I think I love you.
Her words clanged around in his skull so hard it hurt. Sweat popped out on his brow.
I trust you.
Emotion clogged his throat and cut off his breath. Only Shade had ever really trusted him and even then, the trust had limits.
“Please, Josh.”
I trust you.
Serena was flame against him, her body scorching him on the outside, her trust and love warming him on the inside, a place that had been a dark, cold cavern for as long as he could remember. She was beautiful inside and out, and she didn’t deserve what he was about to do to her. Not without a guarantee that she would survive afterward.
His brothers would never forgive him, but he couldn’t take her life.
“I can’t,” he panted, rearing back. “No.”
“But—”
“I can’t give you what you want, Serena. I’ll never be able to. Not like that.” Gods, he was a fool, a fool who had just signed three death warrants. “I’ll make you feel good, though. I promise you that.”
He kissed his way down her body and dove between her legs, used his mouth to punish her for making him burn like this. His punishment made her come over and over, until she couldn’t move, lay limp on the bed.
Shaking with a combination of extreme arousal, exhaustion, and not a little fear, he crawled up beside her and pulled her into his arms until her breathing eased into sleep. He thanked his lucky stars he’d shot up with the anti-libido drug before dinner, because although he was experiencing some serious blue balls despite the earlier release, he wasn’t in crippling pain. This would ease off eventually. He winced as he adjusted himself. Hopefully, it would ease off soon.
He didn’t know how long they lay like that, her sleeping peacefully and him feeling the chill of death take hold, but when she began to stir, the sky outside the window had lightened. A muffled beeping came from his pants on the floor. He stifled a groan and dug his phone out of the pocket.
No cure.
The text on the screen from the demoness sat like a hot coal in his gut. There truly was no hope now. He lifted his other wrist, which felt way too heavy, checked his watch.
And knew what he had to do.
Carefully, he eased out of the tangle of their na**d bodies and dressed. Every joint, every muscle screamed in agony, and he had a feeling that, this time, no amount of medication was going to help.
“Hey,” she mumbled. “What are you doing?”
He jammed his foot into a boot, and when he didn’t answer, because he didn’t know what to say, she sat up and brought her hand down on his shoulder. He jerked away.
“The train will be pulling into Cairo in half an hour. I’m getting off. Going home.”
She blinked, her groggy gaze unfocused. “I don’t understand. Why?”
“We almost had sex.”
“No, we didn’t.”
She didn’t remember. He wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or not.
“Yeah, we did.”
She rubbed her eyes. “Even if we almost did… we didn’t. So… why are you leaving?”
A shudder wracked his body as he exhaled. He bent to pick up the wooden top that had fallen to the floor. “I’m leaving because I’m afraid that eventually, we will, and I can’t be responsible for killing you.”
“What?” She came to her feet, tugged the bed sheet to her chest, as if that would hide anything. Her body, her curves, every freaking detail was imprinted on his brain. “You think I’m not strong enough to resist you? You think you have to play martyr and keep yourself away from me so I won’t weaken in your presence and force you to have sex with me or something?”
“Ah… no. I’m not exactly the martyr type—”
“So you just don’t want to have sex with me?”
He opened his mouth, but before he could deny that particular question, she slammed her palm into his chest. Hard.
“Answer me!” she shouted. She was coming down from the effects of the aphrodisiac. He recognized the signs of a drug crash, had lived them himself.
“I can’t risk your life, Serena. I won’t. And I’m not strong enough to promise that I can be near you and not want you.”
“Get out!” She was coming down hard, practically spitting fire and completely irrational. She pointed at the door. “Get out and… and go to hell!”
“That,” he croaked, “is only a matter of time.” He opened the door and paused at the threshold. “I’ll make sure someone will get on in Cairo to take you the rest of the way home.”
He fled, steeling himself against her voice, calling out his name. He tore through so many cars he lost count, elbowing people aside, until he reached the cargo car.
Weak from the poison, shaken by what had just happened, and battling the intense desire to return to Serena, he collapsed onto a crate. An ache in his chest tugged at him, and he knew that if he gave into it, it would take him straight back to Serena.
Maybe he didn’t have to leave. Maybe he could stay with her until the last possible minute, spend his final days—hours, probably—with someone who gave him a reason to live.
Right, because she’d no doubt love to care for him as he lay dying.
