Only You (The Mephisto Covenant Series) (32 page)

“Who brought her back?”

“Jax.”

“How? If he went inside—”

“He died trying to save her.” Denys gave me a solemn look. “He made the ultimate sacrifice because he loved her, and God gave him back his life.”

“The Mephisto Covenant.” Would Phoenix ever die to save me? I didn’t think so. Oh, he liked me, lusted after me, and I had no doubt we’d be friends for all eternity – but he was way too selfish to off himself on my behalf. Still, wouldn’t it be amazing for someone to love me that much? I couldn’t imagine it at all.

Kyros appeared first, quickly followed by Jax, Sasha, and Ty. Phoenix and Zee were no-shows, which made me glad. It said a lot about my character, but I didn’t mind telling a fib to this group – lying to Phoenix would have bothered me.

His face creased with worry, Kyros came to me and grasped my upper arms, inspecting me. “Are you all right? Where were you? We did a mental search for Denys and found him at the Rose & Crown, but you weren’t there.” He shot an angry look at Denys. “Where the hell was she while you were drunk, doing the barmaid?”

“How do you know what—”

“I saw you! You were so drunk, I couldn’t wake you up. I looked all over the pub, fanned out across London hunting for her.
We finally decided she’d stayed here, and was maybe somewhere in the house, or lost in the—”

“I asked Denys to take me to church, so he did and left me there and came back for me a couple of hours later. Don’t be mad at him. He was just doing what I asked.”

His hands tightened on my arms. “Mariah, you have to understand the danger. If Eryx finds you, if he were to take you, he could—”

“Look, this was just something I had to do, and now it’s done, and I’d prefer to skip the lecture.” I pulled away and stepped back. “I apologize for worrying everybody, but it’s very hard to be here, not knowing when I can ever leave.”

Instantly, his expression softened and I felt awful for playing on his sympathy. It added insult to the injury of my lie.

“So, you know.”

I jerked a nod. “I know.”

“Are you going to stay?”

“Yes. Right now, I’m going to get something to eat, then get ready for Jordan’s visit.”

They all looked at each other
before Key said, “She’s not going to make it tonight, Mariah. She went to visit Matthew today, and while she was there, he made a miraculous recovery. She went home with him and stayed late, and now she says she’s way too tired and emotionally wrung out to visit. She’ll come tomorrow night, after the winter ball they’re having at her school.”

“A miraculous recovery? How? Did Jordan heal him? Isn’t that forbidden?”

“She says she didn’t, and I believe her, because if she had, Lucifer would have taken her out immediately. We don’t know how it happened, but she’s elated, as you can imagine.”

“Yes, I can.” I wondered how he’d been healed? It was odd, unexpected, and too coincidental, but I’d most likely never know, and since I was beginning to feel sick
at my stomach with hunger pangs, I opted not to be overly concerned about Matthew. I was disappointed not to see Jordan, but on the other hand, I’d feel the need to tell her what happened with Eryx, and I wasn’t ready to do that. Not yet.

Kyros
walked with me to the dining room and continued through to the kitchen. When we were there, before I could ask Hans for something to eat, he said, “In the future, don’t lie for him. He has a serious problem, and covering it up only enables him.”

“Why do you think I lied?”

“Because you’re Jordan’s sister. The only time she won’t look me in the eye is when she’s not being completely truthful, and you just did the same thing. The similarity is amazing. So where were you, really?”

“Can I tell you later, Key? I really feel sick, I’m so hungry.”

For a moment, he looked like he’d press the issue, but he didn’t. Instead, he waved his hand at Hans. “Let’s get something for Mariah to eat. Lots of protein.” Hans asked if I’d like steak and eggs. I nodded, feeling uncomfortable. I suspected Kyros knew what happened to me, especially when he said, “Have your supper, then get some rest. Sleep is crucial right now.” As soon as Hans’s back was turned, he leaned in and whispered, “I know he kissed you. I can tell a difference. You’re becoming Mephisto.”

