The Demon and the Succubus (15 page)

Amalya was covered in blood, her blond hair matted with it. A large gaping wound showed in her neck and above her breast, but the worst was her stomach, which was nothing but so much ragged meat. The only sign she still lived were the short breaths that sounded from her at irregular intervals.

Levi crossed the room in quick strides, but Raphael stepped in front of him blocking his way. “Let me heal her. We don’t have much time.”

Levi bit back all the denials that sprang to mind and instead clamped his lips closed and stepped back. He wanted to go to her, to touch her, to comfort her, but held those impulses in check and fisted his hands at his sides to let Raphael tend her instead. The inaction went against every fiber of his being, especially when it came to Amalya.

He’d sworn to protect her, and he’d failed.

Self-recriminations flowed through his mind and he clenched his teeth until his jaw ached. A quick glance toward Amalya’s still form and he shoved his guilt aside and instead did something he rarely did—prayed.

Raphael advanced toward the bed but stopped short when Jethro pulled out one of his guns, placing himself squarely between Amalya and the large Archangel.

Panic jumped through Levi as Amalya’s breathing faltered and slowed. “Jethro, he can help.” Levi started forward to reason with the other man, but when Jethro swung the gun toward him, he froze and held his hands up in front of him.

“He’s an Archangel. If anyone can save her, it’s Raphael.” As fear raced through him, he cast about for something to say to convince Jethro to drop the gun. “Please. She may not have much time.”

Jethro ignored Levi but met Raphael’s gaze for a long moment as tension in the room mounted until Levi thought all was lost. But then, slowly, Jethro lowered the gun until it hung by his side. “If you can save her, do it. Do it now.”

Raphael laid a gentle hand on Jethro’s shoulder as he passed, but Jethro seemed to barely notice as he turned back to stare at Amalya.

Raphael sat gently next to Amalya’s still form on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. When he was settled, he held both hands palms down over the gaping wound in Amalya’s abdomen and closed his eyes.

Within seconds, a golden glow erupted from his palms and bathed Amalya’s entire body in a glow of warm light.

As Levi watched, her skin slowly knitted and closed, the blood fading as if it had never been.

A soft grunt from Jethro who still held the gun limply at his side told Levi Raphael hadn’t bothered to mask the evidence of his work from the full human.

When Amalya’s stomach was perfectly smooth and unblemished once more, Raphael continued his vigil, sweat breaking out along his brow, his lips set into a hard line of concentration.

Levi watched the scene before him, the silence stretching his nerves until he thought they would snap. But he was thankful now that he’d summoned Raphael, no matter the truth about his parentage. If the Archangel could save Amalya, Levi would deal with his mother’s twisted version of the truth about him and his family, later.

A soft moan from Amalya pierced Levi like an accusation. All the self-recriminations resurfaced with a vengeance.

He’d left her alone and she’d somehow been attacked. Raphael cursed and then gently pulled Amalya into his lap, arranging her so she leaned back against him at an angle, her head cradled by one large arm. “She needs blood . . . mine . . . or she’ll die.” He nodded toward Jethro. “Put down that gun and come up here on the bed. I need you to hold her arms. She’s going to flail, and I need to concentrate on getting her to drink.”

“To drink blood?” Jethro demanded.

Raphael turned his heavy gaze on Jethro and the man shuddered as if someone had just touched his soul before he looked away and stepped forward to do as Raphael had asked.

The Archangel’s dark gaze turned toward Levi. “I need you to hold her legs. Put all your weight on them. Succubi are strong, especially with the energy kick she’s going to get from my blood.”

Levi stepped forward and crawled onto the bed, straddling Amalya’s legs, ready to bring all his weight to bear when it was needed.

Raphael tucked Amalya’s head firmly into the crook of one arm and plucked a dagger from his boot. With a little maneuvering to reach around Amalya’s still form, he slashed his wrist deep. Bright blood welled out of the wound and using his free hand to open her mouth, he pressed his wrist to Amalya’s lips.

For a long moment, she lay still as blood dripped from the sides of her mouth. Then without warning, she began to fight.

