“I’m sorry, Hope. I shouldn’t have said anything. Especially
when you’re under so much stress. It’s been a long day. Maybe it would be best for you to go to bed.”

Before I could protest, he swept me up in his arms. He carried me across the room to the bed, knocking the room service table out of the way. I felt so empty, so tired of it all.

If he loves you, make him prove it to you
.

Henri’s words insinuated themselves into my brain, the suggestion floating there while Michael laid me gently on the mattress and tucked the blankets tightly around my body.

Prove it to me?

Michael tugged the covers one last time and rested his hand on my hair.

“Some birthday, hmm?” he said ruefully. “I guess I messed that up, too.”

I gulped. Here was my chance. I reached for his hand, looping my fingers into his, feeling the fluttering in my stomach that always came with his warm touch.

“My birthday’s not over. You still have to give me my present.”

He frowned, a shadow of gray creeping into his eyes. “But I didn’t buy you anything.”

I screwed my eyes shut, afraid to look at him. “What I want doesn’t come from a store.” I took a deep breath, gathering all my courage. “I want you to kiss me. Really kiss me, like you mean it.”

It was as if the air got sucked from the room. Stifling silence pressed against my ears.

He tried to withdraw his hand, but this time I was the one refusing to let go, my grip on his fingers turning vice-like.

“If you love me, you’ll do it,” I insisted. Immediately, I regretted it. I sounded like a spoiled child demanding a toy. And I didn’t like feeling as if Henri had manipulated me into it. I didn’t want to be a pawn in their chess match. The truth was, Henri’s comment
just gave shape to an idea that had been there, forming under the surface ever since our trip to meet Enoch. My feelings for Michael, like the whole situation in which we’d found ourselves, had grown so complicated. I couldn’t tell what was real and what was part of the dangerous game we were playing. I couldn’t tell which Michael was the real one. Was it, as Enoch had intimated, teenage hormones and pain and confusion that were buffeting Michael’s own emotions about? Or was it something more ominous? Were we on the same side at all? I needed to know. And I knew—I just knew—that if he kissed me he wouldn’t be able to hide his real intentions toward me.

And, deep down, I really, really, really wanted to know what it would feel like.

“It’s not safe,” Michael said, his voice hoarse, as he cut me off.

“It’s the only way I can trust you again,” I said softly. I let my lashes flutter open and turned my head to face him. His face was a mask, only the telltale vein in his forehead giving any indication that he was upset. “You’ve been telling me I have nothing to fear from you. You told me you love me. I want to believe you, but it’s so hard with this wall between us. Please.”

I could see the indecision in his eyes.

“Please, Michael. I want to believe you. I really do.”

His eyes bored into mine. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

I tilted my head, gazing up at him quizzically. “How much could one little kiss hurt?”

I could see him wavering. I turned onto my side and drew closer to him, the covers bunching around me.

“I never had a friend before, Michael. Not a true friend. It was inconceivable to me that of all the people you could have chosen to talk to in that school, you chose to be with me. To learn that it had to do with this—” I let one hand drift to my Mark. “It broke my
heart. You keep insisting you didn’t know, that it doesn’t matter. If you kiss me, then I’ll be able to tell if you’re telling the truth.” A fit of shyness overtook me and I lowered my eyes before continuing. “And I won’t be afraid of you anymore.”

He snapped his head back as if I’d slapped him. “You’re afraid? Of me?”

I nodded, watching him through my lashes. Did he really not understand that?

He ran the fingers of his free hand through his hair, making it stand up on end so that it looked like some sort of crazy, scruffy halo. His body seemed to sag a little, defeated.

“I’ve made you afraid. But then again, you should be afraid.”

I squeezed his hand. “I don’t want to be afraid. Not of you. Not anymore.”

The vein in his forehead throbbed. I could see him rolling it over in his mind, considering all the angles as he drew his eyebrows together.

“If you start to feel anything—odd—you must stop me. At once. You understand?”

I smiled shyly up at him. “You sound nervous.”

“I’ve never done this before.” I let go of his hand and he reached up to tuck a damp strand of hair off of my forehead.

“Never?”

He looked at me and smiled. “Never.”

I was ashamed at the relief that swept through me. “Really?”

“No,” he said quietly.

“I’m glad.”

“If I were you, I would be more worried that I don’t know what I’m doing.” He bent over, leaning his forehead against mine. “I could never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

His lips were achingly close to mine. His breath was soft against my skin.

I closed my eyes, unable to bear the wait.

It started off as a tender glance of his lips, so gentle that if it hadn’t been for the flush of heat rising in my own lips, I might not have even known he was there. I sighed softly against him, my lips parting, and I felt his kiss become more insistent.

I gasped at the taste of him—salty and sweet—and he kissed me more deeply. I reached out for him, wanting to feel the length of his body against me, but he pulled away, dragging his lips from mine down the line of my jaw to the hollow of my neck. Every nerve ending tingled at his touch, a dazzling fire running up and down my skin, urging me on, making me want more.

“Don’t stop,” I whispered, finding the collar of his sweater and pulling him closer.

“Carmichael,” he murmured against my lips. “You are so young.”

“Shhhh,” I said, letting my hands feel their way down his hard chest. Frantically, not even knowing what I was doing, I tugged his sweater away from his waistband. He moaned as I trailed a finger across his taut abdomen.

“No,” he said, catching my hands in his. He drew a heavy breath. “No, Hope.”

My eyes flew open. He was leaning over me, so close I could see every fleck of gold twinkling in his deep blue eyes. His chest heaved with each ragged breath he took.

I pulled a hand free and pushed a wayward lock of hair from his face, then wrapped my arm around his neck. I gazed up at him, at the undisguised look of longing on his face, and something inside of me shifted.

“I love you too, Michael.”

The words slipped from me before I even knew what I was saying, hanging there between us, with only our shallow breathing to break the silence. My eyes raced to search his, afraid of what I might see.

A strange look crossed his face.

“God forgive me,” he murmured as he leaned in, gathering me in his arms. His eyes flashed with defiance, and he crushed my lips under his.

My entire body was flooded with wave after wave of warmth. Somehow I’d escaped the covers, and I could feel every inch of him through the thin cotton of my shirt and jeans. Every place he touched me was like a burst of fire, leaving me shuddering, wanting more. I wanted his hands on me, wanted to explore every inch of him, wanted to give myself over to the heat.