King of the Damned (League of Guardians 2)

Finally Rowan spoke, her breath warm against his chest. “Where is my mother? And Kellen?”

“They’re both here. They were unhurt.”

She settled against him, burrowing into his chest. “Nana was there. I saw her, only briefly, but she was there.” She smiled tremulously. “I felt her warmth and her strength.”

“She’s inside you, Rowan. Your grandmother will be with you always. As will Abigail and Cedric.”

She exhaled a shaky breath. “When are you leaving?”

“I’m not.”

She wiggled in his grasp until he had to let her go, he

r eyes wide with confusion as she stared up at him. “I don’t . . . what do you mean?”

Azaiel studied her closely, not sure of her reaction. “I thought I’d hang around for a while. Help with the cleanup. No one kills a demon lord of Mallick’s caliber without consequences. There will be more attacks, of that you can be assured.”

She nodded slowly, and whispered, “How long?”

It was crunch time, and his gut tightened, suddenly unsure. “How long would you have me?”

“But . . .” She bit her lip, and it took everything in him not to reach down and cover her mouth with his. “I didn’t think it was possible.” Rowan shook her head. “Don’t toy with me, Azaiel. I’ve lost too much already.”

He grabbed her chin and stared at her intently, his breath frozen, his heart about to explode. “How. Long. Will. You. Have. Me?”

Her delicate brows arched, and he knew she was confused. She licked her lips and exhaled shakily. “I would have you for the rest of my life, but . . .”

His mouth was on hers, a warm, gentle caress that left him aching inside. “You have me then.”

Rowan broke away. “I don’t understand. I thought you had to go back to Bill and the League. I thought that you and I . . . that we wouldn’t be allowed to be together.”

He nodded. “As long as I’m Seraphim, that is true.” He brushed her mouth once more. “I’m no longer Seraphim.”

She pushed at him, frowning. “What do you mean you’re no longer Seraphim?”

“When I was on trial my brothers, the other original Seraphim, stripped me of everything. They wanted me to be mortal. To feel pain and to suffer. Askelon gave me my immortality back in exchange for my allegiance. At the time it was important to me.” He shrugged. “That’s no longer the case. I asked him to release me, and after some persuasion, he agreed. I’ll still work for the League, of course, I’m just . . .”

“You’re mortal.”

“Yes.”

“Oh Azaiel, what have you done?” The tears that shimmered in her eyes now fell freely, and she stepped back. The dead space inside him, the one that she’d filled, if only for a short while, began to crack, and his expression turned to granite.

He regarded her for a few moments, waiting until he knew he’d be able to speak without making a complete ass out of himself. Obviously he’d overstepped. By a fucking mile.

He hated the way his heart felt like it was crushing him from the inside out. How had he gotten it all so wrong?

“I thought you’d be happy,” he said woodenly.

“You’ve given too much. It’s too much, and I’m afraid . . .”

He didn’t understand. “Rowan, what are you afraid of?”

She bit her lip in that way that he adored, and he rubbed his forefinger along her chin. “I’m afraid one day you’ll figure it out, and you’ll grow to resent me,” she whispered.

“Figure what out?”

“That it was a mistake. A horrible mistake. That I wasn’t . . . worth it.”