He appeared to be extremely happy about this, so I went along, glad he didn’t suspect I was now immortal. “I didn’t really want to tell anyone. It’s personal.”

“I can see why you’d be an extremely private person, Mariah, but you’ll have to get used to everyone knowing everything. All of us in one house would make it difficult to keep secrets, but we’re also all connected, so it’s next to impossible to hide what happens.” He pulled one of the stools out from under the counter and waved me toward it. “Have a seat. If you need anything, I’ll be in my office.”

I sat and he
squeezed my shoulder at the same time he bent and kissed me on the cheek. “I’m so glad you’re staying,” he murmured.

Then he was gone, and it was just Hans and I, speaking German, talking about omelets.

***

Phoenix never showed up. After my shower, I finished the book about the perfect woman with the robot brain, hoping he’d turn up at my door. At midnight, I accepted he wasn’t coming and went to bed. Lying in the dark with Olga, I wondered where he was. I was hurt, which pissed me off. I did not want anyone to have any kind of hold over me, emotional or otherwise. I would necessarily have to be dependent on Kyros for money and my living, but it wasn’t exactly a handout. I’d be expected to work for my keep, which wasn’t so different than working for Marta, or, if I had become a doctor, I’d work for money to pay for living. It seemed a fair trade: I’d take out the lost souls and Skia, Key would feed and house me and give me money to play.

As soon as I was able, I would go to Egypt. I’d go by myself and see the pyramids. I would like it and not care I was by myself.

Screw Phoenix. If he did show up sometime before morning, I’d tell him he couldn’t stay, that I wanted distance.

Because I couldn’t live like this. I wanted him, badly, and that meant ceding
a measure of control over my emotions. I’d just have to back off for a while and get my bearings, and then we could be friends.

Feeling slightly better, I eventually drifted
into sleep. I dreamed about Hell on Earth, and in the sea of faces, Emilian stared up at me and begged me to help him. I laughed, dangling an apple, taunting him. He began to cry, which made me feel bad, so I threw him the apple. The others covered him immediately, and I heard his screams as they ripped him to shreds.

I woke
with a gasp, shaky and perspiring. When I sat up, blinking, reorienting myself, Olga meowed and rubbed her head beneath my chin. I petted her absently, sucking in great gulps of air. I didn’t want to go back to sleep. I couldn’t have that dream again. The other one, the one I had over and over, was preferable.

O
ut of bed, I went to the windows, opened the drapes and pushed up one side of the square panes, welcoming the frigid air on my hot body. After a while, I went to the chair by the fire and sat to stare at the banked coals, but they reminded me of the walls of Hell on Earth. I switched focus to the painting above the bed, soothed by the moors and the heather. Someday I’d go to England. I’d find out when the heather bloomed and go then.

I dozed off, and when I next awoke, I was in bed, cocooned in warmth
, my arms and legs entwined with Phoenix’s. “You’re here,” I murmured.

He kissed me, tasting mostly of toothpaste, but underneath the mint was the flavor of whiskey. I reminded myself of my decision to tell him to leave. I gave myself a lecture about how I was only getting in deeper and it would make it that much harder and more hurtful when he did what
it was his nature to do. He’d leave. I’d be alone again. He’d come back for this, for conversation and company, and when he’d had his fill, he’d leave. It would be eternity of this, and I’d be hurt over and over again. I wanted so much more. I deserved more.

I kissed him back.
I listened to him whisper that I was beautiful, that I became more beautiful to him every day. I ran my fingertips across his bare back, loving the smooth heat of him, his thick muscles, the odd comfort I found in his huge body. By rights, I should have been scared to death of him.

I wasn’t.

I pulled back and lifted my pajama top over my head. Then he was kissing me again.

Nothing felt real. I was hazy and sleepy and deliriously happy
, captivated by the feel of his warm, strong hand on my breasts, surrounded by the sweet tangy scent of oranges.

