Far From Heaven

Grimness had slowly crept over Riam’s face, lifting Ash’s spirits considerably. Riam turned his head away, averting his gaze but refusing to step back.

“Then I suppose it’s as you said, isn’t it?” The angel sounded nowhere near as sprightly as he had a moment ago. “We’ll see how it goes.”

Tonight was the night. She knew Ash was going home tomorrow, and she’d been waiting for him to say something about what the future held. She could feel it when he held her, kissed her, when he made love to her—he wanted her. He did. She’d never felt such passion from any man she’d ever been with, and it only kept growing.

They had to talk about it tonight. If he didn’t bring it up, then she would. She would be brave. She would tell him she wanted to see him again; she didn’t care what that entailed. He could come here or she would gladly go to him. Delia had been dead-on in her assessment of the situation, and Maddie hated that she’d allowed it to come to this, to putting herself out there again when it always ended so badly. But Ash was a weakness, and he seemed so…different. Wasn’t that the goal? To find the one who made you feel like no one else ever had, the one who seemed above all the petty game-playing?

And if he said that seeing her beyond tonight still wasn’t what he wanted…oh God. It didn’t bear thinking about. The thought of facing an empty bed every night after having him here was enough to spur her to action, even at the risk of a shattered heart. She slept so much more soundly with him here, with his arms around her. It was surely ridiculous, but she would swear that he really did keep the nightmares away.

She didn’t need a life-long commitment—yet—but she needed the promise of more of him.

Maddie’s heart jumped when the knock sounded at the door. She straightened the centerpiece on the dining table and gave the entire scene one final, critical survey. It wasn’t much, but it looked nice. Soft candlelight glowed and the silverware gleamed. She hoped Ash liked lasagna. It was the only thing she knew how to make well.

Deep breath. Let it out. That done, she did a little pirouette toward the living room, gave her appearance a quick inspection at the mirror on the way and pulled open the door.

Somehow, impossibly, he was more gorgeous every time she saw him. He smiled at the sight of her and, unable to contain herself, she slipped through the door and into his arms.

But something was wrong, and she sensed it immediately. He didn’t crush her to him with his usual urgency, as if he were trying to fuse them into one being. He held back. Against her, he was stiff and distant.

Oh no. Don’t let this go bad.

Quickly, she released him and stepped back, forcing a smile to her lips. “I’m glad you’re here. Come on in, food’s ready.”

He followed her inside without comment, shutting the door behind him.

“It’s just lasagna,” she went on with determined optimism, heading to the kitchen. “I hope that’s all right.” Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending upon how one wanted to look at it—little of their time together had been spent going over likes and dislikes. And he was usually so vague about everything…

Maddie froze mid-step. It wasn’t intentional—it was all of her thought processes shutting down in one moment of complete, blinding horror.

All this time, and she’d never asked him. Stupidly, she’d just assumed. How could she be so blind? The reluctance to share any information about himself, or to talk about seeing her again. The comment about bad timing. Hell, everything, every sign had pointed to a truth she’d refused to acknowledge. It was probably due to his uncanny ability to stop her midsentence and give her orgasms when she began to question too much—he’d kept her mind scrambled.

It was clear now. Her fingers gripped the edge of her kitchen island for a moment and then she whirled to face him, still holding on for support in case his answer wasn’t what she wanted to hear. But her voice wasn’t as demanding as she wanted it to be.

“Are you married?”

Puzzlement flickered across his face, and she wasn’t sure whether to be comforted by that or not. A lock of dark hair arced enticingly over his forehead. He was taking far too freaking long to answer, only looking at her in that disturbingly assessing way of his that raised the hair at her nape. As usual, her mouth ran away with her.

“I can’t believe I never asked. I’m such an idiot. But if you’re here and you’ve got a sweet wife at home taking care of a passel of kids or something, then I’m just…I’m just going to…oh God, I’m going to hell.”

He laughed then, the first utterance he’d given since arriving at her apartment. It was a tight, unhappy sound. “Well, Madeleine, I have good news and I have bad news. It’s up to you which you want to hear first.”

“I guess I’ll delay the inevitable and take the good news.”

“I’m not married.”

She sagged in relief, one hand going to her wildly thumping heart. “Oh, thank God. You scared the crap out of me. Don’t do that.” Whatever bad news he had, at least she hadn’t slept with some poor woman’s husband. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself. Once she’d caught her breath, she lifted her gaze to his, feeling the distance between them more than ever. “I suppose the bad news is that this isn’t going to work for you, right?” Before he’d walked in her door, she’d been able to fool herself. But not now, with him standing in front of her. It was as if he’d brought in the truth and clubbed her over the head with it. “I know you know what I want. You have to realize I’d like to see you again, somehow. But I guess that isn’t going to happen, huh?”

