XXVI

S tella didn't ignore Raphael's insistent questioning so much as fight to stay conscious as he steered them back to her room. She mentally repeated the list of medicines she would take after he dropped her off. Once properly medicated, then she would shower and take a nice long nap.

"What time is it?"

Raphael didn't respond.

Stella glanced up at him. He scowled back at her, tucking her closer into his side. She hissed at the change in pressure.

"Are you going to tell me what happened or not?"

"Not," Stella said through gritted teeth. "What time is it?"

His scowl deepened. "Around midnight."

"And what night is it?"

Raphael stopped them. "What the hell kind of question is that?" They were down the hall now from her room. So close, and yet it felt even farther than the Otherworld's temple. A coarse shiver wracked Stella's body, one she tamed with sheer determination. Raphael's thumb stroked her hip, his keen regard like a steel trap once she locked eyes with him again. "It's the twenty-fifth. Would you like to know the moon phase too? How about the weather?"

Stella's lips pursed. "I can make it from here."

Raphael barked out a laugh. "You're not getting rid of me that easily. Not after experiencing that ."

"What are you talking about?"

The dark amusement he wore dropped in favor of his previous scowl. "Have you listened to a thing I've said?" Stella flushed. Raphael's eyes narrowed. "Whatever you did and whatever happened to you that almost cost you your life— something inside me began to burn. It was like Hell itself was trying to rain brimstone upon me. I had a panic attack in front of dozens of courtiers as I searched for you. So, you'll excuse me if I escort you to your room and make sure nothing further happens to you. With your luck, a vampyré looking for a snack is waiting around the corner."

A spell of dizziness washed over Stella. "I didn't think you could feel things like that this early since we've only been sealed," she offered weakly.

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" Raphael scoffed at her silence and guided her back into motion with a firm hand. "Let's go."

Stella moved blindly with the guidance. She would have scoffed back at his domineering act, but she was too tired. She shuffled forward, foot catching on the dragging hem of Jax's cloak. Stella gasped as she toppled forward, but no sooner had she begun to fall, when her feet were taken out from under her.

Her gasp caught as she came suddenly face-to-face with Raphael, his arms fastened securely around her back and under her legs. Warm breath coasted over her parted lips and Stella found herself thrust back into memories that made her blush. And squirm. Raphael's expression struggled between anger and—the breath she'd been holding came rushing out of her chest—concern.

He straightened some, adjusting her in his arms slightly, and then strode onward to her room. Stella cast her gaze anywhere but him.

"This isn't necessary. I can walk. I can stand," Stella insisted, eyelids growing heavy.

Raphael snorted. "Your very actions say otherwise." He stopped in front of her door and set her down carefully. Stella clutched the doorknob. It warmed beneath her hand and a series of snicks and thuds sounded.

"Thank you… I'll see you around." Stella forced out the utterance of gratitude and farewell, head swimming. She needed to medicate fast, or she'd wind up passed out on the floor. She also needed Raphael to leave. The last thing she wanted was him around while she was so vulnerable.

But Raphael didn't move. Stella spared him a sidelong glance. No emotion registered on his face as he stared down at her.

"Open it." He shifted closer when Stella made no move to obey. " Now ."

Stella's jaw tightened momentarily before the fight of it all left her system in one fell swoop. She dragged herself inside with a forlorn sigh, heading straight for her bathroom.

"I'm going to clean myself up," she told him.

The front door closed with a loud slam. "I'll wait."

Stella moved mechanically through her room. First stopping at her dresser to snag a pair of shorts and a well-worn T-shirt to toss in the bathroom, then shrugging off the borrowed cloak. It gave a tinkle as it landed and she winced; she'd forgotten about the bottles River supplied her with. She stared blankly at the cloak, debating whether to take the bottles out now or later.

Her beaded curtain chimed as Raphael entered. His eyes widened at the sight of her, mouth opening slightly. She would take the bottles out later.

Stella swallowed and took refuge in the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her.

Take your time. He'll get bored and leave.

The inner pep-talk lacked confidence, but Stella clung to it anyway. Dropping into a crouch, she hauled the medicine basket out from her vanity and began sorting through its contents. She plucked four bottles out and rose to her feet with a groan.