Something was different and my muddled mind sought to capture it, to define it. He was more intense, more focused, more determined.

I knew how this was going to end and I was evenly split down the middle – inwardly shaking in terror and jubilantly shouting,
Yes, thank God, finally.

Maybe if I hadn’t been so foggy and caught up in the moment, I’d have done something different. Like pushed him away and demanded he get out. Maybe I’d have gotten off the bed
to pace around my room and methodically go over every step and tell him how I felt about it, so he’d know, so he’d not scare me. In all my boxes of terrible memories, there was logic and order. Self-protection. But it seemed so inconsequential, maybe even irrelevant, held up to this overwhelming need. I was so lonely, so alone. I craved intimacy and affection like a crack junkie’s desperation for his next hit. I’d chosen immortality primarily because of the Mephisto and my sister. Family. A place to belong. People who wanted me, who needed me, who
liked
me.

“Mariah?” he whispered.

“It’s okay.”

“Oh, God, don’t hate me.”

“I could never hate you.”

“Don’t let me do this to you.”

“I want you to do this
with
me.”

“Semantics,
puica
.”

I loved that he called me a Romanian term of endearment. It was what sent me the last little bit into absolute certainty that I wanted this to happen.

He was up on his elbow, hovering over me, kissing me, his hand drifting from my breasts, across my belly, beneath the waist of my pajama bottoms, and there, to a place I never allowed myself to think about, a part of me that was pain and disgust. “You can’t want to touch me, Phoenix,” I mumbled against his mouth.

“I
can, and I do. I want to touch you . . . I want to be a part of you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in a thousand years of living.”

“But I’m dirty and . . . used, and—”

“What you are is the sum total of everything in your life since you were born, and you’re all I want, what I need. Soft, gentle, beautiful. Jaded and naïve at the same time. You’re smart and wise and passionate.” He kissed me yet again, slower this time, gently sweeping his tongue across mine, while his fingers dipped into my most private place and I . . . instinctively, I wanted to close my legs, to clench myself into a tight wall of resistance. Desire, something I’d never known until today, insisted I open up and find out for myself if the earl’s wife and Danielle and the robot heroine were all figments of their creators’ imaginations, or fiction imitating real life.

Despite t
his insistent need I felt throughout my body, even though I reasonably thought there had to be something amazing about sex, I couldn’t distinguish between now and then. His hands on my body felt right and wrong, all at the same time. I wanted so badly not to freak out, but I could feel myself beginning to lose my breath, lose myself. My mind was trying to take me to the braided rug by the fire and I didn’t want to go there. I wanted to be here, with Phoenix.

He raised up at the same time all the candles in the room were lit.
He knew it would be better in the light. “Stay with me, Mariah.” His fingers were doing interesting things down there and I moved my legs restlessly. “This is what feels good. This is what makes you wet and ready. This is . . . no, don’t look away. Stay right here with me. You see, it’s just me, and I’d never hurt you, ever, and the instant you tell me to stop, I will. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

“I’m not beautiful, Phoenix. You’re infatuated with me because I’m Anabo. Because I’m your Anabo.”

He gave me a wry smile. “Infatuated. Is that what this is?” Lowering his head, he kissed me again, and his fingers never stopped. “Your lips, your mouth . . . I could kiss you for hours and hours and still want more. Until the end of time, I’ll want to kiss this perfect mouth. So full and soft and . . .” He slid his lips across mine, smiling. Shifting slightly, he was closer, his chest against my breast, his erection pressing against my thigh. And still, those fingers.

“I don’
t know what to do.”

“Just keep looking at me, and don’t think about anything but how this feels.”

“This is so strange, Phoenix, and I’m embarrassed and awkward. Maybe you should just go ahead and—”

“Not until you’re ready.” He dropped his head
so that his mouth was just next to my ear. He whispered, “When we were reading about Danielle and Rupert, what were you thinking? How did it make you feel?”