cupped it as he studied me. The silence between us stretched thin. I realized I held my breath, and my tears had stopped.
“You do not love me,” Nathaniel said. His voice was steady.
I thought of Gabriel. “No.”
“You do not need love for this,” he said, and then his mouth was on mine, savage and unrelenting, taking my breath away.
6
I FELT THE FLARE OF HEAT BETWEEN US, THE POWER that flowed from him now that he had been restored by sleep. I clung to him, unsure about what I needed but knowing that this was what I wanted.
Nathaniel offered me no comfort. He did not treat me gently. I didn’t want gentle. I wanted his power and his ferocity. I wanted him to be everything Gabriel wasn’t so that I could forget how much it hurt, just for a little while.
He pulled his mouth away, his breath harsh, and looked into my eyes. “You do not need to love me. But you do need to choose me.”
I started to speak, but he put his thumb over my mouth.
“If you choose me because you want comfort, I will not object. If you choose me because you want to forget, I do not object. If it is simply a matter of lust, I do not object. But I want you to look at me and know who I am. I want you to choose me, not fall into my arms in secret and pretend I am somebody else.”
I nodded. He was right. However complicated our relationship was, he didn’t deserve to be a cipher for Gabriel. Gabriel’s memory was worth more than that to me.
“I’m not ready to make that choice,” I said, moving reluctantly away from him.
He released me, his hands brushing over my throat, my shoulders, before pulling away.
“Do not wait too long, or you may find your choices taken from you.”
“What does that mean?” I asked as we began walking north again. Nothing stirred this close to the lake except for us. It was like Nathaniel and I were the last two people on earth.
“I am aware that you do not make yourself a priority; nor would you wish to contemplate matters of court politics when there is a larger crisis at hand,” he began.
“I’m sure you’ve heard what I think of fallen politics even when there’s
Nathaniel nodded, acknowledging the truth of this statement. “However, you cannot think that Lord Lucifer will let you go long without a consort, especially in your current condition.”
The bars of the cage were closing around me. “Are you saying I’d better choose a partner soon or Lucifer will choose one for me? Are you offering to sacrifice yourself?”
“You could do far worse than I. J.B. is also an acceptable choice.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Most guys don’t like to talk up the competition when they’re trying to get a girl.”
Nathaniel shrugged. “J.B. is steadfast. He is both magically powerful and politically well connected. If you married him, you would be somewhat protected from Titania’s wrath.”
“I notice you only say ‘somewhat’ protected,” I said.
“You diminished Oberon in front of his queen and the highest court in the faerie kingdom. Whatever the terms of your trial by combat, Titania will not be able to let such an insult stand. But if you marry the king of a lower court, she will not be able to kill you outright. And there are more ways to protect your child from her if you are wed.”
“You’re not making a real strong case for yourself, pal.”
“Very well,” Nathaniel said, drawing himself up. “I am the only son of Zerachiel of the Grigori and Cassiel, an angel of the host. I served as the right hand of Azazel for over two thousand years, and I have pledged my fealty to Lord Lucifer, your grandfather. If you were to wed me, you can be assured that I would devote myself to you and the protection of your child.”
I shook my head at him. “You still don’t get it. Politics and status don’t matter to me.”
“They should. But that is not all I have to offer,” he said, and then his hand was beneath my coat.
I stood still, mesmerized by his eyes, by his touch. “I thought we weren’t doing this anymore,” I said, but I didn’t pull away.
“I did not say that. I said I wanted you to choose. I will use whatever weapon I have to make you choose me.” He smiled, and his smile was so wicked that I almost damned myself then and there just so I could find out what was behind that look.
He pulled his hand away slowly, and I could think again.
“Keep walking,” I said raggedly, and he chuckled beneath his breath.
How could my feelings for one person change so quickly? It wasn’t that long ago that I wanted to kill Nathaniel, and I wouldn’t have shed a single tear if I had. But since we’d joined our powers to create the protective veil over the hospital, it was like I couldn’t stay away from him. What had that spell done to us? In some ways the blending of our magic had felt more intimate than sex, and sex bound people together whether they wanted to be or not. Or…
I looked at Nathaniel through the corners of my eyes. He seemed calm and self-contained, as usual. Could he have cast a spell on me while we were joined? Could I be drawn to him now because of something artificial he’d planted inside me?
But what if that whole story was just another manipulation to make me believe in him? I was giving myself a headache trying to see all of the angles.
And then there was the matter of his changeability, his moral fluidity. I never could get a fix on Nathaniel from the start. It always seemed that he was adjusting to the situation, that he would be whatever he thought he should be at the moment. Just like a…
I looked at him more sharply now, realizing who it was he’d reminded me of as he stood over Focalor’s soldier in the moonlight.
Puck.
“Nathaniel, who did you say your father was?” I asked, like I couldn’t remember, like he hadn’t just told me his whole family history.
“Zerachiel of the Grigori,” Nathaniel said. “But I thought you said you did not care for politics.”
“Are you certain he’s your father?” I persisted.
“Have you not seen him at the court? I am the mirror image of my father,” Nathaniel said with a touch of irritation.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“No. Why the abrupt interest in my family?” he asked.
“Just curious,” I said, my eyes searching his face for confirmation of my suspicions.
I couldn’t tell him what I thought without proof. There was one more thing I needed to ask, though.
“Does Zerachiel have children among the nephilim?” I asked.
“No,” he said, and there was a real haughtiness to his voice, almost like the old Nathaniel. “My father alone was able to exercise self-restraint in the face of his lust. He knew it was not natural for angels to procreate with human women. It was one of the things Cassiel loved about him. She hated the nephilim children of the other Grigori.”
“I don’t think so,” I muttered, deciding now wasn’t the time to be offended on behalf of human women.
From what I knew of angels, they would take any opportunity to spread their seed far and wide, and they had no trouble doing so. Azazel had at least two other children besides me—Antares and an unnamed nephilim.