One to soothe the aches that bombarded every joint.

A double dose from the one that dulled pain that's sour after-taste always puckered her mouth.

She choked down the third, a sludge-like potion meant to replenish blood.

"All right?" Raphael called as she coughed and sputtered. Stella didn't respond immediately, instead, she turned on her faucet and drank deeply from it.

"I'll live," she called back, hands gripping the lip of the sink.

Stella bent her head for a second drink to mitigate the worst of the taste and texture lingering in her mouth. She reached for the last bottle, which was no bigger than her middle finger, and unscrewed the dropper top. One drop of the smokey liquid went into each eye and a zing of alertness traveled through her body.

"Better," she uttered. The last dose would keep her awake just long enough to shower and squeeze in a bite to eat before her nap. "Best would be clean."

She turned on the shower and began to strip, but only made it as far as her shirt before stopping. A lump lodged itself in her throat as she took proper stock of her appearance and the damage done to her body. Her hair was disheveled and out of place. Scrapes and bruises littered her arms, and a particularly large chunk of reddened skin took up space underneath her chin. Stella winced as her gaze landed on her abdomen.

The uneven stitching gave the red raised lashes a ragged look, but River's magic hadn't gone to waste. The wound itself already looked a few nights old.

Stella ran her fingertips over the raised marks. The area remained blissfully numb. She looked as if she'd been through hell and back… Stella caught her crystal blue eyes in the mirror. Dark circles hugged the bottoms of her eyes. Then her image vanished as steam blanketed the mirror's surface.

She blinked.

She supposed she had been to hell, or some version of it, and survived. The realization made her straighten unconsciously. She'd survived the Underworld. Who else could claim that? A wellspring of emotion hit her. Stella sniffed and wiped at her eyes, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth as something like pride sprung inside her.

Stella stripped out of the rest of her clothes and stepped into the shower, sighing as the cascade of warmth covered her sore body. It would have been easy to stay in there and wash away the evening's happenings, but soaking her stitches wasn't a smart plan.

Once out of the shower and dried, she put a salve on her cuts to speed up their healing and dressed. She still felt off-kilter, but better than when she entered her apartment—much better.

Cool air from the bedroom greeted her as she exited the bathroom in her shorts and shirt. She shivered slightly, nipples tightening from the temperature change... and not the sight of Raphael on her bed.

Definitely, not from the sight of Raphael. Stella licked her lips.

"What do you think you're doing?"

He'd made himself comfortable while she showered with his arms crossed behind his head, one ankle hooked over the other, and his eyes closed. If it weren't for the horns, Stella might have considered his peaceful continence angelic. She knew better, but apparently, her body hadn't gotten the memo. Her nipples tightened to aching points. She crossed her arms over her chest.

He ignored her question. "Did you know about our soulmark before you made the unilateral decision to seal us?"

Stella flushed scarlet. Raphael's lashes slid open only halfway as he side-eyed her. He looked as if her reaction was exactly what he expected, and it only made her flush deepen.

"How long did you know?" he asked.

"Months." Stella ducked down to grab the cloak from the ground to avoid Raphael's reaction. She hung it on a hook near the bathroom door and fussed with the fabric longer than necessary before turning and facing him. His expression was stony, with his gaze set to scorch anyone who entered their path. Stella felt her entire body heat.

"So, you… what? Bade your time until you could ensnare me?" The corner of his lips twitched upward. "Is that the real reason behind our bargain? Did you want to spend more time with me? Get closer to me?" Raphael leaned up on his forearms. Stella's gut clenched. She knew somehow that whatever was about to come out of his mouth next would be vile and hurt far more than any of her current wounds. She had to strike first.

"You're not my first choice in a soulmark," she snapped like a whip, making sure her eyes lingered on his horns. "So, no. It wasn't some grand ploy to ensnare you."

Their glares matched each other in unbridled animosity.

"Why seal us if I wasn't your first choice? Am I to believe your hallucination got the best of you that night?"

Stella frantically thought up a plausible reason that wouldn't lead back to Irina. As it came to her, she let the silence drag on between them purposefully before speaking.

