Demon Forged (44 page)

Something in her stomach twisted. Caelum passed below in a blur of white and cream. “Do you think Deacon is involved?”

He shook his head. “That is not what I suggest. Only that a demon like Rael would be able to broker a deal with Acciaioli and the nosferatu in Rome—and if Rael was angry with Deacon for interfering, he might have punished him for it. I am also suggesting that if Rael was once a friend to Anaria—perhaps still is—he might also be a friend to the nephilim, who massacred the vampires in Rome before touching any other city.”

Friends with Anaria? “And so he was angry when I said I would kill her.”

“And the nephilim arrived at your forge not long after.”

The magnitude of what Alejandro suggested finally hit her. Rael positioned himself as loyal to both Anaria and to Belial. Would not Belial’s other demons turn on him? Or had he convinced them that he was manipulating Anaria with the appearance of friendship? Did they know he played both sides?

She could not imagine the balance necessary to walk such a dangerous line. “Do you believe he could do all of that?”

“He did not become Belial’s lieutenant by thinking on a small scale. It’s impossible to say how many roles he plays, and how many plots he manages. But he didn’t attain his position by juggling only one or two.”

“And how many will you take on?” She immediately regretted the question. It would lead to a fight, and she’d stir from this waking dream. But her anger was swelling from deep within, and she couldn’t stop it. “How many, Olek?”

His jaw tightened. “As many as I must.”

“Will you lead Belial’s demons? Will you marry a human to forward your political career?”

“You goad me.”

She did. Dropping her left wing, she slipped past a needle-thin spire stabbing high into the air above Caelum. She’d once known a Guardian who’d impaled himself on it.

“You take everything on yourself, Olek. A rock turns, and your honor is destroyed for four hundred years. You plan to deceive thousands of humans by continuing a demon’s deception, and your honor is not touched.”

“Millions of humans,” he corrected softly. Too softly. His anger had risen as hot as hers. “And it was not the rock. It was you, offering yourself in trade for my life. And yesterday, I discover that what he did was
worse
than either of us thought it would be.”

“That trade was never about you. I had to do it no matter the feelings between us—and I would have done the same for anyone with a knife at their throat.” Her breath hitched painfully in her chest. “And you would have made exactly the same choice if I had been in your position, even if I begged you not to do it.”

His eyes darkened. Alejandro must see that she spoke the truth. And she knew that if their positions had been reversed, he would never have thought she was dishonored. And she . . . would have hated herself for falling, for placing him in a position where that terrible decision had to be made.

“And my decision is not about you, Irena. Rael must die, but we must be able to keep the resources we have through SI. And so I will take his place, despite the feelings between us.” Though his voice was even, his tone stung like the lash of a whip. “But
do not
tell me that what you felt had no influence. You would have held out against the demon if you had not wanted me.”

Irena snapped upright, hovering. Her throat burned, tight with tears and shame. “
You tell me.
Tell me that you wish I didn’t want you. That you wish I hadn’t loved you.”

His face whitened. He stared at her, motionless but for the quiet beat of his wings that held him aloft.

“Tell me, Olek, that you would trade all of my shame and take back your honor in exchange for my heart.”

“I cannot,” he admitted hoarsely. “I would wish both of us through Hell first.”

So would she. Her laugh was short and bitter. “If you step into a demon’s role, you will take us there.”

This time, fury paled his skin. He turned away from her, and silently dove toward her courtyard. Irena followed him, vanished her wings, and dropped the last few feet, landing in a crouch.

He glanced back at her as she pushed her Gift into steel, forming his new swords. She tossed the weapons to him. “They are yours.”

Alejandro hefted their weight, his displeasure obvious. “Why the alterations?”

“You have used the same swords for four hundred years. They no longer suit you.”

“Perhaps not. But I’m accustomed to them.”

She sneered and called in her knives. “Can you not use other weapons?”

“I can. But there is no reason.”

“There
is
. Your old swords do not fit, and I will not make any more for you. So you had best learn these.”

