those memories. Adam himself was the problem now and she couldn’t afford to court insanity.
“As it happened, you seemed perfectly capable of dispatching him on your own,” Garrit was saying. “I wonder why we swore a vow at all, if it is so easy as that.”
“He left because I was engaged to you. But he’ll be back, Garrit. If not in this life, then the next. He will keep coming for me, any time he thinks he has half a chance.” Until Michael grew tired of it, and killed them both outright, along with who knew how many countless others. Would she be reborn if he killed her with the sword? Her stomach twisted. If Adam knew, he had never told her. “He is nothing if not persistent. Pig-headedly so.”
Garrit leaned forward, taking the book from her and setting it aside, covering her hands in both of his. “You will be safe with me, Abby. I promise you. I will keep you safe.”
“Because of your vow.” She heard the sorrow in her own voice, and looked away.
He brought her face back to his. “Because you will be my wife, and I love you. The vow has very little to do with that.”
Some of the tightness in her chest lifted, and she breathed more easily. As long as he loved her, she was safe. She had to believe it. “Then you’ve forgiven me?”
He pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “If you’ll forgive me for being such a damned fool about it.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” She leaned forward and let him pull her into his lap, her forehead resting against his. No, the past didn’t matter. Not as long as she had Garrit now. Not as long as they were getting married. Adam wouldn’t touch her if she was happily married. He would have no chance of drawing her away. It would be useless, once the vows were exchanged in sacrament, with love. And if Adam was gone, the angel would not come.
For the moment, they were safe. And safer still once she was married.
Chapter Five: Creation
The men returned, dragging something awkwardly between them. Adam stood and she sighed with relief to be free of the press of his body against hers. But her relief fled, replaced with a cold knot in her stomach, as they came closer. They carried a man, dripping from the rain, grizzled and empty. Adam pressed his fingers to the neck below the jaw, frowning at the closed eyes of the body.
She took the opportunity, with Adam distracted, to move farther back against the wall into a corner. The rock was cold and damp, but it was welcome against the flush of her skin. He had not let her move more than a finger’s width from him, holding her fast against his side when she tried to shift away.
“Take it away.” Adam turned from the wrinkled, gray man and dropped back to the floor beside her. “There’s little enough space for shelter without keeping the dead. Let the angels have what’s left, if they want it.”
The two men who had carried the body between them glanced at one another, but they stepped back into the rain, returning a moment later without their burden. Water dripped down their bodies from their hair. One of the men glanced at her as he passed, his eyes dark like the earth, and soft. Softer still when she met them, holding his gaze. His lips thinned, lines wrinkling his forehead. Would his hands be as warm as Adam’s, if he touched her? Somehow, she did not think they would be as hard, pushing and twisting and drawing her too near.
He settled back into the dirt and shadow on the other side of the cave where she could no longer see his face, and she did not think she would learn the answer soon.
Adam covered her knee with his hand, still staring out the mouth of the cave into the rain. “You’ll see, Eve.” Though he said her name, she wasn’t sure he expected her to listen. “We’ll be gods among them.”
“Gods?” She shifted her position and brought her knees back to her chest again. His hand dropped away, but she rubbed at the place it had been. The warmth of his palm had seeped into her skin. It made her feel too hot. Too hot and too close to him.
His lips curved. “I forget that you weren’t welcomed to this life the way we were. Elohim was already gone when your eyes opened. Only a husk remaining. Just as well.” The last was mumbled and the smile left his face. He studied her again with his hard eyes. “You are the last woman made, Eve. The last and the most important. Elohim made you. He made all of us, all of this. Trees and grasses, flowers and moss, birds and fish and dogs and all the other animals to please me and give me joy. But you above all were made to be my companion. My equal. Made for me more than any of the others.”
She shivered, but it had nothing to do with the cold of the stone on her skin, or the chill in the air from the rain and the wind, or the thunder that rolled through the stone into her bones. “Will you not make others?”
“No.” His eyes flashed and he scowled at the rain. “I don’t have the power to wake life from the dust.” His voice was tight and clipped, each word ground from between his teeth. His jaw tensed and something twitched beneath the surface. Then it stopped and he seemed to exhale all the rest of the strain in a long breath. “But it’s only a matter of time. When I find what I’m looking for, it will be within my power to do anything.”
He touched her cheek then, and she heard what he didn’t say.
She turned her face away, leaning her head back against the cool stone and closing her eyes again. The storm had been going on for so long. The rain thundered in her ears, and her head ached. The darkness helped. But then he took her hand in his and she could see herself through his eyes, the curves of her breasts, the rich brown of her hair when the lightning flashed. It was starting to get darker now. Less light was coming through the storm into the cave.
She tried to pull away, but his grip hardened, twisting her fingers until they popped, and she cried out, looking up at his face. It was expressionless, and he tightened his hand further for just a moment, staring into her eyes. There was nothing soft about his gaze.
He let go and rose. “Sleep, Eve. Think about what I’ve told you. What I’m offering.”
He leaned against the wall of the cave, near the mouth, his back to her. When he stayed there, she crawled away into the dark. Where he would not see her to touch her. Where he would not see her to pull her close. Where she could close her eyes without seeing through his.
A hand on her shoulder, warm and rough, startled her awake. Sleep felt so much like the peace before she had come into being that she choked back a sound of pain upon waking from it. Her eyes burned and what little she could see blurred. She rubbed her face, and her hand came away damp.
“Forgive me.” The hand fell away. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” It was a man’s voice, but lower than Adam’s.
Fear. Was that what it was when her heart beat so heavily against her chest? What she had felt when Adam pulled her close and wouldn’t let her go? She sat up and searched for his face in the dark. The whites of his eyes were just barely visible.
She reached to touch him, this man who wasn’t Adam, to feel where he was. “Who are you?”
“Reu.” He caught her hand and brought it to his face. His hair was damp, and his touch was light, soft. She wished she could see his eyes. “Are you well?”
He was right beside her. Closer than she had realized. But now she knew where to look, she could almost see him there, kneeling. “Should I not be?”
“He hurt you,” he said, quiet still. There were others speaking, their voices low, barely audible above the noise of the rain. “I heard you cry out.”
She pulled her hand back and it slipped from his. He didn’t tighten his hold like Adam had. Just let go. “Where is he?”
Even his eyes disappeared in the shadows when he moved. “He went to his chambers. You’re safe for now. Until morning. He wasn’t pleased you crawled away.”
“He told me to sleep.”
He sighed and she saw his eyes again, flashing in the dark. “You have to be careful, Eve. You shouldn’t