She flailed and bucked, squirming against their hold. Raphael held her head firmly in his grip, forcing his wrist against her lips until she swallowed and then gasped, sucking in a large breath before he pressed his wrist to her mouth again.

Jethro struggled to hold her arms while Levi was forced to use all his body weight and a good amount of leverage to keep her from kicking him off and sending him ass-first onto the floor.

“It’s all right, little one,” Raphael softly murmured as he held her gently but firmly against his large body while he forced her to swallow again and again.

When every muscle in Levi’s body ached, and he was convinced he wouldn’t be able to hold Amalya down much longer, Raphael finally wiped her lips and nodded to both men that they could let her go. “Let’s take her to the guest room. Fresh sheets and no dead body.” He gathered her in his arms and took her down the hall.

Levi jogged ahead of him to pull the covers back and allow Raphael to lay her gently on the bed. Jethro tucked her in like she was a small child, his features pale and drawn.

“It’s not over.”

Raphael’s pronouncement surprised Levi and he had just turned an incredulous stare on the Archangel when Amalya’s entire body began to convulse.

He darted toward the bed to hold down her legs as Jethro did the same with her arms to keep her from hurting herself. Her strength increased with each passing second until Raphael had to help.

As the long minutes ticked by, sweat slicked Levi’s shirt to his body and threatened to drip into his eyes.

Jethro’s curses grew louder as one of Amalya’s flailing arms would occasionally catch him in the face.

When her movements began slowly to still, Raphael motioned for Jethro and Levi to move and let him sit beside her. Raphael gently stroked Amalya’s cheek with his fingers until her eyes fluttered open and she met his dark gaze.

Amalya stiffened and froze, staring into Raphael’s eyes for several long minutes as Levi exchanged concerned glances with Jethro.

Levi softly cleared his throat, impatient to know what was happening. A few long seconds later Raphael glanced away and Amalya relaxed, her eyes fluttering closed.

Jethro rushed forward to the other side of Amalya’s bed from where Raphael sat and gently took her hand. “Is she . . .”

“Rest now, little one,” Raphael whispered to Amalya as she sighed in her sleep. Raphael glanced up and nodded to Jethro and then slowly stood, his spine making small pops of protest. “She needs rest and then food. She should be fine on energy for a while but probably shouldn’t turn it down if either of you are willing.”

“I’ll stay with her.” Jethro’s voice was low. “Food is ready downstairs. If you’re going to talk, go, so she can sleep.”

Levi didn’t miss the low thread of anger in Jethro’s voice. He didn’t need any further accusation to blame himself—he’d already done that from the first second he saw the demon in Amalya’s room. He motioned Raphael outside and closed the bedroom door behind them.

Without turning to acknowledge the large Archangel at his back, he walked down the stairs and, for lack of anywhere else to go, made his way into the kitchen and checked the burners under the spaghetti sauce and green beans. Apparently, when Amalya had screamed, Jethro had already finished cooking and had just been keeping things warm.

“Perfect.” Raphael leaned over the large pot of spaghetti sauce and sniffed. “I know I could use some food, and it wouldn’t hurt you any either.” He hunted through the cabinets until he found plates and silverware and set the table for four before taking two plates to the stove to fill them with noodles, sauce, and green beans.

Levi stood frozen in place as his adrenaline ebbed away and he was left with guilt and anger that chewed at his insides like acid. “How did the demon get in?”

When Raphael wouldn’t meet his gaze, Levi grabbed the man’s arm, nearly knocking one of the plates to the floor. “Tell me.”

Raphael sighed and set both full plates of food on the kitchen table before sitting and glancing up at Levi. “You summoned Caldriel before me?”

Levi nodded as foreboding slid through him like an icy caress.

“He was most likely looking for her. Or you,” Raphael added almost as an afterthought. “And she probably didn’t hide her movements.”

“Me?” Levi glanced around the room trying to make sense of Raphael’s statement before he turned back toward the Archangel. “Why would he be looking for me?”

“You have the blood of Caldriel in your veins. That alone would make you an enemy of many. I’m surprised you haven’t run into that long before now.” He gestured to the seat beside him and then took a hot roll from a bowl covered with a linen napkin in the middle of the table.

