Текст книги "Raziel"

Автор книги: Kristina Douglas

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

“Please don’t,” I said, trying to sound calm and sure of myself. If he did this, I’d have nothing with which to fight him. If he did this, it would matter too much, and I wouldn’t be able to break away. If he did this, it would break my heart.

He pulled my T-shirt up, and I unwillingly lifted my arms to let him peel it off, so that I was standing there in nothing but his loose pants low on my hips. I felt conspicuous, vulnerable, and it took all my self-control to just stand there and look at him.

“I should point out,” he said with surprising gentleness, “that my favorite period of time was the Renaissance.”

With all those voluptuous beauties. He was probably lying, but I gave him points for trying. I still didn’t move.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. He was leaning down, his mouth so close I could feel the warmth of his breath on my face. “I wouldn’t do this to you if it wasn’t necessary.”

I’d been ready for his kiss, but at this my eyes flew open. “What do you mean, ‘necessary’?”

I was silenced, not by one of his slight gestures, but by his mouth on mine as he pulled me into his arms.

It was no sweet kiss of seduction, no chaste, heavenly kiss. It was full and openmouthed and carnal, and I stood frozen in shock as he put one arm around my waist, pulling me against his hard body, and the other had caught my chin, his long fingers cradling my face.

I’d been kissed before, of course. But never like this, with an almost cosmic sense of urgency and longing. I could feel my nipples harden against the solid warmth of his chest, and I could feel the heat between my legs, the clutch of longing in my belly. Who the hell was I trying to fool? I was turned on every time he was in the room.

He dragged his mouth away. “Stop thinking,” he said a little breathlessly, and if it were anyone else, any other circumstances, I’d have thought he was turned on.

In fact, I could feel his cock against my belly, a hard ridge of flesh. Must be some angel trick, I thought dizzily, to be able to perform on command, even if he was doing it for obscure reasons that had nothing to do with desire—

“Stop thinking,” he said again, his voice hot. “I want you. All right? I don’t want to—you’re nothing but trouble. I wish I could just walk away from you. But I can’t.”

“I’m not getting into that bed with you,” I said, one last attempt to preserve my self-control. “If you say so.”

There was no escape. Particularly because I didn’t want to escape. I turned my back to him, but he simply pulled me against him, his arm around my waist, and carried me into the bedroom.

After the dimness in the living room the lights were blindingly bright, and I shut my eyes. I was pressed against him, his strength and heat spreading through me, and I wanted to sink back into him, letting my body flow into his, and I knew I was past protesting. Who was I fooling? I wanted this so badly my heart was pounding, my hands shaking, and I knew I was already wet. Ready for him.

He must have felt it. “Yes,” he said, a low murmur of approval as he set me on my feet, my back still turned to him. His hands were on me, pushing the silk trousers and my underwear down with one movement so that they pooled around my ankles. He lifted me out of them and turned me so that I faced him, naked, totally vulnerable.

He looked at me, and the heat in his strange eyes was palpable, burning away the last of my doubts. And the last of his. I could feel his reserve melt away in the heat between us, and his breath was coming sharp and fast. “Were you sent here to torment me?” he whispered, sliding his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. “Did he know exactly what I needed, what I couldn’t fight?”

He? Who? But before I could ask the question, he kissed me again, and I was lost, needing to get closer to him, needing his skin beneath my fingers.

His tongue was in my mouth, and I welcomed it, reaching between us and pulling his shirt apart so I could touch his skin, his hot, smooth skin. His heart was racing, and I wanted to put my mouth against it, wanted to taste his flat nipples, wanted my mouth all over him.

Before I realized what he was going to do he slid his arm under me, lifting me. I twined my fingers through his thick hair, kissing him back, using my tongue, hearing my own quiet moan of surrender as surely as he unbuttoned his jeans. And then I could feel him against my sex, hard and heavy, and I knew it was going to hurt. He was too big, and he hadn’t even touched me there, and I was the kind of woman who required a lot of foreplay, and if he was going to try this he was going to have trouble and it was going to—

He slid into me, smoothly, no pulling, no resistance, and reaction spiked through my body. I was sleek and wet and welcoming, and I shivered in primal delight. The more I had of him the more I needed, and the heat of his skin against my breasts was unbearably arousing. I was burning with need, shaking with it. He started to pull out, and I clutched at him, suddenly terrified he would leave me.

But he was already pushing back into me, deeper than the first thrust, slick and sure, deeper, thicker, harder, and when he pulled back I let out a cry, desperate.

This time he slammed into me, all the way in, pushing me hard up against the wall, and my body suddenly shattered. I let out a muffled scream, burying it against his shoulder, against the smell of clean cotton and warm skin, and another wave hit me, and then another, until I was sure I couldn’t take any more.

If anything he seemed to grow bigger still inside me, and he pulled away from the wall, supporting me in his arms, and he was so strong it seemed effortless. He was moving faster now, filling me so deeply I thought I could taste him, and I convulsed in helpless pleasure at the thought. He gave in, pushing deep inside me, and I felt the hot pulse as he climaxed, my body milking him with answering contractions, and as the final wave washed over me I lost myself, as everything dissolved around us.

