The Last Slayer (20 page)

The second and third heartstones? Those I’d think about later, after I went back home…or checked into a hotel since I was now homeless, thanks to Ramiel.

I scowled. It was either that or cry, and as a general rule, I don’t cry. Nothing had gone right since the “Selena” job. Even my new appearance seemed more trouble than it was worth.

The memory of Ramiel’s hot hands on my face popped into my head. He’d held me like he’d never let go, like I was the most precious thing in the world. He’d never done that before. Not that I’d given him the chance, but I hadn’t been beautiful then. It wasn’t his fault that he was enthralled by my new looks, and really, I didn’t care.

Oh for pity’s sake. Who was I kidding?

Of course it bothered me that Ramiel had reacted the way he did
now that I looked just like my mother.

My shoulder muscles began tensing up. I shouldn’t think about men—or demigods—who weren’t worth my time. Hadn’t that been my resolution after I’d broken up with my latest turned-out-to-be-good-for-nothing boyfriend? It was annoying when my subconscious refused to stick with the program.

I forced myself to relax and have happy thoughts. A big tub of almond fudge-flavored ice cream with extra whipped cream and loads of chocolate caramel on top. Mmmm. Decapitating an incubus or two. Or maybe a large strawberry margarita and a handsome Swedish masseur at my beck and—

Maybe Ramiel was trying to bind you to him, to use you against Nathanael. If he was in love with Leh, he would view Nathanael as his rival. And since the
real
Leh is gone—

Okay, now I was pissed off.

I put pressure on my eyebrows with my fingertips. My stupid mind just wouldn’t shut up about Ramiel. Why couldn’t it understand that I preferred to fantasize about ice cream and good-looking,
normal
men dying to serve me? I submerged my head and stayed under the water until my chest burned and my temples began pounding. Still, I didn’t move. I wanted all thoughts out of my mind.

Finally, self-preservation kicked in. I pushed upward and gasped, sucking in as much air as my starved lungs could handle. Water ran down my face in rivulets, and I wiped it away. When I opened my eyes, Ramiel’s face occupied the majority of my vision.

I blinked. He didn’t disappear.

“What are you doing here?” My voice probably came out a little hostile.

“I wanted to see if you were all right.” His tone was as flat as his eyes.

“Of course I’m all right. I’m taking a bath.” I leaned back in the tub. With him there I was suddenly aware of my new body. The breasts rising almost out of the water, the tiny waist that flared out into perfect hips, the long legs tapering into neat ankles. Thank god for the petals floating on the water. “I’m fine. I met my mother and got what I wanted. On top of that, I’m now so gorgeous I turned you speechless. Yippee!”

His cheeks pinkened slightly. I almost wanted to laugh. I’d always fantasized about doing something like this to a man—striking him dumb and slightly embarrassed with just my looks and a pithy line. I just never thought it would be Ramiel, Dragonlord of Besade.

The demigod who’d given me multiple orgasms.

The one who might be in love with my mother.

Hell.

He cleared his throat. “That’s—”

“Are you in love with Leh?”

“What?”

“Oh come on. Your reaction out there when you mistook me for her was really quite interesting. I just want to hear the truth from you. Thought you might prefer that to my hearing it from Nahemah.” I was satisfied with how cool I sounded, despite the large ball of agitated vipers that suddenly seemed to have set up house in my stomach.

He regarded me as if I were a jigsaw puzzle he hadn’t been able to put together yet. “You overstep yourself.”

“So it’s true.”

“Leh is dead and bound to the Mystic Forest.” He leaned closer, and I immediately wanted to sink into him. I hated him for that attraction, and I hated myself for not being disgusted by him—by what he’d likely had with my mother. “Nathanael created that binding so he could visit her, exclusively, without having to petition Nahemah,” Ramiel continued. “All for—”

“Is that why you want him dead?” It came out before I could stop myself. I had to know if Ramiel was using me in some petty revenge scheme against Nathanael over my mother.

Scorn turned his eyes bright green. “If only it were that! A loss in love can be overcome, forgotten in time.” The scorn slowly changed into a look of pain. “No. He crippled me.”

I glanced at his legs. Sure enough, they still looked like a decathlete’s. “You seem to have recovered.”

