Not that there was going to be any future. I didnt care what Beloch saidwed done what hed ordered and there was no reason to do it again.
No reason but the strange longing that suffused my body. I wanted him again. Which was crazyI didnt want sex, I didnt like it, even when I was in love. So why did my hands shake when I thought of touching him? I thought of the way our bodies joined, the feel of him inside me, the thick slide of him, and I wanted to feel it again.
I tried to lock the bathroom door, but of course it had been dismantled, and I slammed my fist against the wood, then let my forehead rest against it. I wanted to scream with fury and frustration, but it would do no good. I dropped the sheet, no longer giving a good goddamn whether any ancient pervert was watching me, and stepped into the shower. My thighs were sticky, my muscles ached, my mouth was soft and tender from his. I leaned against the marble wall and let the hot water pound down on me, washing him away.
I dried myself, then grabbed the sheet again before I opened the door. My bedroom was deserted, the bed made with fresh sheets, and new clothes lay folded on top of the bed. I wondered who I had to thank for that. I couldnt picture Azazel making the bed, but I hadnt sensed anyone else in the house.
And then I remembered the cameras that were definitely in this room. I dressed quickly, resisting the childish impulse to flip the bird to them. Resisted it because I didnt know where the cameras were.
There was no sign of Azazel as I made my way downstairs. I was hoping thered be something edible left of the massive buffet from last night, but to my astonishment there was fresh, warm food, including hot coffee. Everything I could have wanted.
I could have wished that my appetite had disappeared with the events of the last twelve hours, but instead I was ravenously hungry. I went back for seconds and was sitting there, my legs propped up on a nearby chair, enjoying a second cup of coffee and an almond croissant, when Azazel walked in.
I looked at him, trying not to picture him naked, the look on his face as I clutched his shoulders and rode him. Theres food, I said unnecessarily.
I already ate.
Of course he did, I thought, unreasonably miffed. At this point there was probably nothing he could do that wouldnt have annoyed me. It was late afternoon, and the sky outside was darkening. It looked like a storm was coming in.
What prophecy? I hadnt meant to ask him, hadnt meant to say anything that would require a response from him. He would do as he always did, ignore my questions, give me one-syllable answers. Never mind, I said hastily. I dont know why I bother.
He came over, took the chair my feet were propped on, and pulled it out from under me, sitting down next to me. The prophecy is from one of the ancient scrolls found at Qumran. Better known as the Dead Sea Scrolls.
I was more shocked that he appeared to be giving me an answer than at the answer itself. Those are fairy tales and mythology, nothing more. Written by crazy, deluded old men.
You would be surprised, he said. Half of it is nonsense. The rest is far too close to the truth.
So theres a fifty percent chance this prophecy is true. What is it?
It doesnt matter. It happens to be part of the fifty percent that isnt true.
Then why does it matter so much to you?
His mouth thinned. I remembered the feel of his lips against mine, and I wanted to close my eyes and cross the small distance that separated
us. I stayed where I was.
The prophecy states that the Lilith will eventually marry Asmodeus, king of the demons, and they will reign in hell.
Okay, I thought, reaching for my coffee. It was already cold, but I needed to stall for time. I swallowed, then looked at him. Absurd, I agreed. Considering Im not the mythical demon you think I am, it has nothing to do with me. But even if it were true, why is that a problem for you? You think I belong in hell anyway. Might as well rule it.
Hell doesnt exist. I already told you that.
Do you think I take your word as gospel?
In fact, I never lie. I am incapable of it.
Is that part of the so-called angel thing?
Yes.
And youre an angel. I still found that as absurd as the thought that I was a demon. So why do you care about the prophecy? Why do you care who I marry? It was a ridiculous, hopeful thought, but I couldnt imagine what else was troubling about the prophecy.
Of course I dont care whom you marry. As long as it isnt me. I am called many names in the scrolls and scriptures. Azazel, Astaroth, Azael and Asmodeus.
For a moment I couldnt move. And then I couldnt help it. I laughed. Dont be ridiculous. Im not marrying you.
No. I intend to make sure of it.
Why did that feel so painful? I certainly didnt want to marry him. I had no idea what marriage to an angel might entail, but I imagined it wasnt pleasant. And there was no way in hell I was going to give him that much power over me. He had too much already.
I still wanted to fight back, to make him feel the pain I was feeling, the illogical, irrational pain, and I had one weapon. Who is Sarah?