Kristina Douglas - The Fallen 1 - Raziel (11 page)

She gave him her ful , sweet smile. “Come to bed, love. We don’t need to think about that for a long time.”

He slid in beside her, pul ing her against him, pushing one leg between hers, his long fingers stroking the side of her face, her neck, the elegant col arbone. “What are you wearing?” he whispered against her skin.

She laughed, a low, sexy sound. “A nightgown, of course.”

“Take it off.” He was naked—he wanted her naked too.

She sat up and obliged him, pul ing it over her head and tossing it on the floor. She’d pick it up in the morning, before the maid came in. She didn’t like having anyone wait on her, but on this one matter he’d overruled her. She had enough demands on her, providing strength-sustaining blood for the unbonded.

She lay back down, a smile in her eyes, and slid her arms around him. She buried her face against his shoulder, and he could feel her teeth nipping lightly at his skin.

He kissed her, hard and deep, and she pul ed at him, her hands restless. “Hurry,” she whispered. “No foreplay?” he teased.

“I’ve been thinking about you for the last two hours. That’s foreplay enough.”

He laughed, rol ing her beneath him, pushing into her. Her back arched, and he could feel the first tremor of her orgasm tighten around him. She knew how to pul back, contain it so she wouldn’t make him lose control. Their rhythms were perfectly matched, an elegant dance that culminated in a shock of pleasure.

This was faintly different. He sensed her urgency, when they usual y took al the time they wanted. “Why the hurry, love?” he whispered.

She didn’t answer for a moment, and he could see the shadow of an old pain in her beautiful eyes. “I’m afraid we’l run out of time,” she said final y, her voice so low he could barely hear her.

“Never,” he said. “Stop thinking.”

Her smile was faint, lovely, one of the most erotic things about her.

“Now,” she whispered.

He didn’t hesitate. His fangs slid down and sank into her neck, finding the sweet spot he knew so wel . The blood was thick, rich in his mouth, and he felt the spasms begin to take over, felt her own helpless response as his wings unfurled. He rol ed onto his side, taking her with him, his teeth never leaving the gently throbbing vein, his cock deep inside her as his wings clamped around them both, locking them together as he gave himself over to the only kind of death he’d ever know.

I
OPENED MY EYES AND GROANED. I was lying sideways across a big, rumpled bed, stil ful y clothed—and I was alone.

I had a real y annoying habit of waking up instantly, cheerful y, with no need for coffee or a hushed silence to prepare for the day. It was sheer luck that I’d survived my col ege years—more than one roommate had been ready to beat me to death over my tendency to prattle in the morning.

Today I could have used a little fogginess.

I had actual y slept in that man’s bed, though I wasn’t quite sure how I’d got there. Last thing I remembered was fal ing asleep in the living room, and here I was stretched out on his sheets, feeling physical y cozy and mental y freaked-out. I wasn’t used to men carting me off to bed and then doing nothing about it. Actual y, I wasn’t used to men carting me off to bed at al .

Except he wasn’t a man, was he? He was some kind of monster, or mythical beast, or a bizarre mix of both, but he was definitely not human. And I held the firm belief that interspecies dating was never a good idea.

I checked my neck, just to make certain, but there were no mysterious puncture wounds; and far from feeling dizzy from blood loss, I was feeling positively energetic, more than my usual morning bounce. The unthinkable had happened, the worst thing imaginable.

It had been no surreal nightmare. I was dead and living with a bunch of vampires who seemed to have emerged from Old Testament Apocrypha. It was little wonder I was feeling disoriented. What I couldn’t figure out was why I was cheerful.

The good thing about total disaster—at least there was nowhere to go but up. Maybe it was that simple.

Or maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the man—

damn, I couldn’t stop thinking of him that way—who’d brought me here. Not that he was any too pleased to be saddled with my unwanted presence. Tough shit—it was his fault I’d ended up in this cross between Valhal a and Anne Rice territory.

The good thing was, Raziel appeared to have no interest in my far-from-irresistible charms, sexual, social, or otherwise. For al I knew, Raziel’s people were impotent. After al , no one seemed able to procreate.

