Abigail Jones (Chronicles of Abigail Jones #1) (21 page)

After a moment, his mouth took on a sardonic edge. "So we are back to that, are we?"

I maintained my neutral expression, though my feelings quivered beneath. "How exactly does this all relate to the painting in the library?"

"
Slain, by one look of Athena's eyes, the judgment of virtue too much to bear.
"

In no mood for the Ancient Greeks, I regarded him with a cool stare.

Tossing his gloves to the ground, he rubbed the back of his neck. "Yes, the damned portrait. Three years ago, I chanced to see it in an exhibition at the Royal Academy. It had been hung high in a corner, not at the eye level of the finest works, and yet my gaze went to it immediately. Ice filled my veins; I could not drag my eyes away. The artist had captured her perfectly."

"But who was she?" I persisted. "The initials on the frame, P.R.B. What do they stand for?"

"The letters refer to a group formed by the artist and his friends. They call themselves the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. They are a renegade collective with one aim: to reinvigorate modern art with classical principles of realism and spirituality—or so that was the pitch Dante Gabriel Rossetti used when he sold me the painting. His mistress served as the model. A woman by the name of Fanny Cornforth."

"Is Miss Cornforth a Lilin?" I asked in hushed voice.

Slowly, Hux shook his head.

"But her expression," I said in surprise. "It is that of a Lilin such as you have described. She has that smirking look in the eyes, the mouth ... the angle of her chin. It's there in the way she looks into the glass: as if the world holds no interest for her beyond the power of her own beauty ..."

I broke off, aware of Hux's intent blue gaze.

"You see it," he murmured. "So quickly and impassively you grasp the ignominious facts I throw in your direction. Why is it that you understand me as no one else does? Why am I not afraid to share my secrets with you?"

It was an opening.
Go on, tell him,
a part of me urged. I could understand his demons because I had seen them, heard them ... even inhabited them. But another panicky voice, considerably louder than the first, forestalled my confession.
He's not going to like that you've held secrets, Abigail. He's going to assume the worst about your connection to Lilith. He's going to think you're one of them
...

"I—I am your secretary, after all," I blurted on a thrum of guilt.

His lips softened with a faint smile. "And a fine one at that, Miss Jones."

In a flash, I realized what I needed: incontrovertible proof of my innocence. I needed to know for him—Dear God, for
myself
—that whilst I had these visions, I was not tainted by evil. To do so, I must learn everything I could about these demons.

Swallowing, I asked, "But
how
do you know Fanny Cornforth is not a Lilin? Did you meet her in person, or did you merely question Mr. Rossetti about it? Perhaps she hid it from him—"

"I know."

The bald statement cut short my questions. When I comprehended its meaning, my chest gave a foolishly possessive lurch. "You mean you ... seduced her? You made love to Rossetti's mistress?"

"Love had nothing to do with it."

I had to force out the next words. "What happened?"

"Devil take it, Abigail," he said softly, "do you really wish to know the details?"

I quavered, seeing the dangerous flare in his eyes. And I realized that I did
not
want to know—I did not want to even
think
of Hux with another woman. With anyone but ... me. My heart beat against my ribs, so violently I thought that battered organ might shatter.

"No," I whispered, and I could not look him. My gaze blurred upon the toes of his large leather boots. "No, I don't."

I heard him curse. In the next moment, he was crouched before me so that we saw eye to eye. He placed a large hand atop my own trembling ones. I sucked in a breath as the heat of his skin ignited an inferno of yearning. I tried to pull free, but he did not relinquish his hold. Instead, his thumb traced a hollow between my knuckles. That bare movement caused a liquid flutter in another cove, a deeper place that had once been privy to his touch. One time only, and yet how I ached to have more of him, to hold his strength fully inside me ...

"Yesterday afternoon, between us. It—it should not have happened," Hux said in a low voice.

Pain skewered through me. Blinking rapidly, I sought to control my bubbling emotions. He regretted making love to me. I knew he would, of course. It had been a mistake, a moment's weakness on his part. Then other thoughts broke through with anguished clarity. Had I done something wrong? Had I ... disappointed, in some way? Compared to all the beautiful, sophisticated women he had known ...

Fingers lifted my chin, and I was made to look into a blaze of blue. "But selfish bastard that I am, I cannot regret it, Abigail. The memory is your gift to me. I will cherish it, as I do all the moments that have passed between us."

