XX

F uck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Raphael scrambled to his feet with a grimace as he watched Stella disappear. He didn't have time for thoughts of how royally screwed he was, only the overwhelming need to get to her. Raphael tore after her once his feet were under him.

If he didn't catch her and convince her Gabriel and Kat were lying... If she went to the Vranas, or worse, Jax... Raphael stumbled up the stairs he glimpsed Stella dash up.

"Gods damn it all," he hissed and pushed himself upright.

Raphael took the remainder of the stairs two at a time. The effort paid out. He gained eyes on her as he reached the fifth subfloor. She was racing through the hall as fast as she could. Raphael gritted his teeth. She was fast, but he was faster. He would catch her. There was no other option.

And when he did, he would…

He would…

Raphael cursed. He didn't know what he would do, but he would come up with something. He had to. Raphael sprinted on, gaining ground quickly. Stella must have sensed it too, for she peeled off down an intersecting hall at the last second. Her panicked gaze found his over her shoulder before she cut out of sight. Raphael followed, closing the distance as she launched herself up another staircase and barreled down the hall it emptied into.

His breathing sounded sharply in his ears as he continued to narrow the gap between them. All other would-be distractions ceased to exist as he closed in on her. Raphael rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt. He pitched forward, catching himself at the last minute on the wall as he stared wide-eyed at the sight that greeted him.

Stella crumpled on the ground; an arm thrown protectively in front of her. Raphael's head whipped up to scan the hall before them, but it was void of all people. In a matter of seconds, he was at her side on bended knee with her shoulders in his hands. Stella didn't resist as he turned her toward him.

"What is it? What happened?" Stella's slight frame trembled beneath his palms.

"They're here."

"Who?"

"The dogs." She pointed a shaking finger to the empty hall, but her eyes remained glued to the floor.

Raphael looked about in growing confusion. "Stella, there are no dogs. No one. It's only us."

Slowly, Stella seemed to pull herself together. Her trembling slowed and her breathing evened out. Raphael reluctantly released her as she peered down the hall.

"I'm not crazy," she whispered. Raphael thought perhaps she was saying the words to herself. "They were there. They were right there and—" A severe frown pulled her features downward. "And the library, that was real too. I'm not crazy, I—" Again, she stopped herself.

Stella's face paled as her gaze gravitated toward something behind him. He stiffened on cue from her reaction.

"What is it?" Raphael kept his voice low as her expression grew even sallower.

Stella squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't know. I don't know," she breathed out, head swaying side to side. "Was any of it real?"

A lump stuck at the back of Raphael's throat as her expression tightened. Without thinking, he ripped off his useless gloves and cupped her face. The skin-to-skin contact drew her eyes open. A well of despondence stared back at him.

"Something's wrong with me. I keep seeing… things. Shadows. Places."

"Dogs?"

Stella nodded weakly. "Voices now, too."

Raphael said nothing. Surely, there were words he could say to put her mind at ease.

There were also words that would erase the mess he found himself in.

His stomach roiled with guilt at the thought. Guilt, ugh. Raphael ducked his head to hide the way his jaw tightened. It irked him to no end that such an emotion would plague him now, and for Stella no less. He couldn't afford the distraction or compulsion to second guess himself. Layla's life hung in the balance.

Get it through your head. She's collateral damage, nothing more. A resounding pang signaled its protest deep in his chest. Raphael steeled himself against it, even as he heard her muttering, "Real or not real?"

"I'm taking you back to your room."

Stella's shoulders sank and she tipped her chin in acknowledgement. He helped her up and proceeded to lead them onward at a fast pace. Raphael donned a fierce and menacing expression, prepared to ward off any courtier thinking of engaging them. But none did. The halls were empty.

Raphael had experienced his share of strange happenings in court, but this was something else entirely. All manner of courtiers should have been out socializing, yet none made their way through the fourth subfloor. It left him wary. Thankfully, his speedy pace got them across the court and in front of her door in under ten minutes.

"Can you open the door for us?"

She looked up at him blank faced.

