Bittersweet Seraphim (37 page)

It was unfair, she could tell. She watched his face scroll through emotions, trying to pick one that would fix the situation.

“You are not like him. We are happy.” He grabbed her face. “We are happy?”

How did a simple housecleaning turn into something so horrible? It was easy to see it now. He needed other opportunities, other experiences.

“There are ways you could be happier.” She pulled the rag out of his hand and wiped her eyes with it. The smell of Windex would always remind her of this moment.

He waited her out, never moving his hands.

“If you were away from me, you’d get to pick your life instead of having me choose for you.” She took his hands off her face. “I think you should get that chance.”

He was quiet for so long, and Seriana just cried. Mine finally wiped her tears and scooped her up so quickly she gasped. He sat on the couch and put her on his lap.

“I am not sure if I will say this correctly. Please hear me.” He searched her face, and Seriana nodded. “In the cage? I had no sunshine. I had nothing to hope for. And then he started with the pictures. Of you. You were my daylight. I looked forward to your face—like when we open the windows at night? That feeling on our skin? When you get the bumps and shiver? That was your face for me. Chilly and happy. I had someone to dream about. I hoped every day that he would find you and bring you to me. I feel bad about that now, because that wasn’t your hope.”

He pulled her harder to his chest, and she could feel him inhale the scent of her hair.

“When you were brought to me, it was my dreams coming to life. I know this life must be hard—teaching me, it’s hard.”

She shook her head, freeing more tears. “Never hard.”

He put a finger on her lips. “And if me…” He seemed to search for her words in his head. “If me giving life a chance frees you in a way you need, I will do. I will not like, but I will do.” The potential loss played out on his face before he added, “For you? Anything you ask.”

She twisted and kissed him until she could finally tell him. “Anything?”

He nodded, solemn as a knight.

“Then stay with me. Always stay. You’re my night air too. Just like that, with the chills. I love you in such a greedy way, I’m guilty about it.” She tilted her head back as he moved his lips to her throat.

“Guilty is for crimes. Always is for love.”

Mine was on top of her before she knew he’d moved. He was desperate, reminding her of their first time, in the cage, as if being inside her was all there could be. He growled as her jeans held tight to her skin, finally ripping them up the seams with his almost-full-minion strength. She pulled her own shirt off in response.

“In my cage, I had this, like this.” He held her breasts roughly. “But you ran—sometimes you ran in my head. And I took you anyway. Does that scare you?” He crawled over her, biting and kissing and licking.

“Should I run?” Her chest heaved with excitement.

“Just once.” He lifted himself off of her, and she bit her lip. His pants were around his hips, and he was ready for her.

She twirled quickly and scrambled off the couch, intent on running up the stairs. He was staying, and damn it, if he wanted to pretend she was running, she could do that for him. Her torn jeans flopped around her like a ragged skirt. Topless, she bolted for the stairs, and he ran after her.

The only reason she got anywhere at all was because he’d paused to divest himself of his clothes. He followed her up the long flight to the top floor of their house, catching her easily when she was halfway up. She stopped smiling and giggling when she saw his face. It was so carnal it was murderous. She almost came.

His mouth dropped open as he felt her strung tight for him. “My daylight.”

She let him have her however he wanted. Mine wasn’t controlled or trying to practice some move he saw on TV now, he was once again a beast in a cage. He used the slim stairway to find every way he could to enter her. They braced themselves as he found new ways to make her melt for him. She kneeled, trying to use her mouth on him, and Mine jumped over her and took her from behind. He pulled her hair a bit and twisted her nipple as he pounded the rhythm of a trapped man.

When he was spent, they lay on the stairs, gasping for air. He brushed her hair from around her damp face and looked into her eyes. “Always?”

She cuddled into his chest. “Always.”

Chapter 42

Jack stilled his motorcycle at the far end of the field Emma had pointed to early this morning, cursing himself. “You pussy-whipped ass-muncher. Sure. Come meet the sweet, pretty lady after knowing her just a few hours. That’s perfectly normal.”

He pulled off his helmet and tossed his riding gloves inside.
And
he was a good ten minutes early. All his personal rules were shot to shit: Never come to the girl; let her come to you. Never show up on time. Never get invested.

Jack ran a hand through his hair. At twenty-six, he’d had his share of the ladies. Okay, fine. He’d had ten guys’ share of the ladies. There was just something about him—mostly it was in his pants. He was like the pied piper of pussy and loved every goddamn minute of it.

He’d been on the streets since his drunken old man had tossed him out at sixteen, telling him he’d never amount to much. Jack had gotten his degree because he was a stubborn bastard, and he’d started work at Hades around the same time, cleaning dishes and mopping up the kitchen. He’d paid his dues and worked his way to being totally badass, which in his crazy opinion was pouring the drinks out front. And, of course, covering himself in permanent ink.

He lit a cigarette, using the extra time to get his nicotine fix. He actually punched himself in the leg when he realized he was trying to get done with it so Emma wouldn’t have to smell the smoke. He was
so
done.

One girl, two kisses, and he was a mushy fucknob? Figured. The dreams of her had messed with him, making him weak. He decided to leave right then, give himself some freaking space and clear his head. He was just taking the final drag when he heard a horse galloping its ass off.
Crap!

He tossed the smoke and tried to settle into some sort of cool stance as she came into view on her damn horse.
Oh, fuck
. She was gorgeous, riding bareback in jeans and a white sweater. She hung on to the animal’s mane like some sort of horse whisperer.