I could not move, so paralyzed was I by the sudden burst of feelings within me. Disbelief, mingled with a dizzying sort of joy.

His knuckles brushed across my cheek, a gesture of infinite tenderness. The vivid desire in his eyes made everything in me tighten in answering need. Before I could react, he backed away. Abruptly, he strode to the adjacent table, his hand coming to rest upon the saddle that lay there. I saw that the movement was not quite steady. He did not look at me. Licking my dry lips, I followed the slow stroke of his long-fingered hand against the curved leather.

When he spoke again, his voice possessed a guttural quality. "After I knew for certain that Fanny Cornforth was no Lilin, I asked her about modeling for the painting. She laughed and told me 'twas the oddest experience of her life. According to her, Rossetti had woken from a dream one night, sweating and garbling nonsense. When he finally became coherent, he told her he'd been visited by a vision.
A deity needed painting
, he'd said, and he was the one to do it. Fanny said he was usually slow to plan a scene, but this night he knew exactly how he wanted the pose. From the laying of the foxglove on the table down to the scarlet ribbon wound round Fanny's wrist, he arranged everything with frenetic energy. He instructed Fanny to sit upon the chair and pick up the comb. And that is the last detail of the night she remembers."

My head was spinning, my body alive with humming energy. "What did she mean? It must have taken a long while to complete such a painting. How could she not remember any of it?"

"That is what she claims." Hux's heavy shoulders lifted in a shrug. "She sat down, drew the comb through her hair—and the next thing she knew it was morning and she was asleep on the bed. Rossetti had worked through the night and laid the entire foundation of the portrait upon the canvas. Fanny said she gasped to see it: the face her own yet the expression entirely foreign. Apparently, Rossetti praised her to no end for channeling the spirit of the goddess. He said she seemed a different person from herself that night. In," Hux's brow rose in a sardonic arch, "
all
ways."

"'Twas Lilith," I whispered. My hands grasped the hard arms of the chair. "She possessed Fanny and then left her. But why?"

Hux gave me a brooding look. "Vanity, I should think. Lilith possesses it in abundance. She would find it amusing to be immortalized, an object of fantasy for those she seeks to destroy."

I thought of Fanny-Lilith's distant gaze in the painting, the self-absorbed smile that both lured and repelled. I had a sudden flash of Lilith's delight; her clear, high laughter rang in my ears.
See how they come to me like flies to honey. Come then, worthless beasts. Come and ask me to pluck your wings off one by one
...

"Why does she hate men so?" I asked in a choked voice.

"The hermit told me something of Lilith's history. According to ancient Semitic scriptures, she was created by God as the first wife for Adam. Though her beauty was unparalleled, she was querulous and headstrong. When she refused to take a subservient role, Adam complained to God. God gave him another wife, Eve, and Adam cast Lilith aside. Enraged, Lilith set the earth aflame and fled amidst the smoke of burning poppies. She has ruled the darkness ever since."

Oddly enough, I felt a twinge of empathy for Lilith. Though I could not condone her actions, I could understand the cause of her fury. The roots in disappointed love. There she had been, possessed of great beauty and power, and yet she could not win the heart of her own husband—and a mere mortal at that. She had everything ... and nothing.

"But why has she come now?" I heard myself asking. "What is her purpose?"

"When Michael visited me, he spoke of the war between Light and Dark. A balance of opposing forces. But that equilibrium is slipping, Abigail. Perhaps you sense it less here in the country, but in the City ..." Hux's hand fisted around the pommel of the saddle. "The poverty, the filth and disease—it is everywhere. Outward morality but masks the rotting core. Gin parlors and opium dens, prostitutes on every corner. Children young as four or five forced to work as sweeps or worse."

I thought of the small, life-hardened faces I had seen in the alleyway behind Mrs. Cunningham's, and my throat tightened.

"On Sundays, the brothels and taverns are more crowded than churches whilst intellectuals are debating the very existence of God. All of this, in the name of advancement," Hux said, with a rough shake of his head.

"But surely Lilith cannot prevail—"

Hux turned to look at me. In the flickering firelight, his features appeared more austere than ever. "The balance has already shifted. You can see it in the lingering darkness, the way it never leaves day completely."

I remembered the miasma enveloping the City, its penetrating chill, and all the hairs on my skin lifted.

