The Forsaken by Laura Thalassa
In no universe would I put the devil back together like Humpty Dumpty if someone slaughtered him. I was far more likely to do the jig on top of his grave—or help kill him myself. Believing he was capable of good felt too much like I was excusing the infinite evil he’d orchestrated throughout lifetimes.
“Give me a reason to,” I finally said.
I assumed my words would anger him. Instead he tipped his head forward. “I just might, consort. I just might.”
On shaky legs, I stepped into Andre’s room. He was rubbing his hair with a towel, his skin damp. I guess he’d slipped into another shower while I used his.
I was certain he forgot to wash something. That, or he used his super speed to get clean. There was no other explanation for how he’d managed to get all his business finished and take a shower in the same time it took me to get clean.
That, or my visit with the devil took even longer than it felt. And it felt long. I pushed down the panic that rose whenever I thought of him. He was always there, waiting in the wings of my mind. If I let myself get consumed by thoughts of him, I’d be his long before I ever set foot in hell.
Seeing me, Andre paused. Other than a pair of low-slung jeans, he was blissfully naked.
They just don’t make men the same way they used to.
I braced an arm against the wall. Praise Jesus for hormones and short attention spans. I needed a distraction right about now and Andre was just about as good as it got.
His gaze flicked over my towel-clad body, and I shuddered at his appraisal. It reminded me too much of the devil’s.
Andre’s brow puckered. “Soulmate, are you okay?”
So much for a distraction. I considered lying, but, oh hell with it. I shook my head. “No, I’m really not.”
He crossed the room. “What’s wrong?” He pushed some damp strands of hair behind my ear.
“The devil visited me while I was in the shower.”
“While you were … in the shower?” Andre repeated.
I gave him something between a headshake and a nod. It conveyed perfectly my own uncertainty.
Andre’s face blackened with rage. “That bastard.”
He came to me, his hands lightly touching my shoulders. “What did he do to you?”
“Nothing physical.” Even as I spoke, my mind drifted back to the encounter. The devil hadn’t seemed nearly so hostile lately. Disconcerting, as usual, but not violent.
Andre’s eyes roved over me, as if he couldn’t believe it. Or maybe he was realizing that the devil had gotten an eyeful of naked Gabrielle.
“What did he say to you?”
I shook my head. No way was I repeating some of the things he said. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over. He’s gone.”
Andre’s troubled eyes lifted from mine to the air beyond. I could tell he was thinking the same thing I was: the devil might be gone, but he was never far.
My gaze moved to Andre’s bed. I’d now slept several days in his arms. But as my gaze took in the soft sheets, Hestia’s words echoed in my mind. Hell, fate echoed in my mind. Unless I could convince Decima otherwise, I had less than a lunar cycle—twenty-eight days—to live.
“Soulmate?” Andre stepped up next to me.
When I turned to face him, he must’ve seen the direction of my thoughts because he stilled, his nostrils flaring.
My skin lightly glowed, but I was in control. I placed my hands on his bare chest. Warmth that shouldn’t be there emanated from him. That was the thing about magic. It made no logical sense, and yet it simply was.
I swallowed, staring at the expanse of chiseled muscle in front of me. I didn’t know what to do next.
The back of Andre’s hand slid along my jaw. He cupped the back of my neck and tilted my head up to face him. His eyes searched mine.
I scented the air, breathing in Andre’s spicy smell.
“Gabrielle …” Andre’s hands skimmed down my sides. They caressed the swell of my hips.
“Do you want this as much as I do?” I asked.
His jaw clenched, but for once it was out of self-restraint, not anger. “More.”
I ran my hands down his torso, pausing at the edge of his jeans. He didn’t stop me when I undid his pants’ top button. He used to.
Andre functioned so differently from me. I’d simply wanted him since the beginning. It was an ache in my bones, the need to be close to him. But for Andre, who had practiced so much self-restraint over his long life, he didn’t just give into his every whim and desire. At least, not when it came to me.
I think that now, after all we’d been through, he finally figured we’d earned the right to do this. You can only cross paths with death and damnation so many times.
I tugged his zipper down then moved my hands back up his torso, running them over his shoulders and down his arms, feeling every sculpted edge of muscle there. His body shuddered at the sensation.
A half-smile curved Andre’s mouth, but his eyes were serious. He took my chin and angled my head up, brushing a kiss along my lips. “Are you sure?” he whispered.
“Andre.” I gave him a look, and he laughed, the sound made husky by his rising passion.
I backed up from him. Unhooking the edges of my towel, I let it slide off my body.
I heard him growl ominously as he prowled after me. He scooped me up in his arms, and I yelped as he carried me to the bed. His scent wafted around us, mingling with mine.
He set me down on his soft mattress. His gaze trailed over my body, drinking in every inch of exposed skin. I moved to cover myself, suddenly shy.
He took my hands and kissed the knuckles of each. “You have nothing to hide, soulmate. And trust me when I say there is no reason to be embarrassed. None.” His voice had roughened as he spoke, and his gaze slid back to my body. He placed my hands at my sides and ran one of his palms over a piece of exposed flesh, feeling the gentle dip and rise of my curves.