"The door, love." Raphael softened his expression and Stella came out of her daze. With a shake of her head, she stepped forward and grasped her doorknob. At first nothing happened, and then a barrage of clicks sounded. When the noise stopped, she pushed open the door.

Raphael ushered Stella inside, his hand a steady presence against the small of her back. "Why don't you take a shower and wash off the night? I'll fix you something to drink," Raphael said as he closed the door behind them.

She hesitated, gazing at him with uncertainty before shuffling back to her bedroom. Once the sound of rushing water reached his ears, Raphael let out a haggard sigh. He needed to come up with a plan to undo the damage Kat and Gabriel had done. Fast.

The problem was Raphael hadn't a clue where to begin such an endeavor. Especially given the state she was in...

Raphael stilled as anticipation lit through him alongside gut twisting guilt.

She wasn't in her right mind at the moment. Phantom dogs and disembodied voices? They were the ramblings of a madman. Or in this case, a mad banshee. He only needed to nudge her a bit further down that road, and he could convince her that what she heard in the library was a figment of her imagination.

It was his only option to fix this mess.

His gut twisted more.

The shower turned off. Raphael turned to Stella's dismally small kitchen and hurried to search its contents for the drink he promised her. Above the stove he found a stash of mugs. He plucked one at random and then reached for the large jar nestled next to them.

"No tea then," he muttered to the empty jar that smelled of tea leaves. He left the jar on the stovetop and scanned the shelves for any other—

Raphael's eyes caught on a familiar slender, green-tinted bottle tucked away on the top shelf. He grabbed the rhodiola without thinking. It was the obvious answer to his current dilemma, even if Stella had a strong tolerance for the stuff. The drink would muddle her mind further.

So why wasn't he pouring it into the mug? He stared at the bottle as if it would magically provide the answer.

Raphael had no qualms about tricking and scheming against courtiers. He'd committed his fair acts of violence as well, taken lives, and bloodied his hands when necessary. But messing with Stella's head like this… it felt wrong.

A sour taste filled his mouth as more guilt rippled through him. Raphael squashed the emotion down like a bug underfoot, his top lip curling back at his weakness. He needed to get things back under control.

He needed to get himself back under control.

Without wasting another second, he uncorked the bottle and filled the mug over halfway. It was at least three times the traditional measure. He didn't care. He hastily put the bottle back and waited for Stella to rejoin him. A few minutes later she did.

"You're still here."

Raphael turned with mug in hand and extended it to her. "I said I'd fix you something to drink."

She padded over to him in an oversized t-shirt that hit just below her mid-thigh. He swallowed thickly. The tattered shirt was well-worn around the collar. Wet spots dotted the fabric below her damp hair. She looked—

"Thank you," Stella said as she accepted the mug. She brought it halfway to her lips before stilling and glancing at the contents. Her gaze narrowed on the liquid gleaming back at her then on Raphael.

"You were out of tea," he explained. "And after the way I found you in the hallway, I thought you might benefit from something stronger."

Heavy silence filled the space between them growing uncomfortably long until Stella broke their eye contact and stared back down at the rhodiola "I'm not crazy."

Raphael cleared his throat and kept his voice neutral. "Nothing was in that hallway, Stella."

Her knuckles turned white around the mug. "What about the library? Are you going to tell me that it wasn't Gabriel and Kat? That they weren't dripping in shadows?"

"Of course, it was Gabriel and Kat—why else would I have pulled us out of their line of sight? Gabriel probably searched out Kat to deal out some revenge against you."

Stella's eyes shot to his with a glare. "She said you were going to kill me."

Raphael stepped toward her. She immediately stiffened but didn't move out of reach.

"I've had no less than a dozen opportunities to kill you, love," he told her plainly. "If I wanted to, I would have. Besides, you and I both know I'm not interested in jeopardizing my friendship with Jax over you. That, and I've no intention of making an enemy of the Vranas."

Indecision warred behind Stella's eyes. "What about the shadows?" she demanded.

"What shadows? The ones found all over the library so courtiers could fuck like mad?"

Stella's cheeks flared with color. "The ones dripping from their backs. It was like smoke coming off their bodies."

