where Rafe had sliced it open and stuck it in the burning guts of the demon Envy. It hurt from Nadine’s attack earlier, but nothing she’d ever experienced had been as shockingly painful as sticking her hand inside the demon.
“If it’s my blood-my tainted blood-that has the answers? What does that make me? Inhuman?”
Rafe took her hand and kissed it. “Don’t do that.”
She shook her head and tried to pull her hand away, but Rafe didn’t let go. “If my blood is the answer, then take it. We end this now.”
“We didn’t kill Envy; we slowed it down so it could be captured. We don’t know what will contain Lust. And I’m not risking your life until we have a solid plan.”
Rafe kissed her on the top of her head, her forehead, her temple. “You’re scared,” he whispered in her ear. “So am I.”
“I live my life in fear. I know what’s out there. I want to run away so badly, but there’s no place to hide. I can die cowering in a dark room or I can die fighting.”
“Death is not the only option.”
She stared at him. He was only inches from her. “Eventually it is,” she said. “Or I can join my mother and sacrifice people so I, too, can be immortal,” she added sarcastically. “Did I do enough to save Nadine? I keep playing the scene over and over and don’t know what else I could have done.”
Rafe stepped closer and she tried to step back, but the dresser was in her way. His proximity had her hormones rushing every which way, making her confused and nervous. She turned around, facing the mirror, Rafe right behind her. The power of his gaze in the reflection held her captive.
Rafe had never met anyone outside of St. Michael’s who had more internal fortitude than Moira. He’d never met anyone in or out of St. Michael’s who cared as much about the fate of others. But it wasn’t just what she was willing to do in this supernatural battle; Moira had an inner spark, a strength that belied her stated willingness to die for humanity. She would never go down without a fight, and she wanted to live. He saw it in the way she recognized and appreciated beauty in the world, even when they were surrounded by ugliness and evil. She gave him hope; she gave him strength; she made Rafe a better human being. Only with Moira did he feel he wasn’t stumbling on the path drawn for him by St. Michael’s, God, or the devil.
If Moira hadn’t found him two weeks ago, he would have died. He owed her his life, but he also felt deep inside that she’d also saved his soul.
“You did everything you could, Moira.” His fingers trailed up her face, gently skirting the bruises, brushing aside a curl that had escaped her hair tie. “You were faced with something you’d never faced before, and you acted because you care.”
“I don’t want to care,” she whispered.
“It’s not a choice. It’s in your heart.”
She cast her brilliant blue eyes downward, breaking the lock on his gaze. “I’ve spent my life not caring, just doing what needs to be done.”
“That’s a lie.”
Her body tensed under his hands. Her head shot up, a flash of fire in her eyes as she glared at him in the mirror. Good. They’d need that fire, that confidence, when they walked into Wendy’s lair tonight.
“You don’t know me.”
She tried to step to the side, but he wouldn’t let her pass, trapping her against the dresser. She was going to listen to him. “You haven’t spent your life not caring, you’ve spent your life
Moira was speechless. Rafe’s impassioned expression touched her deep inside, in a place she didn’t know still existed. A door opened in her heart, just a crack, but Rafe’s foot was in the way and she couldn’t slam it shut. A door that had been locked tight for seven years, since the day Peter died.
“Rafe-” Her voice sounded rough around the edges.
He leaned over and kissed her neck, his breath a whisper across her skin. He kissed her again, lightly, moving to her jawline, a tickle, a hint of something more, a promise. Confident and unyielding even in the delicacy of his touch. His thumb brushed across her lips and she kissed it, drawing it into her mouth. He tasted salty and warm and sexy.
She gasped when his other hand moved up her shirt and pulled her tightly against him, his hand under her breasts. His firm chest against her back, his pelvis rigid against her rear, she felt both wildly free and deliciously trapped. His kisses became more urgent, against the back of her neck, to the side, and she tilted her head back against his shoulder, giving him access to her throat. He bent over her shoulder and licked her throat greedily, then stepped forward, pressing her thighs against the dresser with the weight of his body.
Moira’s thoughts fell away as all she wanted was Rafe’s body on hers. His legs were on either side of hers, his penis hard against her backside. His mouth on her neck, her jaw, her ear. She turned her head to kiss him, and he responded with a groan as he adjusted his position, his body mimicking lovemaking though they were fully clothed. The dresser moved and she used her arms to brace herself. Rafe had her bra undone and was kneading her breasts, pleasure winning over pain. She gasped as his thumbs rubbed her nipples, at first gently, then harder until she squirmed, her breath coming in short bursts.
There was no reason, there were no thoughts, as Rafe unzipped her jeans, his fingers slipping under her panties. This was it, she’d been apprehensive about this moment, but she was ready to risk everything for Rafe. Even her heart. She tensed, shaking, but didn’t try to stop him.
Rafe slowly removed his fingers before they touched that one spot that needed attention. He eased up her zipper and used both hands to close the button. She opened her eyes and looked at Rafe’s reflection. Their skin glowed with perspiration; her face was flushed. Her neck was red from Rafe’s stubble, and one breast peeked out from her shirt. Rafe didn’t say a word, but stepped back and rehooked her bra, unhurried, and pulled her shirt back down.
“Rafe-” She didn’t know what to say.
He wrapped his arms around her, rested his chin on the top of her head and let out a long breath.
That sensation, of renewal and discovery, besieged her and she swayed, her knees suddenly weak. He held her steady.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “You’re wrong.”
“You don’t know what I’m thinking,” she said, pushing backward, but he didn’t let go. She wasn’t thinking at all, she only felt, and her senses were overwhelmed by their combined emotions.
He whispered in her ear as he kissed it. She shivered, wanting him to keep going, wanting him to stop. He said, “You’re trying to find any excuse to deny these feelings we have for each other. I know you, Moira. You don’t believe me, but I know you. Deny all you want, convince yourself that I would settle for only one night. But the way I feel for you isn’t fleeting. It’s not a whim. It’s certainly not supernatural. It’s my heart. It beats for you, Moira.”
He dropped his arms, and she realized she’d been holding her breath. She really didn’t like how Rafe saw her for who she was. It made her vulnerable. She turned around, was about to say something, but he kissed her lightly on the lips, his fingers barely touching her chin, and all words disappeared.
“I’m sure he’s gone by now.”
For a split second, Moira didn’t know who Rafe was talking about. Then she shook her head to clear it and stepped away from him.
She looked out the window. Grant Nelson’s unmarked sedan was indeed gone. “You’re right.”
She turned back to Rafe, and he handed over her backpack so she could recheck her supplies-though she knew everything was there.
She felt momentarily light-headed. When the sensation went away she had a new, odd feeling that she didn’t
