6. Josephine

CHAPTER SIX

JOSEPHINE

I paced the barren bedchamber, arms wrapped tightly around my middle to ward off the chill in the air. Azrael had warned the temperature might drop before he disappeared deeper into the stone halls to ‘freshen up'.

He'd smirked at that, but the flames of his eyes barely flickered.

I'd failed to muster the energy to argue. The buzzing silence was a welcome distraction, frankly. And so, once again, I walked in an endless back-and-forth while I struggled to put my thoughts in order.

Alain. Fuck.

Some part of me expected to cross paths with him again; one didn't escape a wedding day demonic sacrifice without some showdown with the ex. But so soon? On the heels of… everything else?

Why me? What about me screamed demon bride? I lived a quiet life. I valued loyalty. Stopped at crosswalks, donated to pet shelters, didn't weasel out of jury duty. I was a good person.

So why was it the man I'd almost married the evil prick, and the handsy reaper riding to my aid?

Underworld, reapers, demons, they were all words for myths. I had powers, apparently. Minnie, for heaven's sake! I needed time coming to terms with living in a story, let alone the powers duking it out around me.

Alain wanted my soul.

Azrael wanted me.

I just wanted to know the score.

I huffed, glancing toward the roughly carved hall leading away from the bedroom. He'd kept it hidden the first night, but left it open after we returned from my harsh introduction to reaping and traveling between realms. Almost as if he'd known I'd need to wash it all away.

Another point in his favor. Another deducted for the disappearing act while I slept.

And now he'd been gone for what felt like hours. If he'd teleported away and left me alone again...

Steeling myself, I marched down the corridor. I traced the rough-hewn edges of the stone passageway. The reaper's quarters were... unexpected. I'd expected some sprawling den of sin and torture. Not the sort of rugged simplicity the few rooms sported.

I pushed open the heavy wooden door at the end of the corridor, and froze.

Azrael sat naked on the edge of the enormous pool, skin glistening with droplets. The soft glow of his glyphs danced over his skin like flickering embers. Steam rose from the water, curling around his muscular form.

He lifted his head, fire-filled gaze landing on me. The corner of his mouth quirked. "Would you like to join me, Josephine?"

My name, in his deep voice, was an invitation and a command. I bit my lip, fingers clenching and unclenching. "I—I'll come back later."

"Afraid of a little skin?" He chuckled, and the rich, rumbling sound shot straight through me. "Stay. Unless you're worried you can't control yourself."

My eyes snapped back to his face. "I have excellent self-control, thank you very much."

"Prove it." He patted the stone beside him. "I'm reapplying my glyphs. Come, you might learn something useful."

I hesitated, but curiosity warred with my sense of decency. I wanted to know everything, didn't I? And he'd admitted he pushed and teased just to get a rise out of me.

I didn't have to give him one.

The half-smile of amusement remained firmly fixed on his lips as I sank onto the cool stone beside him. I was careful to keep my eyes strictly on his face, pointedly ignoring the rest of his very nude, very sculpted body.

"How do they work?" I asked, voice somehow remaining steady.

He dipped his fingers into a small bowl of shimmering black paste, then held out his forearm. "They're symbols of power for amplifying our magic. This one enhances strength."

A black-coated finger traced a symbol over his arm. The skin broke apart like a fissure in the earth, green fire like his eyes burning underneath. The glyph healed over, leaving behind a faintly glowing tattoo.

I didn't realize I'd reached out to touch him until the tips of my fingers grazed the edges. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes," he replied, but he didn't move. His skin was warm, almost hot under my fingertips. I dared to trace the outline. He released a shuddering breath. "And again, when they are used. All magic comes at a price."

He swiped his fingers across a faint red line, then dipped his fingers in the bowl and retraced the lines. His skin fissured and sealed with the glow of a new glyph, and I realized he'd taken so long because of me. My presence. Alain wouldn't have forced him to use his glyph reserves otherwise.

Point to the reaper. Not a single word designed to guilt or gloat slipped free of his lips. He didn't even string the facts together for me. A simple demonstration and explanation, only.

I glanced up, eyes locking on the flames dancing in his eyes. "Thank you."

"For?" The muscle in his forearm flexed as he worked, the cords of his neck standing out.

"For not sending me away with him," I said softly. I picked at a loose thread on the jeans I'd changed into as soon as Azrael slipped away.

Another point to the reaper. The wardrobe still held all my clothes, plus a few silky additions he left behind.

"Demons like Clauneck, they're never satisfied. Always hungry for more power and more souls." The flames of his eyes flared, casting dancing shadows across his face. "He will not take you."

There was something more. A raw edge in his voice when he spoke of demons. It sounded personal. "Is that why you became a reaper? To stop him?"

Azrael's laugh was hollow. "No. I became a reaper because I was a fool."