Raphael frowned in false confusion. He knew exactly what Stella was referring to. Clearly, Gabriel and Kat had come from the Ether and had not bothered to shake off its remnants before strolling so openly through the library. Fools.

"Are these the same shadows you were rambling about in the hall?"

Stella jerked back as if he'd slapped her, and then spun toward the fireplace. "I wasn't rambling," she choked out. Raphael's throat tightened and he watched with no relief as she lifted the mug to her lips and drank deeply. "I know what I saw."

Raphael approached her after she took a second drink of the rhodiola. Her eyes were fastened to the clock on the mantel. Its minute hand struggled to round the seven. After a beat, she tipped it up to the eight.

"Do you even know if that's the right time?"

"What's five minutes in the scheme of things?" Stella shrugged and downed the rest of the rhodiola looking no worse for wear. "Time's running out anyway."

Raphael took the mug from her hand. "Tell me more about the shadows," he requested.

Stella shook her head and reached for the mug. He held it back.

"I want another drink," she said.

"I'll get you some water."

"That's not what I want."

Raphael cocked a brow. "Too bad." He set it out of her reach on the far side of the mantle.

Stella's expression crossed a range of emotions before settling on one that sent a thrill up his spine.

"You couldn't stop me, you know," she replied coolly and stepped into his personal space. Her chin tilted up, lips pursing to a delectable pout that magnetized his gaze. Raphael's heart ticked up a beat. He was still getting used to this Stella. The one who dared to take what she wanted and embrace all the power simmering inside her. "I could use my voice on you. Immobilize you and do whatever I like."

His cock twitched behind the loose linen of his pants as her cool delivery transformed into a heady promise.

"Oh? Like you did to that shifter tonight for all to see? Tell me, Stella," he purred. "What would you do to me?"

Satisfaction warmed Raphael's blood as he watched Stella's eyes dilate. Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip, and the rise and fall of her chest increased its rhythm. She gave every indication that the growing want between them was reciprocated, and yet…

She's drunk, you cad.

Raphael banked the sudden desire that flared in him and prepared to step away when Stella's shifted focus. The flames in her eyes suddenly dimmed. He paused.

"What was that?" His knuckles grazed her jaw before tapering down to her chin to secure it. She refused to meet his gaze. What's going on? "Stella?" Raphael added an underlying steel to his voice.

Ire ignited in Raphael as her gaze remained steadfast on the mantel clock. He set his mouth to a grim line and reached for the clock. With a quick wind of his finger, he set the clock back an hour and then another.

"What are you doing?"

Stella's voice was breathless, but lucid. As he locked eyes with her, he saw indeed that whatever strange trance she'd fallen into was banished. For now.

"You said time was running out, so I gave us more."

Stella stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. Her eyes widened and her lips slowly parted. A tangle of emotions swept over her face and Raphael saw just how precariously she wavered on the edge of sanity. He'd played his part spectacularly to put her there.

Shame cut him to the quick, and no matter how he tried to batter back his guilt, he couldn't. Cold pinpricks assailed his skin, sinking into his flesh and turning his blood to ice.

"I'm not crazy," she whispered, blinking to clear the moisture that started to gather on her lash line. Then she sealed her lips tightly together, her jaw clenching in a way that brought a new wave of discomfort to him. Raphael swallowed uncomfortably as a fresh wave of pinpricks washed over him.

"I know you're not crazy, Stella," he told her. The tenor of his voice sounded as if it had been dragged over gravel. He cleared his throat as he made himself hold her gaze. "But you are different." Stella said nothing in return, merely stared at him in that way of hers that made him feel like… like… "It's what I like about you most," he confessed, the roughened edges of his voice smoothing out. "You stand apart from the court. You always have. You always will."

In more ways than one.

The words out of his mouth were as much of a shock to him as they were to Stella. Only Raphael kept his composure under lock and key while Stella's chin quavered. He didn't know what he was doing or why he was saying these things.

"You're different too," Stella whispered. Her throat bobbed conspicuously. "You're—"

The fine line Stella walked must have upended, for the blood drained from her face as she stared at him in sudden pronounced fear. His body's response was immediate. A cascade of electric energy seared his veins as he snatched up her wrist and pressed her palm against his chest. The golden chains he wore tinkled together as he moved her hand past them to press flush against his skin.