"Oh, I don't know," she drawled. "Maybe I did it so you couldn't kill me without killing yourself too."

A flash of surprise then irritation crossed his features. Raphael's jaw flexed as he glanced away. It was all the confirmation Stella needed. She ducked her head as she shook it. Disappointment, but no ounce of disbelief or shock flooded her system. He wanted me dead all along. When she looked up to tell him to leave, he was seated on the edge of her bed.

Her pulse jumped at his nearness. He'd moved with jarring quiet. It jumped again as he took off his gloves and reached out a hand to her.

"What are you doing?"

He sighed impatiently. "Come closer," he instructed. Stella remained rooted to her spot. Mouth twisting into a frown, he held her gaze and said with perfect annunciation, " Please ."

Stella shouldn't have, but her traitorous feet were already moving. One step followed by another. Raphael leaned forward and clasped her hip to drag her forward another step. He ignored her gasp as his other hand lifted her shirt to study the wound carved into her abdomen.

This time, as her pulse sped up, it had nothing to do with Raphael, but rather the too-recent memory of what happened. The hellish, demon dog had been a figment of her imagination when they arrived and then somehow been made corporal. Had River's theft somehow brought it to life? If it had, why did it go after her and not River?

Question after question raced through her mind, flowing too fast for her to thread together any kind of answer between them, and there was an answer. Stella felt it in her marrow. What's the trigger? What makes the beast real and not real?

"You should have these restitched," Raphael murmured absently, fingers tracing the hazardous bumps of the puckered flesh. The barest sensation of pins and needles lay in the wake of his touch.

She couldn't do this.

Couldn't stand here and let him touch her. Let him feign to care for her. Stella steeled her nerves and ignored the protests of her soulmark.

"You should go." Raphael froze, his hazel eyes flicked up to her in surprise. She stepped out of his hold deftly and cleared her throat. "I can take it from here. I think you should go."

Raphael's emotional state was tumultuous at best. The past several hours, he'd suffered through such a state of panic, worry, and rage so blisteringly rampant, that he locked himself in the nearest supply closet to save face after his public meltdown. The bond between them had shuddered and twisted in agony on his end—and there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing, save think of the life he never got to live and the horrible fate that Layla would suffer when he died.

Stella shuffled backward farther, and he took his time to study her body. Her shower hadn't softened whatever trial she endured. If anything, it made her injuries stand out even more. The purple bags hugging her eyes emphasized her haggard and beaten appearance. Yet it was the nasty bit of work slashed across her stomach that his eyes kept being drawn to, even though it remained covered.

He'd thought of Stella too, in that dingy little closet.

It was impossible to ignore that his experience was a fraction of what she went through. His throat bobbed. It was a testament to his hard-earned control that when he suddenly felt her within reach, he pulled himself together and hunted her down. True, he didn't achieve the stoic determination he strove to present to the court, but the fury he donned still afforded him uninterrupted passage through the halls. Courtiers caught sight of his expression and the volatility wafting off him and parted with curious gazes following him.

Even now his control was being tested. He wanted to shove her in a closet just to keep her out of harm's way. Then he'd never have to experience that again.

His eyes rose to meet hers. Like hell am I going to be dismissed.

Raphael inhaled through his nose to put a simmer on his anger. He opened his mouth to demand more answers, but she abruptly turned heel toward the stupid beaded door of her bedroom. Stepping out into the living room, she kept the beads drawn open for him. Her gaze was maddeningly expectant.

He stood and prowled over to her. Stella's unflinching facade wavered at his animalistic approach. He weaved through the opening she gave him and turned on her immediately, herding her back against the wall.

"Was it a shifter?"

Stella sucked in a breath but said nothing. Her noncompliance was infuriating.

Raphael tipped his head back and let out a long sigh. "What am I supposed to do with you now, hmm?"

Slowly he lowered his regard back down to her. Stella squirmed before stilling and tilting her chin up defiantly. "Nothing, since you can't kill me anymore."

"I—"

"I know what I heard that night. It was real ."