"In the past months, the number of Lilin have proliferated exponentially," he continued in grim tones. "The demons are everywhere in London. And not only that—they are evolving. They are stronger, quicker, more difficult to slay than they once were."

"For what purpose? What does Lilith intend?" I whispered.

Like a heavenly warrior, his features radiated a terrible certitude. "I believe Lilith is building an army, and when her power is great enough, she plans to overtake our world. To create her own empire of everlasting hell."

TWENTY-SIX

Despite the cozy glow of the stable, I felt frost creep over my being.

"She can't." I shook my head in panic. "I mean to say, wouldn't God stop her? Or Michael. He came to you, told you—"

"Had Michael the power to vanquish her, he would have done it himself," Hux said flatly. "The Armies of Light and Dark are at a stalemate. God claims the heavens whilst the demons rule the netherworld. Despite some notable exceptions, Good and Evil have remained equally matched for millennia. The only hope for victory for either side lies in recruiting mankind to their cause. And thus far, Lilith is winning on that score. Her offerings of sin and pleasure far outweigh the appeal of God's doctrine."

"But you have that holy sword, those chains ... incantations! You can destroy the Lilin—you can stop her."

His jaw tightened. "I will do everything in my power to do so. There are times, however,  when I'm forced to wonder what one man can do against a tide of vice."

"You are not alone." Inhaling shakily, I came to my feet. I could not idly watch whilst Hux faced Lilith unaided. Already, he had weathered too much alone. I loved him; how could I abandon him in a time of need? "I am here, and I will help you. In whatever fashion I can."

He shook his head vehemently. "You have done and seen too much already, Abigail. I will not have you put at risk again. The Lilin are dangerous, more than even you know."

Take courage, my girl.
In order to convince him that I could help, I saw no other option. I would have to take the risk and admit to my strange and awful visions. To persuade him that, because of them, I understood more than he knew. It struck me that my spells might prove useful to his hunt: by simply touching an object belonging to a Lilin, I could verify her presence. Encouraged by my potential contributions, I attempted a subtle segue to my confession.

"How do you identify the Lilin initially?" I asked. "Before you even try to, er, draw them out, I mean."

He shrugged. "Usually I go to places where vice is flourishing. From there on, it is largely educated guesswork. It can be damned frustrating because people can seem like devils and vice versa. Much trial and error is involved. I begin by scouting out likely candidates based on their lurid behavior ..." He broke off, his alert gaze probing my face. "Why are you asking me this?"

"I was just thinking mayhap there is another way. To flush out the Lilin." Heat pulsed against my cheeks, and I felt as transparent as glass. "S-some other, uh, more accurate method, a bit more foolproof ..."

His dark brow winged. "What other method?"

Stop shilly-shallying, Abigail, and tell him. Tell him now
.

Beneath his shrewd blue stare, I felt my courage slip a little. "I am not c-certain. Just that perhaps there might be another strategy. Mayhap I could help you r-research their patterns, get more of a glimpse into their inner workings ..."

"And read their minds, mayhap?" His lip curled suddenly, and my pulse catapulted into the stratosphere. Had he guessed my secret? Did he already know—"Unfortunately, my dear, it takes one to know one."

It took a minute to comprehend his words. In a curiously calm voice, I heard myself say, "What do you mean?"

"The only one who can know a Lilin's mind is another Lilin," he said.

A terrible clanging filled my ears. The ground beneath my boots lurched. Reality blasted through the foundations of my denial, unlocking my deepest fear. The one possibility that I'd silently prayed against since the battle with the Lilin in the tower.
Please, God, don't let it be true
 ...

"According to what the hermit told me," he continued, "the foul creatures are bound by a shared consciousness. That is how Lilith controls them, you see. No one knows how the bitch and her offspring are able to communicate through space and time, but it makes them all the more powerful—and dangerous."

Heaven help me.
I
knew.

I knew how they communicated. I knew that the demons passed their experiences to one another through the objects they had touched. I knew because ...

Sweet God, was I ... one of them?

I felt the weight of darkness dragging me under.

"Abigail.
Abigail
."

I came back, my chest heaving on an agitated breath. I looked up into eyes that seemed to blaze with all the stars of the cosmos. Held in his strong arms, I felt a shock of need akin to pain. His nearness, his scent roused my primal urges. Carnal impulse trembled through my limbs even as my mind fought off the truth.

