Rebel (28 page)

He paused in the act of leaving the bed, staring down at her. The sunlight showed no mercy, and he could see the scars clearly now, when before they’d been only shadows. She was lucky she was still alive.

He let his eyes trace the lines, dug deep by the Nephilim’s razorlike claws, and to his surprise he realized they only made him want her more. He’d never thought scars would be a turn-on—but then, everything about Martha was a turn-on, and he couldn’t figure out why.

Maybe he’d simply been too long without sex. He’d lost interest in it—there were just so many ways you could do it, so many different kinds of women. Of course, last night Martha hadn’t seemed like a kind of woman. She had seemed like
the
woman,
mysterious, erotic, elemental. And instead of losing interest, he’d been inspired, more so than he could ever remember. Even now he was thinking about how soon he could get inside her again, whether she’d want to ride him again, whether she’d—

She stirred, and he would have leapt off the bed if she hadn’t reached out and touched him, her hand brushing his chest, staying him. And then her eyes flew open as she realized it was broad daylight, and she immediately tried to close in on herself, hiding her scars from him.

It was simple enough to take her arms in his hands, put his knee between hers, and make her open up again. “Why are you trying to hide?”

She started to speak, but only a rough, breathy sound came out, and she cleared her throat. This time he could hear her, but her voice was raw and rasping. “The scars,” she whispered. “They’re ugly.”

“They’re hot,” he said, and leaned down to lick his way along the line that was carved between her breasts.

She froze, rejecting the notion; but she’d gotten well past her shyness last night, and a moment later she softened, and in the heat of the morning sun her nipples hardened. He closed his mouth over one, just lightly, giving it a soft tug, then released it to look down on her, smiling. She looked well loved. She had love bites on her breasts and thighs, slight
bruises on her hips where he’d held her, and the more noticeable mark on her neck where he’d drunk from her. No, she looked well fucked, he reminded himself. And he wanted to do it again.

He had better things to do, more important things, but right then he couldn’t remember any of them, and he was moving his head up, about to cover her soft, kiss-swollen mouth with his, when the pounding on his door ripped him away from her.

“You are called to stand before the Council of the Fallen,” the archangel Michael’s voice thundered.

“Shit,” Cain said, rolling off her and getting to his feet. “We’ll continue this later.” His voice was soft, just for her, though he expected Michael heard it anyway. They all would know she’d spent the night with him, even if they’d missed their previous encounter. He was going to have to face all the overprotective power of the Fallen and their wives, when he didn’t feel like answering anything, at least about Martha.

Another round of pounding, and Cain swore. “You’ll have to wait, Michael. I’ll come with you, but I’m going to take a shower first, unless you want me to show up to your fucking council naked.”

“You would,” came the contemptuous, muffled reply. “Five minutes.”

“Ten.”

“Five,” Michael said. Cain noticed he didn’t demand entrance, further proof that they knew he wasn’t alone.
Fine. He glanced back at Martha. She’d wrapped herself in a sheet, though whether to protect herself from intruders or to hide the scars, he wasn’t sure. He considered all the things he could say to her, and dismissed them. She was the last thing he should be thinking about. Turning his back on her, he disappeared into the shower.

I
SLIPPED FROM
the bed, wrapping the sheet around me like a toga. My body ached, inside and out, and my soul hurt. I knew what was coming, as surely as if I’d had a vision. Maybe I had, and had deliberately forgotten it.

I headed for the French doors, knowing I could get to the safety of my own room that way. I expected to feel a little light-headed from blood loss, but in fact I felt almost powerful, if a little . . . battered. Either he hadn’t taken that much or I was stronger than I thought.

I slipped out into the bright morning sunshine filtering through the haze overhead, and for a moment I thought about Metatron spearing upward, trailing blood. Where had he gone? Had he made it before he bled out? I hadn’t seen how bad his wound was—I’d had more important things on my mind than the man who, inexplicably, wanted to kill me.

But maybe it wasn’t so inexplicable after all, I
thought, closing the door behind me as I stepped into my small room. The only danger I presented was through my visions. Clearly Metatron had been afraid I would see something that would stop whatever his personal agenda had been. The question was, had he left for good? Or did I have to keep looking over my shoulder in case he showed up and figured the third time was the charm?

