Beck tipped her chin up. “You mean you want us to—”

  “Yes. I’m so scared, Den. The only place I feel safe is with you.”

  Their foreheads touched. “Same with me,” he murmured. “But if we . . . it would change everythin’ between us. There would be no goin’ back.”

  She leaned away until she could see his eyes again. “I don’t ever want to go back to the way it was. I love you.” I trust you.

  He pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, his gaze remarkably tender. “I want nothin’ more than to scoop you up in my arms and carry you to my bed.”

  “And then?” she whispered, her heart beating faster now. What would it be like to feel his skin against hers?

  “Then I’d show you what it means to be loved by a Southern boy.” His face filled with a sultry grin. “It wouldn’t be quick. No, it’d probably take all night.”

  For a second, Riley forgot how to breathe.

  “If yer sayin’ that’s what you want—” he began.

  She cut off his final words with a kiss, one nearly as possessive and needy as the one she’d given him at the bus station. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly against him. Riley could feel his pulse quicken. When they broke apart, his eyes shone with unbridled desire.

  Beck swept her up in his arms. When she protested she could walk to the bedroom, he refused to put her down. Instead, he laughed, carrying her down the hall. “Why do you think I lift weights?”

  He laid her on the bed, then stood to strip off his shirt. His muscles moved in unison as the garment hit the floor, revealing a patchwork of healing bug bites. Then he remembered his boots and parked himself on the edge of the bed to unlace them, grumbling under his breath at the delay.

  “I thought you had a lot of practice at this,” Riley jested, trying to cope with her sudden case of nerves.

  “I do. Just not with you.” The boots landed on the floor with pronounced thumps as she toed off her tennis shoes.

  Beck rolled over on the bed, caging her in his arms. The first kiss was hesitant. The second grew more bold and uninhibited. When she didn’t response as he’d expected, he pulled back.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Lost in the heady rush of emotions, Riley had forgotten something important. “Ah, we can’t do this. I don’t have any … ah, protection.”

  “Already taken care of,” he replied. “There’s a box of rubbers in the nightstand.”

  She frowned up at him. “I thought you didn’t bring girls here.”

  “I never have, until tonight.” He gave her his best bad-boy smile. “I always knew you’d come after me eventually.”

  “You arrogant little—” His kiss cut her off.

  Beck wasn’t feeling arrogant. He was nervous. He’d been with a lot of women, but none of them were Riley. It wasn’t that she didn’t know about the loving, what happened between a guy and a gal, but this was her first time with him, and he wanted nothing less than to erase her memory of that night with the angel. He wanted Riley to be his, alone.

  As she ran her hand through his hair, he leaned close, inhaling the scent of her light perfume. This was his woman, the one who possessed a heart of steel. She loved him unconditionally.

  He began with light kisses on her forehead and cheeks, savoring the ability to touch her so freely. He’d wanted to for so long, often sneaking glances at her when she wasn’t watching, thinking of what it would be like. With all that they had gone through, this would be more than a meeting of the flesh. Beck knew they were forging together their very souls.

  When the last pieces of clothing were removed, Riley’s nerves flared to life. Beck had been with so many girls. What would he think of her? As if he knew her worries, he placed a delicate kiss in the center of her forehead.

  “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever been with.”

  “Really?”

  “Without a doubt,” he replied.

  At his urging, she shyly began to explore his body, running her hands down his back, encountering the scars his life had left behind. Her guy wasn’t perfect, not like the angel, but each wound told the story of his journey to her, and that made her love him even more.

  In return, he seemed to know where to touch her, as if they’d been lovers before. Kiss by kiss, caress by caress, he stoked the rampant fire within her. She had never felt so alive, so true to herself as in this moment. As Beck leaned over to the nightstand, Riley closed her eyes. No matter what befell them after this night, they’d always be together, their hearts as entwined as their bodies would soon be.

  When he turned back toward her, he kissed her deeply. “Don’t ever doubt that I love you,” he said, cupping her chin in his strong hands. “That will never change.”

  Beck’s taut body covered hers, alive and vital, charged with desire. And then they became one.

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  Riley lay with her head against Beck’s bare chest, listening to his heart. Their joining had been full of discovery, heady and passionate, the way it was supposed to be between lovers. A few of his chest hairs tickled her nose, so she smoothed them down with a hand. That earned her a pleased hum.

  “You’ll stay all night, right?” he asked.

  Riley nodded, snuggling closer to him. Nothing in this world was going to pull her away, except maybe the angel. That possibility she didn’t want to consider.

  If she wasn’t moving from Beck’s bed, she’d better call Stewart. When she said as much, he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and headed down the hall. A short time later he returned with her phone. As she dialed, he retreated to the bathroom.

  Coward. Not that the Scotsman would be upset by this change in their relationship.

  “Master Stewart. Atlanta Guild,” the master’s tired voice announced.

  There was no point in shading the truth as he’d see right through any white lie. “Hi, ah, it’s Riley. I don’t want you to worry about me, but I’m staying at Beck’s tonight.”

  “Lots of homework, huh?” he said, mischievously.

