Retribution (Redemption Series) (15 page)

"You should be," he said
softly.

He knew I'd ask. It just wasn't in me
not to.

"Why?" I breathed.

Marcas
' free arm went
around my waist, and he brought me into him, lifting me just enough I could
feel my hip against the side of the table.

"Because I have no intention of
letting you go. Understood?"

And with that, his mouth crashed down
onto mine. There was no time to think about what he said, and I had no desire
to answer him. All I cared about was his lips on mine, the feel of his breath
against my mouth, the feel of electricity that moved along my limbs as I
brought my hand to the back of his head.

My fingers dug as harshly into his scalp
as his did into mine, and I gasped against his lips as he lifted me onto the
table, his arm dropping to the wood as he leaned over me.

He pulled away only briefly, just long
enough to kiss the tip of my nose before moving to my lips again.

"Mine," he breathed fiercely.

His kiss was deep, bruising even, and I
held on for dear life, letting emotion sweep me into a place of pure oblivion.
Absently, I noted his hand had moved from the table to the skin under my
sweatshirt and everywhere his fingers grazed, he left a burning trail. I leaned
into his touch, my own hands moving under his black tee to trace the cobra on
his back.

It was all either one of us needed. Skin
touching skin, lips pressed so firmly together, there was doubt as to where one
began and the other ended.

I brought one hand to his face, my hand
skimming the stubble on his jaw as I leaned away, firmly holding his face
against mine as my lips parted briefly.

"Yours," I promised.

And then I was kissing him again.

No one told me that one day a kiss would
mean more than the touch of lips, that it would mean more than a moment of
pleasure. No one told me that one day a kiss would define who I would become,
that it would rearrange what was and wasn't important to me. No one told me,
because I don't think there are words to describe the kind of kiss that
Marcas
and I shared now. It was the kind of kiss that made
promises without
words, that
whispered secrets no one
else would ever share.

In that moment, his hand skimming
lightly along my rib cage, his fingers tangled in my hair, his skin against my
fingers, I died. And in that moment, his breath against mine, my hand skimming his
abdomen lightly, his eyes wide open staring into mine, I was reborn.

Chapter 15

My daughter is a wise girl, her wisdom well beyond
her Earthly years. I have always believed I knew her destiny. I was wrong.

~
Bezaliel
~

I couldn't shake the kiss. Even now,
standing at the top of the stairs that led down into the courtyard, I could
feel
Marcas
' mouth on mine, his hands on my skin. It
was like he was inside of me now, and I couldn't shake him. It had been the
longest short kiss of my life. It had lasted forever. It hadn't last long
enough. And when he had finally pulled away, his hands still on the skin under
my shirt, he had looked at me and said, "When we go down into Hell, don't
let go."

There had been a knock at the refectory
door followed shortly by the creaking of the hinges, but neither of us had
moved. Even when Monroe's voice had infiltrated the moment,
Marcas
'
hands still remained on my skin.

"I have the amulet," she'd
said softly.

And still those words had done nothing
more than make
Marcas
look at the door, removing one
hand to hold it out toward Monroe.

"Thank you. I hope you know I'm
impressed with your power."

Monroe had smiled at him then. There had
always been tension between the two. From the moment Monroe had awoken to find
Marcas
facing off with me in her bedroom until now, I think
she had been wary. But things change, and Monroe was a lot smarter than most of
us. Sometimes I think she saw things the way Maria did. I know Monroe had
visions. I know those same visions could be powerful, too real. I also knew she
had more magic than your average witch. Otherwise, the amulets wouldn't be
possible.

"Guard it. It will protect you only
as long you wear it," Monroe had said.

Marcas
nodded,
stepping away from me and stooping so that Monroe could place the amulet around
his neck. He winced slightly when it touched his skin, and I knew the magic
recognized him as a Demon.

"I won't remove it."

Monroe looked relieved, her eyes moving
to me as she backed toward the door.

"In case I don't get the chance to
tell you again, be safe. You will make a choice in Hell," Monroe said as
she paused at the door. Her eyes searched mine, and I felt the love that would
always be between us. No matter how much we grew, how much we changed, she and
I would always be connected. "I trust this choice. I'm Wiccan. I don't
have the links the rest of you have to Heaven and Hell. But I know this choice
is the right one even if it seems wrong."

I nodded. I didn't ask her what she was
referring to. She'd had a vision. It was obvious, and I was becoming used to
people making vague references to decisions I may have to make. What I
respected about Monroe, however, is that she trusted me to make the right one.
She would never force me to make one that felt right to everyone else.

Behind her, Luther appeared in the hall
and Monroe bumped into him. She placed a hand against her chest, startled, and
Luther chuckled before nodding.

"Witch," he'd said softly.

Monroe had glanced at him only briefly
before retreating.

"I like her," Luther said as
he moved into the room following Monroe's departure.

Marcas
lifted a brow.

"You scare her."

Luther grinned.

"That's why I like her."

I couldn't help it, I laughed as I started
to move past them to the door, but
Marcas
took me by
the hand before I could make it far.