I headed straight for the shower. I had no intention of letting Cain face the gathered might of the council alone. I had no idea why they intended to question him, but the truth of what had happened last night had finally hit me. I’d told him I loved him. I’d told him he loved me. He’d taken my blood. Which meant, very simply, that we must be bonded mates.

The knowledge shook me. For one thing, according to the ancient laws that governed the Fallen, a human couldn’t bond twice. Thomas had never truly been my mate. That knowledge was a physical hurt. I’d withheld everything from him—my sexuality, my blood, my complete trust—while he’d given me everything. Now I’d even withheld my bond with him, the final betrayal.

And for what? For Cain, who had never spoken of love, of caring? For a charming liar who had probably taken me on a whim?

He hadn’t said the words. Yet he’d drunk from
me. Taken my blood in the ancient bonding ritual that proclaimed us united until the end of my comparatively short life. Which meant that I did matter to him, no matter how it appeared.

And last night it had felt like I mattered very much. Even if any words he’d spoken, both aloud and in my head, had been faintly mocking, his actions had been the opposite. Surely no man touched a woman like that without love?

I washed quickly, wincing at my abraded skin, the tenderness between my legs, the ache of muscles seldom used. I reached for the usual enveloping white clothes, but something stopped me at the last minute, and instead I grabbed Tory’s emerald-green dress. I pulled it on, letting it settle around my hips, and stared at my reflection in the small mirror, the one I usually avoided. I was looking at a stranger.

The green made my skin luminous and my hazel eyes deepen. Or maybe sex made my skin luminous. The scar curved down over my breast, disappearing beneath the low neckline of the dress, but this time I wasn’t going to hide it. I towel-dried my hair, then shook it, letting the riotous curls loose around my face. My lips were swollen from his kisses and my eyes had a dreamy, sated look; when I walked into the assembly hall, everyone would know what we’d been doing. I didn’t care. I was his bonded mate, and he wasn’t facing them without me.

I’d hoped to finish in time to walk with Cain and Michael, but they had already left, so I followed them as quickly as I could down the long, winding hallways until I reached the main part of the house.

The doors to the assembly hall were closed, and Tory was waiting outside, a troubled expression on her face. When I reached for the handle, she stopped me. “You don’t want to go in there.”

“Of course I do,” I protested, astonished. “What are they going to do, torture him?”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with you,” she said, a little too forcefully. “They want to find out the truth behind why he’s here.”

I gave her an exasperated look. “I didn’t think he’d be hauled before the council because he seduced me. As a part of Sheol, everything concerns me.”

Tory looked startled. “You slept with him again?”

“Yes. I thought everyone had figured that out,” I said, trying my best to sound nonchalant even though I could feel my cheeks flush. “And it’s more than that.”

“How could it be more than that?” Tory said warily.

“He drank from me. I’m his bonded mate.” I felt strange saying the words, as if it wasn’t quite real.

If anything, Tory looked even unhappier. “I think we should go back to your room. You should wait and see what happens.”

“What are you talking about?” I was beginning to feel very uneasy, my skin prickling the way it did when I felt a vision coming on. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer, and I wasn’t going to wait. I pushed past her and pulled the door open.

No one even noticed my presence—everyone was riveted to the drama playing out at the front of the room. Cain stood there, and for a moment I let myself drown in his beauty, in the acceptable knowledge that he was mine. He had been, even before he’d arrived here, ever since he’d begun showing up in my visions; no matter how much I tried to fight it, the truth was inescapable. He was mine, and I was his, and it was all right to love him.

I let go of the very last of my doubts and defenses as I looked at him. I loved him. No matter how secretive, annoying, and manipulative he was, he drew me like the moon tides drew the ocean, and the connection was as deep and implacable. I loved him as I had never loved Thomas, and all the shame in the world wasn’t about to change that simple fact. It shocked me, both the knowledge and the unshakable
rightness
of it. I loved him.