  “Ah, yeah.”

  He chuckled into the phone. “I’ll not be worried if yer with him. Just be adult about it and take the proper precautions. Ya don’t need a wee bairn this soon.”

  Riley’s cheeks burned in embarrassment. “Got it.”

  “Good night ta ya, then.”

  As she set the phone on the nightstand, Beck returned, settling on the edge of the bed. When Riley relayed the public service message, trying hard to imitate the Scotsman’s broad accent, he laughed at her pitiful attempt.

  “I didn’t think Stewart would be upset. He knew we were in love a lot sooner than we did.”

  In his hand was a flat white box about two inches square. When she gave him a quizzical look, he opened it, removed something, and then set the box aside. Resting in his palm was a silver band, interlaced with ivy leaves.

  Riley’s breath caught as Beck shifted the ring to rest between his thumb and index finger, admiring it.

  “It’s too soon to ask you to, ah.” He groaned and shook his head. “I’m not doin’ this right.” The hand holding the ring trembled now. “This is my grandmamma’s wedding ring. She and my granddaddy were married for over forty-five years.”

  “That’s a long time, Den.”

  “Yeah, and they never stopped lovin’ each other. I miss them so much.” He took a deep breath. “A few days before my gran passed over, she gave this ring to me. She said that the ivy means faithfulness, and that when I found the right woman, I should give this to her. I want you to know that this isn’t a one-night thing for me. I’m in this for the long haul.”

  “Same here,” she murmured.

  He reached for Riley’s right hand, and then hesitated as if there was one last hurdle to overcome. He took a very deep breath and let it out slowly. “Will you wear my ring so all the world knows yer mine?”

  Beck wasn’t asking for her hand in marriage, but it was so close he might as well be. Riley was deeply touched, and she struggled to find the right words.

  “Yes,” she began. “I’d be proud to.”

  With a pleased smile, he slid the circlet onto her right ring finger. It fit pretty well. The band wasn’t shiny and new, but that didn’t trouble her. This symbol of love had endured for over four decades. That Beck would want her to have it revealed the depth of his commitment.

  “Looks good on you,” he said, smiling wider now. “I know it’s not fancy, but maybe someday you’ll do me the honor of, well, movin’ it to the other hand.”

  Yet again, he’d captured her heart. “That could happen,” she said, touching his face fondly.

  He grasped her hand. “I’ve never given this ring to any other girl before.”

  Wow. “You’ve blown me away, Den.”

  “That was the whole idea.” He gently laid her back on the bed, threading his fingers in hers. “I don’t know how long we have together, but I want to make every day count.”

  Tears bloomed. “You’re an awesome man, you know?”

  “Only when I’m with you.”

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  To Beck’s profound relief, the angel had not summoned Riley during their first night together. He knew that wouldn’t last and he wasn’t sure how to handle the problem. Actually, he did. He wanted to tear the bastard’s wings off and bury his steel pipe deep in Ori’s chest. Despite that desire, he had to know what was really going on.

  When Riley came to his house the next night, he invited her to his bed, then laid down the law.

  “I’ll watch over you tonight,” he said firmly. “I won’t let him take you from me.”

  “You won’t be able to stop him.”

  “Then I’ll go with you. Fight by yer side. I am not gonna let him get you killed.”

  They’d said no more after that, knowing they were wasting their breath. Everything felt more urgent now, as if every hour might be their last. After they made love, they rested. Then Riley dressed and crawled back into bed with him, a sobering admission that her life was not her own. Beck dressed as well, then held her close against his body as she drifted into an uneasy sleep.

  When his neck began to cramp, he rolled over onto his back. Unwilling to break contact, his hand sought hers. She murmured his name in her sleep and that pleased him.

  The angel may own your soul, but he doesn’t own your heart. I will not let him hurt you ever again. I will kill him first, or I’ll die tryin’.

  Even with his best efforts to remain on guard, he finally fell asleep with his lover by his side. When he roused a couple of hours later, he rolled over toward Riley, seeking her comforting warmth. She was gone.

  He jolted out of bed and called her name, but there was no reply. A quick search of the house proved the angel had stolen her away. With a cry of anguish, Beck retreated to his bedroom to await her return.

  THIRTY

  Riley had expected a return trip to some alley in Demon Central, but nothing looked familiar. In fact, this wasn’t like any place she’d ever seen. In the distance was a wall of flames, undulating crimson and yellow, and a smell hung in the air, sharply caustic.

  Sulfur. This was Hell.

  “Why are we here?” she demanded. She wasn’t dead, or at least she didn’t think she was. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep next to Beck.

  “We have been summoned before my master,” was Ori’s chilly reply.

  “But—”

  “Keep up,” he ordered, moving forward at a pace that made it difficult to comply. “You fall behind, you’ll remain here.”

  When Riley sprinted to catch up with him, they quickly reached the wall of flames. Too quickly for the distance involved. Time and space were different here.

  The wall wasn’t actually made of fire. Instead, each flame was caught within a tiny shard of glass. Millions of them billowed upward in a solid curtain. “What are those things?”