"Real." His other hand rose and hooked itself behind her neck, anchoring her to him. "I'm here. I'm real, Stella. Forget everything else," he told her roughly. He squeezed the back of her neck with meaning. "I'm real. This is real."

His heart thudded painfully against his rib cage as the fear melted from her eyes.

"Real," she murmured back. Her fingers flexed against his chest. "Real."

Stella's words resonated through him, ricocheting through the uncharted parts of his soul. Raphael couldn't understand it. How did she hold such power over him?

Raphael's chest heaved as something in him expanded. It was an electric force unlike anything he'd felt before—or had he? It was startlingly reminiscent of what he'd experienced in the locker room trying to save Stella, and more recently when he last spoke with Irial. His mind whirled to put the pieces together, but Stella was reacting to something again. Raphael didn't stop to think his actions through, he simply acted.

With one swift tug, her lips were on his.

Stella made a noise against his mouth. One that made him nip at her bottom lip then lave the impression he'd left there. She gasped and pulled back an inch to look into his eyes.

"Real," she repeated breathlessly. Before he could finish nodding, she dove back into the kiss.

Raphael was caught off guard by her wild abandon but was quick to give as good as he got. His hand plunged into her hair as their mouths dueled for dominance. Their bodies pressed together in need that left their balance in tatters.

"Bedroom," Stella ordered between kisses trying to lure him back to the beaded entryway of her room. Raphael resisted, the taste of rhodiola still fresh on her tongue.

You're better than Gabriel. Act like it.

The scalding thought made him lurch back.

"What's wrong?" Stella asked. Doubt instantly filtered through her expression. "You don't want me?"

"No," he grunted. "I do—"

"Why did you stop then?"

Raphael licked his lips and looked her over. Her swollen lips and rosy cheeks beckoned him to continue. "You're drunk."

Stella frowned. "I'm not."

"You're clearly under the influence, which means this shouldn't be happening."

"I'm not drunk, Raphael," Stella insisted, a hard look overtaking her expression. "I know my limits, and I know when I've gone too far."

"Still—"

"You're the one who gave me rhodiola and then kissed me." Raphael tensed. "I'm not drunk," she repeated more softly, but with no less intensity. "I know what I want." She let out a long breath and squared her shoulder. "I know what I want," she said more confidently. "If you won't give it to me, I'll find Gabriel and get it from him."

Raphael's mouth dropped open. "Are you insane? After everything that's happened tonight, he's the one you'd turn to?" Stella shrugged and took a step back away from him... and toward her bedroom.

"What will it be, Raphael?" she asked, voice filled with smoke and gaze returning to its earlier smolder. His breath hitched unwittingly, and he cursed her effect on him. "Stay with me a little while longer, or leave and let Gabriel make amends with me?"

The little devil.

Stella kept moving back. Her smoldering gaze never once left his. It roused the hunter in him.

"If I stay," he promised, "it will be more than for a little while."

Raphael hadn't savored his time with her before. He wouldn't make the same mistake again. Not when Irial could order him to end her at any given moment. He flicked his gaze toward the beaded doorway behind her and Stella slipped past it without another word.

A lump stuck in Raphael's throat as he gave himself a moment to collect himself.

His palms were clammy, and the back of his neck had taken on an irritating flush. Raphael scolded himself. He wasn't a virgin for Gods' sake. He was a demon of lust, and even though Stella was somehow immune to his gift that didn't mean he was without any talent in the bedroom. If anything, it made him want to savor the rest of the evening even more and well into the morning.

The beaded doorway parted for Raphael with a gentle push. Stella was already waiting for him in the middle of the bed, her ratty shirt bunched up at her hips.

"Take it off."

She shook her head coyly. Raphael advanced the short distance to the end of her bed. He made quick work of the golden chains draped across his torso, tossing them to the side as well as the golden cuffs that adorned his biceps. Stella watched his undressing as if spellbound.