Ramiel stared at me until I wanted to squirm. Maybe it was something I hadn’t noticed…but how could he be crippled? He always moved with such fluid elegance.

“How little you know.” He straightened, frustration adding a definite bite to his presence. Magic gathered around him, and I shivered. It wasn’t tinted with coldness like Semangelaf’s or with malice like Apollyon’s. It seethed like a furious, injured beast. “Very well. Watch, and learn.” A knot stood out in his jaw and his hands curled into fists. With a loud rip of muscle and bone, a wing shot out from his left shoulder blade. I had to put my hand over my mouth to stop myself from screaming at the ghastly transformation. Blood sprayed across the floor. The newly sprung appendage spanned over nine feet by itself, and the orb lights spun around madly at its appearance. Crimson feathers tipped with onyx covered the powerful wing. I stared at it in horrified fascination. It was beautiful and terrifying, like a tainted angel’s.

A one-winged angel.

“Tell me I’m whole if you dare,” Ramiel said between clenched teeth. “Tell me I shouldn’t hate him.”

My vocal cords froze. This was the last thing I’d expected. In all the texts I’d read, none had mentioned a dragonlord’s wings, and I’d thought Apollyon was an exception back at Swain’s.

“I am forever grounded without an amphitere.” Ramiel glanced over his empty right shoulder. “Not even our magic can regrow a wing once it’s gone.”

He came closer. The wing bobbed with each step. “I am crippled and seek vengeance. And you worry about your
appearance
and wonder if I’m in love with your mother.” He gave a cry of pure anguished fury that rang against the hard stone walls, ricocheting like a bullet and just as dangerous. The room seemed to grow smaller around us. If I’d thought he would let me, I would have submerged into the bathwater to drown out the sound. He bent back over the tub, his face looming in front of mine. “Nathanael had it ripped out because he wanted me to feel the stigma of imperfection.”

I couldn’t imagine how it must’ve affected him. All demigods have enormous egos. And if the wings were functional, he was right. He was crippled.

He was so close I couldn’t seem to see anything but the green of his eyes. “So. Do you find me repulsive? Disgusting?”

What do you do with a question like that? There was no right answer, honest or otherwise. His lips twisted into a cruel smile. But it wasn’t directed at me, and that made me nervous. Maybe I’d gotten too used to his courtliness—the gallant façade that gave me a sense of safety, like no matter what happened he would behave himself. Now I wasn’t so sure.

Words couldn’t adequately express my emotions. I understood what it was like to feel as though I somehow couldn’t measure up to those around me. Jack’s family was virtually perfect. Ramiel would consider any comforting words as charity. It was Nathanael who’d crippled Ramiel’s body, but my pity would leave his soul to bleed.

There’s more than one way to cut someone.

I kissed him.

His mouth remained unmoving and hard under mine. I might have imagined myself kissing a statue if it weren’t for the warmth of his lips, the way his breath feathered my sensitive skin. He began to pull away; I put my wet hands on each side of his head, keeping him.

“Don’t,” I murmured.

Water droplets rolled down his handsome face. For the first time, there was a glimmer of uncertainty in his eyes. Or maybe it’d been there before and I just hadn’t been perceptive enough to notice. I’d been wrapped up in my own little world, filled with prejudice about how a demigod like him couldn’t feel hurt or vulnerable. This was the first time I realized that Ramiel, despite his gifts, despite his status, was not invincible. That perhaps I’d been wrong to treat him like a thing, like he wasn’t someone deserving of consideration or kindness.

The notion shamed me. I let my gaze, then my hands, drop.

Ramiel put a hand under my chin, tilted my head up, pressed his lips to mine. This time his mouth was supple and alive, and I responded eagerly. I wanted him to know what I felt inside even if I couldn’t say it quite right.

He hadn’t touched anything except my face, yet a deep ache formed inside me. It was more than just wanting physical release. I wanted the kind of connection that poets write about.

His arms wrapped around my torso and raised me from the tub. Water streamed down my naked body, puddling on the stone floor. There was fire in his eyes—the same fire I’d seen the last time we’d met in a bath—and my doubts about my new looks vanished. My nipples tingled and hardened in the cool air, and my sex grew wet with need.

I tugged at his shirt. The wing made it impossible to remove. I gave up and turned my attention to his pants and boots.

