Redemption (A NOVEL OF THE SEVEN SIGNS) (13 page)

“That’d make a sweet change.” She ran light fingers over his hips, tempting him closer, harder, hotter.

Her thumb slipped down into the crease of his thigh. He jerked, explosive, and heat crunched his flesh tight. Heaven’s
blood, he was so hard his head swam. The tough leather between them infuriated him. He wanted to rip it away, feel her clever fingertips working his cock, her fists yanking his feathers, her sweet silken hair spilling over his thighs…

Just a helltrick. Didn’t make it any less real.

“I want to get you naked.” The rough fire of truth erupted on his tongue. Rich like release, compelling, unstoppable. “I want to bite your nipples while you moan my name. I want to wrap your legs around my neck and lick your sweet flesh until you scream.”

“Now you’ve got my attention.” Her eyes glittered, greedy. She reached between them, running her palm over him, seeking a way in…

“I’m not finished.” He banged her head into the bricks, crushing her hand to a halt with his hip. “I want to own you. I want to hold you down and have you, deep and hard and breathless while the world ends and heaven and hell melt into oblivion.”

Delicately, he tilted his blade, slicing a shimmering red line under her chin. “But—just so we’re clear?—I would rather die a dozen screaming deaths on your hell-fouled blade than touch you again.”

He shoved her away, and vanished his dagger on a flashing-blue threat. “So don’t test me, Rose Harley. Skinning you alive would be a lot less effort.”

CHAPTER 10

And Japheth—gentle name, for an ice-hearted killer—spat at her feet, and walked away.

A scream soured Rose’s throat, and she choked it down. Her bruised neck ached like poison, the cut he’d made burning like fire, even without his acid glory. But inside, her female flesh melted for him. And that hurt worse than anything.

She’d wanted him. Not just the faked lust of a vampire hunting prey, or Fluvium’s compulsion chewing in her veins. Honest desire, woman for man. And he’d
walked away
.

That didn’t happen to her.

Her fists curled tight. She wanted to rake her hair over her face, bury herself in the dirt so this Japheth couldn’t see the humiliation burning in her cheeks. He’d felt so sickeningly good against her. Metal and unyielding muscle, so brutally strong she’d shivered in anticipation. And the hard thrust of his cock at the juncture of her thighs had her breathless. She’d wanted to strip naked, surrender, let him do whatever he wanted to her…

He’d made her feel like a woman. Not a vampire. Not a monster. Just a woman.

The one thing she’d never be again. Damn him for reminding her.

Her nails scraped her palms, raking them raw. Her skin squelched, vampire healing already kicking in, but she dug deeper, gritting her sharp teeth against the sting.

She’d been alone all her life, no one to help her succeed except a drug-addled big sister and a mother who’d died too young. That made a girl self-reliant. She wanted something, she took it. And she was strong, tall, trained to physical peak from years of rehearsal. Not many men made her feel…girly. Feminine. Vulnerable.

But one frigid, commanding glare from
him
and she’d bared her belly in submission. And when he’d said those things…damn, she’d felt every word. His teeth tugging on her nipples. His mouth at her sex, licking her, sucking, his strong warrior’s fingers invading her…

She squirmed. Part of her wanted to weep for the human life she’d lost. Sex used to be fun. She’d liked the flirting, the laughter, the breathless excitement. It wasn’t fun anymore. More like a necessary chore. Her desperate liaisons with other vampires were frantic, finished too soon to be satisfying. Even the orgasms were forgettable, just empty release without pleasure, and her own fingers were no substitute, even coupled with…

The bloodthirst twisted like an evil fanged serpent in her belly, and she shivered. Every time she fed, she promised herself she wouldn’t like it. Wouldn’t feel the rush. Wouldn’t groan with dark-sweet delight as liquid fire poured down her throat, starbursting in her belly and igniting every nerve ending with evil ecstasy…

And every time, her will failed her.

The curse’s propagation drive was simple. Vampires fed for the same reason humans fucked: it felt too damn good to stop. But Rose couldn’t bring herself to fully quench her thirst. Feeding was too disgusting, soaked in evil memories. She drank only enough to survive, and the human stumbled away, infected, leaving her dizzy and sweaty and so horny she sought out other vampires for release.

Hence the quick, blind screw in some dirty doorway, the hurried reciprocal hand jobs, and failing that, her own empty caress in the dark. A few times, she’d made the mistake of feeding on other vampires for nourishment. It tasted vile. Meaty, lumpy with corruption like the hellcurse itself.

And it didn’t sate the thirst.

Oh, no. Fluvium wouldn’t make it that easy. Drinking vampire blood only made you thirstier.

She hadn’t yet sunk low enough to do what most did, which was drink a human to death while you were fucking them. Caliban said the flavor, and the rush, were second to none, especially if you intensified the thirst with a vampire-blood orgy beforehand. They orgasmed when they died, one last frantic cry for immortality, and the pleasure, he said, was explosive.

Just the kind of sick shit that Caliban—he of the razor-carved scars and wire-barbed flesh—would think was cool.

The idea made Rose want to vomit. But one awful day soon, when Fluvium taunted her beyond endurance and the surging famine swelled up to drown her…

“Rose? You with me?” Japheth’s cold voice sliced her foul memories apart. He’d wiped the bloodstains from his hands, scraped them from his golden hair. His luminous skin gleamed under the blood-lit moon. In her vampire sight, his green eyes burned like ice. Blue glitter danced in his feathers, hostile. All that explosive passion, channeled into frosty rage.

