Morningstar (6 page)

He wasn't in bed with me when I woke. I heard sounds in the kitchen, and wonderful smells wafted through the apartment. I dressed in a pair of slacks, wincing as I walked down the hall. Hunter must not have done as much damage as I had initially thought, because it was mainly a minor irritation more than pain.

Radueriel was placing the final pancake on the plate when I entered the kitchen. I hugged him from behind, inhaling his scent. "Good morning, love," I murmured in his ear.

He chuckled, leaning into my embrace. "Afternoon, almost evening, mind you. Late night?" he asked, serving us both healthy plates of pancakes, bacon and fruit.

I sighed, resting against the wall. "Yes."

"Your clothes were bloody," he said, still fussing over our meal.

"I was attacked."

"By whom?"

"A client."

"Ah."

The response was ragged, and I saw a fine tremor run through his hand. "Radueriel?" I asked, pushing away from the wall and forcing him to turn to me.

"It's my fault!" he cried, jerking away from me. "If I had not demanded you cease pleasuring your clients, this would not have happened!" He tried to walk past me, but I grabbed him forcefully and pressed him between my body and the wall.

"It is
not
your fault, Rad!" I insisted, making him meet my gaze. "Hunter is an asshole and did not take my refusal well. I would suffer anything if you are happy, Radueriel." I brushed the dark locks back from his face. "Anything," I whispered before leaning in and capturing his lips in a vicious kiss.

I untied the sash of his robe while he released the snap of my slacks. He reached to the counter and took a pat of butter on his fingers and stroked my length as I devoured his mouth. I cupped his buttocks when he had lubricated my sex and lifted him; he wrapped his legs tightly around my waist as I thrust both my shaft and my tongue into his body.

He parted our lips, crying out sharply as I impaled him, and he clung to me desperately as we made love in the hallway. I crushed our bodies together, encouraging him to lift himself, to rub himself against my belly as we coupled. In our furious, frantic need, we reached our climaxes quickly.

Radueriel rested his brow against my shoulder, panting with the aftershocks of his orgasm. I cherished the moment, still connected to him through our bodies, and I held him close.

"Our lunch is getting cold, Lucas," he breathed hotly against my ear.

I laughed. "Lunch? Is it not dinner time yet?"

His legs fell from my hips, and I carefully let him go, watching as he retied his robe. Radueriel glowed in the aftermath of our lovemaking—he always did—and it took all my willpower not to bed him again and again, until we were too sore and too spent to couple anymore. Instead, I kissed him and went to shower while he reheated our meals.

Radueriel had long retired, citing exhaustion after the fourth time I took him that day. I reluctantly parted from him, memorizing his movements as he lay in the bed and nestled down in the mattress. I closed the bedroom door and walked to the front door, but I did not open it. I held a knife in my hand, one I had not held in many millennia, and I removed all my clothing. I sliced deep into the meat of my palm, ignoring the intense burn of the blade.

I let the knife fall to the ground and dipped my finger into the welled pool of blood in my palm. I began to make markings on the door, muttering in the language of God, of angels, and invoked powers I had not used since my expulsion from paradise. The room reverberated with my power. I was the First, and my voice was strong as I called to my God, my Creator, and demanded entrance to the one place I had sworn never to return.

When my markings were done, my incantation recited, I reached for the doorknob with my injured hand. I grasped the knob and turned, praying that God would grant me re-entrance.

On the other side of my apartment door was not a dark, narrow hallway. It was bright golden light, and a welcoming scent familiar and dear called for me to step across the threshold.

He was there. Sitting on His throne, His Son at His side, and His face impassive and unreadable as I approached.

"It has been a long time, Morningstar," He boomed.

"You should know," I shot back. Though I still loved Him as I was created to do, I could no longer show Him any deference.

To my surprise, the Lord smiled. "I made you too well, Samael," He said, calling me by a name He had used only once before, when He spoke me into being. It was my prophetic name, my True Name, and His use of it startled me to attention.

"Yes, much too well," He continued, startling me again by not only repeating Himself, but admitting that something of His creation was not exactly as He intended. "It makes Me sad, Samael, that things are as they are. And yet, they could not have been otherwise."

By this time, I had passed beyond surprise and gone straight to shock. Radueriel had been right: God was changed. For one instant, I tried to imagine an eternity in Heaven with Radueriel by my side. But one look at the figure at God's right hand, and I remembered that my love had been right about something else. Heaven, too, had changed, and the angels were no longer the only beings who resided there. If I wanted to live a life of obscurity among humans, I could do that where I was.

"I was right," I said simply.

"Of course you were right. I never said you were wrong."

"Then why? Why create us—why create
me
—if You never intended us to remain as You made us?"

"This is not why you've come here, Samael."

This much about Him had not changed. He was just as artfully capable of avoiding any question He chose not to answer. "No, it isn't. Radueriel. I am asking You to take him back."

"Do you love him?" I did not bother to respond. "Then why would you condemn him to eternity without you?"

"He doesn't belong in my world!" I bellowed. "He belongs in Yours!"

"They are both Mine, Morningstar. Radueriel knows that. He made his choice. He chose you."

I shook my head, refusing to listen to Him. "He couldn't have known what that choice meant."

"He was counseled against it for three days and nights." God leaned forward on His great throne. "He needs you, Morningstar. Right now, he needs you more than he needs Me."

Shock was no longer adequate. I don't think the English language has a word to encompass the emotion of hearing that statement from Almighty God. I looked up into the still warm, still loving eyes of the Lord and wondered at His thoughts and what it had taken for Him to say that to me. His gaze remained unknowable, though, and so I turned away.

"Samael." His voice called to me.

I turned back and realized that it was not the Father that had spoken to me, but the Son.

Jesus stepped forward as He addressed me. "I know the strength and courage that it took for you to come here. This is still your home, Samael, and Radueriel's, too. Come and visit from time to time."

Mysterious ways, indeed.

Pre-dawn light filters into our room, casting long shadows. I inch my way to the bed, my eyes intent on its occupant. I sit on the edge, and he rolls onto his back, his vibrant eyes opening. He smiles at me, a smile of sleepy happiness.

"You saw Him," he says softly, reaching up to caress my cheek with the back of his hand.

I nod. "I saw Him."

"Did you finally decide what it is you want?" he asks, pulling me down so that we are nose to nose.

I nod again. "I did."

He giggles, a light-hearted, tinkling sound. "And what is it you have decided?"

I kiss his nose, his cheeks, and then I kiss his lips, dipping my tongue into his mouth and tasting his sweetness. I sit back a bit and run my thumb along his lower lip, thinking of our Father and my own choices in every life I have lived. "I decided that what I want is you. In this world. Now and forever."

Radueriel throws his arms around me, embracing me tightly as he laughs and cries, tugging me down to lie atop him. We fit together as we always have, ideally, perfectly, as if made for one another. A lock and a key.

I believe now that God made us this way intentionally, only I was too blind to see.

Perhaps
that
had been my sin, even more so than pride.

As I explore his body and bury myself in his heat, I think about Heaven, Hell, Earth, God, angels, and myself. I think of my past, my present, and our future. As I find my release in him, I realize that I am happy. I am content. And I am in love.

Milton once said, ''Tis better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven'. After all these years, I think I finally found something better than both.