Allie hesitated, glancing at me again. “Then come with me—”
“No,” Azazel said. His look was physical, like a touch on my newly healed body, like a caress, and I wanted to close my eyes and revel in it. I ignored it and him as I rose, preparing to follow Allie.
He caught my arm. Just like that, he put his hand on my arm, and I was helpless to break free as a rush of feeling swept over me. “Rachel and I have unfinished business. We’ll follow in a moment.”
Allie cast me an apologetic glance. “He’s right. I’ve been keeping him at a distance, but you need to deal with it sooner or later.”
“Deal with what?” I said coldly. Azazel’s flinch was so brief I might have imagined it, but I knew what had caused it. My ruined voice.
So he was capable of feeling guilt. So what?
“The elephant in the room,” Allie said incomprehensibly. A moment later she was gone, leaving me there on the beach, with Azazel still touching me.
“What do you want?” I rasped. In truth, it was a sexy bedroom voice. For what little good it did me. “If you’re going to tell me you’re sorry, I don’t want to hear it.”
“I’m not sorry.”
Now, why didn’t that surprise me? “Then why are we talking?”
“I did what I had to do. I had no choice, and if I had to do it over, I would do it again.” His voice was cool, matter-of-fact.
“Including fucking me up against that door in the pouring rain? That was what you had to do? What you’d do over again?”
“Find me a door.”
I swallowed convulsively. So I wasn’t immune to him. That shouldn’t surprise me. Fucking Azazel was the first sexual pleasure I had known, I told myself, deliberately crude. That was a powerful influence, no matter how epic his betrayal.
“What do you want from me?”
He said nothing, and I made the mistake of looking up into his eyes. They weren’t icy cold at all, I saw with sudden shock. They were filled with heat, an earthy desire that shook me as I stared at him, and I wondered what he could see in mine.
And then I knew, as he leaned down and covered my mouth with his, and instead of pushing him away I came closer, my body drifting against his as his arm came around my waist.
He held me there, his hand on my hip, and I could feel his erection. My reaction was immediate: I was wet, longing for him, my nipples hardening in anticipation, my secret flesh quivering for his touch. His tongue pushed inside my mouth, as I wanted his cock pushing inside me, and I wanted him so desperately that everything disappeared, his betrayal, the pain, the horror. I needed him inside me; I wanted to shove him down on the sand and mount him.
I shivered, trying to fight it, but I was kissing him back, and that knowledge was a shame so great I froze.
He must have felt my sudden chill. He set me away from him, seemingly without reluctance, and his eyes were hidden by hooded lids. I didn’t have to look down to know he was still hard, to know he wanted me. Though I wondered why.
He had had others, better. Women he’d loved, presumably, though the idea of Azazel and love seemed inconsistent. “Is this part of some sadistic entertainment for you?” I said in my newly husky voice. “New ways to inflict pain?”
He didn’t react. “You have had ample time to deal with your ordeal in the Dark City.” He was cool and even, as always. “You need to come back where you belong.”
I was breathless at his gall. “And where is that?”
“In my bed.”
Fury and disbelief overpowered me, and I simply stared at him in disbelief. He took my arm, and I yanked away, stumbling back.
“We need to join the Council,” he said patiently. “I’m not about to ravish you on the sand.”
I wanted him on the sand. I was suddenly reminded of an old children’s book. In a chair, in the air, on a boat, in a coat. On the sand, with your hand. Every way I could take him. I drew myself up to my full height, hoping I was radiating dignity but knowing I probably simply looked sulky. “In your dreams,” I said.
“And yours.”
Had he seen my dreams? The wickedly erotic memories that woke me with mini climaxes? No, there was no way he could see inside my mind.
“I can read your thoughts,” he said with horrifying frankness. “Not all of them, but enough, if I try, though you are more difficult than most. I can’t see much of your dreams, but I can imagine. I have the same dreams.”
I couldn’t stand another moment talking to him. I started past him, heading toward the house, and if he’d touched me I would have run. But he didn’t. He simply fell into step beside me, and it wasn’t until we’d made our way to the door of the meeting hall that he whispered, “Mini climaxes?” in a soft voice, and I could feel the heat rise and stain my face.
They were all gathered. The Fallen were seated around the table, with one chair left for Azazel. The only woman at the table was Allie—the other wives were seated in the back, and I’d started toward them when Azazel took my hand. “She belongs at the table.”
I desperately wanted to yank my hand free, but there were too many people watching, and I felt suddenly shy. “He’s right,” Allie said. “Someone get her a chair.”
“I don’t need—” I began, but Azazel overruled me.
“This is of concern to you as well.”
Someone drew another chair up to the vast table beside Azazel’s, and I had no choice. I sat, trying to keep apart from him in the confined space, but when he slid in next to me his thigh brushed against mine, and there was no way I could retreat, short of climbing into Michael’s lap—and even I stopped short of climbing into the archangel Michael’s lap, whether he’d fallen or not.
“Word has come to us,” Raziel said. “Uriel has found Lucifer’s tomb.”
This meant nothing to me. Allie had told me the Fallen were searching for the place where the Supreme Being had imprisoned the first of the Fallen, but it had nothing to do with me.
But all eyes were upon me, an unsettling situation, and I felt Azazel’s hand on my thigh, calming me, restraining me, copping a feel, I wasn’t sure which. I wanted to scuttle out of the way, but Michael was too close, and with his shaven head and tattooed body he looked almost lethal. I stayed where I was.
Finally Allie said, “Stop looking at her. Don’t you realize she doesn’t have any idea what’s going on?”
It was Raziel who spoke. “You told Uriel where Lucifer is,” he said, his measured voice expressing no censure. “That’s what the Truth Breakers were trying to retrieve from you.”
“I should point out that my visit with the Truth Breakers wasn’t my idea, it was Azazel’s,” I said with remarkable calm. “And if you hadn’t sent someone to rescue me, I would have died.”
“In fact, it was the Council’s decision to send you to the Truth Breakers. We didn’t know that the Dark City was part of Uriel’s kingdom.”
“Well, that’s all right, then,” I said, letting the sarcasm through. “Didn’t you think there might be an easier way to get the information from me?”
“No.”
God, he could be just as monosyllabic as Azazel.
“The bottom line is, if Azazel hadn’t turned me over to the torturers, they wouldn’t know anything about where Lucifer is. And don’t ask me—I don’t remember anything but … pain.” My ruined voice broke a little on that, despite my best effort, and I glared at Raziel. I wanted to glare at the man beside me, but that would mean I actually had to look at him, and I couldn’t trust myself to do that.
“They took that memory from you,” Azazel said from beside me.
“Is that why you sent someone to save me at the last minute?” I asked Raziel, ignoring him. “Because you realized they were the bad guys? Or because you figured they’d already stripped my memories of anything useful?”