  “The souls of the damned,” Ori replied. He stood beside her now, in his full angelic glory. “How many are there?” he said, as if she’d posed the question. “Even the Prince has lost count.”

  “I can’t go through that. It’ll cut me to pieces.”

  “You are under my protection. You will not be harmed.”

  “What if Lucifer decides otherwise?”

  He frowned, but offered his hand nonetheless. Riley took it and jammed her eyes shut as they traversed the sheet of flaming souls. She waited for the shards to flay her flesh, to strip her to the bone but the pain never came.

  “If nothing more, you should know you can trust me,” the angel said reproachfully. “Yet you trust that trapper. I do not understand.”

  “I love him.”

  “You once loved me, did you not?”

  “Yes, but that was different,” Riley replied. “We both know why that didn’t last.”

  “If you think I took pleasure in what I had to do, you would be wrong. It was the only way to keep you safe.”

  “If I’m safe, then why am I in Hell?” she asked.

  Ori’s shoulders tightened. “Because I refused to give up your soul. Now we both must pay the price for that defiance.”

  He ceased speaking after that, pressing her to move faster now, as if to make up for lost time. The landscape became more like Riley’s idea of Hell, a bleak, desolate terrain pockmarked by craters, like the moon. Dense steam poured out of them along with the nauseating stench of rotten eggs. She covered her nose with her palm, trying not to gag.

  Ori eyed her. “What does it look like to you?” She described it to him. “To each it is different. Your mind provides your own version of Hell. My Hell is different.”

  She wanted to ask what his was like, but something told her not to pose that question.

  They soon reached a wide stone gate where two Archfiends stood guard on either side of the portal, each armed with curved swords. They eyed Riley with their goat-slit eyes.

  As Ori passed by them, they bowed, but not very deep, as if such deference was expected but not warranted. In her mind she heard the fiends talking to each other, speaking of the delicate morsel that the Divine had plucked from the mortal world and how he had not offered that morsel to his master. That now he was a traitor to the Prince.

  “Do not listen to them,” Ori said, steering her down a damp tunnel where verdant moss carpeted the walls. Right before the tunnel ended, a bizarre mouselike creature with tiny spikes skittered ahead of them. As they entered an open area, a dense fog greeted them, as if somehow they’d been transported to the seashore.

  “These are the shades of the damned,” Ori said. “They’re quite thick here. Some you might recognize.”

  God, I hope not.

  “So many,” she whispered as individual faces swam by her, quickly replaced by another and then another.

  “Some are here for eternity. Others pass through once their souls are cleansed of their sins.”

  “You mean Hell’s not a forever thing?” she asked, surprised.

  “It depends on the deeds of the deceased.”

  “What about me?”

  The angel did not reply.

  It took some time, but eventually they reached a demon who sat at an antique wooden desk laden with stacked IN and OUT trays, like you’d find in any earthly office. He, or at least Riley thought it was male, had a quill pen wedged behind his fan-shaped ear. This was a clerk. A Hellish one. She wondered how many of them it took to handle Lucifer’s infernal business.

  “State your name and purpose,” the fiend said.

  “You know who I am, Asbantarus,” Ori replied crisply. “The Prince has summoned me. I bring with me the living mortal, Riley Anora Blackthorne.”

  The demon’s goat eyes checked out Riley, and then he nodded. With a wave of a scaly hand, a door appeared in the solid rock wall behind the desk.

  They were about to enter Lucifer’s court. Surely the Prince wouldn’t let her leave after this. Who had ever gone to Hell and come back to tell the tale?

  “Come,” Ori said. “We must not keep him waiting any further.”

  When she didn’t move, he took hold of her hand and pulled her forward like a naughty child. Once she was moving on her own the Fallen released her.

  Riley thought throne rooms were supposed to be big and opulent. This space resembled a school gymnasium, minus the basketball hoops and the bleachers. It smelled about as bad.

  She had expected something more medieval: rows of banquet tables laden with the corpses of the damned, blazing torches in wall sconces. There were no bodies or tables, and instead of the sconces there was some sort of subtle light dancing along the walls. When she peered closer she realized they were souls, expending themselves to provide Hell’s interior lighting design.

  That’s totally sick.

  Though Riley didn’t try to count them, there had to be at least a hundred or more demons here. No wonder the place reeked. They varied from the small to the large, all hideous. There were Mezmers and Gastro-Fiends and Archfiends. Some were Hellspawn she’d never seen before—like the one that oozed across the floor in a wave of crimson steam.

  “Can they hear what I think?’ she whispered.

  “No. I’m shielding your thoughts from the fiends. You’ll get yourself killed otherwise.”

  Lucifer sat in a carved ebony chair at the far end of the room where two massive Geo-Fiends stood guard over him, their horned heads ending only a few feet below the curved stone ceiling.

  Demonic growls rose around them as Ori strode toward his lord and master. He’d killed enough of them over the eons that he was hated by their kind. The Fallen angel paused about fifteen feet from Lucifer, but did not go down on one knee or bow. In the past Ori had shown nothing but deference to the Prince of Hell.