Not an answer. Not really. “I like being left alone.”
“And they’re not going to let that happen. Why now? What’s changed? You’ve been on Earth for a long time.” It didn’t make sense.
He shrugged again, seeming unconcerned. She grabbed his shoulders and shook him, or at least tried to. It was like trying to move a mountain—a very solid, stubborn one.
“What are you doing?” He wasn’t upset, just mildly interested.
“Trying to shake some sense into you, but not having any success. You have some powerful entities gunning for you.”
“That’s not new.”
She supposed it wasn’t, but that didn’t make it right or easier. “Think about it. The timing has to be a factor, especially since both Heaven and Hell are involved. How can you be a threat to both?”
Tilting his head back, he closed his eyes. Tattoos poked out from beneath the sleeves of his shirt and peeked out just above the collar. Maccus was a force of nature, strong and indomitable. But in this space of time, he seemed tired.
She leaned forward and rested her head against his chest. The loud thud of his heart comforted her. For a while they sat there, her pressed against him with his arms wrapped around her. It was peaceful. The only sound was that of their breath. It synced, and they were soon breathing as one. A sense of contentment filled her. If these were her last hours in the world, then they were good ones.
“I’m close to the edge,” he told her.
She pushed back so she could see him. His eyes were open and filled, once again, with the relentless determination she’d come to associate with him. “The edge of what?”
Chapter Fourteen
Why couldn’t Heaven and Hell leave him the fuck alone? He was done with them.
Happiness was an emotion he didn’t understand, but he’d established a rhythm, a way to live that gave him some semblance of peace and satisfaction.
He’d found contentment in the small things—the first cup of coffee, a sunrise, a good book.
But Morrigan had changed everything.
No matter what happened, the life he’d had would no longer be enough. Not when he’d finally had a taste of more, of something better.
“The edge of what?” she asked again.
He ran his hand over her hair. It was shiny and soft, and the glints of red caught the light. She had eyes like a cat, inquisitive and intelligent.
It was wrong of him to enjoy her softness, her giving. He couldn’t return it. Was too hard, too set in his ways.
“Darkness.”
She tilted her head to one side and frowned, trying to understand.
Was it wrong that he liked that she was wearing his shirt? It was like a stamp of possession. Even though she’d showered, he could still smell himself on her. That was even better.
His feelings confused him. Damn Gabriel for drawing him into this.
“What about the darkness?” Her soft question made him shake his head. She already knew too much about him.
For once in his life, he wanted to trust, even though she’d betray him in the end. It was inevitable. “The light, my soul, it’s almost gone.” He stoically awaited her judgment.
“What do you mean?” Her hand pressed against his chest, right over his heart, where her head had rested only a short while ago.
“Each time I kill, I lose a piece of myself, a part of the angel I was.” Fallen or not, he still had light inside him. It had allowed him to heal, to survive, but using it in such a ruthless manner had dimmed it until it was a tiny spark in the vast nothingness of his soul.
“That’s their goal. If you kill me, you lose your soul.” She shook him again or tried to. Her concern warmed him even as he cautioned himself not to take it to heart. When push came to shove, she’d protect herself. It was the nature of any creature from human to paranormal. The most basic instinct was survival.