And then I was shoved away, roughly, and I almost fell. My legs felt weak, rubbery, and I wanted more, wanted to reach out and beg him, wanted everything wicked and impossible and glorious. For the first time in my memory, in any of my twisted memories, I wanted sex and darkness and lust. His push had knocked my head against the doorjamb, but I hid it. I stared up into his eyes and saw the contempt and hatred there, and the desire, the need, vanished. I wanted to shrivel up and die.
Quite lovely, he said in an acid voice. You have the reserved-virgin thing down pat. If we wanted to kick it up a notch, you could try to summon the Nightmen and I could disappear, but I dont think theyll come. You have no choice.
I stared at him. He was doing a damned good job of controlling his breathing, but I had felt him against my stomach, hard. I wasnt going to look at his crotch, I wasnt going to look anywhere but his hard, furious face, and his coldness reached into me so that I wanted to shake and shiver. I pressed back against the wooden doorjamb to keep my body still, lifted my chin, and found a cool smile to answer him with.
No choice? I echoed, taking the salient phrase from his biting attack. No choice in what?
You are a whore , he said. You exist to corrupt mankind.
I didnt flinch. It was another of his lies. My memory might be damaged, but my body had known with Rolfknown the frustration, the emptiness. Sex was a necessity for men and a trial for women. But you said youre not a man, I shot back, uncowed. Therefore youre incorruptible.
Thats what Beloch wants me to prove.
Prove that youre resistant to my so-called wiles? I laughed, just slightly shaky. Youve already proven that. I ignored the memory of his erection against me. Its hardly a great accomplishment. Im no great beauty, no seductress. It should be fairly easy to resist me.
He made no effort to come closer, and my heartbeat was beginning to slow. My mouth burned from his, and I wanted to get away from him. You know that you are impossible to resist. To deny it is a waste of time.
I couldnt help it, I laughed again. The idea was patently absurd. Oh, yeah? Why is that?
You know as well as I do. You are not simply some ordinary demon. You are the Lilith, the first wife, the consort of monsters, the succubus who enters mens dream, the one who smothers newborn babies for pleasure. Youre a monster.
His words chilled me. His ice finally covered me, trapping me, and I couldnt speak, couldnt move, couldnt cry out that he was lying when I knew that beneath it all there was truth there,
somewhere amidst all the great lies.
He didnt expect any response. He could see the shock in my eyes, knew that hed managed to reach me. Go to bed, he said. Or Ill take you there.
The threat shouldnt have astonished me, not after that kiss. But it did, it shook me to my soul. Because I despised him. And I would have gone with him, willingly.
Without another word, I left him staring after me. I went, and I hid. From him. And from the creature I was afraid I was.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I DIDNT BELIEVE HIM. OF COURSE I didnt. He could just as well have said I was Jack the Ripper. I might have an impaired memory, but I would know if I were the epitome of female evil.
Because oddly enough, I remembered all the stories. The sources of the Lilith myth, and myth it was. Lilitu, the Mesopotamian storm demon. Lamia, the screech owl who devoured children and drove men to distraction, the queen of infertility and predatory sexuality, the queen of the night and the wind. Lamia, the raptor. As well as Adams first wife, the one who was cursed and banished to lie with demons and kill children.
I was shivering now, and I didnt have to hide it. I managed to get back to my room, slamming the door behind me. I leaned back against it, staring around the grayness with numb horror. It wasnt true. It couldnt be true.
But I had run from babies, certain they would die if I stayed near them. It had made no sense, but in the snippets of my various lives I could remember what had precipitated my flight. A sick infant. Or the return of the shadows. Of Azazel, watching, waiting to take me. Just how long had he stalked me? How long had he waited before taking me?
I slid down onto the floor, wishing I could weep. Id never been one to crycould demons cry? But Im human! I wanted to scream. I bled, I loved, I hated. I hated Azazel with such a fierce passion that I could burn through the ice that encased him. But surely demons could hate.
There was little else average about me. I had no family, no history. I kept away from men in general, even though they tended to pay me too much attention. If I were some eternal seductress, surely I would have a better sex life to show for it, not the unsatisfying couplings Rolf had provided.
But that was another clue, wasnt it? Why couldnt I remember more of the mythology of the first wife? Why had she been banished? It wasnt eating the apple. That was the crime of the second wife, the usurper, the