“So why didn’t you do that with me when I had a knife impaled in my throat?”
“Because I never know which result I’ll get. I could have used it on you, only to send your soul away. I couldn’t risk it.” His loss could have cost her Ascension, but more than that, she would have lost him. If his soul was demon, he’d have been gone forever.
Her stomach turned inside out, but strangely, it wasn’t because his soul might not be human. No, what had just sickened her was the reality that she’d come to care for him so much that she’d do anything to not lose him. She wanted him to stay with her.
Those same feelings had led to her betrayal of Rami.
Lore seemed to sense her anxiety, and she could have kissed him when he changed the subject. “You’ve never really talked about your mother. Have you met her?”
“We have no contact until we Ascend, and even then… I don’t know.” Didn’t really matter, she supposed. To Idess, her mother was the human who had raised her with as much love as she had to give.
A breeze kicked up, rustling the leaves, and Lore turned his face into it, closing his eyes as he spoke. “So… how is it that the Grim Reaper and an angel get it on? Is there some sort of pickup bar where they meet and flirt and get drunk and take each other home, or what?”
Idess laughed at that particular image. “I’m not sure about the details, but Rami told me that a handful of angels volunteered to be birth mothers, just as Azagoth volunteered to fall for the good of the world. He can’t leave his realm, though, so they go to him.”
“How many baby mamas are there?”
“According to Rami, there are seventy-two. He was a scholar of human religions, and he was always convinced that many traditions and beliefs are loosely based in fact.”
“Like the seventy-two-virgin thing for Muslim martyrs?”
“Exactly. That number came from somewhere, and Rami believes it is based on Memitim mothers. He also believes that ‘virgin’ is actually a mistranslation and should read ‘angels.’ ” She snorted. “As if any man would get seventy-two angels as a reward.”
“How about one angel?” Lore’s voice was husky and thick, a caress that made her shiver with appreciation.
“I’m not technically an angel yet,” she said, “so I don’t think I count.”
He touched her face. “You’re looking forward to going, aren’t you?”
The question dove right to her gut and stirred it up even more, because for the first time since learning what she was and what her reward for good service would be, she was actually wavering.
“I can’t wait to get out of here.” Really. She couldn’t. As she’d told Lore, Earth was hell. There was suffering and pain and cruelty.
And hot men like Lore.
Hurt flashed in his eyes, and he shoved to his feet. “Yeah, sucks here. Nothing worth wanting to hang around for.”
“Lore, I didn’t mean—”
“S’okay. We’d better get ready to go hunting. Sin will be here any minute.”
She stood and reached for him. “Lore.”
Ignoring her, he strode into the house, leaving her feeling more wretched than she’d been since the day she betrayed Rami.
By the time Lore dressed and outfitted himself with weapons, it was time for Sin to show. And Idess was back. She’d flashed from his deck after he’d left her out there, obviously to go home and change, because now she was wearing jeans, sexy, calf-high boots, and a funky, multi-color Versace sweatshirt.
Let’s see you wear that in Heaven. Yeah, he was a little bitter, though he had no idea why. What had he expected when he’d asked her a question he didn’t want the answer to? A declaration of everlasting love and a willingness to give up everything to stay with him? Just because they’d masturbated each other a couple of times? Just because she was the only female on the planet not related to him who could touch his arm and not keel over?
Geez, Idess could have at least made it sound like leaving him on earth would mean a minute or two of sniffles.
Right, because she’ll be so upset to say good-bye to a demon who practically demanded that she get on her knees and be a whore for him.
Fuck. With an extra-firm shove of his trench knife into its belt sheath, he made the mental slide into assassin mode. He couldn’t afford emo whining when he was hunting.
But he really did feel like a piece of shit for how he’d treated her earlier, so he downshifted just a little. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a lover of designer fashion,” he said gruffly.
“I’m not. But I try to buy local when I can.” She lifted one leg to show off her boot. “Italian leather. Love it.”
He did, too. The way it hugged her calves. Made her legs go on forever. He let out an appreciative whistle as he dragged his gaze up. “Where do you get your money, anyway?”
She shrugged. “I think about it, and it’s there.”
“Must be nice.” Nice to not have to kill people for it. So much for assassin mode. God, Idess was hell on his discipline.