He placed a knee on the edge of the bed. "Are you going to take off that shirt, or am I?"

"I don't want to take it off."

Raphael hummed in acknowledgment as his hand cupped her calf and glided upward. Stella sucked in a sharp breath as he climbed atop the bed. "Shall I then?"

She shook her head again, the quick rise and fall of her chest offering him another delicious temptation. Raphael let his hands take their time acquainting themselves with her soft skin as he traveled up her body. His lips often joined in on the enlightenment.

Stella mewled as his ascent gained ground. He could practically taste her desire in the air. The tangy scent of it grew stronger with each kiss and lick and caress.

When his hand rose to venture beneath her shirt, thumb coasting near her belly button, she tensed. Raphael lifted his head. Her eyes were dark, but clear of the worrisome haze that kept ensnaring her.

"I don't want to take my shirt off."

He dipped his chin. It mattered little to him if it came off now. It would later when she lost herself to their throes of passion.

"Whatever you want, love." His hand lowered to the waistband of her panties. A single digit slid enticingly under the band. "And what of these?"

Her bottom lip quivered lightly. "Off," she said quickly and quietly before biting down on the senseless piece of flesh. Raphael smirked and disposed of the garment with the same indulgent care he'd taken to know her fine legs.

"You're in for a long night," he said, punctuating the sentiment with a nibble at the soft, inner side of her knee. Stella's muscles bunched beneath the mischievous attention.

"I—"

Her response choked off as a whimper escaped her. Raphael's head snapped up. Stella's eyes were squeezed shut and her forehead scrunched as if in deep concentration. Raphael reversed their positions, letting Stella straddle his waist.

"This is real, Stella." Raphael squeezed her hips. Stella nodded but left her head bowed and eyes closed as she rested her hands against his pecs.

"Real," she repeated.

"Whatever it is that keeps trying to distract you, don't give in," Raphael said with subdued fervor. "Give into this." He let his hips ride up some, earning a pliant moan from Stella as she ground back down on his hardened length.

Stella wet her lips; lashes fluttering open to study him. Something more than lust stained them. It was primal and called to some dormant part of him. More than that, they shone with clarity and intent. Lightning crackled to life in his veins as her hands slid down his chest and her head bent to sample his flesh.

Raphael bit back a curse as her tongue traced his runes. Runes he earned through despicable means. He let out a harsh breath as her fingers splayed toward his sides and danced back up his ribs with nimble grace.

Raphael marveled at the paradox she was.

A sensitive soul who could be as cutthroat as any royal vampyré.

Soft spoken yet with the boldest of tongues.

Tender hearted and stronger than so many he knew.

Raphael's eyes shuttered closed as she descended his body. Her hot breath marked a trail down his sternum.

When the time came, he vowed to make her death swift. It was the least he could do for this unique gift she'd given him. To be able to touch without a stranglehold on himself. To breathe freely. To enjoy the pleasure of—

Raphael's eyes snapped open as pure ecstasy leveled him.

Gods. His jaw dropped open as a moan ripped out of him. She'd not even made it past his naval and her achingly soft touch had him in pieces. Raphael had never experienced such nuanced pleasure. It flooded his nerves and set him in a free fall he couldn't escape.

Not that he wanted to escape.

Another cry of pleasure rumbled out of him as her hand splayed across the center of his chest—between the hollow space at the end of his ribs.

"Stella," he gasped her name, forcing his gaze to her. She pulled up with a slight pant and caught his eye. A grimace flinched across her face. He felt her hand tremble. "Stella are you—"

"Let it be known that thee are found," she rasped in her husky voice. Eyes clear.

"What?"

Confusion mingled with the ceaseless passion assaulting him. Those words she spoke, they were forging something new inside of him. And his demonic nature did not approve.

The world transformed into grayscale, save Stella, whose reddish aura was stained with indigo. He couldn't think. Couldn't understand the meaning of the words slipping past her luscious lips. Yet a part of him knew they were dangerous. That they would be the end of him.

He grabbed hold of Stella's wrist, but her hand wouldn't budge from its spot. "The stars incline us, my love, and so we are sealed."