Part 33 (2/2)
”His son.” He looked at me then, scrutinized my expression, tried to decide if I believed him. ”I am his son.”
A shock wave jolted through me. What he was saying was impossible.
”I've been in hiding from him for centuries,” he said, ”waiting for you to be sent, to be born upon the Earth. The G.o.d of Heaven does not send a reaper often, and each time before you, I'd felt such disappointment, such utter loss.”
My lashes fluttered in confusion. How could he know such things? But perhaps the more important question was, ”Why were you disappointed?”
He turned his face away before he answered, as if ashamed. ”Why does the Earth seek the warmth of the sun?”
My brows slid together, trying to understand.
”Or the forest seek the embrace of the rain?”
I shook my head, but he continued.
”When I knew he was going to send you, I chose a family and was born upon the Earth as well. To wait. To watch.”
After a moment, I asked, more than a little appalled, ”And you chose Earl Walker?”
A corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile as his gaze traveled over my face. He released one hand, slid his fingertips over my arm to rest on my neck. ”No,” he said, staring at me with a feverish intensity, as if mesmerized. ”A man took me from my birth family, kept me a while, then traded me to Earl Walker. Knowing I would have no memory of my past while I was human, I gave up everything to be with you. I didn't find out who I was ... what I was, until I'd been in prison for years. My origins came to me in pieces, in fractured dreams and broken memories, like a puzzle that took decades to a.s.semble.”
”You didn't remember who you were when you were born?”
His grip on my wrists eased, but just barely. ”No. But I'd done my research well. I should have grown up happy, gone to the same schools as you, the same college. I knew I would have no control over my own destiny once I became human, but it was a chance I was willing to take.”
”But, you're his son,” I said, trying really hard to hate him. ”You're the son of Satan. Literally.”
”And you are the stepdaughter of Denise Davidson.”
Wow. That was a bit harsh, but, ”Okay, point taken.”
”Are we not all products of the world we were born into just as much as, if not more than, the parents we were given to?”
I'd heard the nature-versus-nurture argument all through college, but this was a little hard to justify. ”Satan is just so ... I don't know, evil.”
”And you think I am evil as well.”
”Like father, like son?” I said by way of explanation.
He s.h.i.+fted his body weight to the side. The movement stirred the swirling pool still growing inside me, and I fought the desire to padlock my legs around his waist and throw away the key.
”Do I seem evil to you?” he asked, his deep voice like a caress of velvet. He was busy eyeing the pulse at my neck, testing it with his fingertips, as if human life fascinated him.
”You do have a tendency to sever spinal cords.”
”Only for you.”
Disturbing but oddly romantic. ”And you're in prison for killing Earl Walker.”
His hand sank lower, skimmed over Will Robinson until it found the bottom of my sweater. Then it worked its way back up, palm skimming over bare skin, sending ripples of pleasure shooting to the most delicate nether regions of my anatomy. ”That is a problem,” he said.
”Did you do it?”
”You can ask Earl Walker when I find him.”
No doubt he went straight to h.e.l.l. ”Can you go back? Can you go into h.e.l.l and find him? I mean, aren't you in hiding?”
His hand eased farther up, cupped Will, teased her hardened center with his fingertips. I bit back a gasp of pleasure.
”He's not in h.e.l.l.”
Surprised, I said, ”Surely he didn't go the other direction.”
”No,” he said before his head dipped and his mouth found that same racing pulse, christened it with tiny, hot kisses.
”So, is he still on Earth?” I was trying really hard to concentrate, but Reyes seemed dead set against it.
I felt him smile against my skin. ”Yes.”
”Oh. So, why are you hiding from your father?” I asked, breathless.
”Earl Walker?”
”No, the other one.” I had so many questions. I wanted to know everything about him. About his life. About his ... pre-life.
”Was,” he said, nipping at my earlobe. The action sent s.h.i.+vers scampering down my spine.
”Was?” I whispered, trying to think of a distraction, something other than the waves of delight was.h.i.+ng over my body.
”Yes. Was.”
”Can you elaborate?”
”If you'd like me to. But I'd rather do this.”
”Oh ... my ... g-”
His hand had tunneled down my pajama bottoms, slipped into my panties, and found a delicious spot to play with. I quaked visibly when his fingers brushed over the silken folds below. When he sank them deeper, I shuddered, the sensation so exquisitely intense.
Son of Satan. Son of Satan.
While his fingers continued to stroke the sensitive flesh between my thighs, his mouth-his glorious, perfect mouth-traveled south and was now nibbling on Danger. In the deepest recesses of my mind, I realized I was suddenly half naked and exposed to one of the most powerful beings on Earth. I just couldn't remember him disrobing any part of me. Did he have super-stripper powers as well as the spinal cord thing?
I wrested my hands from his grip and dug my fingers into his hair. Pulling him back to me, I kissed him with all the longing and desire I'd harbored for years. This was his kiss, the special one I'd saved for just such an occasion. I savored the smooth taste of him on my tongue as he tilted his head and delved deeper inside me, drawing on my essence, my life force.
This was the first time I'd really felt him without swimming in a sea of l.u.s.t so strong, I could barely stay conscious. Not that I wasn't having a difficult time of it-I just felt a bit more in control, a bit more lucid. He was so real, so solid. This wasn't a dream. This wasn't an out-of-body experience. This was Reyes Farrow, as close to in-the-flesh as it got, considering he was in a coma an hour away.
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