His gaze seared my skin, making it shine brighter. “You’ve never been lovelier than you are right now,” he breathed.
I looked pointedly at his pants, which, despite being unzipped, had remained on his hips. I didn’t blame those pants; I’d suction myself to him if I got the chance. Correction: I would suction myself to him once they were gone. “You have two pieces of clothing on. I have none. This needs to change.”
Andre’s eyes smoldered. Never tearing his gaze from me, he shoved his jeans off of him. When he straightened, he still wore a pair of boxer briefs. This was as much as I’d ever seen of him, and all that is holy, it was a beautiful sight.
His hands dropped to his waistband, and he arched an eyebrow, a sly—and oddly vulnerable—grin gracing his lips. It was his last silent request for me to back out.
But I wouldn’t.
He slid the material down his legs and stepped out of them.
The next time he straightened, I caught my first glimpse of Andre completely naked. I shifted impatiently, my desire for him only increasing. Too bad for me I was a living mood ring when it came to this. My skin brightened at the sight.
His gaze caressed my body as he joined me on the bed.
Skin met skin, and my mouth parted as I felt all of him brushing against all of me for the first time. Ever so carefully he settled himself over me, keeping most of his weight off. We stared at each other.
“Love of my life,” Andre whispered, “I have waited centuries for this. For you.” He captured my mouth with his and pressed a hard, feverish kiss to my lips, his body moving against mine.
My back arched at the feel of him so close, and it ached to remove the last of the distance that lingered between us.
One of his hands slid up my bare thigh, the touch leaving me breathless. I’d seen Hollywood’s version of romance, I’d even made the unfortunate mistake to read about some overblown rendition of it once or twice, but never had I lived it.
It seemed forbidden, and tonight it was my reality. The thought had my head spinning.
I grabbed Andre?
Andre’s passion-drunk gaze sharpened. His brow pressed together. “Soulmate, I can’t agree to that. Not if you get scared.” He smoothed back a strand of my hair.
“But if I hear him and I tell you to keep going, will you?”
Andre frowned but nodded—albeit, reluctantly. “Only if it is truly what you wish.”
I knew what he really meant: if he scented something that contradicted my words, he’d stop anyway.
He leaned in slowly, kissing me softly, and I moved against him, my body thrumming with excitement. Impatience. Nerves.
“You’re shaking,” Andre noted. His naked chest glided over mine, the warm light of the room casting his skin in golds. He pressed a kiss at the juncture of my jaw and my neck, “but not scared,” he breathed, scenting me.
“Can I tell you a secret?” he said, his lips trailing little kisses across my jaw before moving down.
“Mmhmm.” I bit back the Bedlam that was moving through my body, lest it bleed into my voice.
“I’m nervous too.”
That made me pause.
“Seven hundred years of yearning for something to fill the hollow inside me. And now she’s beneath me,” his eyes landed tenderly on me, “waiting for me to rock her world.” Andre smiled down at me.
I laughed, the sound echoing melodically as the siren joined in. She wasn’t nervous, but oh was she eager.
Our bond rang between my ears the closer we got. It lit my skin from the inside out until it felt as though I bathed in a pool of warmth. The sensation cast out the shadows that lingered in my soul.
“Protection?” I whispered.
“Soulmate, I can’t create children.”
I nodded, swallowing down something thick. Technically, neither could I. Why, on top of everything else, was that so sad? I pushed away the thought, refocusing my attention on the man in front of me.
Andre’s hips flexed, and he aligned himself with me. My heart beat like mad.
I could tell Andre watched for signs that the devil had joined our little party; he kept a close eye on my expression. I wanted to tell him that if anything, the devil’s absence unnerved me. He hadn’t made a sound.
The siren lingered just below the surface, not in control, but unwilling to miss out on what was about to happen. For once we’d drawn some sort of truce; she didn’t take over and I didn’t suppress her.
And here I thought I didn’t play well with others.
Andre kept his eyes on me as he gently slid inside. The bond between us—the one I could always feel—now … melded. The two of us were finally, finally together.
He stared down at me, his eyes wide with wonder. Something haunted left his features, and he smiled. “Centuries of wearisome existence. Eternal damnation. And because of you, soulmate, I regret none of it.”
We moved against each other until we’d banished every shadowy corner of our souls and every dark deed we’d ever done. Until there was just us—two people madly, hopelessly in love.
Chapter 17
Andre pulled me close, nuzzling my neck, and I just about died from happiness. His hair was mussed from my fingers, and a persistent little grin kept tugging the corners of his mouth.
“Soulmate, I’ve been thinking about it, and I’ve come to the decision that you’re not to leave my arms again.”
I ran a hand through his hair, reveling in this new intimacy. “Oh, that’s real reasonable.”
His head dipped between my breasts, and his lips paid homage to the skin there. I could feel him beginning to get aroused anew.