After a cutesy little wave, she shouted, “Race me, Smoky!”

They ran right by him. He slapped his helmet over his head and pulled the face shield into position. All his intentions to leave blew out of his mind. His balls would have driven the bike by themselves to follow her. He felt the odd lump of his gloves in his helmet, but left them there as he started the engine and began to give chase. She ran the horse along the road and was way the Hell in front of him. But he slapped the bike up a few gears and was almost to her.

Then the fence came to a neat ninety-degree angle and closed off the back of her property. She didn’t even seem to consider slowing down. His heart leapt into his wussy-assed throat, and he hollered. Paying him no mind, the horse leapt gracefully over the fence like it had a part-time job as the cow jumping over the moon. He almost crashed his bike. She looked over her shoulder and gave him the finger.

I’m so done. This chick owns me.
He pulled over to the side of the road and got off his bike, kicking the stand into place. She was laughing, and he wanted more of it immediately.

“Do you always ride like that?” He felt relief as she slid off the horse and landed on her feet.

“If it’s a good day I do.” She tucked her hands in her pockets. Her giant horse got down to the business of munching grass. “Merry Christmas.”

Her hair hung in two long braids, and he wanted to wrap his fists around them. He watched as she approached him. She bit her lip before smiling in a way that made him think she was trying to hide it, and finally Emma stood right in front of him.

The impulse to tuck her on his bike and drive her to the ends of the earth was so intense he could hardly keep still. He wanted to save her, even though she was clearly fine—and pretty capable of taking care of herself.

“Was everything okay with your dad?” He folded his arms in front of him so he wouldn’t do anything drastic that might scare her.

“Oh, yeah. You cut it kind of close though.” She looked over her shoulder to check on her horse and then back at him quickly, like she couldn’t wait to see his face.

“Sorry.” He had to hold her. He opened his arms, and she stepped in and grabbed his jacket’s lapels. Finally, he could take a deep breath. “Emma.”

She shivered. He rubbed her arms and back to try to warm her.

“All night, it was dreams with you in them,” she breathed. Her fists clenched harder, and the leather in his jacket crinkled.

“Did you see the dragon? I mean, really? What’s up with the dragon?” Jack looked at the sky. The clouds seem to glisten.

Emma nodded. “It was crazy. Smoosh? And then there was a man named Everett.”

“I wanted to kill him in my dream. So much.” Jack felt her look at him, and he glanced down into her eyes. The answer was just on the tip of his mind.

“I hated him, yet I was…praying for him?”

He could see her trying to sort it all out.

“And I was missing you, mostly,” she said. “And you were…powerful?”

Her pink lips called to him. He leaned down and touched them with his before speaking against them. “Well, I’m am wildly powerful.”

She kissed him back, and he had to stop himself. He grabbed each of her braids and wrapped his wrists in them so he wouldn’t reenact his favorite part of the dreams on the side of the road.

His voice was raspy as he attempted to do things right. “Can I take you to dinner? We could go to my place afterwards…just to talk.”

She wiggled her head, and it made his hands move. “If I have you alone I’m not responsible for what I do to you,” she countered.

“Agh. Um. Holy shit.” It was dangerous here for him. He felt like he was coming home from a war he’d not even known he fought until this moment. And he’d fought it for her. Emma belonged to him. She was his wife, his responsibility, and his prize. He knew it.

“I think I have to stop trying to understand this,” she said. “Because it might make me lose my mind.”

“Dinner tonight? What time?” He was barely speaking in full sentences anymore. He unwrapped his hands from her hair.

“Six. Pick me up at six.” She staggered away from him, and he stepped back slowly until he could rest against his bike.

Watching her pull herself up onto her horse was sexual and gripping. He wanted to stop her.

“Next time, give me a boost!” she said by way of goodbye.

She talked in clicks and tugs to her horse, who gave up munching after a few moments. She picked up speed and launched the pony over the fence again. The whole encounter had been just a few minutes, and he already craved more of her. Needed her.

Jack had to settle himself down before getting on his motorcycle.

Everett supposed he was still in existence. He was aware, at least—aware that the punishment for all of Hell had been given just to him. At the moment he was floating on top of a bubbling hot spring in a forest. The water around him was brilliant blue. Colors he’d seen previously only in Heaven were now here on Earth. But to say time passed slowly was an understatement. He could only think and watch. And boil. No mouth to scream with, no arms to pull himself out. He was a speck. An anomaly. A type of organism that could survive in impossibly high temperatures.

Everett wondered what this was supposed to teach him. Maybe that having power is overrated? He knew now he’d taken a lot for granted—like breathing, and closing his eyes. Endless awareness was a bitch.

At first he’d tried counting the sunrises, but then they all got pushed together. Now it was either hot from above and below, or just from below. Sometimes he floated near the edge of the spring, and he yearned to get washed up on it so he could dry out, but that never happened. He just came tantalizingly close. Once in a while wildlife would walk by, and that was something.

This was his life. He looked forward to passing squirrels. So he watched with great interest one day when a hiker came by with a test tube. He seemed to be some sort of scientist. The man was nowhere near Everett as he collected a sample from the water and capped it tightly. But periodically he came back. Everett estimated it was about every three days, and each time he wished desperately to be chosen. Wherever that scientist went, Everett wanted to go too.