Not that Lincoln wouldn’t be on me in a flash. He might be sitting at the other end of the plane but he’s not fooling anyone. Every molecule of that man is attuned to her. Just like me.
But, the difference is, she doesn’t want me.
The truth? She never has.
The torture? I’ve always known.
Still, I look at her and ache. Still, I lose my breath. And worse, I don’t care about myself any more. I just want her pain to stop. I want her to be happy. Even though I know who makes her the happiest.
Is this love?
Of course it is.
The worst kind.
And I can’t have it any more. I can’t survive it. She knows that as well as me. Eternity is too long a time to lie to myself. And yet, how can I consider an existence without her? She is all I have ever known of true desire.
All I have ever known of my true self. Lust incarnate. It should be so easy, human form again. I should be working her out of my system, but the mere idea of another woman makes my skin crawl.
Maybe if they weren’t all so predictably lost to my leaking emotions … but they are. Even here, on this plane with these Grigori warriors, I can sense the females keeping their attention on me, though they don’t understand why.
They don’t care for me. None of them. The only one who ever did was Violet. Even if it was fleeting. Even if it never compared to how she feels for him. Even if I’ve known it all along. It was still the purest thing I have ever felt.
And how did I repay her?
I’ve damn well broken her, too. It all comes back to me. My choices. My darkness. And now she carries a part of me within her. And it destroys me that she is using it to slowly kill herself.
Now death himself wants her and I have to help her fight. Sammael is pure evil, with a plan. He won’t stop until he is put down. But, can she do this?
Hell, she’d better. Otherwise I won’t be the only one who is ruined.
She has no idea how important she is.
I rake my fingers through my hair and am fighting the urge to scream, to go on a rampage that once I would never have denied myself. Instead, I force it back; the malign. But I know it’s just a matter of time. It’s in me. A part of me.
Darkness.
Eventually, it will rise. And it will target its attention in the very same direction as my heart. My jaw clenches. I won’t survive hurting her again.
Somehow, it must stop.
Suddenly she is sitting beside me. Hell, I need to pay more attention.
‘Phoenix,’ she says, and I want to scream because just hearing her say my name hurts and lowers me to an all-new level of wretchedness. And I want to cry because I think that it might be all that my future holds: waiting for her to say my name, and then screaming in agony when she does.
‘Sammael?’ she begins. She looks pale. And though she can shut down her emotions, I’ll always be able to sense enough – perhaps even more than she can herself. Something has upset her.
I nod.
‘Did you know him?’ she asks.
I shake my head, still struggling to make my voice work. I hate myself. ‘Lilith knew him,’ I finally manage. ‘Very well.’ I let a little innuendo slip into my answer, shielding me like a mask.
It makes her nervous and she inches away from me.
Better.
‘I see. He was there, wasn’t he?’
I nod again, but she already knows.
All that is now happening is because of me. Because of everything I did. If I hadn’t brought Lilith back, Sammael would never have known that Violet existed. Given what I think he is after and could possibly achieve, it brings the term ‘the weight of the world on your shoulders’ a very literal meaning.
I manage to speak again. ‘He owed Lilith; she was collecting.’
Violet’s forehead crinkles and her breathing tightens and I know she is remembering that night. Is she remembering my role? Seeing me standing before her, loading the crossbow and shooting her with arrow after arrow. Is that all she sees now when she looks at me?
Christ, I just want it to end. There was a moment there when I was facing Lilith – her hand gripping the blade in my gut – where I thought it was all over and I remember looking beyond my mother and into Violet’s eyes. I remember exhaling.
But it isn’t over. It never will be. There are no retirement plans for exiled angels – just the promise of more. My ‘forever’ can’t feel like this – empty. My only hope is to find some form of satisfaction. And that will only come from finding hers. I could almost laugh. The crying shame of it all is that her happiness is directly connected to another man.
Yeah, life’s a sneaky bitch.
And the kicker? I’m not even sure it will work – that it will help me at all. But I know, beyond a doubt, that it will heal her.
‘He took my blood, Phoenix,’ she says, finally admitting it and because I’ve done nothing but watch over her since that night, I know that this is the first time she has said it aloud. And that hurts too. That she would trust me enough to confide in me and yet it changes nothing. She doesn’t want me.
‘Yes. And I imagine he has used most of it by now.’