Immortal (Fallen Angels #6)(78)
Author: J.R. Ward

She hated the weight of the tome in her hands, and the old-man-flesh feel of its cover. Hated being near it at all. Before, it had been nothing more than some book; now it felt like she was carrying a severed arm over to the light.

It was two deep breaths before she could open the thing. Two more before she could actually look down and—

“What the hell?”

Frowning, she flipped through the pages, going back and forth and … nope, she recognized nothing. The writing now seemed like something utterly foreign, a hodgepodge of symbols and strange letters that was unreadable as far as she was concerned.

Closing the volume up, she returned it to its place on the mantel.

The relief was so great, she was dizzy.

Hitting the stairs, she was halfway up before something Jim said came back to her. It had been when they’d sat outside and she’d asked him, What happens now?

With you? Nothing.

At the time, she’d been talking about the war, not her future, but his answer had been about her and her alone.

Assuming he won the war—and she had to believe he would, because the alternative of her, and everyone else, going into Devina’s possession was too horrifying to contemplate—what then? She had to think that if she’d been welcome in Heaven, she would have ended up there after the ritual in that tub at the loft. But no, she was still here.

Guess eternity on a cloud wasn’t in her future.

So what did that leave her? Endless years roaming the earth as some disembodied soul? Because halo aside, that was what she was, for all intents and purposes.

Resuming her ascent, she went to Jim’s room, slipped through the doorway, and took off her sweats before getting in between the sheets. As strong arms scooped her up and pulled her into a tight embrace, she needed the warmth and the grounding.

They’d figure it out, she told herself. If they could get Devina out of her, they’d be able to make something work.

As long as they had each other, Heaven was wherever they were.

Jim waited until Sissy’s breathing was slow and even—and then he stayed in bed a good twenty minutes past that. When he finally did urge her over onto her back and remove his arms from her, she murmured something, but stayed asleep.

Getting out of bed and dressed without making a sound wasn’t a problem. Belting his dagger holster around his waist and tucking a crystal knife into the thing was easy in the dark. Snagging a conventional SIG Sauer and tucking it into the small of his back was a piece of cake.

But leaving her was hard.

As he paused with his hand on the doorknob, he stared at the bed. There wasn’t a ton of light in the room, but he knew where she was, heard her sigh as she burrowed into the pillows, pictured her rubbing her face in her sleep.

Instead of giving him pause to reconsider, it only sharpened his resolve.

Before he left, however, he had an impulse that had to do with her safety, and he gave in to it quickly and efficiently. Then he was out into the night, passing through the glass of the circular window that overlooked the sitting area, Angel Airlines taking him through the air. It was not until he was well away from the house that he dropped out of the sky and sent the summons.

For once, it was answered immediately. As if the demon had been waiting for him.

Proceeding downtown, he didn’t fuck around with the hotel lobby’s judgmental busybody. He just landed on the terrace of the penthouse and walked over to the French doors. When he tried the brass handles, they were locked.

Of course she was going to make him knock.

As he curled up a fist and put his knuckles to the glass, he kept his cool. The only thing he cared about was getting into the demon’s space. Whatever he had to say, to do, to make that happen? He was going to rock that shit.

Now Devina took her own sweet time. With the cold wind blowing hard up this high, he might have gotten chilled to the bone, but he was too pissed off to care whether or not he was in the damned arctic—

Devina finally turned a corner and came into the living room, posing by the bar like she was at a photo shoot for Vogue—or maybe Hustler was more like it. She was in a bra and panties that were more black lace than satin, a gossamer-thin “robe” falling from her shoulders to the floor. Her hair was loose and curled into big fat ringlets, and her makeup was film noir, all smoky eyes and blood-red lips. And to top it off? Her skin-colored heels were a mile high, and made out of something that shimmered like diamonds—plus, yeah, there was some kind of garter belt involved.

To him, she was about as sexually attractive as a ninety-year-old woman with her teeth out.

But clearly she didn’t know that: Apparently deciding that he’d seen enough, she came forward, her hips swaying, that hair bouncing along with those double-Ds of hers, her tongue licking her lips. As she opened things up and he stepped through, she ran her hand over his chest and shoulders.

And he let her do it.

“To what do I owe this pleasure,” she drawled as she shut them in.

He kept his voice casual as he scanned around the living area, cataloging objects. “We need to talk.”

“Finally,” she muttered as she went over and positioned herself on one of the leather armchairs. “I thought you’d never come back.”

Jim wandered around, putting his hands out and letting them float over the side table, the back of another chair, a lamp. “I’ve been doing some thinking.”

“Yes?”

He could hear the hope in her voice. “And I’ve decided you’re right.”

“Yes…?”

Okay, now she was downright breathless.

He stopped. Pivoted to face her. “Yeah. I think we should quit.”

Chapter Forty-four

Goddamn it, Devina thought.

As she sat in her chair, with her Heidi Klum legs crossed, her hair glossy as varnish, and her breasts looking like a million bucks in La Perla, she’d been so ready to hear something else come out of him.

Something like, I made a mistake and I need only you. Or, Sissy’s so fucking boring, I want to slit my own throat when I have sex with her. Maybe even, Marry me.

Instead, he wanted to quit.

“You were the one who suggested it,” he said as he continued to stroll around her living room. “You brought it up as an option. And I think you’re right. I think that’s what we need to do.”

Excuse me while I readjust the settings on my monitor, she thought bitterly.

He stepped over to the bar. “You want a drink?”

No, I’d like you to be romantic. For once. You heartless motherfucker.