His jaw clenched. Then he lifted his left sword, sweeping his right behind him. “Then we begin.”

Fighting did not release her anger. Seconds stretched into minutes, and it only grew harder, shining brilliantly, like the sharp edge of a diamond. She blocked his every strike with her knife. He feinted low. She whipped around, plowed her elbow into his stomach. When he bent over, she smashed the back of her head to his face.

She didn’t get a chance to follow through. His blade slipped in from the side and pressed against her throat. She froze, and he laughed softly into her ear. She scented the blood on his breath.

“These
are
good swords, Irena.”

He pushed against her. His erection prodded against her back.

She almost stumbled. What was this? A moment ago, he hadn’t been aroused. There had only been anger between them, and the fight. Until she’d hit him.

His thigh pushed between hers. His lips skimmed the side of her neck, unexpected heat that plunged straight through to her core. Her knees weakened.

She reached back, yanked his hair. Alejandro instantly reacted. He vanished his swords and his hand dove down, cupping her sex. He lifted her up to grind between her legs from behind. A cry wrenched from her, shocked and desperate for more.

“Again,” Alejandro commanded.

She tore out of his grip, faced him. “What is this?”

With the edge of his thumb, he wiped blood from his bottom lip. “I do not yet know. But there is apparently nothing you can do to me that will not make me want you. You could cut my chest open and I would beg you for more.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want that.”

“And I don’t need pain to want you. God knows, I want you without it.” His mouth twisted. “But don’t tell me you never want to hurt me. When you do—and you
will
, Irena—know that no harm is done. It is only foreplay.”

She didn’t want that kind of freedom, that much power over him. Did she? Excitement crackled along beside her anger, her astonishment.

His laugh was harsh. “You balk? Last night, you sucked my soul into your keeping. Do you not take this part of me, too?”

He dared bring last night up now? Rage shook her. She made herself remain still. “I do not want to fight.”

“About this? About Rael? What else about me will you not take?”

Not take? Her throat tightened. “Olek—”

“No!” He started toward her, then stopped. His hand slashed through the air in a gesture that felt too close to finality. “I have accepted all of you. You cannot do the same.”

How could he believe that? “I do.”

“No. You cannot make a good weapon of faulty steel.” His voice roughened, and she did not know if it was in anger or pain. “And you cannot imagine that I would see the same faults you do, but transform them into something good. That I can take a demon’s deception and create something honorable. Or that I could step into a corrupted role and use it in the right way.”

She stared at him, his accusation echoing between her ears. While she tried to take it in, he shook his head and walked away. Her heart leapt in fear. She stalked after him.

“Face me, Olek!”
Let me fight for you.

Panic surged through her when he didn’t stop. She didn’t give him warning. In a burst of speed, she launched herself onto his back, rammed her knee into his spine and pulled at his hair.

He turned on her like a predator unleashed. His fingers digging into her arms, he hauled her over his shoulder and slammed her back to the ground. He came down over her. Fury stretched his body as tight as a steel wire. She stared up at him, tried to catch her breath to speak. His thighs pushed between hers, spreading them wide.

His lips drew back from clenched teeth. “I have taken you! Your anger and your stubborn head and all of you.” He reached between them, ripping her leggings. “One way or another, you will take me!”

Surprise held her motionless before need swept it away.
Yes.
She’d take him just like this, wanted him just like this. Irena vanished her leggings and his fingers scraped her bare skin. Her blood racing, she felt his clothes disappear, and the heat of his flesh against hers.

Bracing his hands beside her shoulders, Alejandro loomed over her. The blunt tip of his shaft parted her wet folds. Shaking with anticipation, she lifted to him.

He shoved inside, huge and thick, and her body screamed with the pleasure of it. Oh, gods. Fierce joy pierced the heart of her. She’d measured his length, but hadn’t known what it was to be taken by Olek, finally. She arched, trying to force him deeper, and cried out when she did.

