And then I knew, as he leaned down and covered my mouth with his, and instead of pushing him away I came closer, my body drifting against his as his arm came around my waist.

He held me there, his hand on my hip, and I could feel his erection. My reaction was immediate: I was wet, longing for him, my nipples hardening in anticipation, my secret flesh quivering for his touch. His tongue pushed inside my mouth, as I wanted his cock pushing inside me, and I wanted him so desperately that everything disappeared, his betrayal, the pain, the horror. I needed him inside me; I wanted to shove him down on the sand and mount him.

I shivered, trying to fight it, but I was kissing him back, and that knowledge was a shame so great I froze.

He must have felt my sudden chill. He set me away from him, seemingly without reluctance, and his eyes were hidden by hooded lids. I didn’t have to look down to know he was still hard, to know he wanted me. Though I wondered why.

He had had others, better. Women he’d loved, presumably, though the idea of Azazel and love seemed inconsistent. “Is this part of some sadistic entertainment for you?” I said in my newly husky voice. “New ways to inflict pain?”

He didn’t react. “You have had ample time to deal with your ordeal in the Dark City.” He was cool and even, as always. “You need to come back where you belong.”

I was breathless at his gall. “And where is that?”

“In my bed.”

Fury and disbelief overpowered me, and I simply stared at him in disbelief. He took my arm, and I yanked away, stumbling back.

“We need to join the Council,” he said patiently. “I’m not about to ravish you on the sand.”

I wanted him on the sand. I was suddenly reminded of an old children’s book. In a chair, in the air, on a boat, in a coat. On the sand, with your hand. Every way I could take him. I drew myself up to my full height, hoping I was radiating dignity but knowing I probably simply looked sulky. “In your dreams,” I said.

“And yours.”

Had he seen my dreams? The wickedly erotic memories that woke me with mini climaxes? No, there was no way he could see inside my mind.

“I can read your thoughts,” he said with horrifying frankness. “Not all of them, but enough, if I try, though you are more difficult than most. I can’t see much of your dreams, but I can imagine. I have the same dreams.”

I couldn’t stand another moment talking to him. I started past him, heading toward the house, and if he’d touched me I would have run. But he didn’t. He simply fell into step beside me, and it wasn’t until we’d made our way to the door of the meeting hall that he whispered, “Mini climaxes?” in a soft voice, and I could feel the heat rise and stain my face.

They were all gathered. The Fallen were seated around the table, with one chair left for Azazel. The only woman at the table was Allie—the other wives were seated in the back, and I’d started toward them when Azazel took my hand. “She belongs at the table.”

I desperately wanted to yank my hand free, but there were too many people watching, and I felt suddenly shy. “He’s right,” Allie said. “Someone get her a chair.”

“I don’t need—” I began, but Azazel overruled me.

“This is of concern to you as well.”

Someone drew another chair up to the vast table beside Azazel’s, and I had no choice. I sat, trying to keep apart from him in the confined space, but when he slid in next to me his thigh brushed against mine, and there was no way I could retreat, short of climbing into Michael’s lap—and even I stopped short of climbing into the archangel Michael’s lap, whether he’d fallen or not.

“Word has come to us,” Raziel said. “Uriel has found Lucifer’s tomb.”

This meant nothing to me. Allie had told me the Fallen were searching for the place where the Supreme Being had imprisoned the first of the Fallen, but it had nothing to do with me.

But all eyes were upon me, an unsettling situation, and I felt Azazel’s hand on my thigh, calming me, restraining me, copping a feel, I wasn’t sure which. I wanted to scuttle out of the way, but Michael was too close, and with his shaven head and tattooed body he looked almost lethal. I stayed where I was.

Finally Allie said, “Stop looking at her. Don’t you realize she doesn’t have any idea what’s going on?”

It was Raziel who spoke. “You told Uriel where Lucifer is,” he said, his measured voice expressing no censure. “That’s what the Truth Breakers were trying to retrieve from you.”

“I should point out that my visit with the Truth Breakers wasn’t my idea, it was Azazel’s,” I said with remarkable calm. “And if you hadn’t sent someone to rescue me, I would have died.”

“In fact, it was the Council’s decision to send you to the Truth Breakers. We didn’t know that the Dark City was part of Uriel’s kingdom.”

“Well, that’s all right, then,” I said, letting the sarcasm through. “Didn’t you think there might be an easier way to get the information from me?”

“No.”

God, he could be just as monosyllabic as Azazel.

“The bottom line is, if Azazel hadn’t turned me over to the torturers, they wouldn’t know anything about where Lucifer is. And don’t ask me—I don’t remember anything but … pain.” My ruined voice broke a little on that, despite my best effort, and I glared at Raziel. I wanted to glare at the man beside me, but that would mean I actually had to look at him, and I couldn’t trust myself to do that.

“They took that memory from you,” Azazel said from beside me.

“Is that why you sent someone to save me at the last minute?” I asked Raziel, ignoring him. “Because you realized they were the bad guys? Or because you figured they’d already stripped my memories of anything useful?”

I could see Azazel make some kind of gesture out of the corner of my eye, but Raziel ignored him. “I didn’t send anyone to save you. You’re a demon. Your well-being isn’t our concern—you were expendable.”

“Then who—”

“None of that matters,” Azazel interrupted. “The question is, what are we going to do now?”

Raziel’s eyebrows slammed together in displeasure. “I think you should answer Rachel’s question.”

I had the sudden idea that I wasn’t going to like the answer. No one else was volunteering the information—no one was saying anything—so I turned my head to look at Azazel.

It hit me anew, my longing for him, for the monster who’d delivered me to torturers. It was crazy and wrong, and I would die before he found out. “So tell me,” I said calmly.

The bright blue eyes, watching me without emotion. The gorgeously shaped mouth that had kissed me. The hands that had turned me over to the Truth Breakers without a moment’s hesitation.

“I brought you back.”

I froze, going through a mental litany of curses. I was just going to shut up now, before I found out anything else I didn’t want to hear. What was I supposed to do, thank the son of a bitch? I couldn’t move away from the insistent pressure of his thigh against mine, and knew that if I tried to leave the table, he’d simply force me back down. But I could move his restraining hand. I picked it off my thigh and deposited it on his own. He left it there.

“We have decided to follow the prophecy, since fighting it has only made things worse,” Raziel was saying, though whether to me or the others I wasn’t sure. “The demon Lilith will wed Asmodeus, king of demons, and together they will rule hell. They will raise Lucifer up from darkness, and they will beget a new generation of the Fallen.”

“But we know that’s impossible,” Allie spoke up. “For one thing, Rachel is no longer the Lilith. Her servitude is broken.”

“How do you know?” her husband said.

Allie ignored him. “As for Azazel, he’s only referred to as Asmodeus in a few obscure texts. Some people think he’s an entirely different demon.”

“I might point out that I’m not a demon.” Azazel’s voice beside me might almost have held humor, but I knew that was impossible. Besides, if he found anything about this funny, I’d hate him even more than I already did.