My lips twitched. “Isn’t there supposed to be a recovery period for you dudes?” I asked.
He nipped at the flesh beneath his mouth, making my siren rise.
“You’ll find that vampires have extremely quick recovery periods.”
I moved one of my legs against him, and he trapped it between his.
“Lucky me.”
That sinful grin of his widened. “No, soulmate. Lucky me.”
I curled up next to him much later, and for a moment, just a moment, I felt pure and utter bliss. This was as close as I’d ever get to heaven.
He held me close, and things felt different. Deeper. More intimate.
Andre’s naked chest stilled beneath me. Whatever animated him during the evening fled as dawn broke along the horizon.
I pulled away from him and stared at his face. Princely. That was the kind of beauty he had. Strong jaw, high cheekbones, straight brows, sensual lips. In sleep his expression gentled.
I risked losing this.
I glanced away, the sight of him suddenly making the pain of that future more acute.
As I laid there, letting my happiness slip through my fingers like grains of sand, the notes of some haunting song drifted in from beyond the walls of Andre’s room.
I pushed out of Andre’s bed and slipped on the clothes left for me earlier.
That painting of Andre clad in his crusader gear watched me as I moved throughout the room and pulled on my boots. I swear those troubled eyes beseeched me, but to do what, I had no clue.
Why does the spider weave its web?
Why do the fates spin their thread?
For you. For you. For you.
The song’s lyrics drifted out from behind Andre’s bookshelf, and I stiffened at them.
I knew that voice. I’d know it from anywhere.
My mother.
She wasn’t using her glamour, but her voice was still lovely enough to convince me of anything.
Without thinking, I moved to the shelf and drew the trap door back. The bookshelf swung out, revealing the passage that led to Andre’s secret library, his equivalent of a panic room.
Light spilled up the stairs from the room below. I couldn’t for the life of me remember if those lights came on when the passage was opened. If they didn’t, then Andre’s hidden library wasn’t so hidden after all.
I closed my eyes, letting my other senses take over. As far as I could tell, nothing living was down there.
I crept down the staircase, drawn by the music.
Why does the morning lark find me dead?
Why does the devil want you wed?
It’s true. It’s true. It’s true.
The hairs on my forearms rose as I entered the room. To anyone else, these lyrics were eloquent gibberish. But to me, they actually meant something. I could swear she was singing to me.
Why do we lay in prophecy’s bed?
Why does the world want your head?
If only they knew. They knew. They knew.
I crossed the room, heading for the source of the music. An iPod sat on one of the shelves at the back of the room. Attached to it were two speakers.
You can’t run from destiny
You can’t run from history
Fate will find you.
They will find you.
He will find you.
My forsaken one.
The song ended there, the notes echoing into silence. The effect was haunting.
“It is lucky for you that I am benevolent.”
I yelped and whirled around. The devil stood on the opposite end of the room, blocking the passage out. The shadows gathered around him, darkening the already dimly lit room. And, uh, the dude looked pissed.
His eyes narrowed and he folded his arms. “You fucked the vampire.”
I flinched at the devil’s words. I didn’t shy away from cursing, but something about the word used in its true context and spoken with such casual venom shocked me.
A chill entered the room as we stared at each other.
“Not that I should be surprised,” the devil continued. “The fates didn’t fashion me some lilywhite saint for a consort—though that would’ve been fun to corrupt.”
He stepped forward, and I backed up, banging into the shelf I stood next to and jostling the iPod. There was nowhere for me to go.
Best
“I warned you not to get intimate, and I don’t make idle threats.”
“Then why didn’t you stop me?” He could have, just like last time. I wasn’t sure it would’ve made a difference.
His unflinching gaze unnerved me. “You keep crossing me, as though I have not built my very reputation on punishment and pain. I figured it was time to remind you. You needed to be taught a lesson.
The devil’s quiet menace had unease unfurling inside me, and my siren responded. My skin began to glow. “What are you going to do?”
He took another step forward, beginning to close the distance that separated us. “Oh, I have a few things in mind.”
My breathing quickened and his stare dropped to my chest. I closed my eyes against the expression he wore.
“I could kill your friends—the ones that so dutifully protect you. That seer and I do have unfinished business. I’d torture them slowly, make it clear with every painful injury why they were receiving my wrath. That they put their loyalty in the wrong woman. All she had to do was remain chaste. But she didn’t, and her betrayal caused their suffering.”
Trapped as I was between the bookcase and the devil, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t escape.
He stopped just short of me. This close to him, I could see his dark beauty. It scared me that his presence no longer caused the same sick reaction it normally did. I could still feel a dull ache around him, like something vital was being sucked from me, but the sensation should’ve been sharper, more powerful.
Hestia had called me tainted. Somehow, somewhere along the way, I’d become immune to the devil’s wickedness. Or, more likely, he’d poisoned my soul.
“Or I could kill your adopted mother,” he said. “That’s the one I’m leaning towards.”
My mother. Oh God, he would too. This needed to end.