Sins of the Lost

Sliding an arm under her head, she glanced sideways at the glow of the digital clock. Four a.m. Another hour and she had to be up. The effort of trying to go back to sleep almost wasn’t worth it. Except facing the day would be harder. She closed her eyes. Heaved a shaky sigh. How in all of Heaven and Hell and Earth combined was she going to find the strength to do what the One asked? It didn’t matter that she understood now why Seth needed to go back, she was still going to lose him. She was still going to hurt him.

Warm fingers threaded with hers beneath the sheet. A thumb caressed the inside of her wrist.

“I’m sorry,” Seth’s quiet voice rumbled. “About today, and before. I haven’t been fair to you.”

She squeezed her eyes tighter. “Seth—”

“Shh. Let me finish. I know you’re doing your best, Alex. You’re in an impossible place, knowing what you do about what’s coming, trying to protect your world against forces beyond your control. Part of me wants you to give up because I don’t believe you can win, part of me can’t help but admire you for standing up for what you think is right. For not giving in. But another part of me—most of me, I think—can’t get past the guilt of not being able to do anything. I’ve never felt helpless before. It’s not a pleasant sensation.” His hand moved to caress her arm. “But I’m still trying. Even if I can’t stop Armageddon or the Nephilim, I want to be here for you. Without the hysterics of jealousy or feeling sorry for myself.”

Hell and damnation. He wasn’t making this any easier.

“Seth—”

He placed his fingers over her lips. “I don’t think you understand how much I love you, Alexandra Jarvis. You are my entire existence, and I do not—will not—let anyone make me regret having chosen you.”

He shifted his weight toward her, and his mouth replaced his hand. She resisted, guilt swamping her. She should have stopped him, should have interrupted and told him about his mother’s visit, about how he needed to go. Should do so even now, because delaying would only make it worse.

The tip of his tongue touched her bottom lip. Traced it. She shuddered.

A tear slid from the corner of her eye. Losing him might be necessary, but it was also wrong. They hadn’t had enough time to get to know each other. They’d never, from the very beginning, had a chance to be anything near normal or ordinary, to just be. Christ, they hadn’t begun to explore the possibilities—their possibilities. She buried her face against Seth’s neck. If she had to give him up, it wouldn’t be like this. He deserved better. They deserved better.

She kissed the hollow at the base of his throat, tasting his skin. Sliding a hand beneath the T-shirt he wore to bed, she drew her fingers, featherlight, over the hard muscles of his back. Seth went still. An image of Lucifer flashed into her mind and merged with one of Seth.

“He should never have made the choice he did. You’ve thought the same thing yourself. It is that which stands between you, not Lucifer.”

Was the One right? Was that the reason—? Her stomach clenched, and her skin dampened, chilled. No. She wouldn’t believe that. She couldn’t believe it. Gritting her teeth, she forced her touch lower and let it travel the curve of Seth’s buttock. His breath hitched.

It had been Lucifer between them all along. She was certain of it. She needed to be certain of it. And she’d be damned if she’d let the Light-bearer’s presence remain any longer. Shifting sideways, shelifted herself. Straddled Seth. Felt him surge against her, suddenly, fully aware.

“Alex?” A whisper, startled, filled with the ache of longing. Of need. Deep inside her, a fierce response snarled to life. Another tear slid down her cheek, hidden from him in the dark.

“I love you, Seth Benjamin,” she whispered. “Always.”

Chapter 49

Sweet Jesus, what in hell had she been thinking?

The November morning light filtered into the apartment, as pale and cold as Alex felt as she stood in Seth’s embrace, her every fiber screaming at her to pull away. She prayed that he didn’t feel her stiffness, her resistance. Her regret.

She drew a deep, shuddering breath. Seth’s hold tightened.

“I’ll miss you, too,” he murmured into her hair, misinterpreting her sigh. His hands slid down her back, kneading, caressing.

Her stomach gave a liquid roll. The moment she’d cracked open her eyes in the cold, watery light of the November dawn, she’d known her mistake. Known that she hadn’t made anything better, not for either of them. She hadn’t made it easier to let go of him, or for him to let go of her.

She’d made a monumental error.

And it had become a goddamn disaster in the making.

She pulled out of Seth’s grasp. “I should go. Traffic—I don’t want to miss my flight.”

“I still don’t want you to leave.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow.” She stretched her mouth into what she hoped would pass for a smile. “You won’t even have time to miss me.”

He framed her face with his broad, strong hands and kissed her forehead. “I already do.”

Alex picked up her keys from the hall table and shouldered her overnight bag. She turned to the door.

“Alex.”

She looked back, into eyes as dark as night itself and the steady warmth that glowed in them.

“I love you.”

She spun around and stepped into his embrace, burying her face in his chest. Memorizing his smell, his warmth, the sound of his heartbeat. “I love you, too, Seth Benjamin,” she whispered. “With all my heart.”

Then, tears blurring her vision, she fumbled for the doorknob.

* * *

Aramael knew.

She didn’t know how, but he did.

She saw it in the rigid set of his shoulders, the almost imperceptible sagging of his black wings . . . the bleak agony etched into his face. Her step slowed, and only with grim effort did she keep moving toward the vehicle.

She went around to the driver’s door and unlocked it. He remained still. Staring across the roof at his back, she tried—and failed—to come up with words to . . . what? Apologize? Explain? Ease his pain? None of those things were possible; none of them should have been necessary. He knew Seth was her choice. She’d made it clear to him time and again. Abundantly so. He couldn’t claim he hadn’t expected this, damn it.

Clamping her mouth shut, she climbed into the sedan. Aramael followed suit. Silence hung over them like a toxic cloud for the duration of the drive to the airport, making every breath burn in the back of her throat. Not until she parked the car, switched it off, and opened her door to get out did Aramael finally speak.

“You’re making it more difficult for both of you.”

She went still, then leveled a cold look over her shoulder. “This is the only time you get to mention it,” she said, “and the only time I will tell you that it’s none of your business. Are we clear?”

The tiny muscle in his jaw flexed. “Crystal.”

“Good. We have a flight to catch.”

Chapter 50

“Detective Jarvis? They’ll see you now,” a male voice said.

Alex looked up from the magazine she’d been pretending to read and dug up a smile for the admin assistant who had previously offered coffee to her and Aramael.