He wanted to stay with her, but for the first time in his life, he was going to do the right thing, not the selfish thing. He wouldn’t make her watch him die. He’d go home, and she’d remember him as he was, not as some frail, failing shell.
He glanced at his watch again. Half an hour. He’d call Tayla, have her meet the train in Cairo and take care of Serena. Then he’d find a Harrowgate and be back at the hospital before things got really bad.
His brothers would take care of him like they always had, if they forgave him for signing their death warrants, that is.
Twenty
Serena sat in her compartment, wondering what had just happened. Josh had left her because she might have sex with him? Why would he think that?
Last night she’d wanted to pleasure him as he’d done to her, and then… then… what? She blinked against the flood of fuzzy memories.
Make love to me.
Oh, God. She’d said that. She’d really said that. She’d been all over him, begging him for sex. Humiliation made her skin crawl and her face burn. What had he said, that someone must have slipped a Mickey into her drink at dinner?
Her clothes from last night lay scattered all over the tiny room, evidence of her lapse of control. Stomach turning over, she got dressed, cursed the wrinkles in her olive skirt and cream blouse. She looked like she’d been pulled out of a suitcase.
I want to feel you inside me.
Mortified, she groaned and sank down on the bed again. Everything came back to her, clear as crystal. She remembered how Josh had taken care of her but hadn’t taken advantage of her hyper-horny state. He could have, but he didn’t.
He’d wanted to save her life.
And how had she thanked him? By going into a rage, yelling at a dying man when he said he was leaving.
Leaving. Fear flickered in her chest. He’d said he was dying, but she wouldn’t lose a single minute with him. And maybe… maybe The Aegis could help. Maybe Val knew of some curative magic or artifacts.
She could not lose him.
Someone tapped at the door. Oh, please, please, let it be Josh.… She leaped up and whipped open the door. “Jo—” She cut off with a gasp.
Leaping backward, she tried to slam the door shut, but Byzamoth, looking as he had the first time she’d seen him—angelic and beautiful—blocked her effort, moving inside as sinuously as a snake. He closed the door behind him.
She opened her mouth to scream, but he crushed her to the wall, his hard, muscular body against hers. “If you keep your mouth shut, I won’t hurt you.” He dragged his tongue up her cheek, and she shuddered. “Not much.” Terror turned her legs to jelly. He laughed, the sugary sound tangled with a thread of sinister darkness. “But I am going to rob you. Of both your charms.”
His fist closed around her necklace, and she almost smiled, because that sucker wasn’t going anywhere. Then, to her horror, it broke free of her neck and dangled from his hand.
He slipped the necklace into his dishdasha and hiked up her skirt. “Now, the other one.”
He tore open his robes. His form morphed and, like a shapeshifting sequence in a horror movie, he went from being beautiful to the hairless gray thing with a batlike, veiny wing she’d seen at the Regent’s place. Between his legs, his huge penis jutted obscenely upward, oozing a dark substance from the tip.
Sweet Jesus, he was going to impale her with that hideous thing. Her blood congealed. Petrified, shaking, she tried to scream, but nothing came out. Not even her breath made it past the lump of terror in her throat.
“What’s the matter, love? Say something. Your fear arouses me.” He inhaled. “The scent of your fear is intoxicating, but even more so is the sound of your voice. The tremor. The pitch. Say something.”
“Fuck you,” she croaked. “That’s something.”
He backhanded her so hard she saw stars. “Bitch. I’m going to f**k you until you’re dead.” He smiled cruelly, trailed his fingers over her cheek. “You’re afraid to die, aren’t you? The smell of your terror is spiking. So arousing.… now, ask me why. Why I’m doing this.”
She didn’t want to, but at this point, humoring him seemed like a better idea than mouthing off. “Why are you doing this?”
He hit her again. “Don’t ask me stupid questions.”
Fury and pain overrode her fear. She was tired of being hit, and she wasn’t going down without a fight. Snarling, she shoved him as hard as she could and kneed him between the legs. He didn’t flinch, but he did slam his forearm into her throat, cutting off her breath.
“That was stupid.” His voice cracked like a whip.
She clawed at his arm and kicked at him as her lungs struggled for air.
He dangled her necklace in front of her face. “Do you know what this is? What it does?” He let up on the pressure on her neck just enough for her to gulp air and shake her head. “Of course not. Because that would be against the rules. And the rules must always be followed.”