Raphael bit his tongue, his jaw working to overcome his frustration at being interrupted. Two nights was more than enough time for him to come up with a new course of action. One that hinged upon Stella's belief that he was planning to kill her all along. However, he couldn't put it into action if she kept being so obstinate. Not when each outburst left her more deflated than the last.

He couldn't enact his plan if she passed out.

Raphael rested a forearm over her head and brushed a few wet strands of hair behind her ear. "Oh, I still have every intention of killing you, Stella." Her jaw dropped as fear dilated her eyes. Raphael smirked. "Then turn you."

"Turn me?"

He hummed. "Into a vampyré." Raphael struck a thoughtful expression. "Or a demon. I haven't quite decided."

It was his backup plan. A way to get back in control of the situation before it got away from him completely. He wasn't sure it would work... but if worse came to worse he would do it. What other choice did he have?

"You can't," she whispered. "You can't, Raphael," Stella said more firmly to draw his gaze back to hers. "It won't work."

"We won't know until we try now, will we, love?" His fingers couldn't help but toy with the dampened ends of her hair, curling them this way and that. Stella slapped his hand away seconds later and he gave a low chuckle that he knew would grate on her nerves.

"You're not going to do anything of the sort," Stella asserted in a husky, tremulous voice. "Whatever happens to me, happens to you. We're sealed. If I don't turn and die instead, your death will be slow and painful as you lose your mind before taking your own life."

She was panting by the time she finished. A fire burned in her blue eyes, but everything else about her was on the verge of collapse. She was shaking for Gods' sake.

Which meant he had her exactly where he wanted.

Raphael took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest, putting on a mildly annoyed expression. "I assure you that argument won't work for the people who sent me to kill you."

He expected her knees to buckle at his cold delivery, instead, she went remarkably still. No trace of emotion crossed her face, and then her chest began to rise and fall again in the familiar cadence of her panted breath. Raphael's sights drew briefly to her hands, curled into tight fists at her side.

Stella stepped into his space. "Then you better find a way to convince those people otherwise. Because if I go down, so do you—and I'll make sure the pain you experience is nothing like you've known before." Stella's eyes blazed as she glared up at him. "Unlike you , I have friends—allies—who won't take kindly to any kind of harm befalling me. Let alone my death."

Raphael was… impressed.

Aroused too, Gods damnit. There was something irresistible about Stella when she was flustered and mad. Perhaps because she so rarely showed this side to anyone else. It was a point of pride that he managed to crawl his way under her skin and bring out all that raw passion in her. His blood thrummed in agreement.

The plan. Don't forget the plan you sick dog. She's halfway to the grave and all you can think about is getting inside her.

A noise like a growl rumbled at the back of his throat as he leashed his baser desires no doubt encouraged by the soulmark. He needed to stay focused.

"I doubt they'll be convinced, but there might be a way to circumvent their plans."

The flare of her fervor swiftly fell flat. "How?" she demanded breathlessly.

Here goes nothing.

"The grimoire."

Stella blinked dumbly back at him. "The grimoire?"

"The one Jax's been using to try and reverse Irina's curse."

"You know about that?"

Raphael frowned down at her. "I'm friends with Jax. Of course, I know. He told me he gave it to you the other night. There are spells in it that could protect us. Some that could even put an end to our common enemy's efforts."

A skeptical gleam lined her regard of him. "Our common enemy?"

"Like you said, love. Our lives are tied together now, for better or worse. You want to keep your head? We need what's in that grimoire."

Stella's bottom lip found its way between her teeth. She wrapped her arms around her middle and sidestepped him, moving toward her dismal loveseat.

"I don't have it."

She was staring off into space. The straight line of her spine curved as her shoulders hunched inward. Raphael stepped behind her, placing a hand on her hip when she startled. He brought his lips to her ear.

"Be a good girl and get it back." He kissed the spot under her ear, enjoying the sharp intake of her breath at the delicate touch. "Once you have it, bring it to me and I'll take care of the rest."

Raphael squeezed her hip and then propelled himself to the front door. As his hand closed around the doorknob, he couldn't resist one last look back to see her reaction. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes dilated.

"I hate you," she said weakly.

Raphael smirked. "I hate you, too."