He dipped his fingers into the black paste again, his movements methodical. "I had a sister, Hester. Our parents arranged a marriage for her, to a very wealthy and powerful man." His eyes met mine, flames dancing. "Sound familiar?"

Too familiar. I swallowed hard and nodded. "What happened?"

"She didn't want the match, so I tried to save her." Old pain flashed over his features. "I thought the bastard simply meant to kill her, then Clauneck appeared. Gods and demons were just stories until then. I begged for Hester's safety. I promised him anything."

He hissed through his teeth as he traced a new mark. "The beast accepted my terms, then claimed Hester's soul, anyway. He needed her close to keep her safe, he said."

I opened my mouth, but words failed me. What did one say to such a horrific revelation? "I'm... I'm so sorry."

"It was centuries ago." He shrugged, but I saw the tension in his shoulders. Just how much of his flippant attitude was to hide that pain? "I mourned. I lived. I died, and here I am, five hundred years later."

"Five hundred years?" I paled, the enormity of his existence hitting me.

I struggled to wrap my mind around it. All that time, all those souls. His debt. Debt he shouldn't have needed to pay after dirty demon tricks!

And now he risked starting over—with his sister's soul under threat—for me.

Quiet me. Small me. Me, perfect target for maniac boyfriends to score points with their demon overlords.

"I'm not worth this trouble," I blurted. "I'm not anyone special."

His eyes blazed as they snapped to my face. He handed me the bowl of shimmering paste and held out his arm. "Here," he murmured, touching the faint red of a former glyph. "Trace this."

Green flames bored into me as I probed the paste, hesitantly. It was cool to the touch, smooth, almost like oil. I scooted closer, taking hold of his forearm with my free hand and swiping the mark with my thumb. "This one?"

His nostrils flared, and I caught a bob of his throat. "Go on, Josephine," he coaxed in that deliciously deep voice.

I dipped my forefinger through the strange paste and dragged it over the faded design. I felt a hum, like the echo of distant music, and then his skin parted beneath my touch. Green fire licked at my fingertips. It didn't burn; instead, it sent a jolt of electricity through me.

Azrael groaned, his eyes fluttering closed. The tip of his cock stirred, hardening, growing thicker as I watched. The muscles of his stomach twitched.

The blood in my veins heated, my skin warming all over. The walls of the cavern grew smaller. Closer. The space between us was an inferno. I dragged the pad of my thumb over the freshly formed glyph, my heart hammering.

"That's why." His eyes snapped opened, the flames burned brighter than ever. "You have power, Josephine. You broke through my illusions. Do you have any idea how rare that is?"

I shook my head, acutely aware of our closeness. His thumb traced circles on my wrist, leaving trails of fire in its wake. "What does that make me? Not human?"

"It makes you a proven adversary. You've been blooded by the beast, and survived." He reached up, brushing his thumb down the scratch that remained from Alain's blade.

"Blooded by the beast," I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. Everything sounded like a riddle when you didn't understand the rules. "What does that mean?"

"It means you're dangerous." His fingers trailed higher again, sending shivers down my spine. "A demon can only be truly killed by an enemy already marked by their power."

My breath caught, trapped somewhere between fear and a strange, intoxicating excitement. The heat of my reaper's skin soaked into me, and the intensity of his fiery gaze made it hard to think straight.

"The cut from Alain..."

"Enough to grant you power." He grinned, slow and wicked. "Enough to make you a threat."

He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. I fought the urge to lean into him, my skin tingling where we almost touched. The scent of him—smoke and spice—filled my senses, making my head spin.

"Imagine it," he murmured. "Making them tremble. Making them pay."

I shivered, pulse quickening. The idea was tempting, more than I wanted to admit. Revenge had never been my style, but then again, I'd never been sacrificed to a demon before, either.

"I've seen your strength. Your fire." His lips coasted along the slope of my neck, sending a jolt of heat through me. "You could be the one to stop him."

But justice? Ensuring no one else suffered the same fate? That, I could get behind. Even if the end was painted in the same bloody red.

Maybe especially then.

The air crackled with possibility and power. With something else, something primal and hungry.

I wet my lips, watched his eyes track the movement. This was madness. I barely knew him, barely understood this new world I'd been thrust into.

I met his gaze, saw the inferno there. Felt an answering flame ignite within me. I leaned closer, drawn in by the warmth of his skin and the hypnotic glow of the glyphs.

Azrael's breath hitched. "Careful, little dove. Your self-control is slipping."

His voice was like dark honey. It dripped over my senses and fogged my brain, turning it to mush.

His face was mere inches from mine now. Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. Close enough that I could see every detail of his handsome face—the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the dark shadow of stubble on his jaw.

"No," I breathed against his lips, "it's really not."