“It’s not…anything like that. This—” he gave a gesture that seemed to encompass her and the entirety of her apartment, “—would work very well for me, actually. More than I’d like to admit.”

“Oh. Well, then…what’s the bad news?”

“I’m afraid the bad news is…there is a possibility that you could very well be going to hell.”

Chapter Twelve

His voice cracked at the end, something that had never happened to him in all the eons he’d been contracting and reaping. It wasn’t supposed to be hard. It was supposed to come naturally, but nothing since he’d touched Madeleine’s soft white skin had felt natural. He felt as if his own skin were on inside out.

She wasn’t taking him literally, of course. Confusion was written clearly across her furrowed brow. “What are you talking about? Did I do something?”

“You didn’t do a thing. It’s me. It’s no one’s fault but mine.” It was true. Her bastard of a father should’ve been left to perish as he was meant to. Gatlin really couldn’t be blamed for acting according to his own nature and saving himself. Ash turned away, unable to behold Madeleine’s innocent puzzlement any longer.

An angel. They were right. She was an angel on earth right this moment.

“I don’t understand. What’s your fault?” Her voice didn’t sound steady, either. At least he was in good company. “Look, I’ve heard ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ a dozen times. If you don’t want to be with me, please do better than that.”

“I want to be with you. The problem is that I wanted to be with you forever. And I can’t, not without great cost to you.”

“Okay, it’s like you’re speaking Swahili or something right now. I don’t understand what you’re telling me. Be straight, please.”

By the Dark Lord, he didn’t know how. He didn’t want to scare her. He didn’t want to show her those things he’d boasted about to Riam. It had all been talk. He was going to have to let her go. Everything on the inside of him felt twisted and contorted, out of place. Above all else, he didn’t want to tell her what he’d tried to do to her. Riam and Nicolae had forced his hand, and he hated them for it.

“Madeleine, I’m not who you think I am. I’m not even what you think I am. The night you saw me for the first time was not the first time we’ve met.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Remember, I said I thought I knew you.”

“Not the way you think. I’ve been following you all of your life, but you never saw me. I’ve been following you through…all your lives, and there have been many.”

Her reaction wasn’t what he expected. Her face smoothed over. Very calmly, she said, “What, like my guardian angel?”

“No. Just the opposite.”

“The opposite. A…demon, then?”

She was patronizing him. She thought he was insane, or using this as some elaborate ploy to get rid of her. It was clear from the downturn of her mouth and that terrible, resigned coolness that had settled over her.

“Demon! Demon!” that stupid bird croaked excitedly from the bedroom. “All signs point to yes!”

“That’s right. My name is Ashemnon. Twenty-seven years ago I entered an agreement with your father in which I could take his daughter—you—if only I would remove him from a situation that would result in his death. He traded you for his life, Madeleine, and now you belong to me.”

“My father.”

“Right.”

“I don’t even know my father.”

“Irrelevant. He didn’t know you, either. That didn’t stop him. In fact, it probably made it easier.”

“Tell me his name.”

“Maxwell Gatlin.”

He watched as all color drained from her face. Apparently she did know her father’s name, but hadn’t expected him to. For the first time, real fear began to creep across her features.

“You need to leave.”

“I’m not going to.”

Maddie left her sanctuary in the kitchen and all but sprinted toward the living room door. When he jumped in front of her to catch her, she was shaking. “I said you need to go!”

“I need you to believe me.”

She fought his hold and full-blown panic gripped her when she found she couldn’t break it, she couldn’t even loosen it. “You’re crazy. Get out before I start screaming.”

Quick fix for that. One flick of his magic and time ground to a halt. “Think about it, Madeleine. All the bizarre things that have happened to you all your life, the nightmares, the frightening things you’ve seen. The constant dread you feel. You’ve told me about all of it, but I already knew. There is a dark entity around you. It’s me.”

Her eyes were huge and luminous, welling with tears that quivered and then spilled over her cheeks. “How could you use that against me right now?”

He stared down at her, doing little to conceal the power emanating from him, or the heat gathering behind his eyes. This was the moment he’d been dreading, but there was nothing to be done for it. He had to show her. And he watched in agony as understanding dawned in her gaze.

“It was you doing that to me? All this time I thought I was going crazy and it was you!” The last word was screamed, and she fought him with renewed strength, surging with all her might against him. Fuck, she believed him. He saw it. He wrapped her in his arms, knowing he should let her go, let her get as far away from him as she could. But he couldn’t.