Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels #4)

Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels #4) Page 52

“Meaning Taylor was close to winning anyway.”

“But he didn’t.” Ilianna rose suddenly from the bed. “And on that cheery note, I’m off to the canteen to grab a bite to eat. Don’t do anything daft while I’m gone.”

“Damn,” I muttered, “there goes my idea of line dancing down the hall with all the other reapers.”

She laughed, collected her purse, then headed out into the hall.

“That,” I said, amusement teasing my lips, “was a very obvious exit. Your doing?”

“Yes.” He sat down on the bed and caught my hand in his, entwining our fingers. Heat pressed into my skin, and warmed far more than it should have. “I’m sorry.”

I frowned. “What for? It’s not like you could have done anything to help me on the astral plane.”

“No, but if I had not been so foolishly stubborn, I could have done something once your astral being had returned to flesh.”

I stared at him, confused. “But what? It’s not like you can heal me anymore.”

“Ah, but that’s not entirely the truth.”

I closed my eyes for a moment. Though I wasn’t really surprised that he hadn’t been honest with me—even with something as simple as that—it still hurt. I thought we’d at least gotten past the lies—

“I did not entirely lie,” he interrupted. “I currently cannot fully heal you. Not against major wounds or the infection the hounds caused.”

“Then what—”

“I cannot heal because I no longer have the energy.”

I blinked. “What?”

“I need to recharge,” he said softly. “I have gone a long time without doing so, and it is beginning to show.”

“But you and I made love,” I said, my confusion growing. “Couldn’t you have recharged then?”

“I could have, but I didn’t.” His fingers tightened around mine. Pain rippled, but I didn’t say anything. He could have crushed my hand and I don’t think I would have said anything. My gaze—and my attention—was on his face. A face that did not reveal his emotions, even though the turbulent force of them ran like quicksilver through my being. “I erroneously believed it was better for the mission and us both that I hold myself apart, and not take what I needed.”

“But why?” I hesitated, then said, “It increases the risk of assimilation, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. And at the time, I feared that more than I feared not being able to heal you.”

“And now?” I asked, my gaze searching his, seeking an admission, wanting to hear that he cared even though it was obvious that he did. More than he should, more than was wise.

“And now,” he said softly, “I know there is a fate far worse than remaining a dark angel for time eternal.”

Tears stung my eyes. While it was an admission I’d ached to hear, it was nevertheless a dangerous one for us both. We both had dreams of a future once this quest was ended, and what now lay acknowledged between us was as dangerous to those dreams as the quest itself.

“So where does that leave us?” I asked.

“I don’t know. The only thing I do know is that I could not ever relive the horror of the last five days. Fighting to protect your body while you were battling for your life on the astral plane was bad enough, but being able to do little more than watch you weaken from wounds I should have been able to heal . . .” He paused and took a deep breath. “Not again. Not ever again.”

Just for a moment, the control vanished, and emotions were there for all to see, so deep and dark and raw that it made my heart ache.

I tugged him toward me, wrapped my free arm around his neck, and just held him. The press of his body felt so real and right that tears trickled down my cheeks. Because it might be real, but it wasn’t right. Not really.

“I’m willing to risk assimilation if it helps us both,” I whispered. “But the decision has to be yours. You’re the only one who truly understands the consequences either way.”

He didn’t say anything immediately; then he sighed and pulled away. His gaze, when it caught mine, was troubled.

“Then we take the risk,” he said. “And may fate be gentle on us both.”