“You’re useless.”
“Am I? Shall I ask her right now to tell me she loves me again? And again and again? What will be left of your precious hall then? I’ll tell you. A pile of rubble.”
“You aren’t going to make me honestly think she can—”
“But you don’t know. Do you? I saw the little rule in your study. I didn’t know what it meant at the time. You’re to ‘purge’ us. Why is that, Metos? If we weren’t such a threat, why couldn’t we stay? It’s as you said…we’re a catastrophe waiting to happen. You know it.”
Metos stopped advancing on him. His flaming sword dissipated as if it had never been. For a long moment, he stared at Ash, who didn’t dare to relax for fear of some unforeseen attack. Finally, Metos opened his mouth, pausing for a moment before speaking as if choosing his words carefully. “You…are not even worthy of death.”
“There’s a new one.”
“Get out of my sight. Ashemnon, you are banished forthwith from the kingdom of the Dark Lord. Go live with your concubine and see how well her world accepts you.” He gave a dismissive wave of his hand and turned his back, trudging back to his throne. “See how long before you’re begging me to come back home.”
Ash was afraid to move, afraid to hope. From her place on the floor where she’d landed, Madeleine turned round eyes on him, aghast. He must not have been hearing things, then—she’d heard it too. “We can go?” she mouthed to him.
“Go!” Metos all but roared. “Remove her before she destroys us all!”
He didn’t have to say it again. Ash grabbed Madeleine’s hand, yanked her up and got her the hell out of there, hiding a grin the whole way. His little angel, whether she wanted to be or not.
It felt good, so good, to be normal again. She’d said she would stay there with Ash, and she’d meant it…but damn, she was glad she didn’t have to. Waking up here had been like resurfacing from one of her nightmares, so profoundly glad to be awake and alive it was almost painful.
Riam looked as eager as a kid on Christmas as she opened her eyes, and Ash hung his head in relief. His very human-looking head, thank goodness. Both of them held her hands, and Ash’s other hand was on her chest. Bringing her back to life, again.
“Well?” Riam asked.
“Apparently, I nearly destroyed Hell,” Madeleine told him.
Ash laughed and Riam rolled his eyes heavenward. “Dear God, if only we could be so lucky.”
“I was banished,” Ash said. “All around, it was a most productive trip.”
“Banished? Interesting. Hell doesn’t want you and Heaven won’t have you. What will you do?”
“Stay here, I suppose.” He looked down into Madeleine’s eyes. She saw the weariness in his and thought maybe she’d like to add to it, but in a far more pleasurable way than they had just experienced. Later. For now, she smiled and squeezed his hand. “Be loved, surely,” he finished.
“That much is for certain,” she said.
“You know,” Riam said, looking thoughtful, “Celeste can help you get everything you need to exist among the mortals. If you’re truly no longer one of Hell’s minions, I don’t see what harm it will do for us to assist you.”
“Really?” Madeleine asked. She struggled to sit up, but the two of them had to help her. Even so, overall she felt much better than she had the last time Ash had brought her back. “We need to figure this out. You’re banished, but you’re not human. You’re still immortal…right?”
“It would appear so,” Ash said. “I still had the ability to bring you back, so I haven’t been stripped of my power or anything.”
“Am I really going to have to get old and gray while you still look like…this? Not that I’m complaining,” she amended quickly when Ash turned an incredulous look toward her. “It’ll just…cause problems, you know?”
“Not when I can appear any age I want.” He grinned at her. “I just prefer this one. But if you need me to look like a wrinkled old man someday, I can do that. For you.”
“Thanks…I guess.” She giggled, until another thought cast a shadow across her jubilation. “But what about…after I’m gone?”
“Well, let’s not dwell on that now,” Riam said with determined optimism. “Go and have a long and happy life together—it’s more than most people get. We’ll figure that out when the time comes. I’ll still be around, of course.” He gave Madeleine a wink, the gesture so out of place on him that she lifted a brow at him.
A long and happy life. She liked the sound of that. It sounded much better than a dark and miserable eternity.
Epilogue
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ash asked.
“No. But it’s something I need to do. Thanks for coming with me.” She knocked for the third time on the door they were standing in front of. Maybe he wasn’t home. Maybe he didn’t answer the door for strangers. Maybe they’d come all this way for nothing.
“Of course. He’s not going to be happy to see me, though.” Ash turned and faced the quiet street behind them, muttering to himself. “Probably have a heart attack.”
Maybe he didn’t open the door for demons who’d enticed him to trade his daughter’s soul almost thirty years ago. Yeah, that could be it.
“Well, for that matter, he might not be happy to see me.”
“I can go sit in the car, if you think it would help.”
“No.” She reached over and took his gloved hand with her own. It was brutally cold out and snow dusted the carefully tended yards and their tacky Christmas embellishments. Her dad’s yard boasted Santa waving from his sleigh, while the simple but cute frame house was liberally draped with twinkling colored lights. “I want you here.”
Ash looked over at her and smiled. She took a moment, as she often did, to appreciate how beautiful he was, his dark hair glistening with tiny ice crystals. The past couple of years with him had been the happiest of her entire life, and that happiness didn’t appear to be letting up anytime soon.