"Stay close. We'll be leaving
soon," he said softly.

I nodded and moved away, leaving the two
Demons to discuss what they needed to discuss, brother to brother, friend to
friend. My eyes met
Marcas
' only once before I closed
the door behind me, and in that gaze I saw everything I ever needed to know
about the two of us.

That had been a little over an hour ago.
It was time now to meet in the courtyard. Two hours had passed since everyone
had walked out of the refectory and left
Marcas
and I
alone. Only two hours, but we couldn't risk giving Hell a chance to discover
what
Marcas
planned to do.

"Are you ready?"
Conor
asked suddenly from behind me on the stairs, and I
nodded without looking his way.

"I've been there before."

"Not unbound and not to challenge
Satan for power,"
Conor
said.

"Maybe," I replied. "But
I'm ready nonetheless."

I took a step down, my hand sliding
along the
bannister
as I moved.
Conor
stayed close behind me.

"She's a hybrid."
Conor
said softly.

I
paused
two
more steps down and turned to him.

"What?"

Conor's
blue eyes met
mine. He swept his blonde hair off his forehead, his place on the staircase
making him appear so much taller than his already six foot height.

"The girl I was assigned to
protect.
My mark.
She's part Demon."

I gaped at him.
Conor
.
A
Demon.
It wouldn't seem odd if it weren't for the fact that
Conor
seemed to hate Demons. He had showed a loathing for
Marcas
from the moment they'd laid eyes on each other.

Conor
must have read
the surprise in my eyes because he flinched.

"I'm learning, Red. I've spent the
past two years protecting people from Demons. It's hard for me to see them as
anything more than evil."

I understood that. Really, I did. I
hadn't exactly been doing cartwheels of excitement when I discovered what
Marcas
was.

I turned and continued down the stairs,
my back to
Conor
.

"If
Marcas
succeeds, then maybe it will change things for hybrids,"
Conor
said as we reached the bottom of the stairs.

 
I
reached out and pulled open the door to the courtyard. It was chilly outside,
and I rubbed my arms as the wind moved into the Abbey.

"I think it will begin
change," I said, turning once more to
Conor
.

The others were already gathered on the
lawn beyond, and I knew time was of the essence, but I took a moment to look at
Conor
with all of the affection I had ever felt for
him.

"I loved you once,"
Conor
whispered.

I smiled.

"And
now?"

Conor
smiled in
return.

"Oh, I still do, but it's
different."

I let go of the door and moved to him,
taking a deep breath as his arms went around me. It was a comfortable feeling
being held by
Conor
.

"I love you too," I said
softly, my arms tightening around him. "You and Monroe have been my family
when I had no one else."

Conor
sighed.

"And you mine. Be careful,
Red."

With that, we parted, and I moved back
to the door. I wasn't sure when I'd see
Conor
next,
but I knew when I did, there would be no awkwardness between us. For now,
however, there was only
Marcas
, standing ready in the
courtyard, his feet apart,
the
amulet glowing against
his black t-shirt as he held up his hand. I moved toward him, ignoring the
stares of the nameless S.O.S. members.

"Ready?" Luther asked as I
passed by him.

He fell into step next to me, and I
cocked a brow in his direction. He laughed.

"Bad question, right?"

We were next to
Marcas
now, and he reached down and took my hand in his.

"Remember. Don't let go,"
Marcas
ordered.

I nodded just as the portal to Hell
opened, leaving a black, circling vortex in the Abbey's overgrown courtyard. I
avoided looking to the place where I knew my mother had died, but I did look
up, my eyes catching on a window just above the gardens. There was a face in
the glass, a soft yellow glow behind her, and I knew it was Amber. She and I
weren't good at goodbyes. I nodded my head at her, and she nodded back. It was
enough.

"I could go," I heard Lucas
telling my father behind us, but I shook my head, turning just enough to gaze
over my shoulder.

"No."

Bezaliel's
gaze met mine.
That one word said it all. I didn't want anyone's protection. This was my
decision. This was
Marcas
' domain. This was
Marcas
' battle and Luther and I were going to fight with
him. This was not about me.

"Ready?"

This time it was
Marcas
who asked, and I nodded, feeling my feet lift off the ground before we were
suddenly cloaked in darkness. There was no time for second thoughts, no time
for regrets, and I did the one thing
Marcas
asked of
me. I didn't let go.

Chapter 16

Hell.
Lucifer's domain.
It
is a dark world that sucks the world of color. It is a dark world that
threatens to steal the souls of the living. It is a dark world that eliminates
hope, replacing forgiveness with animosity.

~
Bezaliel
~

It was dark, a disconcerting ebony fall
from grace. The journey to Hell was a trip I'd already made once, but the first
time hadn't been by choice. The first time had been about escape, about
avoiding temptation and death in order to find a Seal. This time, we weren't
trying to escape the Underworld.
Marcas
was
attempting to gain his own kingdom.

"Don't let go," I murmured to
myself as we fell, my hand clutching
Marcas
' so
tightly my skin was numb, but I didn't relax my grip.

"They are waiting," Luther said
from the darkness, and I stiffened.