I moved through the throngs of people crowded into the room, slipping past them so that he could see me, know I was there. He would find the bond just as unexpected and troublesome as I had, I thought, but he would know it for the truth. If he took the
blood of anyone but the Source or his bonded mate, he would die.

“So you want us to accept that we have spent countless millennia believing a lie?” Raziel snapped in a voice like a whiplash.

“Yes.” Cain’s own voice was cool and controlled.

“You tried this once before, the last time you graced us with your presence. You insisted we could walk through fire, and Ezekiel was fool enough to believe you. He died screaming.”

“Because he didn’t believe. Uriel’s curse is nothing but brainwashing. The Higher Power commanded us to become blood-eaters, and there’s nothing we can do about that. But the rest of it is nothing but lies. We are impervious to fire. Our women can drink blood as well and suffer no harm, only lasting life. They can bear children—haven’t you wondered why your Source became pregnant?”

“It was with Rachel’s help,” Allie said, sitting at Raziel’s right. She looked pale, and I was filled with a sudden foreboding. “The Lilith has ancient powers, and she—”

“She may have helped, but the only reason you got pregnant was because you weren’t convinced you couldn’t. You didn’t fall into the usual category of the Fallen’s so-called bonded mates—you’d survived on Raziel’s blood, you weren’t alive by the usual standards. In fact, it was Raziel’s resistance you had
to overcome. If the Fallen believe that children are impossible, they release no sperm.”

“So-called bonded mates”? What did he mean by that?

Raziel wasn’t finished. “So you expect me to direct someone else to touch an open flame and see if he manages to survive? I don’t think so. We tried that. And where exactly is your confederate? No one has seen Metatron since yesterday morning.”

“Metatron is gone,” Azazel said from his seat between Allie and Rachel. “And good riddance.”

Raziel turned to him, and if there was any doubt who was the Alpha, that was now put to rest.

Azazel spoke quietly and respectfully. “Metatron was trying to kill Martha. Clearly he was afraid of what her visions might reveal.”

Raziel turned to Cain. “And how was Metatron working with you? Was he part of your plan to destroy the Fallen?”

“Metatron was a tool, imperfect though he was, until he attempted to think for himself. He decided getting rid of the seer would aid him. And he was behind the attempt on the baby.”

“And where is he?” There was no missing the murderous look in Raziel’s eyes.

“Gone,” Azazel offered succinctly. “Cain stopped him from hurting Martha, the two of them fought, and Metatron escaped.”

Raziel looked at him, unappeased. “And how do you know all this? You and Cain have never been particular friends.”

“We were having a discussion up on the ledge when we noticed Martha and Metatron together. Cain went to rescue her, and I was close behind.”

“What kind of conversation?” No one mistook the silken tone of Raziel’s voice for anything but menace.

“A private one,” Azazel replied.

“I was about to kill him,” Cain offered lazily. He glanced at Azazel. “If you think I’m going to accept any favors from you, you’re mistaken. If Metatron hadn’t chosen that moment to go after Martha, Azazel would be dead.”

“You chose Martha over revenge?” Raziel said, disbelief strong in his voice. “That’s not like you.”

Cain could see me if he bothered to look. I had moved to the front of the room, the deep green of my dress a splash of color that he couldn’t fail to notice. “I had planned to use her,” he said without the slightest trace of guilt. “It’s easy enough to move within her dreams, and I was going to implant what I needed.”

“You were going to implant your ridiculous idea of truth about fire and blood and Uriel?”

He shook his head. “No. She’s been such an ineffective seer that I was going to implant the opposite. If she insisted that fire was dangerous, you were more likely to go in search of flames to test the theory.”

It felt like a slap in the face. Not only had he used me, he’d planned to do far worse, playing on my wretched incompetence. No wonder Tory had tried to stop me. She had followed me in, standing right behind me, and I would have turned away, but I couldn’t move, mesmerized by the pain I knew was coming.

“Unfortunately for you and Metatron, her visions have become a great deal more reliable.”

Cain shrugged. “I could adjust my plan either way. It’s too late now. I can feel Uriel coming, and I expect Metatron will be by his side once more. And if you don’t listen to me, you’ll all be dead in the next twenty-four hours.”