because of the talisman, because of Lilith, because I wasn't the woman he loved. The one he desired, sure. And the one he had to protect. But love wasn't a factor. It was just another pathetic sign of my own loneliness that I wished it were any different.
I ached for Connor, for both of us.
Connor magicked up soap and washcloths and shampoo, and we separated to scrub ourselves. When we were finished, we moved away from the waterfall. He created big, thick cotton towels, and we dried off.
The silence between us wasn't exactly comfortable. There was so much to do, to worry about, to figure out before we could even begin to unravel the mating issue.
I leaned over to rub the towel over my hair. When I straightened, Connor was fully dressed in a black T-shirt, faded denims, and snakeskin boots. Even his hair was dry and brushed.
"Hey, do I get clothes, too?"
"I like you as you are," he said, grinning. Then he flicked his fingers and red magic spun toward me.
Within seconds I found myself dressed in black jeans, a rust-colored shirt and short-sleeved jacket, and black ankle boots. To my surprise, I was also wearing my holster with my Glock securely tucked inside and hidden under the jacket.
"Your knives are in your boots," he said.
He knew I used to wear the Glock, with its Wiccan-blessed silver bullets, before the Invisi-shield had gone active - I'd told him that. He knew I was pretty good with my throwing knives, too, though how he'd known I kept them tucked into my boots, I didn't know. Maybe he guessed. Or maybe he snooped while I was in my vampire coma. From the guilty expression sliding across his face, I figured it was snooping.
"It's not really your stuff," he said. "I just recreated it."
Connor reached for my hand.
The air went still, the world black and zingy, and then, pop , we were back in the first cavern. Scrymgeour, who'd been asleep, jumped to his tiny feet and scurried toward Connor. He leaned down and scooped up his puppy, allowing the hellhound to lick his face.
My gaze landed on the demon bodies that still hadn't dissipated. I studied them as several mental pieces clicked into a very ugly puzzle. The smell. The location. The hellhound. The demons. One thing I knew about demons was that they had to return to the Pit to heal from grievous injuries. Usually they poofed Downstairs quick-like.
Yeah. No denying it now.
"Connor?" I asked softly. Anger fluttered somewhere beyond the relief that I was alive (sorta) and clean. "Are we in hell?"
Chapter 13
Jennifer had told me, in a fashion. She'd said it wasn't too bad on the first level. I hadn't considered what she meant because the conversation had been so odd. Nope. I just said to send me to where Connor was without asking any more questions.
Scrymgeour jumped out of his master's arms and sat next to Connor, his little bulgy brown eyes on me. His tongue lolled out of his mouth. Aw. He was so cute for a mutt that munched on demons.
"You're angry, aren't you, lass?"
"You think?" I waved my hands around. "Does Jennifer live in hell?"
"Sorta."
"What?"
Connor held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, his expression one of trepidation. He looked at me as though he were trying to figure out how to explain why he'd taken me to hell in a way that might not upset me.
Right.
"We're on the uppermost level," he said, as though that were a perk.
"I don't want to be on any level."
"It was the safest place to go."
"You have a really stupid definition of 'safe.' Hell is the opposite of safe." I gestured toward the demon corpses as evidence. Gah! I wanted to punch him in the head. I clenched my fists. "Get us out of here now!"
"Okay, lass." He wisely refrained from telling me to calm down.
"I want to talk to my son. I want to hug him and rub my face in his hair and tickle his belly." My voice bordered on the edge of whiny. "And I want some cookies." I looked at him in horror. "I can't eat. Oh, my God. I can't eat human food unless I'm in Broken
I ached for Connor, for both of us.
Connor magicked up soap and washcloths and shampoo, and we separated to scrub ourselves. When we were finished, we moved away from the waterfall. He created big, thick cotton towels, and we dried off.
The silence between us wasn't exactly comfortable. There was so much to do, to worry about, to figure out before we could even begin to unravel the mating issue.
I leaned over to rub the towel over my hair. When I straightened, Connor was fully dressed in a black T-shirt, faded denims, and snakeskin boots. Even his hair was dry and brushed.
"Hey, do I get clothes, too?"
"I like you as you are," he said, grinning. Then he flicked his fingers and red magic spun toward me.
Within seconds I found myself dressed in black jeans, a rust-colored shirt and short-sleeved jacket, and black ankle boots. To my surprise, I was also wearing my holster with my Glock securely tucked inside and hidden under the jacket.
"Your knives are in your boots," he said.
He knew I used to wear the Glock, with its Wiccan-blessed silver bullets, before the Invisi-shield had gone active - I'd told him that. He knew I was pretty good with my throwing knives, too, though how he'd known I kept them tucked into my boots, I didn't know. Maybe he guessed. Or maybe he snooped while I was in my vampire coma. From the guilty expression sliding across his face, I figured it was snooping.
"It's not really your stuff," he said. "I just recreated it."
Connor reached for my hand.
The air went still, the world black and zingy, and then, pop , we were back in the first cavern. Scrymgeour, who'd been asleep, jumped to his tiny feet and scurried toward Connor. He leaned down and scooped up his puppy, allowing the hellhound to lick his face.
My gaze landed on the demon bodies that still hadn't dissipated. I studied them as several mental pieces clicked into a very ugly puzzle. The smell. The location. The hellhound. The demons. One thing I knew about demons was that they had to return to the Pit to heal from grievous injuries. Usually they poofed Downstairs quick-like.
Yeah. No denying it now.
"Connor?" I asked softly. Anger fluttered somewhere beyond the relief that I was alive (sorta) and clean. "Are we in hell?"
Chapter 13
Jennifer had told me, in a fashion. She'd said it wasn't too bad on the first level. I hadn't considered what she meant because the conversation had been so odd. Nope. I just said to send me to where Connor was without asking any more questions.
Scrymgeour jumped out of his master's arms and sat next to Connor, his little bulgy brown eyes on me. His tongue lolled out of his mouth. Aw. He was so cute for a mutt that munched on demons.
"You're angry, aren't you, lass?"
"You think?" I waved my hands around. "Does Jennifer live in hell?"
"Sorta."
"What?"
Connor held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, his expression one of trepidation. He looked at me as though he were trying to figure out how to explain why he'd taken me to hell in a way that might not upset me.
Right.
"We're on the uppermost level," he said, as though that were a perk.
"I don't want to be on any level."
"It was the safest place to go."
"You have a really stupid definition of 'safe.' Hell is the opposite of safe." I gestured toward the demon corpses as evidence. Gah! I wanted to punch him in the head. I clenched my fists. "Get us out of here now!"
"Okay, lass." He wisely refrained from telling me to calm down.
"I want to talk to my son. I want to hug him and rub my face in his hair and tickle his belly." My voice bordered on the edge of whiny. "And I want some cookies." I looked at him in horror. "I can't eat. Oh, my God. I can't eat human food unless I'm in Broken
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