“I haven’t seen my mother in two hundred years.” He sat heavily in the chair next to Raphael and stared at the food in front of him as his stomach roiled.

Raphael pursed his lips. “Demons are patient. The best explanation is that he followed the scent of her blood that runs inside you and found a nearly helpless succubus instead of her.” He glanced up. “It’s not your fault. It’s Caldriel’s. I don’t wish to say something disparaging about your mother, but it’s the truth and will keep you from blaming yourself.” He picked up his fork and used it to point at Levi. “You and Jethro are going to need all your strength to protect Amalya. You can’t afford time for guilt or selfdenial. So eat.” He nodded toward Levi’s plate before digging into his own.

Levi stiffened in his seat, his hand going to his waistband where his daggers usually sat. He’d left them upstairs embedded in the back of the demon host’s skull. “How did you know Jethro’s name? Or Amalya’s for that matter? I never told you either.”

Raphael shrugged as if he hadn’t noticed Levi’s reaction or frantic reach for his weapons. “When I looked into Jethro’s soul upstairs that gave me all the information I needed.”

Levi frowned as he remembered Jethro had started to argue about Amalya being made to drink Raphael’s blood. One quick gaze from Raphael and Jethro had blanched and backed down. “Did you look into my soul as well?” Levi asked feeling violated even without the confirmation.

Raphael swallowed a mouthful of food and laughed. “No. I tried that as soon as you summoned me.”

“And?” Levi prompted.

“And . . . nothing.” Raphael stood and crossed to the refrigerator where he pulled out a large pitcher of iced tea and brought it to the table along with two glasses he’d found in the cabinets. “You have my blood in you, so you’re immune to soul gazing, just like Amalya will now be when she recovers.”

As the implications hit him like a gunshot, Levi snapped his gaze to Raphael’s.

“You’re on the right track. You carry my blood, but Ashford was the one who lay with Caldriel to conceive you.”

A sudden kinship with the late duke ran through Levi, even though the old bastard had been a proud and haughty man. “Then how—”

Raphael cut him off with an impatient gesture. “If I tell you, will you eat?”

Levi slowly nodded and picked up his fork and began to eat, if only to hear the story. He slid a large forkful of pasta between his lips but tasted nothing as he met Raphael’s gaze to hold him to his promise.

Raphael smirked as he poured them both tea and took a long drink before speaking. “Without going too much into the ancient history of Caldriel, she was able to acquire a long-term human host and has always had a knack for ingratiating herself into any situation she wanted. I’m not sure how she wormed her way into the
haute ton
of British society, but she managed it and Ashford fell madly in love with her.”

He took another long drink of tea and set the glass on the table. “Hemophilia ran in Ashford’s family like most of those who share blood with the royals. When you were three months old, Caldriel came to me and begged me to save you.” Raphael sighed. “Yes, she’s a demon, but I think she truly loved your father and she truly loves you. She’d stayed clear of the supernatural politics for quite some time and you had the mark of destiny about you, so I couldn’t turn away.”

Levi frowned at the “mark of destiny” comment. “So you gave me your blood, just like you did with Amalya upstairs.”

Raphael nodded. “Granted, you were so tiny, it didn’t take much, but the end result was that when I healed you, all of Ashford’s blood was cleaned away and mine ran in its place.”

“So in a way, you
are
my father, but so is he.”

Raphael nodded. “Exactly.” He laid down his fork and met Levi’s gaze. “And just as having Caldriel’s blood will automatically garner you enemies, so will having mine. Only other Archangels or very high fallen will be able to sense what’s inside you. Most others will think you half demon, half human. It’s probably best if you don’t advertise otherwise.”

Levi fell silent as everything he’d learned churned inside his mind trying to fit together in some coherent way. But he was too exhausted to make much good sense of any of it, so he took Raphael’s advice and ate.

Lilith pulled on
her robe with quick, impatient gestures as she tried unsuccessfully to calm her trembling fingers.

“Do you wish me to leave?”

Gabriel’s soft question startled Lilith, reminding her the Archangel still sat naked on the edge of the bed.

“No,” she said even though she was tempted to say yes. She’d made the decision to exclude Uriel from her sustenance sessions because it had become too hard for her to have him so close and know she would never be able to have him.