He froze at the sound, awareness sweeping through his psychic scent like an icy wind. Irena hauled his mouth down to hers. No stopping. No thinking. She bit his lip and tasted blood.

With a feral growl, Olek kissed her back, hot and wet. His hips swung, hammering deep with every stroke.
Yes.
By the gods, yes. Finally, taken. Finally taking. Each heavy thrust sent her heartbeat racing faster, wound the ecstasy tighter. Her nails raked his back, digging furrows in his skin. He groaned and licked deeper into her mouth. Her frantic breaths filled their kiss. He pinned her hips and twisted his and she slammed into orgasm, slick muscles clamping around his thick shaft.

When she fell out of its grip, Olek lifted his head. Remorse darkened his eyes. “Again,” he demanded hoarsely. “Forgive me. Again.”

She breathed his name and his mouth reclaimed hers. No fury heated this kiss. Only need. Only the feel of him against her, inside her. And although the anger between them was spent, his skin was still fire. His lips burned.

Without breaking their kiss, he lifted her ankle to his shoulder. He worked into her in a relentless rhythm—in and in, slow inch by inch, he kept his vow and repeated it. Pleasure became the sweetest pain, sizzling across her nerves. Every endless thrust, every kiss stoked it higher, brighter, until her senses immolated in white-hot flares.

She’d barely come back to herself when he said, “Again, Irena.”

She’d melted, and he wasn’t done. Half-panting, half-laughing, Irena pushed him over onto his back. “Stupid, prideful man.”

“Not pride.” His voice was low, his heartbeat as rapid as hers. “I cannot believe I’m here with you like this. And I don’t want it to end.”

Her heart clenched. For a moment, she took in the sheer beauty of him before lowering her head.

She kissed him slowly as she rode him. His hands held her hips. He rocked up to meet her, faster and faster. Between kisses, between licks to his throat and his jaw, Irena whispered to him, urged him on. Her voice, the slide of their bodies, the pounding of their hearts filled the silence of the courtyard. His smoky scent filled her lungs, her mind, and she buried her face in his neck, drawing it in deeper.
Olek.
No, she didn’t want this to end, either—she wanted to devour him all, to take all there was to take. To glory in the tight stretch of her body around his, the taste of him on her lips, his ragged breaths in her ears.

But although she wished it, they couldn’t stay here forever, and there would always be
again
. Her fingers slipped between them and circled his length, following the slick rise of her sex. He groaned and it was a harsh, tortured sound. When he began to shake, she pulsed her Gift. He came silently, his teeth gritted and his body arching into a taut bow, lifting her with him.

Irena clung to his shoulders, barely able to form a thought except that they were both well finished.

Olek must have agreed. His mouth found hers and he did not stop kissing her until his flesh softened, until she smiled against his lips and raised her head.

He sighed. “I did not intend—”

“Do not regret this,” she warned.

“I do not. But I didn’t want anger between us.”

She ran her finger down the soft point of his goatee. His lips were still reddened. Hers must have been, too. “Idiot. With us, anger is clumped with the rest—not always at the forefront, but always there. And if our anger ends like this, it is not so bad, yes?”

He kissed her in response.

When he lowered his head again, she held it cradled in her hands, his hair thick against her palms and Caelum’s marble hard beneath. She searched for the right words to say—and realized he’d said them many times.

“Forgive me, Olek.”

His brows drew together, but he didn’t speak. He waited for her to explain.

“I have lost faith in many things of late. And I have lumped them all together.” Stupidly, blindly. She swallowed and pushed on. “I should have separated you out of them. I should have trusted that you would do right. And I will try to see your taking Rael’s position as you do.”

He closed his eyes. She thought he might have breathed a prayer as he raised his mouth to hers and kissed her. Kissed her as if he’d never stop, kissed her as she’d always thought a man might kiss when he loved a woman and she had just given him the world.

He shivered beneath her; his body tightened.

No. Alejandro hadn’t shivered.
Caelum
had. And Alejandro had stiffened in reaction.

Irena sat up. “What was that?”