Blood Redemption (Angel's Edge #3) (24 page)

“But Neria fell anyway, slain by one of our Hunters. He went mad from losing her. I couldn’t understand it at the time. I had no concept of human love. So I did what I thought was the right thing, the kind thing.” His words turned hard and cold. “I did my job, Caspia. I took her soul to the Realms of Light. Like I was supposed to take Logan. I took her to a place where he couldn’t follow, where he could never enter again, and he hasn’t stopped blaming me since.”

“But… she would be happy there, in the Realms of Light. At peace, wouldn’t she?” I asked, trying to digest all he had told me.

“He didn’t see it that way. He was barred forever from the Light. Had she been taken to the Dark Realms instead, he could at least have been with her in some capacity. Or at least, that was his reasoning. I don’t know if it could have worked, but he’s hated me ever since.”

I rolled to face him, my bare thigh slung over his jeans-clad one. “It’s not your fault,” I said, as firmly as I could. “What he’s doing is his own delusion, his own Darkness manifested. It’s not your fault he took me, and it’s not your fault he’s trying to recreate that war.”

“If only it were that simple,” he said, still not looking at me.

“It
is
that simple,” I insisted, sliding one knee across his legs until I sat straddling him. I put one arm on either side of him and leaned in close, my wet hair dangling to the side. “Right here, right now, there’s only us. Human you, and human me. We won’t ever have to face that, a life without each other. You won’t live on for an eternity to go mad or have a blackened soul.” I jerked his hand away from his face and placed it over my heart. “It’s. Not. Your. Fault.”

He stared at me then, and lifted a trembling hand to brush my wet hair off my cheek. A hint of a smile crept back, and he rolled with me until he was above me. He held himself there, perfectly still, until his breathing slowed into a rhythm that matched mine.

“Only us,” he echoed, reaching down to trace the skin at the top of my towel. It loosened under his touch. His legs tangled with mine, the denim of his jeans rough against my soft, damp skin.

He blocked out most of the light, hovering above me like that, but the shadows in my room seemed deep and inviting rather than frightening with him there. I cupped my palm and slowly slid it across the back of his neck, easing him down until the whole of my existence was full of nothing but Ethan: his mouth, his warm breath, his cheek rubbing against mine.

“Human, together,” I whispered.

I pressed myself against him, the towel gone from between us, and felt him melt into me. Then his lips came crashing down, fierce and greedy. I pulled him against me, twining my fingers in his hair, conscious only of our breathing and the beating of our hearts.

awoke to find Ethan’s arm stretched out across my chest. One of his legs draped over mine. The weight of him felt so delicious I dared not breathe, let alone move. I never wanted this feeling to end. My mismatched pillows and blankets formed a cocoon around me. I felt safe, secure, and completely at home for the first time in what seemed like years, even though intellectually, I knew it had only been a matter of weeks.

I spared a minute to study the long, graceful curves that sculpted Ethan’s back, letting my fingers hover as close to his skin as I dared without waking him. Tracing lines in the air that followed the bend of his spine, the outline of his muscles, I buried my face in his hair and inhaled the scents of citrus, juniper, and something else that was uniquely Ethan. Pausing a moment to revel in our closeness, I slipped out of the bed.

The weak sunlight streaming in through my long cotton curtains indicated that it was very early in the morning. Everything in my room seemed washed out and gray. The house was quiet around me, except for Ethan’s slow and regular breathing.

I padded, barefoot, across the room to my much-missed closet. A mismatched pair of socks and my crumpled up favorite pair of jeans spilled out, keeping the door from fully closing. Inside, clean laundry was organized into piles. I smiled at this evidence of my slovenly ways and dug for a pair of clean jeans and my favorite band’s t-shirt.

In the living room, Jack lay stretched out across the sofa, one arm thrown across his eyes, and the other clenched into a tight fist against his stomach. Even asleep, he looked ready to jump up and fight off whatever might find its way into the apartment. His mouth hung open, soft snores escaping. It was cute. But then I realized that his presence on the couch meant that Cassandra must have slept… with my brother? I frowned; I liked Cassandra. A lot, actually. But the thought of Logan having someone with powerful supernatural abilities in his life made me uneasy. It would draw him deeper and deeper into this conflict, and I wanted to shield him from that as much as possible.

