The Darkness(70)

They stared at each other for a long while and then he simply nodded.

"I thought so," she said just above a whisper.

"I couldn't help it," he said softly, his gaze searching her face. "You mad at me?"

She closed her eyes and hugged him. "Mad at you? Oh, God no . . ."

He let out a breath of relief and kissed her temple. "I didn't ask you first . . . we never discussed it."

"Your heart asked mine and mine said yes," she said quietly in his ear. "We've both wanted this for a long time, but . . . I just hope . . ."

"Don't say it, baby." His voice was moist and warm against the side of her face, and his kiss against her neck was just as gentle. "With all that I have, and all that I am, I swear to protect you this time."

She nodded and held him tighter. "I know that, always knew that . . . but I think we should wait until we know for sure."

"You're right," he said, his tone slightly dejected as he loosened his embrace so that he could look at her. "There were times when we thought it had happened and it hadn't."

She cupped his cheek, gently stroking it. "I know . . . that's why I want to be one hundred percent sure."

"Yeah, we shouldn't get ahead of ourselves with wishful thinking or worrying about what might not be.Right?" He sat up and then turned away from her to find the edge of the bed so he could stand.

"Oh, Carlos . . ." She caught his hand, staying his leave, and sat up. When she was sure he wouldn't bolt, she let go of his hand and scooted over to him, then made him turn to look at her. "I love you. I want it to happen, too. We can hope."

Her voice hitched as she held his face between her palms and stared into his deep brown eyes. Within them she was positive she could see eternity, the color was so pure,the gaze he offered so clear. And she knew that they were both afraid on so many levels it was impossible to articulate. Maybe that's why neither spoke the words or gave "it" a name, and danced around the topic, even while open and na**d and vulnerable in bed-that was just too hard after the losses and disappointments.

She kissed him slowly and tasted salt in his mouth. "It's going to be all right," she told him with fierce conviction embedded in a whisper.

"Promise me," he said in a barely audible tone, hanging his head and drawing in a deep, shuddering breath.

His request shook her to her core. It wasn't until that moment that she fully realized just how profoundly the losses had carved at his heart, too. All this time he had made it about her, how she'd felt, how she'd taken the losses so hard, her physical, mental, and spiritual well-being . . . all the while her husband was quietly hemorrhaging on the inside from the same emotional blows. This man had been hurt to the bone. Perhaps on many levels his wound was deeper, because no one had truly gone to him to help him purge it. The inequity was incomprehensible-he was supposed to get over it alone and with time, while she'd been surrounded by support and cleansing women's tears.

Her arms gently encircled his neck, then a palm cradled the back of his head, her fingers threading through his hair as she brought his cheek to lie against her br**sts. Defeat left his arms loose at his sides. But her slow, relentless kisses against his scalp, in time with her gentle rocking back and forth, soon brought life into his limbs enough for him to return her hug.

"I promise you, baby . . . with everything that's in me-it's gonna be all right. This time will be different. This time I'll be more careful. This time . . ." Damali let her head drop back as she closed her eyes, fighting tears-then she gave up and let them fall. "This time I'm gonna call in every marker, call all the angels, okay?" she whispered. "I won't let the other side do this to you again."

He knew and she knew that it was a hollow promise. No one could control the vagaries offate, much less know the grand design. But the fact that she'd said it, was willing to fight to make their dream manifest, and wanted what he wanted with as much passion, made him hug her tightly and add to the rocking.

She knew he was so close to meltdown that he couldn't speak. And if she said another word he'd lose it, so she held her peace. It was the touch that told her, the rough handling of her back as though he was trying to pull her inside of him to keep any and everything away from her, even the air. Each breath he dragged in and released was as ragged as the sob he refused to allow . . . wet and thick, his face burning up against her br**sts.

God, make it be all right. . . . The stress this man had been under for years tore at her. Something other men took for granted, the ability to sire, had been hunted by militias of darkness. Carlos could never assume he could father a child without incident. His woman's womb had been targeted, coveted, ransomed, gored, his child massacred and sacrificed to the cause-all while his hands had been tied, all while he'd been staked to a wall in Hell. She rocked him harder, her wings cloaking them both from the cruel memories.

Every kiss she landed against him now made him stop breathing. He had to let it out, once and for all in private, just man and wife. She broke her silence to break his dam.

"I swear to you, baby, I have enough hope for us both."

He stopped breathing, stopped rocking, and then his shoulders shook. It all came out in agonized gulps. She saw what tortured his mind, her large-bellied and vulnerable, the house under siege . . . her raising an Isis with him outgunned and outnumbered, just out of range, just out of reach as a huge, black claw gored her, leaving her stunned, glassy-eyed, and dead.An infant's wails, an overturned crib-him running through the house searching, taunted by pure evil and unable to locate their child. Her hysteria, screaming at him that the baby was gone, him paralyzed by not knowing where to look first.

"Baby, no . . . shush, no . . ." She held his head, grappling with his hair, trying to force good thoughts to override the bad.

His hand slid down her belly between their bodies and settled over her womb. "What have I done to you, D? I . . . had no right-"

"It's going to be all right," she repeated, cutting off his hoarse whisper. Every image that had been embedded within himshe light-shocked the moment it surfaced in his skull until he dropped his head back and began to hyperventilate.

"That's poison," she said quietly, firmly, now up on her knees to hold his head tighter between her palms. "They lied to you, from the day they first took you down into the pit. They knew this would f**k with you more than anything else in the world, baby. It was encoded into a throne. Dante used it, Nuit used it, Cain wallowed in it, Lilith horse-whipped you with it, and the Nameless probably bathes in it. So give it to me, once and for all. Right now, Carlos, give it to me and let me follow that dirty thread to the root and then choke it off with silver."

He held her wrists, trying to dislodge her hands."Don't go in, not that deep-I never wanted you to know how-"

"I'm your wife!" she shouted. "I've got your back!"