Lorelia nodded. “It’s possible she ingested herbs or a potion that would render her body inhospitable to Lucifer. Or perhaps a spell encased her in repellant magic.”
But who could have known? He’d kept this between the three of them for a reason. Had either Uriel or Lorelia betrayed them? Had Lorelia, in her enthusiasm to level the Horsemen, said too much or behaved strangely? The smallest thing could have given the Horsemen something to go on. They weren’t fools, after all.
He swiped the tiny clouded marble out of Lorelia’s hand and held it up to the moonlight. He could crush it between his fingers like a grape. And while he’d rather not, he would if doing so served the greater good.
But it wouldn’t, so Limos’s baby, its essence reduced to the marble he was holding, would live.
But that didn’t mean he was done with it.
Eighteen
An hour before darkness fell, Harvester and Reaver discovered an abandoned shack to hole up in just a few miles from the carrion wisp village.
Harvester, her power humming through her body at maybe a fourth of her capacity, set displacement wards on the trail behind them to throw off the Darkmen. Naturally, she pointed out that even if Reaver had been at full strength, he couldn’t have placed the wards. Only evil magic could fool an angelic assassin.
“See, I’m more than useful,” she said, enjoying the way the vein in his temple throbbed with annoyance. “Now discharge your powers. I can make out your glow, and it kind of makes me want to stab you.”
He used up his power to demolish a couple of the eerie black trees that populated the area, and by the time they stumbled through the shack’s open doorway, Harvester’s stomach was growling embarrassingly loud for food. But worse, her entire body was snarling with the need for blood, and her wing anchors throbbed so viciously that any shoulder movement felt like she was being struck with an ax.
She couldn’t feed from Reaver again. Feeding from him had turned her into a monster she hadn’t wanted him to see. She shouldn’t care, should revel in Holy Boy’s disgust. But truthfully, every time she went all Monster Mash, she disgusted even herself.
Besides, it fucking hurt when the horns drilled out of her skull.
The windowless one-room dwelling was dusty and smelled like mold, but there was a gel-like sleeping pad large enough to fit two extra-tall people and a stone trough, which was presumably a toilet. It wasn’t the Hilton, but considering the last time they’d rested it had been inside a parasitic bush, this was luxury.
Reaver cast a glance outside through the crack he’d left in the doorway. “I’ll keep watch while you get some sleep.”
“I’m not tired,” she lied. She was fucking exhausted.
“You’re going to sleep,” he insisted as he dropped his backpack onto the dirt floor and dug out the canteen. “Here. Drink.”
Her first instinct was to rail against his command no matter how parched she was, but immediately on the heels of that impulse was genuine gratitude. Huh. Maybe there was hope for her after all.
“So demanding,” she said, settling on a combination of both acceptance and indifference. Sinking down on the gel mattress, she took the canteen, downed as much as she could handle, and then took the protein bar he offered. “Thank you.”
He cocked an eyebrow, as if shocked that she took the time to offer thanks. Yeah, well, join the club. Right there with ya, buddy.
She tore open the chocolate-covered whatever-it-was as Reaver opened his own. The thing was waxy on the outside and had the consistency of sawdust on the inside, but it tasted better than anything Harvester had ever had.
With the exception of Reaver’s blood. She shoved that thought into the back of her mind and ordered it to stay there.
Reaver finished his protein bar and sank onto the mattress, putting his back against the wall so he was facing the door. He folded his hands across his abs, and she let her gaze take him in from his broad chest to his powerful shoulders. His black T-shirt, torn and frayed at the seams, clung to him like a second skin, revealing every flex of his muscles.
And his arms… holy hotness, they were strong, yet gentle. She’d seen him demolish demons with them, but she’d also seen him cradle a newborn infant with care. As she ogled his tan biceps, they rippled as if demanding attention.
Even Reaver’s muscles were demanding.
“You should get a tattoo,” she blurted. She loved tattoos.
He grinned, and she felt a silly flutter in her breast. “A long time ago, I made a bet with Eidolon. He said I’d find a mate. I bet him I never would. So now if I ever take a mate, he’s going to make me get the Underworld General caduceus tattooed on my ass.”