Rose dived at Shadowman, but he spun out of the way, bumped her shoulder with the blunt side of the ax, then whipped the blade into an overhead circle.
“And when he’s done with her, he’ll fight you?” Layla’s heart beat fast.
Rose darted a wicked hand toward Shadowman’s throat, which he knocked away with the staff of the ax.
“The gate cannot stand,” the angel said, “and mages have a long history of conflict with Heaven.”
Layla had known this was coming, must be dealt with. She had hoped that after her win over Fate the problem of the gate might also be solved without the loss of her hard-won life. A cry of denial choked her. She swallowed it bitterly. At least Shadowman had been saved that eternity of Twilight winter. “And if I promise to give myself up?”
The angel turned his shining face to her. “Can you also promise that he won’t wage war for you? He was bent on saving you, and therefore the gate, from destruction. He’d have killed us all if he’d had to, on your behalf. Right now we hold Shadow very tenuously in check. We cannot afford an extended battle with him. Can you assure me that he will peaceably allow you to die?”
Layla kept her sights on Shadowman. Her heart quailed, but yes, this time she was certain if she asked it of him he’d agree. She was the master of her own fate, and she would not permit her legacy to the world, to Talia, be a gate to Hell. Not when she could stop it. He’d understand. He’d have to understand.
Rose feinted to one side. Shadowman wasn’t duped and tracked her movement with a dodge of his own. Turned. Drew the ax back, muscles rippling into tensed planes and bunches.
Layla’s heart stalled. “I’d like the night with him, if that’s okay.”
She’d requested the same when she first learned why she’d been reborn. Maybe now there would be a different answer.
The ax darted in a downward stroke. Rose twisted, off balance, clawing through empty air. Her eyes took on a panicked plea.
Shadowman’s expression went indifferent. The blade flashed. Cut through the red dust hovering in the air. Met flesh.
And Rose’s head skipped across the cracked, fiery earth.
The angels were already retreating to their cars en masse. The blond one called back in answer, “Have him bring my ax, will you?”
Layla shifted her gaze to Shadowman, who stood panting, sweat coursing down his tawny shoulders. The ax hung at his side. His shoelaces were undone, again.
Those black fae eyes of his tracked the exodus of the angels, whom she knew he’d expected to fight next, then returned to her, a dark and wary question in their depths.
Chapter 19
Shadowman glanced from his shoelaces to Layla. “Now I make bunny ears?”
“Yeah,” she said, flashing her bright smile. “Cross them, just like that, tuck one under . . . right. And pull.”
Shadowman assessed his handiwork, then looked up to make his report. “This will take some practice.”
“You’ll get it.” Her gaze slid from his eyes to his hair, and the humor turned to mock sadness. “So pretty, now gone. I had plans for that hair, damn it.”
An unspoken agreement hung in the air of the hotel room. They would not speak about what tomorrow would bring. Layla’s optimism wouldn’t flag.
He’d been introduced to the bliss of a shower but driven to curses by the slippery little bottle of shampoo. The trays of food had been set aside, extra water downed until, yes, as she promised, he felt a whole lot better.
She stood up from the foot of the bed, where the impromptu lesson had been held, she on her knees, and he on the edge. (Not how he’d intended to use the bed.) When she reached for the bag of clothing she’d insisted they buy for him, he stood. Took it from her. Placed it on the couch.
At last Layla went still, as he did beside her. The room fell quiet, except for the bumps and occasional footsteps outside their room. It was so quiet he could hear them both breathe, and he altered his rhythm to match hers.
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good,” she said.
Shadowman knew she’d arranged something with the angels. That, or they’d never have left them alone with the gate still rattling evil. She must think she was going to die with its destruction, and soon. How much time had she bought them? Considering the angels’ urgency, not long. A day? Just one night?
She’d be shining bright about now, as she always did at the brink. He closed his eyes and could feel the heat of the glow between them. It wouldn’t do, however, to inform her that he’d taken her place with Rose’s death. The new day would begin soon enough.
He lowered his head to her crown and breathed in the sweetness and heat of her hair. She tilted her face up in response, brushing her cheek along his shoulder.
“I should’ve had you take me on a date.” She laughed. “Dinner and a movie. Oh! Or for a drive to the ocean. We would’ve had time for a little detour. There’s nothing like the ocean at night.”
Shadowman looked down into her eyes. “Regrets?”