That seemed unlikely. The heat between Azazel and his wife had been palpable, despite the disparity in their ages. Maybe Raziel simply wasn’t interested in women. Or, more likely, not interested in me—he would hardly be the first who’d failed to appreciate my particular brand of charisma.

I’d fal en asleep on the living room floor and he must have been kind enough to carry me in to bed, though so far kindness hadn’t been a major part of his personality. He’d left me sexual y and hematological y untouched, thank God. What more proof did I need of his lack of interest.

I had more important things to consider. I needed a bathroom; I needed a shower. Last night I hadn’t stopped to think about the dead or undead having actual bodily functions. Al I knew was that I certainly did.

I rol ed out of the huge bed, landing barefoot on the cool marble floor. The room was dim, the shades pul ed against the bright sunlight. There was a door off to one side, and I headed for it.

Eureka! A bathroom with a huge tub, a shower made for giants, thick towels, and even a toilet. If the afterlife contained a bathroom like this, it couldn’t be that awful.

I fol owed the coffee aroma to a smal kitchen, bracing myself to confront Raziel, but the place was deserted. There was coffee in a white carafe, and I fil ed one of the mugs, looking around me with fresh curiosity. Things didn’t seem nearly so bizarre as they had yesterday—amazing what a good night’s sleep would do for you.

I moved to the row of windows in the living room, looking out over the sea. It was misty, cool, the rich salt scent thick in the air. Where had Raziel gone? And did he real y expect me to stay here like a good girl, awaiting my master’s return?

Fat chance.

I found some white shoes that looked sort of like a delicate pair of Crocs and slipped them on, then headed out the door. I paused, staring down the endless flights of stairs, and let out a heartfelt groan.

Going down would be easier than going up, but if I did descend those forty mil ion treacherous flights of stairs, sooner or later I would have to go back up. Why didn’t they have elevators in the afterlife?

Maybe most people just flew.

No, only the men could. “Sexist bastards,” I said with a sniff.

Maybe I could hitch a ride with one of the friendlier ones.

The stairs were endless, deserted as I descended. It wasn’t until I reached the third floor that I began to run into . . . whatever they were. Fal en angels, vampires, blood-eaters, hel -transporters.

Comic-book vil ains.

None of them looked particularly happy to see me. So it wasn’t just Raziel who resented my presence. I gave each of them my cheeriest smile and a friendly greeting, and for the most part was met with cool indifference. Great. No welcome wagon here.

No sight of the Stepford wives, either, who by now were seeming pretty damned normal and friendly. Were they stuck in some kind of seraglio while the men went about their so-important business?

Would I end up there?

Of course not. Seraglios were for wives and concubines, not inconvenient females nobody wanted.

I final y reached the bottom of those endless stairs, ending up in a massive hal way. It was open at one end, leading out to the churning sea, which cal ed to me and I started toward it, something akin to joy rising in my heart, when I was brought up short by the very last person I wanted to see.

Not Raziel, who had his own dubious charms. But Azazel the Grouch, the leader of this happy band. And he was looking at me as if I carried al ten plagues of Egypt.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“Looking for Raziel,” I said, a complete lie. I didn’t want to see him any more than he wanted to come near me, but I could think of no other excuse. The sea was cal ing to me, and I tried to sidle past him. “I think he might be out by the water—”

He blocked me. “He’s not. Go back to your rooms and await him.”

I didn’t like Azazel. “I’m not one of the dutiful wives, and I’m certainly not going to hide away like someone in a harem. I’m going out to the water, and I suggest you don’t try to stop me.”

The moment the chal enge was out of my mouth, I regretted it. I’d forgotten these weren’t New York metrosexuals I was dealing with.

Azazel froze, and I wondered idly if these fal en angels were capable of smiting a bitch. If so, I was in deep shit.

“Al ie!” Sarah suddenly came up from behind me, tucking her arm through mine. “So nice to see you this morning. Aren’t you happy to see Al ie, my love?”

Azazel glowered. “No.”