This was a crazy scheme if ever there was one. But if what Ash said was true, and her father had turned his life around after making the deal with him all those years ago, then he must carry tremendous guilt. Ash had described what kind of person he’d been. He also knew what kind of person he’d become—one who’d kicked the drugs, helped out in his community, and counseled runaways and other troubled youth. Even Riam had been a source of information. Heaven had been keeping its watchful eye on Maxwell Gatlin. But something else Riam had told her was that her dad was sick now and wasn’t long for this world.
Yes, it was a terrible thing he’d done. But she wanted to give him what peace she could before he left. She wanted him to know she was okay, that he’d inadvertently done her a wonderful favor.
Of course, it had to be jarring, knowing a family member was happily in love with a creature of darkness. If you cared at all, anyway.
It was another thing she had to consider, that he wouldn’t give a rat’s ass if she was dead or alive or burning in Hell by now. She simply couldn’t bring herself to believe he’d feel that way, however.
Fueled by urgency at the thought, she pounded on the door again, harder than she had before. She had to know. She didn’t know why it was so important, but it was. It kept her up at night, talking to Ash deep into the wee hours. He was the one who’d told her maybe it would be good for her to face him. She’d always entertained the thought, but it hadn’t seemed plausible, or something she would really consider doing, until he suggested it.
Suddenly, the door swung open while she was mid-knock. Maddie froze, lowering her arm. Ash turned around. An older woman with tidy graying hair stood framed by the doorway, head cocked to the side as she appraised them with shrewd eyes. “Yes?”
“Um, hello,” Maddie said. “Does Maxwell Gatlin live here?”
“He does. May I say who’s calling?”
“My name is Madeleine Dean. He may not know me, but…” She took a deep breath. “I’m his daughter.”
The woman looked her up and down, pulling her green cardigan closer against the cold rushing into the house. Madeleine wanted to huddle closer to the heat pouring out. “You’re Madeleine?”
“You…know my name?”
“Honey, he’s talked about having a daughter named Madeleine for as long as I’ve known him—that would be twenty-five years, now. But he never knew your last name, or how to reach you at all. I always wondered if you really existed.”
“And you are…?”
“I’m his wife. Please call me Anne.” She offered her hand, still looking shell-shocked, and Madeleine shook it, feeling the same. This was surreal. Anne glanced back into the house. “I’m afraid he’s not doing so well at the moment.”
“I had heard he was ill. I’m terribly sorry.”
Anne nodded, removing the silver-framed glasses she’d been wearing and wiping her eyes before replacing them. “I’m sorry, this is just so…”
Madeleine reached over and touched her arm. “I know.”
Composing herself, Anne went on. “Yes, he has cancer. The doctors, they’re still trying, but things aren’t looking too well this time. The treatments take a lot out of him and he’s resting. But I know he would be so upset if I didn’t tell him you were here.”
“I don’t want to disturb him—”
“Nonsense. Come in out of the cold before you freeze.” She held her arm out toward Ash and ushered them both inside. “And who is this handsome fellow? Your husband, surely?”
Just my demon lover.
“Oh, something like that,” he said. Madeleine bit her lip on a smile. “Call me Ash.”
She looked around the living room as they traded pleasantries. Though outside it was nearly dusk, the scent of coffee drifted in from the kitchen. It was nice and homey here, the end tables and walls crowded with pictures of loved ones. At least he seemed to have lived a life full of happiness.
She hoped she’d get the opportunity to meet some of the faces in those photos, the family she’d never known. Maybe they would be closer to her than the one she’d had. Maybe.
“He had some strange stories to tell,” Anne was saying a little nervously when Madeleine turned her attention back to her. “He never could really explain how he knew about you, or knew your name at all. At least, he would never tell me. I suspected he had more to say, he just wouldn’t say it. But come to think of it…for some reason he believed something might have happened to you. Lord, honey, you can probably help answer a thousand of my questions he’s turned aside over the years.”
“I’ll be happy to,” she said, casting a glance at Ash.
“Please, have a seat. I’ll let him know you’re here.” Anne indicated the afghan-covered couch and slipped quietly from the room.
“I think you probably should wait out here,” Madeleine whispered to Ash. “I mean, if I get to go back and see him.”
He nodded, pulling her into his arms. “That would be best.”
She breathed in his scent, wrapping herself in the comforting warmth of his embrace. “If it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t know my name, would he? He wouldn’t know about me at all.”
“I guess not,” he murmured. “I told him about you.”
“My mom knew who he was, but as far as I know, she never even attempted to contact him. No one did.”
Ash kissed her forehead just as Anne came back into the room.
“Madeleine? You’ll have to come on back here, but he’s so excited to meet you.”
Madeleine left Ash’s embrace and moved away, holding one of his hands as long as she could before she had to let it go. He smiled at her, and again, she thought she could see something shining in his eyes. “Thank you,” she mouthed to him, and followed Anne down the hall.