I am not a demon. I am not a demon. I am not
...

"Shh, my darling, you are overwrought. Let me take you back to the house—"

"
Hux
." His name burst from my lips in a sob, a desperate denial.

He murmured something and then his mouth possessed mine. Despite the wrongness of what I was doing, I kissed him back. I could not help myself. For in this wretched instant, I knew he was all I had ever wanted, everything my lonely soul had called for. The impossibility of any relationship between us only heightened my feelings. Craving buzzed through my nerve endings, numbed my reeling mind. Rationality faded in a haze of need.
Just one more time. Just one more kiss.
Whimpering, I pulled on his nape, my fingers sliding in raven silk.

"Abigail, we shouldn't do this." As if he could not help himself, his lips roved greedily over my ear, my neck, his words a scorching rasp against my skin. "How I hate myself for frightening you. For burdening you with the evil of my life."

"No, 'tis not you—" I moaned.

He silenced me with another kiss. I clung to him, my lips yielding to his with passionate urgency. An instant later he tore away, swearing. Black edged out all else in his eyes as he staggered away from me.

"Earlier, when you were sleeping, I came to find you," he said raggedly. "To tell you of the decision I have come to. I am going to send you far from here—to another of my estates where you will be safe. You will leave on the morrow."

"What? No!" Shock had me rushing to him, grabbing at his arm. I felt the quivering tension of corded muscle. "I will not go!"

"You will do as I say," he said harshly. He shook off my grasp. "I will not have you hurt, and that is final."

Blood thundered in my ears. "Making me leave would hurt me," I cried. "Leaving you—
that
would hurt."

Seraphic flames leapt in his eyes. His jaw might have been carved from marble. "You have no choice in the matter, Abigail."

"But I c-couldn't endure it, being parted from you." My eyelids fluttered with wetness, with keening despair. "Please, Hux, don't make me leave. I ... I love you."

In the silence that followed, I felt my hopes withering, my soul retreating to its abandoned shell. He had never wanted me. All this time I had been naught but a fool—

"
Abigail.
"

In the next instant, the world spun. I was hauled against him, and his mouth crushed mine with devastating force. Dizzy with relief, with blinding joy, I pressed myself closer, burrowing feverishly into his hard length.

"My love, my own," he groaned between ravaging kisses. "I have told myself so many times to let you go. I have tried to stay away, yet I cannot. God help me, but I need you. Yet how can you be for me?"

"I am yours, Hux." Gasping, I arched my neck as his lips slid over the pulse of my throat. Tears fogged my vision. Words, promises slipped out before I could stop them. "I am here, my love. And I will not leave you as others have done."

An anguished growl tore from him. His eyes grew wild, feral with hunger. I welcomed the devouring ferocity of his kiss, drawing him deeper. I sucked on his tongue, pressing my hips to him, moaning as my softness collided with his tough edges. Frantic to touch him, I tore at the buttons of his waistcoat. My fumbling efforts earned a groaning laugh, and then the universe tilted again.

In an effortless motion, he set me atop the hay. He came over me, his lips hot at my ear. His breath poured into that trembling shell, harsh and ragged. Uncontrolled. Powerfully aroused, I clenched at the muscular weight of his shoulders.

"Someday," he said hoarsely, "I must teach you about patience."

Little did he know how much I knew about waiting, about holding back. Pushing away the guilt, I squirmed against him and heard him inhale sharply. "Hux, please hurry—"

"Abigail," he said, pinning my hips with his, "are you certain you wish to do this? To take me on? Because after this, there will be no going back for us. If I make love to you now, you will be mine—and I will never let you go."

'Twas a vow and a threat at once. A sharp quaver pierced my erotic reverie. In that moment, I knew I should look into his beloved face and just tell him the truth. Yet any explanation I could give seemed flimsy as gauze.

By the by, I am a demon, Hux. Everything you hate. Everything you have sworn to destroy
.
But I'm not like the other Lilin, I promise. Even though I've been keeping my visions a secret all this time, I love you, and I want to help in your crusade against Lilith
...

Paralyzed by angst, I could not make my lips move.