“Pay no attention to him, my dear,” Sarah said smoothly, leading me away from him. “He’s got a lot on his mind, and he tends to be bad-tempered in the morning. In the afternoon as wel ,” she added rueful y.

“Is there ever a time when he isn’t grumpy?” I asked with my usual lack of tact.

“Not often,” Sarah said. “He has too many responsibilities. Now, let me find someone who wil know where Raziel’s gone. He’s probably up in the caves—he spends most of his time there.”

“I admit, he does have batlike tendencies. The black clothes.”

“The wings,” Sarah added cheerful y, then saw my expression.

“Oh, you haven’t seen his wings yet? They’re quite . . . astonishing. A deep, iridescent blue. You’l love them.”

“I doubt it.”

Sarah smiled. “Let’s find some help. I’m not al owed up there or I’d take you. Besides, with me you’d have to walk and it would take days. Come with me.” She led me, blessedly, toward the open door and the sea.

I stopped for a moment, blinded by the sunlight, and let the cool salty breeze wash over me like a blessing—like a lover’s caress. I opened my eyes to see Sarah watching me with a faint smile.

“You fit wel here,” she said.

“I hadn’t realized how much I love the sea.”

“It’s not just that.” But before I could ask her what she meant, she started walking toward two men who were standing in the bright sunlight, watching our approach.

“I stil can’t get over why they don’t turn into piles of ashes,” I muttered. “I thought vampires couldn’t handle the sun.”

Sarah laughed. “Vampires are a myth.”

“And fal en angels who drink blood are part of reality television?”

“Reality television is a myth too, from what I hear. I would suggest you reserve judgment. Tamlel, Sammael,” she greeted them, and the two of them bowed.

Raziel was so ridiculously gorgeous he made my knees weak, and Azazel’s stern beauty was impressive. These two were damned pretty as wel , and for a moment I wondered if you could be gay in the afterlife.

One of them was older, with dark brown hair tied back, warmth in his eyes. The younger one was blond and cherubic, and it was probably my imagination that he looked slightly sul en. They greeted Sarah with warmth, but it was clear they were unsure about me.

“This is Al egra,” Sarah said. “But you already know that. Al ie, this is Tamlel, general y considered to be in charge of scribes. And the young one is Sammael.”

He was looking at me with a sulky expression, and I’d always had little patience for sul en teenagers. Though this particular teenager was probably thousands of years old. “And what are you in charge of?”

There was a moment of silence, and then Sarah spoke. “In fact, he’s one of the angels of death. But since the Fal en have eternal life, he hasn’t had much to do since he fel . Our only connection with humans is to take them to their final home.”

“One of the angels of death?” I echoed. “Like Raziel?”

“Raziel isn’t a death angel.”

“You could have fooled me,” I grumbled, thinking back to that bus.

“What’s he doing now—kil ing someone new?”

Tamlel looked distressed. “We don’t kil . We are charged with transporting—”

“Never mind.” I took pity on him.

“Raziel is the angel of knowledge and mysteries,” Sarah said patiently. “He keeps the secrets of the ages.”

“Typical male,” I muttered.

Sarah laughed, and even Tamlel smothered a grin. Sammael, however, kept a stony expression. “Wil one of you take Al ie up to Raziel? He shouldn’t have left her alone on her first day with us.”

“How long is she going to stay?” Sammael demanded in a tone just this side of rudeness. I guess if you were an angel of death, you could get away with it.

“We don’t know yet. There are more important things to worry about right now. Her presence among us wil be dealt with when the time is right.”

That didn’t sound particularly promising. I wasn’t in the mood to be
dealt with,
and no one apart from Sarah seemed exactly delighted to see me, though at least Tamlel was trying, bless him.

“I’m afraid I’ve promised to help Michael in the weapons room,”

Tamlel said. “However, Sammael would be more than happy to serve.” Sammael didn’t look happy to do anything, but maybe that was because he looked like a teenager.

But clearly no one said no to Sarah. “Thank you, Sammael. I’l take Al ie back upstairs—she’l need warmer clothes if she’s to go into the caves, and I wish to talk to her. You may join us in an hour.”