Abigail Jones (Chronicles of Abigail Jones #1) (19 page)

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "Ah, my Abby. I was not wrong, was I, in observing that your sensibilities are hardier than most." He paused, his shoulders lifting. "As for Lilith, nothing happened to her, I'm afraid. She discarded the human shell she had possessed for those many months—that of Isabella Del Blanco, whom I married but never knew. 'Twas innocent Isabella who lay there broken upon the stones, and I had a hand in putting her there. Lilith disappeared, and to this day I have not seen her again."

"And the woman last night? Who or what was she?"

"She is one of Lilith's offspring. What is known as a Lilin."

My mouth opened to ask more questions, but Hux held up his hand. "Perhaps it would help if I explained what happened after Lilith's disappearance."

Reining in my impatience, my burning desire for answers, I nodded.

"For weeks after, I wandered in a hopeless fog. Losing my son ... it was like losing my brother all over again. For a second time, I had caused the death of one who I loved." Hux inhaled deeply; I set my cup down so that I could take his hand, lend him the strength to finish this story. "The pain of it—I cannot describe it to you, Abby. There were times I wanted to die. To escape grief with endless sleep. One night, after drinking a bottle of whiskey, I went to the nursery. I opened the window, and I looked down upon the stones. I still remember how they glinted in the moonlight, how they called to me."

A tremor, his or mine, ran through our joined hands.

"I put a foot on the ledge, ready to end it all. But as I stood there, on the threshold of deliverance, a flash of silver blinded me. It was so bright I that I stumbled back from the window. When my sight recovered, I saw a figure floating in the darkness. He was outlined in white light; he was ghostly yet angelic and despite the transparency of his form, I knew him straightaway. This boy who had been my heart's companion all those years ago; the boy whom I had missed ever since."

"It was your brother John," I whispered. "He came to you."

Hux shook his head. "I thought so too, at first. He looked like John, and yet he was not. The holy authority with which he spoke was not a boy's; the voice was beyond anything human. It controlled my breath and the flow of blood through my veins; it made the tattered edges of my soul tremble. My knees pulled to the ground, and I was made to look up into the blazing light as the voice burst into my head."

"
Do you seek redemption for your sins?
Do you seek salvation for your brother's soul?
Then I knew the power of the spirit before me, for he brought to light my deepest yearnings, the stuff of all my prayers."

"All those years," I said, aching for him, "you believed John took his own life."

"Yes," Hux said hoarsely. "I always questioned it. How could I not, knowing what John had suffered? And now this divine messenger was announcing that there was something
I
could do to bring my brother peace. It was a miracle, I thought. There wasn't anything I would not do for John. No price I would not pay to bring my brother's soul home."

"Who was this messenger?" I whispered. "And what did he ask of you?"

"He told me he was Michael, Captain of the Army of Light. He told me to listen carefully, for he could not sustain the heavenly visit for long. He was seeking a foe: Lilith, Queen of the Demons. He told me that if I defeated Lilith and her offspring, God would pardon my brother's sin and let John be at rest at last. Michael gave me a blessed sword and knowledge of the words and ritual to cast a demonic force from its humanly shell. In doing so, I could smote the evil in its vulnerable state. He told me all this, and then he was gone."

My mind struggled to take in all that he was telling me. "Last night, that was what you were doing. You were trying to lure the fiendish spirit out from that woman ..." Another realization dawned upon me. "My God, Hux, all those rumors about your ... amorous conquests. All those women. Have they all been a part of ...
this
?"

"Not all." A hint of dryness entered Hux's voice. "But, yes, more than a few. That is the way to drive the Lilin from their human form, you see. Lust is their guiding force. They thrive off carnal energy—they need it to survive. So they find humans within whom that need glows brightly." A red flush tinged his high cheekbones. "I suppose that is how Lilith found me in the first place."

My palm grew damp and hot where it lay against his. Licking my dry lips, I tried to pull my hand away. His hold on me tightened; I felt the pulsing of his life blood, the throbbing of his vital flesh against mine. This single point of connection sent a dangerous thrill over my skin as I had the unbidden thought:
How potent must a man be to attract the attention of the Queen of Demons?

His grip loosened, and I yanked free.

I returned my hand, trembling and sweaty, into my lap and tried to gather my thoughts. "So you hunt the Lilin? In hopes of finding Lilith?"