His composure didn’t make her feel better. She flushed, sick, her burned forehead stinging. Unlike her, this Tainted angel had a will of steel. It didn’t take a genius to see how he wanted her. He’d shuddered in her embrace, gasped when she caressed him. That hot hunk of male flesh, so hard and ready. Any other man would’ve taken what she offered. Fucked her. Gotten off in her hand. Pushed her to her knees and used her mouth.

But Japheth had just walked away.

Warm admiration bubbled in her heart, and she popped it with a forced sneer. Typical angel superiority, that’s all it was. Easy to keep his dick in his pants when he rated her lower than pond scum. Well, he’d need a will of steel—and balls of steel, too—to resist her.

Her muscles warmed, energized by the moonlight, and she stroked her knife as it lay sheathed against her thigh. All she needed was a little exchange of blood. Willpower or not, he was aching for her. Just one mistake—one tiny lapse in the heat of battle, when his blood sang aflame with glory, when primal instincts took over and his brain wasn’t running the show—and she’d have him.

Fluvium would be satisfied. He’d grant her one more month out of hell. And she’d flit off into the night, and do what needed to be done.

Drink. Fuck. Rise again tomorrow, and do it all over, more and again and forever, amen…

“Rose? You with me?”

Rose’s lips curled, and Japheth wanted to rake that sardonic smile from her face. “Sure,” she drawled. “Whatever. Let’s get on with it.”

Demon magic curled like black smoke around her limbs, wreathing her in misty shadow. She tossed back her braid, and led on.

Japheth followed, nerves still twitching. The crumbling redbrick tenements slicked evil shadows over his skin. His armor felt too tight, a sweltering metal cage. Sweat ran down inside it, and his shirt was saturated. He ruffled his feathers, hunting for a cooling breeze, but found none. Somewhere, a pack of cats yowled like banshees, echoing police sirens, and in the distance, a helicopter’s blades thudded, its searchlights scything.

Trusting hellspawn. Christ almighty. It didn’t feel right.

But what choice? Tomorrow night, the moon would wax full, and Fluvium’s plan—whatever it was—would bear its evil fruit. He’d no time to waste on personal scruples. He was heaven’s warrior, alive with holy purpose. His conscience meant nothing.

He meant nothing.

That was how it worked. Michael loathed inefficiency, and never wasted soldiers. But in the end, his angels—especially Tainted angels—were expendable. A renewable resource. Stopping these demons was all that mattered.

Apart from killing this Angel Slayer.

Japheth flexed tense fingers. He’d make this one hurt. She
deserved nothing less. If she’d truly killed twelve angels—and he didn’t doubt her—it was his duty to put her down like a rabid dog.

Especially if she really had
touched
them. Made them want her, led them into willing sin.

Ahead, she stalked the rubbish-strewn sidewalk, athletic, lethal in her grace. His gaze glued to her denim-clad thighs. His body heated in memory. Her soft feminine scent dizzying him like opium, hypnotic dark eyes, cherry-ripe lips…

He bit his tongue, a stinging penance. Temptation was a two-way street. Yeah, she was beautiful. Desirable. Sexy as all hell. But his own weakness, not her wiles, had endangered him. Some ugly creature deep inside him yearned to be corrupted.

Like any good soldier, she’d merely discovered his vulnerability, and aimed for it.

And that was after fourteen hundred years of self-denial.

Heaven’s angels—those others she’d seduced—were sheltered creatures. Unworldly. Against this she-devil? No chance.

Faint contempt soured his mouth. Heaven’s children looked down with disdain on the Tainted. What price their superiority now? Still, he flicked his gaze skywards, a swift prayer for mercy on their souls. He knew how swift—how terrible—heaven’s vengeance could be.

He fluttered to catch up, lighting beside Rose. “Where are we going?”

“Caliban’s den. In the Village. Not far.”

“And when we get there?”

She ducked an overhanging branch. “Hell if I know. You’re the soldier, not me. Storming the castle is your job.”

“Tell me about this Caliban.” He flashed his dagger, checking the rippled edge for damage or dirt. It stung his finger, blood oozing. Guess it was sharp…

Rose averted her eyes, but not before he saw the flashburn glint of hunger.

Japheth smiled grimly as the cut healed. “See something you like?”

“Don’t make me puke.” But pink stained her cheeks. In the moonlight, feverish sweat gleamed sickly on her throat.

Great. More trouble. Angels could go days without nourishment.
It made them more effective soldiers. But vampires, like humans, needed sustenance. The thought of watching her feed, listening to her sigh as she sated her thirst…

“Don’t hold out on me, vampire,” he said roughly. “Is your hunger going to be a problem?”

She lengthened her stride. “My problem, not yours.”

He grabbed her elbow, and it burned his fingers. Not angel on devil. Body heat. She was too warm.

Her pulse pounded against his palm, dizzying. He had a knife in his hand. He could end this right now. Kiss her soft skin with razor steel, thrust it deep and hard into her flesh, feel her groan and shudder…

He forced her to face him. “It will be my problem, if you faint on me in the middle of a fight. Don’t be shy on my account. A soldier does what’s necessary. Don’t they teach you that in hellspawn school?”

“I’m fine.” She yanked free, kept walking. “Don’t waste your fake concern on me. You’ll be rid of me soon enough.”

“Too soon, if you don’t take care of yourself. This isn’t the time for a low-protein diet.” He shrugged. “Unless you really do have that death wish.”

“Ha ha. So funny.”

He ducked around another burning car, crisp metallic smoke billowing. “I’m a funny guy. Must be all the starving vampires I’ve killed so easily.”

Rose laughed, and her bitterness stung his tongue. “You’re a real comedian. Vampires were people once. They had lives and kids and people who loved them. Ever think of that? Or do you just get off on death?”