I tiptoed into the kitchen area, trying to be as quiet as possible. I smiled a little when I saw my favorite mug with a teabag still in it, sitting on the edge of the counter. It had been a sweet gesture, but I couldn’t pretend that I’d actually wanted to drink the tea. I dumped it out and set about brewing coffee. The scent of the beans almost overwhelmed me with emotion. They were the Coffee Shop’s special Fair Trade Colombian Blend, one of my favorites. I thought again of the boarded-up, burned out store, and wondered when, or
if
, I would ever be able to get more. God forbid if I had to start using Starbucks.

While I waited for the coffee to finish brewing, I snuck past a sleeping Jack and slipped out onto the balcony. The creeping ivy was deep green in the weak morning rays, and a light sheen of dew still clung to it, waiting to be burned off by the full force of the Southern sun. I sat down and propped my feet up on the ledge, burying my toes in the greenery.

Home. I had missed it so much.

The door opened behind me, and the smell of coffee assaulted my nose. A hand appeared at my elbow, sliding my mug across the glass topped table until it rested, steaming, within grabbing distance. I chugged it gratefully, noticing the intricate whorls and symbols on the hand that had provided it. By daylight, they looked like ordinary tattoos. They had none of the special blue glow they gave off in the Dreamtime. I wondered if they would shine again if Jack used his powers.

When
Jack used his powers, I self-corrected. And me too, I supposed. I was past thinking there was any way we were getting out of this without fighting together. I thought of the electric-hued column of fire we generated with our combined abilities, and wasn’t surprised to feel the Shadows forming in my palms. I clenched my hands into fists to stop their shaking.

Jack noticed, of course. “Hey now,” he said, leaning against the balcony. “If I’d known coffee was going to upset you, I would have kept it all for myself.” His easy smile told me he was joking, but his eyes carried unmistakable concern.

“It’s not that.” I took another sip. Plenty of sugar, but no milk. It must have gone bad by now. “I can’t help thinking about the two of us, and what we can do.” I could see my reflection in the surface of the liquid. I frowned at myself, and my reflection frowned back. “About how we’re going to have to fight, and… kill people.” I scowled.

“They’re not people,” Jack said. He spun around so he could lean out over the stone railing. “We’re talking about different Realms here, Caspia. We’re talking about Hunters and demons. About angels and a Nephilim army. All those so-called ‘people’ will crush us just because we’re in the way.”

“But what about people like Caroline Bedford? Or Miranda? Nephilim like us, who don’t fight because they want to, but because they were kidnapped and blackmailed? They’re every bit in the middle as we are.” I studied the tattoos along his back, watching his muscles bunch as he leaned out even farther. “I don’t want to kill anyone,” I said softly.

Jack turned to face me and dropped to one knee. He reached for my hand and squeezed it tightly. “Hopefully we won’t have to. I’ll do everything in my power to keep from hurting other Nephilim, Caspia.” Then his face hardened with resolve. “But if we have no other choice, better them than us.”

I wanted to protest, to shout at him that we had no right hurting anyone who was there against their will, but I couldn’t find the words. Some deeply buried part of me was afraid he was right. I settled for squeezing his hand instead.

The door swung open, revealing a shirtless, tousle-haired Ethan. He blinked sleepily at the sun and stretched on his tip toes. The he saw Jack and me holding hands, and froze.

I disengaged and scooted back like I’d been burned. I was sick of the tension between us. Last night we’d let our walls down, and I didn’t want to risk our recovered closeness over a meaningless gesture. Jack’s eyes were hooded as he rose up and returned to looking at the square. Ethan’s expression was hidden as well as he slipped into the chair next to mine.

“Good morning,” I said. Memories of the night before made my face flush. Talking, kissing… I stopped that thought progression right in its tracks before I turned beet red. Then I turned to Ethan and brushed my lips gently across his cheek. “There’s coffee.”

“Mmm,” was his ingenious reply. His eyes closed to half-slits. He looked golden in the rising sun’s light, and I couldn’t believe this gorgeous creature was mine. “I was disappointed to find you gone,” he said at last, a contented smile playing across his lips.

“Coffee called,” I shrugged.

“Mmm,” he said again, and then slid his hand up behind my neck, pulling me closer to him. His lips found mine and kissed me deeply. I returned it eagerly.

Jack, rigid now, kept his back toward us.

After a moment, I disengaged. “So, does anybody know what the plan is now?” I asked, draining my mug dry.

“We meet up with the others. The other Guardians, I mean,” Ethan said.