Falling Light (Game of Shadows #2)(67)

For thousands of years and countless battlegrounds that spanned the realms, she had refused to even speak any of his true names. She called him by the shabbiest of nicknames, the one that was both insult and lie, for he was no Deceiver. He lived true to himself. He refused to bow down to her mores and strictures, or to submit to any society’s rules or judgment.

His oldest and truest name—that was the one she feared the most. Morning Star he had been called when he had been the King of Babylon, but his dark radiance had never been like her white, pitiless glow.

Light Bearer.

The ancients had not meant it as a compliment.

Lucifer smiled a wicked smile, spread out his beautiful hands and called on his oldest, primeval power.

Fire rained down on the land.

Chapter Twenty-three

JUST AS MARY did, Michael had a place of the heart that existed past guards and barriers, cynicism and shortcomings.

It was the image of a large bedchamber. A fire blazed in a stone fireplace, chasing away the shadows and the chill of the night. The bed was massive, with a rope frame and a thick mattress stuffed with feathers, and a pile of luxuriant, embroidered woolen blankets and soft furs.

As soon as she set foot inside the room, Mary knew the place. The heavy wooden door was reinforced with iron, and it could be barricaded with a thick oak bar from inside the room. The chests that were filled with his possessions lay against one wall, while the chests that were filled with hers were set against another. It was an intimate scene filled with peace and safety.

Two chairs were positioned in front of the fire. A lady’s embroidery lay on one seat of the chair.

Mary walked over to the chair and picked up the embroidery. It depicted a woodland scene with colorful flowers and wild animals. “I remember this piece,” she breathed. “I worked on it all winter long.”

Michael walked up behind her. He buried his face in the hair at the nape of her neck. “Recalling details of this lifetime saved me, I think,” he said. “I couldn’t feel any real emotion when I was younger. I couldn’t connect to anything, until I remembered this place.”

Mary turned in his arms. She nestled against him. “We were happy here. I was so happy.” She paused, searching the dim, distant impressions that had surfaced. “It wasn’t perfect. There was always something to worry about, wasn’t there?”

“War.” He ran his hands up and down her back. “There was always the threat of the Deceiver, and war. We could never risk you getting pregnant, and sometimes, when there was a drought, we worried about the harvest. But we remembered who we were. We were together and completely present, and in this room, nothing else mattered.”

“Yes,” she whispered. For an enchanted time in this place, they had shared peace, love and safety, three of the most powerful words in any language. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“I had to.” He pressed his lips to her temple, and they stood together silently for a time. Then he sank a fist into her hair and tilted her head back to kiss her, in a deep, thorough exploration of her mouth. He said against her lips, “When I make love to you again, we won’t be exhausted and caught in the images of distant memories. We are going to be completely present and in our bodies.”

She tightened her arms around him as she whispered, “Promise?”

“Nothing on earth could keep me from it.” He kissed her again, and his warm lips were hard and demanding. He pulled away with obvious reluctance. “But for right now we can truly rest.”

“And wake up together,” she said.

“Absolutely.” He eased her gently from the mental image and with obvious reluctance pulled away from her presence. Then nature took over, and she joined her body in a deep sleep.

A formless time later, cold air wafted over her cheek, and she surfaced out of the peaceful dark to discover that she was on the move. Michael had wrapped her in a blanket and he carried her up the steep hill to the cabin. Overhead, the moon winked through the trees, and the night sky was crisp and clear.

“What happened?” Her voice was blurry with sleep. “What time is it?”

“I’m sorry I disturbed you,” he said quietly. “It’s around two or three in the morning, and I’m ravenous. I can’t get back to sleep until I eat something, and we don’t have any real food on the boat. I didn’t want to leave you down there by yourself in case you woke up and wondered where I had gone.”

“I’m glad you did,” she murmured. Michael had slipped on his jeans and the sweater. She nestled into his chest, tucking her face into his neck. Not only was she naked underneath the blanket, she was barefoot too, and she remembered all too well how rough the path was. She was entirely happy to let him do all the work.

When he strode across the clearing and reached the cabin, she shook an arm out of the blanket to open the door for him. Astra was either asleep or at least resting, for the cabin lay in deep shadow, but Michael was still surefooted and certain as he carried her quietly into his bedroom and deposited her on the king-sized bed.

She discarded the blanket and slipped underneath the covers, while he disappeared. In the kitchen, the refrigerator light came on briefly as he rummaged for food. She turned on the bedside lamp, and a few minutes later, he walked into the bedroom carrying a plate of sandwiches and two tall glasses of water. He pushed the door shut with one foot.