About the Author
If Cherrie Lynn’s parents are to be believed, she’s been writing since before she can remember. Through her formative years, her stories evolved from epic graphic novels about dragons and unicorns to middle school angst-inspired teen soap operas. Once she discovered her mom’s romance novels, she finally found her place.
She adores electronic gadgets, heavy metal, gaming, and horror movies. You can often find her traveling far and wide to catch her favorite rock acts live, but she’s much too fragile to go near a mosh pit.
Cherrie lives in Texas with her husband and two kids. She loves hearing from readers, so drop her a line at che
[email protected] or visit her at http://www.cherrielynn.com.
Look for these titles from Cherrie Lynn
Now Available:
Unleashed
Rock Me
Sweet Disgrace
She has Heaven to lose. He has Hell to pay.
Sweet Disgrace
© 2010 Cherrie Lynn
Centuries of heartbreak. Grinding failures punctuated by too-few victories. What angel in her right mind would want this job? Celeste, who’s driven to save Devil-contracted souls before Hell can claim them, is weary, but not beaten. Yet.
Her latest case makes her wonder if it’s all worth the anguish. A demon enticed a too-young musician into selling his soul for fortune and fame. To make matters worse, that demon is Damael, an insufferable, frightening minion with airtight contracts—and a body that makes her long for sin.
Damael’s always had a soft spot for Celeste, but if his bored superiors want drama, he’ll give them drama. Though it pains him to trick the angel he wants with all his black heart, eons of restrained lust win out. He makes the deal: her body in exchange for the human’s soul.
She wasn’t supposed to accept.
Damael can’t be trusted, but with the deadline bearing down, Celeste lays everything on the line in a last-ditch effort to save just one precious soul. Even if it means losing hers—along with her heart.
Warning: This title contains graphic language, explicit sex, an angelic heroine with attitude…and a demonic hero who’s smoking hot. Literally.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Sweet Disgrace:
“I’ve always thought you’re a worthy adversary. You don’t give up until the end. You deserve more than to be left on the ground, wallowing in pain.” Damael reached forward and slid his hands beneath Celeste’s body, seeing her eyes fly open wide in alarm. Weakly, she struggled against him, but he was too strong for her at this point. He lifted her and shifted until he was sitting on the ground, cradling her in his arms.
She felt frail against him, insubstantial. The softness of the wings folded tight against her back made his mouth run dry. He’d never touched anything like that before in his life. Hadn’t known such suppleness existed, until she was in his arms.
Her chest was heaving, her hand gripping his jacket even as she stared up at him apprehensively. He couldn’t interpret whether her reaction was from fear or desire or perhaps a combination of both. Sudden frustration engulfed him whole and chewed him up without mercy.
“Stubborn angel, I give you my word, dammit, and I don’t do that often. Let me help you. But I won’t do it without your permission,” he added, hearing the tight, barely leashed desperation in his own voice. “Give it to me.”
“If you lie to me, I’ll send an extermination squad after you.” The vow was laced with an intensity that made him not doubt her words for a second. And then the coolness of her fingers crept over either side of his face and she pulled his mouth down to hers.
The shock that went through his system was another first. She must have felt it too, because the instant his lips met hers, she gasped and her hands tightened on him. But she didn’t fling him away. A shuddery sigh escaped her, and her air-light body seemed to melt into him. Her hands gentled too, sliding from his face to bury themselves in his hair.
Her lips were cool, pliant, sweeter than all the fruits of the earth. She didn’t stiffen against him or feign any sort of unwillingness or reluctance, and this, more than anything, was his undoing. He could almost believe she was allowing this because she wanted it, not for any favors he could do her.
But he
’d given his word.
He opened himself to the darkness coursing through her. As he’d hoped, it responded, drawn back toward its source. He drank it from her, absorbed it, cleansed her of it until not a single particle of Nax’s filth remained in Celeste’s pristine spirit.
He had to be careful not to place any of his own there. He felt as if everything within him was being sucked out by nothing but the tender play of her lips beneath his. She could wring him dry, leave him nothing but a husk, and he would only think it a delicious way to go.
His task was done. She was clean. But he couldn’t release her. She whimpered into his mouth, and he drank in the sound as eagerly as dawn claimed the sky above them. He ached, throbbed, yearned to possess her. The effort of restraining his hands from roaming the softness of her body was as precarious as binding two mad beasts with something as fragile as yarn. One more move, one more sigh from her, and that binding might break…
She stunned him to his core when she lifted herself from his embrace and crawled to her knees without losing the contact with his mouth, without releasing her hold on him. There on the ground, he sat back as she shifted and straddled him, staring up at her with something akin to astonishment. And there in his gaze, she seemed to check herself. She froze, lips hovering mere centimeters from his, fingers digging into his shoulders.
“Oh, God,” she whimpered. Those eyes were so close to his it was like a whole other world opening up in front of his face.
She was going to stop; he was about to lose her. That was…best, really. It was. She would never have to know just how deceptive he truly was. He told himself this as he sat and looked at her and decided he would sell his own soul—or whatever it was he had—to touch her…really, truly allow himself to touch her. Everywhere.
Celeste’s thumb gently traced over his eyebrow, her gaze searching his face. “Your eyes look normal again.”