His fingers brushed a stray curl from my forehead. He pressed a kiss in its place, then drew away from me. "Wise Athena," he said in a thick, uneven voice, "you are right, of course. How could I ask such a thing of you? 'Tis selfishness on my part, pure foolish hope to even—"

'Twas my own selfishness that I did not let him finish. Unable to bear even the minute distance between us, I sat up and reached for him. My lips touched wherever they could reach—his tough jaw, his lean cheek. His hands gripped my shoulders in a fierce hold as he muttered against my hair,
Abby, my love. Are you certain?
As if he wanted me to tell him no—as if he could not believe that I would say yes.

My heart hammering, I let the answer flow into my kiss. The yearning to abandon myself to my Hux, my love, surged in a violent crescendo; our lips merged, our breaths, mayhap our very souls. Tomorrow would bring whatever it would, but for this one night there would be nothing to separate us. He would be mine, and I would be his.

"Make love to me, Hux," I managed between kisses. "Make me yours."

After another soul-consuming kiss, he brought me to stand between his thighs so that my back was to him. He began to disrobe me with sensual efficiency. Trembling, I felt his fingers undoing me, freeing me from all the layers of constriction. Piece by piece, garments were tossed to the ground. With each part of me revealed, he reassured with a kiss or a possessive hand run over my shivering skin. Naked and vulnerable, I was soon turned to face him, and I had the sudden fear that he might find me lacking.

My arms went to cover my breasts. He stopped me.

"No, let me look at you, little one," he said huskily as his fingers traced a sensuous path down my arm. "You are mine now, Abigail. Mine to feast my eyes upon, to touch ... and to savor."

A small pressure on the dip of my spine, and I was brought closer. His mouth hovering at my collarbone, he closed his eyes for a moment. 'Twas as if he was drawing me in with each inhaled breath. Each exhalation brushed hotly against my skin, teasing my nipples into stiff buds, causing warmth to flow into my belly and between my legs. My knees turned suddenly to water, and I had to steady myself upon his shoulder.

He looked up at me with that devil's gaze that had captured me from the first. 'Twas unspeakably arousing, sharing the look with my quivering breast between us. Holding my eyes, he closed the sliver of separation and took my nipple in his mouth. I whimpered at the sweet drawing of his lips and tongue. Each flicker, each lick had me yearning for more. My fingers slid upward to his nape, pressing him closer.

"Yes, my darling, you like this, don't you?" His voice was deep, crooning. Irresistible. "You like it when I suckle your sweet breasts."

My fingers tightened in the silk of his hair. "
Yes
. Oh, Hux, please ..."

He visited the same attention on my other breast, while he continued to work the abandoned nipple between his fingers. Rubbing, circling the hardened nub until I moaned with the bliss of it all. "Tell me how it feels, little one."

"H-how it feels?" I could not think for the bright sparks of pleasure. "I-I don't know how t-to describe ..."

"What happens when I do this,"—he flicked the eager peak with his tongue until I shuddered—"or this"—he sucked deeply, and my breath hitched—"or this?"

At the graze of his teeth against the tender, burgeoned flesh, I let out a surprised cry. Heat flooded me instantly, a melting sensation that centered in my woman's place. I would have hidden my flushed cheek against his hair, but he pulled me from him, trapping my waist between his hands.

"Answer me," he said softly. "There are to be no secrets between us."

My heart seemed to stop. His penetrating blue gaze probed into me, and I squirmed between his palms, held hostage by my desire, my fear. Could he see inside me? Could he see the secret that burned in my soul?

Soon
, I promised desperately.
Soon I'll tell you everything, my darling. But this one night I want not to think. I want only to love
...

His eyes darkened. Slowly, his touch travelled lower in a possessive glide over my hips. His hands spread so that his thumbs came to rest in the twitching creases above my thighs. Between his thumbs, the mound of flesh grew hot and moist, a cavern of fluttering awareness. I waited, breathless with anticipation for him to touch me
there
where I most needed him.

"I am waiting, Abigail," he murmured.

My face flamed. "You know what I want, Hux. Please—"

"Please what?" he prompted, and I let out a shuddering sigh as his thumbs dipped lower. "Is it modesty that prevents you from asking for what you want, my love? For you might as well know now: there is no use for modesty between us." I could not hold back a moan as one long finger slid deeper. "Or perhaps it is a matter of vocabulary. Luckily, you have a talent for languages and a mind for improvement. Are you ready for a lesson now, Abby?"