"Each Lilin I destroy rids the world of another pestilent force." I could hear the quiet venom, the undiluted hatred in his voice. "I would kill them without a second thought and for the pleasure of doing so. But, yes, my ultimate goal is to draw Lilith out once again."

"H-how?"

"Before his power faded, Michael gave me the location of an old hermit.
Learn all you can from him
, the archangel said. So I found the recluse living in a hut high upon the Apennines. He had once been a priest who traveled the Holy Land studying the religions and mysticism of the Semitic peoples. He told me what he knew of Lilith, The Demon Goddess, including the prophecy of her return."

"What did he say?" I asked faintly.

"According to the hermit, it was prophesized that the day Lilith's thirteenth daughter met with danger, she would rise again."

"And how many have you ...?"

His eyes blazed into mine. "Last night, 'twas number eleven I dispatched back to hell."

TWENTY-THREE

I had thought myself accustomed to madness. Nonetheless, Hux's words cast a thick blanket of unreality over my senses. My hands were numb; I felt nothing. It was like being in a vision, with space and time warped around me. I did not know how long I stared unseeing into the blur of flame; eventually, I registered the sound of my name, the voice filtering to me as if through a layer of ice. I thought to respond, but my earthly self seemed lost to my control. I could not speak. I could not move.

I could only think that he had seduced and killed eleven demons. Two more to go before the Queen of Darkness herself would rise to seek vengeance upon him. My Hux, in as great a mortal danger as could be imagined. And like a lightning rod in the storm, he was calling the destruction upon himself. Welcoming it, with an anguish that would accept no other appeasement.

"It disgusts you, doesn't it Abigail," I heard him say. "What I have done, what I intend to do."

Blinking, I saw his pain-tautened features. "No." The word squeezed through the dry passage of my throat. "No."

"You needn't lie," he said. Embittered lines slashed his lean cheeks. "You think me repulsive or mad—'tis quite a pick, I should think. In either case, you needn't worry. I will involve you no further. The only thing I require of you is your pledge of secrecy. Then you will leave in the morning, with enough money to see you comfortably through the rest of your days."

"I don't want your money," I said, stunned.

For some reason, my words brought fire raging into his eyes. "Goddamn you, Abigail," he said in low, thick voice. "Do you find me so revolting, so sordid that you will not accept even that pittance from me? Would you rather starve, with only your righteousness for company? By God, I will not have it. You will take my bloody money, or I shall ram it down your throat."

He seemed suddenly half-wild. Tension leaping off his powerful frame, he glared at me with untamed violence in his eyes. Any sane person would be moved to fear. Any sane person would seek to defend herself or to run from this damaged beast.

I did neither. Instead, I reached for him and pressed my lips to his.

I felt the shock of contact run through him. My instinct had been to gentle him, to soothe the injuries which had been so cruelly visited upon him. Instead of me quieting him, the reverse occurred. His ferocious passions overtook
me
. The soft kiss I initiated vaporized in blistering heat. His lips consumed mine, demanding my surrender. Shuddering, I could not resist. His tongue came inside and unleashed an onslaught of sensation. The sustaining burn of whiskey and male penetrated my senses. Hunger gnawed at me.

My fingers went to his hair, speared themselves into the raven thickness. I pulled him to me, my mouth fully open, my desire sliding hotly, slickly, against his. He groaned my name, and I knew he had regained his senses because he spoke it as a question. But now
I
didn't want to think; I couldn't bear to. I abandoned myself completely to impulse. Mindless craving unfurled, a dark blossoming from my core. A sound escaped my throat like
yes
or
please
, and his mouth closed over mine, the pressure deeper, harder than our kiss before.

Shaking with need, I felt his fingers work down my spine. His touch was sensual magic; buttons and laces gave way, my breath becoming freer yet more labored as the desire swelled within me. The layers shed from my upper torso like an old skin, and 'twas not fear but liberation singing in my veins. He pushed me back against the cushions, his sinewy weight stretching atop me, the rough brush of the settee beneath my bare back. Everywhere we touched the friction of his firm edges set off sparks of delight. Mindlessly, I wriggled beneath him, rubbing softness against hardness, seeking relief from the tension coiling within me.

"Patience, Abigail." He hovered over me, his eyes coal-black, ringed by brilliant blue. With his lips, he caressed my eyelids, the corner of my mouth. "Soft and easy, my sweet. Let me take care of you. Let me love you as I have longed to do."

