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I let out a long breath. “Me too.” I didn’t mean it to sound so sharp.
He repeated himself patiently, as if I was being an idiot. “I am sorry if you ever thought I could abandon you. Do you think I am human? Do you think I would throw away Hell for you, then tire of your company?”
For the sake of every god that ever was, I’m trying to be conciliatory here, for once in my goddamn life. Will you just quit it? “Well, you got Hell back, didn’t you?” I responded ungracefully.
Japhrimel tipped his head back, closing his eyes. It took a few moments before I realized his jaw was working as his fury circled the room like a shark, looking for an outlet. It took about thirty seconds for his hold on his temper to come back. I stared, fascinated. It was like watching a reaction fire trying to contain itself. I had never seen this level of frustration in him.
“Were I to go back to Hell,” he informed me, his tone dead level, “I would be shu
I’m trying to be nice to you! Guilt twisted my heart as if a hand had reached into my chest and squeezed. Why won’t you tell me these things? “Good for you.” My hands were back to shaking. “Do you want a cookie or a pat on your widdle demon head?”
He shook his head, as if beyond words. I recognized the gesture—Jace used to make one like it when he’d reached the point of speechless rage during an argument with me. Then he took a deep breath, the crackle of Power dyeing the air around him with black flame.
“Punish me with sharp words if you like.” He opened his eyes and regarded me. “Your time would be better spent laying plans. There is a demon to this city, one who thinks it would be tactically sound to kill Lucifer’s new Right Hand before she can capture him.”
“Great. Another thing that’s my fault.” Come on. Lose your temper, Japh. I know you want to. I could hardly breathe, both from the weight of Power in the air and my own self-loathing. Why did I have to taunt him?
Well, at least I know I have an effect on him. The thought made me wince. I did feel strangely satisfied, as if by pushing him into losing his temper I could regain a little control over the situation. Gods above, I needed a little control.
“Not your fault. Mine. I was frantic, and too conspicuous in my search for you.”
The admission took any remaining anger and drowned it. I slumped against the wall, my hand dropping away from my swordhilt. The wristcuff on my left arm warmed abruptly. “Lovely. More people who want to kill me.” I’m sorry, Japh. I know I’m not a nice person.
“Is it any consolation that they are not ‘people’?” Familiar dry irony. I sagged against the wall, my legs refusing to quite hold me up. I knew that tone in his voice, knew it all the way through my veins. It was the voice he used while we lay tangled against each other, his skin against mine, the most human of his voices. The most gentle.
“Why were you so frantic?” I tried not to sound as if it mattered. Tried not to sound like I wanted, needed to hear him admit to it.
He shook his head. Rain murmured and hissed behind him, I saw more jolts of lightning stabbing between heaven and earth. “You are not stupid, Dante. Why do you ask?”
Didn’t he know? It took courage I didn’t think I had to tell him why. “Because I need to hear you say it.”
Long pause, moments ticked off in silence. The window was starting to look pretty good, rain or no rain. If I did decide to throw myself through it—just hypothetically, of course—how would I break the glass? And the fall, would it kill me? Could I lay the odds on that? I’d give myself three-to-one chances; I was pretty tough these days. I’d fought off an imp, hadn’t I?
One lousy little Low Flight imp.
“I was afraid for you.” Japhrimel turned on his heel. Stalked away from me, toward the wall of plasglass, trailing a streak of bright crimson across the air. He stopped, staring down at the lights of New Prague’s Novo Meste underfoot, at the clouds crackling with stormlight. “You will not leave me to wander the earth alone, my curious little Necromance. I thought that was clear enough even for your stubborn head.”
Oh, gods. He’d said that before, after Santino had shot me and Gabe dragged me back from Death. “You were afraid?”
“Yes.” Just the one simple affirmation, no embroidery.
“Sekhmet sa’es,” I hissed, and watched his shoulders tighten. “I can’t believe I… Japhrimel? Look, I’m sorry. I’m just… this just… ”
He shook his head. “Not necessary, hedaira.”
“It is. I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do, and I’m scared. You should have told me something! You should have—”
“Stop.” He rounded on me, his fists clenched. Against the backdrop of the sky’s theatrics, his eyes blazed and his black coat rustled. “Do you seek to drive me into a rage? You are safe, you are whole; well and good. You are angry that I used the Prince to gain a measure of safety for you, you are angry at me because I Fell, you hate me more than you can admit because I ca
He thinks I hate him? How could he think I hate him? Where the hell did that come from? “I don’t hate you. That’s been the motherfucking problem ever since I met you, hasn’t it? I can’t hate you. I keep treating you like you’re human.”
As usual when an uncomfortable truth is spoken, it hung reverberating in the air, unwilling to die. I looked down at my boot-toes, grimy from slogging through New Prague; the stains on my jeans from the puddle of slag I’d landed in after fighting off the imp. “I shouldn’t have said that,” I finished lamely, my left hand loosening so the scabbard slid through, lowering the sword. I wasn’t going to use it.
Not on him.
“I should not have said that either,” he said, from very close. His breath brushed my cheek. The velvet wash of his aura slid down mine, enfolded me. Then, slowly, he reached up, his fingers wrapping around mine where they rested against the swordhilt.
I didn’t look up. I closed my eyes, the last few ounces of resistance leaving me. The touch of his skin on mine sent heat down my spine, wrapped me in comfort. I was acutely aware I hadn’t really slept, that my body trembled on the edge of deep shock.
Please, Japhrimel. Help me. I can’t do this on my own.
I let out a long trembling breath, the shaking in my bones intensifying until the scabbard of my sword tapped the wall behind me, a tiny embarrassing sound. No control left.
“You will do yourself damage if you do not cease your struggling.” His breath ruffled my hair. “That will be uncomfortable for both of us.”
How much more do you want from me? Why don’t you understand? “Japh?” I leaned into him, and his free hand slid up my right arm and around my shoulders. I rested my forehead on his chest, the terrible aching under my ribs easing. The shakes came in waves, passing through me and draining away as my nervous system struggled to deal with ramping up to such a high pitch and having nowhere to spend the energy.
“What, my curious?” Was that relief that made him shake, or was I shaking so hard I was jostling him?
Did I care?
“What demon was it? Back there? Which one?” My voice cracked again, husky with invitation. I couldn’t help myself, I always sounded like a seduction, like rough honey and damp skin. Why couldn’t I sound cold and ruthless, like a demon?
He shook his head, a movement I could feel even through my trembling. “Later.” He kissed my cheek, then my mouth; I melted into him. Relief cascaded through me. He would make it stop—the jittering in my hands, the helpless rabbit-pounding of my heart, the sour taste of terror.