Julian laughed, but there wasn’t any humor. “You’re Lily. I really didn’t expect you to listen to me, but I wish you had.” He bent, brushing his lips over her forehead. “At least it wasn’t a total waste. Baal is dead, and the information the minion provided may turn out valuable. And we now know it’s Asmodeus pulling the strings. That’s something.”
“Damn it. I know Baal knew who it was.”
“He would never tell you if he did. Many would rather face an eternity in Hell with Him instead of betraying Asmodeus.” Julian kissed the top of her head as he clasped her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “It’s late. Let’s go.”
She let him pull her away, but she couldn’t help but look back. A black mark seared the cement beam that Baal had been against, the only reminder of the fallen angel. Shuddering, she thought of those women, and how she would have been one of them if it hadn’t been for Julian all those years ago.
Chapter Twenty-six
Sunday should have consisted of more hunting and sleuthing, but instead it involved eating in bed and bad action movies.
And sex, lots of sex.
“I’ll never let you out of this bed,” Julian murmured. “I think I could keep you here forever.”
She climbed on top of him. “Haven’t you had enough?”
He grasped her hips, sliding her toward his erection. “I’ll never have enough.”
Really, she believed him. He had been insatiable. Not that she was complaining. It was nice to forget everything for a little while, especially after the night before. Hovering above him, she clasped his hands to the mattress. “I have to go back to the Sanctuary tomorrow.”
“I can’t believe you are going back to that place.” He glowered at her.
“Julian.” She sighed.
“I cannot fathom your devotion to a place and people who have so willingly turned their backs on you.”
She wiggled a little, watching him squirm as he tried to concentrate. “Not all of them have turned their backs on me, Julian.” Luke had called her cell at least a dozen times since last night. “I know it’s hard for you to understand, but it’s not like being cast out of Heaven. I’m allowed back into the Sanctuary. And well, you’re not allowed back into Heaven.”
He gave her a droll look.
She snickered. “Anyway, you promised you wouldn’t bring this up anymore.”
He quirked a sandy-colored brow at her. “Some promises are hard to keep.”
Lily grinned. “Well you need to work on that.” She slid down him, her lips so very close to the part of him that was growing rapidly. “Tomorrow I have to go back. And tomorrow night we need to start looking for more minions.”
He was watching her with eyes filled with anticipation. “Yeah, tomorrow…Nephilim stuff. Sure.”
“Julian, I have never heard you so unintelligible. That sentence didn’t even make sense.”
“No?”
“No.” Her pink tongue flicked over the throbbing head of his cock.
His lips parted. She did it again, and this time her lips followed the path. His hands balled into fists under hers. Peeking up through her lashes, she gazed at his enthralled face and wanted to bring him to the same pleasure he had so selfishly given her in the beginning.
Of course, Julian had other plans, and in one swift movement, he sat her down on his throbbing member. She tipped her head back, reveling in how good it felt.
Somewhere during the weekend, Lily had decided that proving Julian wasn’t evil became as important to her as finding out who was betraying them. When she shared this with him, he actually laughed and then wished her good luck.
But Lily was determined. There had to be a way for the other Nephilim to see him like she did, and she told him she would find a way. Instead of laughing at her this time, he kissed her softly. “Having you see me as you do is good enough for me, Lily.”
Those words touched a part of her, one that was tender and vulnerable. Curling herself around him, she rested her head on his chest and smiled. Her phone rang once again, but like all the other times, she ignored it.
…
“Stop the limo!” the senator yelled for a second time as he adjusted his tuxedo. “Damn it, is a good driver too hard to come by these days?”
The man across from him smiled lazily. “Remold was a great driver, but I didn’t like the way he looked at me, and you know my temper. It’s not my strongest suit.”
Senator Sharpe’s gaze narrowed on the thing sprawled across the leather seat. God, he hated minions more than he hated the fallen angel that held him by the balls. Temperamental and unpredictable, the one who shared his limo tonight had snapped the neck of his driver last week. Sharpe still had no idea what had provoked Gareth to do such a thing, but he would never understand minions.
“How long will we have to be at this thing?” Gareth asked, clearly annoyed with the charity event being held at The Mayflower.
“You don’t need to attend this,” Sharpe responded thinly. Frankly, he wished Asmodeus hadn’t sent one of his minions with him. It wasn’t like he was going to do anything to jeopardize his plans. Sharpe didn’t have a death wish. Not yet, at least.
Gareth sighed. “I hate these fund-raisers. It’s Sunday night. There are better things I could be doing.”
He didn’t bother with a response. Flicking a piece of string off his tuxedo, he prepared himself to mingle with the city’s elite power players attending the fund-raiser at the magnificent hotel. The senator only had a moment of warning before the door opened, and a dark form fell across the opening. Moving astonishingly fast, the shade darted into the limo, taking form beside the smiling minion. The door swung closed behind it.
His heart pounded painfully as the pressure settled over him. Spittle blew across the seat as he struggled to breathe. His face was shoved back into the cool leather when he tried to lift his head. “What is this about?” he gasped as his fingers dug into the seat.
Gareth chuckled idly. “Hello, Nephilim brother.”
Senator Sharpe froze as the hand that held him tightened around his skull. It was the Nephilim, the one from the Sanctuary.
“How dare you even acknowledge me?” said the Nephilim, voice laced with revulsion.
Gareth snickered and then said, “Oh, how you think you’re so much better than us. When you are just as wicked as me, Nephilim.”
The tension in the limo heightened to near unbearable levels. The senator was afraid if Gareth continued to taunt the Nephilim, he would be the one who ended up with a snapped neck. The Nephilim shifted over him, and there was a crunching sound that made Sharpe’s insides crawl.
Trying to remain calm in his precarious position, Sharpe managed to twist his head far enough so that he could breathe a bit more easily. “Do you bring names…for me to give?” he asked, his voice panicked and pitiful even to him. He hated the sound of it, detested how much power these things held over him. God, if he could go back in time he would have never slept with the secretary who started all of this. I should have fired that bitch!
“Why else would I be around your kind of scum?”
The senator knew better than to point out any of the Nephilim’s current character flaws. He hoped Gareth would also refrain from doing so. He struggled to get the words out. “What do you want me to tell Asmodeus?”
“The cop is progressing through the training faster than initially expected. He has been offered the Contract by the Sanctuary.”
“Contract?” he sputtered. He had no idea what the hell the Nephilim was talking about.
“Asmodeus will know what that is.”
The hand that wasn’t smashed under his chest curled into a fist. He felt helpless. It sickened him. “Is that all?”