No matter what others called him, he was magnificent. Lean muscle rippled under tight skin as he moved. He smelled overwhelmingly, magically male, and I was immediately intoxicated. He ran callused fingertips down my slick skin, making me shiver. There was a power in his touch that enchanted and enslaved me to him.

I was his and he was mine.

Heat infused and moistened me. Even the tips of my toes tingled as his mouth continued its assault on my lips and breasts. His sex pushed against my stomach. I wrapped my legs around his slim waist and rocked.

If he didn’t thrust into me soon, I was going to die. Or kill him. Maybe both. The muscles in his arms and legs trembled, showing the price of his restraint. I didn’t want him to hold back. I wanted everything of him.

“Take me,” I said, my voice guttural and unrecognizable.

He turned, pinning me against a wall. His rapid breathing matched the rhythm of my heartbeat. Knowing I was the cause of his desire made every part of me throb, and I let out a low moan of frustration. I wanted him more than my next gulp of air. He positioned himself and entered me in one smooth stroke.

I cried out at the invasion. It was real and immediate, unlike the mental sex we’d had before. The man straining into me was actual flesh and blood, not some shared fantasy. It was glorious, but it wasn’t enough. Nowhere near enough.

He moved. In and out, his rhythm sure. Each thrust grew faster and more powerful. Our Sex rose and filled the room. The orb lights tangled with the Sex and zapped around us in a manic dance.

My body demanded release. But more than that, it demanded an intimacy between us, something that would make us inseparable.

Finally I cried out and bucked against him. Waves of pleasure slammed through me so hard I thought I would be swept away and never resurface. Yet his tightening arms anchored me, and his shuddering orgasm brought me the intimacy I’d sought.

I felt safe…until Ramiel slowly, silently pulled away.

I was afraid to say anything. This was new territory. I’d never experienced this kind of connection with someone, and I was terrified of ruining it with words.

The moment stretched unbearably. Finally Ramiel took a step back, his expression turning empty. I desperately wanted to stem whatever was causing the emotion to drain from his face, hold him tight so that there could still be something between us. But my courage failed. Fear of rejection gripped me, as paralyzing as a tranq spell.

“Nahemah will try something at dinner,” he said, his voice flat. “When she does, bring out your blade and use it.”

I shrugged helplessly, confused at his choice of subject but still too timid to talk to him about what had just happened. Finally I said, “I don’t have it. I gave it to you.”

“All of us carry one inside. Now that you have your first heartstone, you should be able to use it.”

I gave up trying to make sense of my feelings. If he could pretend nothing had happened, so could I. “Inside.” I hoped that didn’t mean what I thought it meant…but then I remembered how Nathanael had pulled a sword out of nowhere at TriMedica.

“Yes.”

“Ah…okay. But how do I get it out?” I had a feeling it would hurt.

“Concentrate and incant.”

He murmured ancient words, every syllable pregnant with power. I focused and imitated him, my tongue tripping over the sounds like a clumsy baby learning to walk. Still, it wouldn’t do to get impatient. Mispronunciation can kill you.

“Practice,” he said. “Once you become used to it, you won’t have to incant. The thought alone will be enough.”

I nodded. I’d practice, but I wasn’t sure if I would be ready to use it in less than two hours.

He brought his wing close to his body. It folded impossibly smaller and smaller until it burrowed deep under his shoulder, just like Apollyon’s had at TriMedica. He flicked a finger and the blood vanished from the floor. A loose crimson feather floated up and disappeared. “I’d prefer you didn’t tell Nahemah what you just saw. She doesn’t know, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

He turned and left. I stood for a moment, irresolute about whether to go after him or not. There was so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to hear him say. Finally I sighed and went back to my bath. The whole episode, along with the wing and the sword-inside-my-body, had left me shaken. It meant I was more like a supernatural than a mortal, and I had no idea how to deal with that.

I decided to concentrate on first things first: surviving the dinner with Nahemah and rescuing Valerie. Maybe my subconscious would have some time to work things out and give me some answers.

I’d toweled off and incinerated all the loose hair from the bathtub by the time Charity reentered the cottage. Had she heard me and Ramiel? Her demeanor didn’t indicate one way or the other. Maybe he’d done something to soundproof the cottage while he’d been in there.