I could not speak for the swell in my throat. Then his mouth coursed over my neck and chased away any possibility of speech. My head arched back as he strung hot, wet kisses above my collarbones. He caressed my shoulders, down my sides, against the aching curves of my breasts. His touch was slow, tormenting. Aroused beyond bearing, I clutched at his shoulders; rigid muscle flexed beneath velvet, and I had the desperate urge to touch him without barrier. I tried to shove away his jacket, his waistcoat, and I heard his startled laugh.

In one swift move, he captured my hands. He held them pinned in a gentle grip above my head. I tugged impatiently, but I could not get loose.

"Let me go, Hux. I need you, I need to ..." My chest rose and fell in desperate surges, the yearning in me beyond explication.

His nostrils flared. "Ah, Abby, I cannot allow that. Not now. You will make me lose control, and I cannot risk hurting you."

"I don't care. I want—"

He gave me what I did not know how to say aloud. His thumb strummed a straining nipple, the bliss of that small action hitching my breath. His smoldering gaze raked over my face as he played with the erect bud, circling it, teasing it, releasing quivers of pleasure down my legs. He knew what he was doing to me; I saw it in the sensual slant of his mouth. Then he lowered his head.

I gasped, my back arching off the couch. The hot wet caress set my nerves aflame. The shock of what he was doing faded to pure ecstasy. He was suckling my nipple, licking it; each tug, each flick of his tongue wrought a melting sensation in my belly. My lungs pulled for air as he moved back and forth from one breast to the other. With his lips, his fingers, he teased and tormented the eager peaks; I felt a flush of wetness between my thighs. Panting, I strained against his hold, helpless to him, ravenous for the delights he visited upon me.

He shifted, and a masculine presence wedged boldly between my legs. Instinctively, my hips bucked upward, and the shock of pleasure made me dizzy. Without thinking, I did it again, whimpering as sensation bled into tension, and the need for relief grew and grew.

"So impatient, little love," he murmured against my ear. His fingers tugged gently on my kiss-moistened nipple. The coil in my abdomen wound tighter. His caress smoothed the curve of my breast, skimmed over my ribcage. I heard the rustle of my skirts being raised, felt the wash of cool air up my drawer-clad legs. Breathless with need, with anticipation, I could not look away from the hypnotic flames of his eyes.

"Let me give you what you need," he said. Shivering, I felt his hand upon my knee. My thighs quaked beneath the linen as the heat of his touch traveled higher and higher. "You are so beautiful, Abby. More so than I could have imagined. Let me touch you, little love. Let me warm myself by your goddess' fire."

His voice, his circling, climbing caresses, drove me to a feverish pitch.
Yes
,
oh
please yes
... My hips strained upward to meet his touch. He found the slit in the cloth, and ecstasy jolted through me. I cried out as he stroked my most intimate flesh, as he growled with the pleasure of it. Eyes closing, I lost myself to his touch, his husky words of praise, adoration.
So soft you are, so wet
...
I want to touch you here Abigail, all day, all night
...
I shan't stop until your sweet quim weeps with bliss, until you come for me
...

I was sobbing, beyond control, beyond anything but the ravishing torment of what he was doing to me.
Let me inside, let me touch you everywhere
... As he stroked deeper and deeper, my slick flesh gave way, stretching, opening to the firm thrust of his fingers. He filled me, took away the emptiness, leaving no room for air, for breath, for anything but the need for him.
Yes, my sweet, lift your hips for me, show me how you want me, how you need me
...

Gentle at first, the rhythm of his fingers grew quicker, more insistent. I could not get enough. My pelvis rose to greet every thrust, and I moaned as he left me. Again and again, he surged inside. Each time, he pressed deeper, bumping against places that made me shiver and gasp. His harshly controlled breath heated my ear.
Take it, my darling, take it
... I could not bear it any longer, I needed to have the relief blazing just out of reach ... with one knowing stroke, he gave it me. He touched a high, quivering place, and in that instant everything in me tightened.

The release swept over me in a blinding rush. I cried out his name as sensation exploded into waves of heat and bliss. They went on and on, swamping me, the pleasure too vast, almost suffocating. I felt him gathering me close, heard him whispering my name, and slowly, slowly my breathing calmed. Knowing he was there, that I was not alone, I drifted away at last into a sweet, dark tide.