It was darkness, shimmering, shattering darkness, iridescent blue folding down around us, tightly, as soft as feathers wrapping around my back, sealing me into a cocoon of such infinite delight that I felt a stray climax sweep over me before everything vanished and there was nothing but pure, healing warmth.

I had no idea how long that blessed, velvet darkness lasted. I must have fallen asleep, because I opened my eyes to find that I was lying in the middle of his bed, naked, a sheet wrapped around me, and Raziel was nowhere to be seen. Of course. What man stayed around long after the fact?

I tried to turn over, then groaned in sudden discomfort. It had definitely been too long since I’d had sex, I thought dimly.

It must be the middle of the night. I managed to sit up, wincing slightly at the discomfort between my legs. I still felt the faint lingering of postcoital bliss, that heavenly warm feeling that washed over me, when I knew I shouldn’t be quite so happy. Something was wrong, something was off, yet I couldn’t remember what. I still felt as if I were floating, so pleasured that I probably could have climaxed again just thinking about it.

I’d told him not the bed, and he’d taken me at my word. Up against the wall. I hadn’t ever done that before—my erstwhile lovers weren’t what you’d call adventurous. That was good as well—the up-against-the-wall part. Everything was good, except for that nagging worry.

I needed to put it in perspective. It was sex, for God’s sake, no big whoop.

Though in truth it certainly hadbeen a big whoop. This was a far cry from the pleasant little shimmers that Jason had been able to coax from me at his most creative. A far cry from the fast, efficient orgasms I’d managed on my own. This was like nothing I’d ever experienced.

I was wet, dripping between my legs, and I realized with a shock that he hadn’t used a condom. Well, why should he? There were no pregnancies in Sheol, and presumably no sex-borne illnesses. God, this was the first time I’d ever had sex without a condom.

That was it. That explained the whole multiple-orgasm, best-I-ever-had, oh-my-God-I’m-going-to-die reaction. Sex must be impressively better without a condom. It was the lack of a thin rubber sheath getting in the way. Nothing at all to do with Raziel, thank God.

I heard the shower stop, and for a moment I panicked, looking around me for escape. I hadn’t even realized the water was running—otherwise I would have been up and out of there. It was too late, and in truth, there was nowhere I could go. If I were a good virginal Victorian heroine, I could fling myself from the ramparts, though I would have to do so stark naked, somewhat ruining the effect.

But I was neither virginal nor a heroine. It had been fast and erotic and inexplicably wonderful. And for some reason I expected it was something he wasn’t going to want to repeat.

He walked out of the bathroom, and he was naked. Totally and comfortably naked. He had something in his hand, not that I was looking at his hand, and he tossed it to me.

I reached out and caught it automatically. It was a warm, wet washcloth, presumably to clean myself off. I didn’t move, holding it in my hand, slightly dazed.

He was exquisitely beautiful, even more so without clothes. I’d always found naked men to be sort of silly, with their drooping parts bouncing as they walked. Raziel wasn’t silly. He was magnificent, with white-gold skin stretched over a lithe, strong frame, and his sex didn’t bounce. I jerked my face away, refusing to think about it.

I felt the bed sink beneath his weight, and I turned and looked at him, startled. He was looking at me with a troubled expression, one I couldn’t read. He took the washcloth out of my hand and pressed me back against the bed, his hand gentle. I clutched the sheet that covered me, but he pulled it away effortlessly, and I let it go rather than get into an undignified tug of war I was bound to lose.

“Open your legs,” he said, putting one hand on my thigh.

I considered ignoring him. I didn’t want to face him, didn’t want to talk to him after that hot, urgent coupling that undoubtedly meant far more to me than it had to him. I closed my eyes, letting him pull my legs apart, and the wet warmth of the washcloth made me shudder in unexpected reaction. Those were his hands, washing me with an unlikely tenderness, and for some reason I wanted to cry.

I lay perfectly still beneath as he took care of me, my eyes closed, just wishing he’d go away and leave me. He was going to, sooner or later, and he might as well get it over with.

“I’m not going away,” he said.

“Stop reading my mind!” I cried, my voice catching on a sob. I didn’t tend to become emotional after sex, but this was an anomaly on every front.

He cursed under his breath. And then he simply moved over me, between my legs, and before I realized what he was doing he’d pushed inside me again, fully hard, and I let out a little yelp of shock as I shifted to accommodate him.

He held very still, and I opened my eyes to look at him, to see the expression on his face. He was staring down at me, his long fingers cupping my face, his gaze intent.

“Don’t move,” he whispered. He made a small gesture, and the lights dimmed, covering us with shadows. His head dropped, his mouth against my neck, his breath on my skin. “Am I hurting you?”

I tried to find my voice. It felt as if I were sinking into a dark place of pleasure and forgetfulness. The feel of him inside me was like nothing I’d ever known before, and now that the first, fevered rush was over I could let my body experience it fully. It felt like a blessing, a benediction, a powerful act of claiming that still somehow eluded me. I shook my head, unable to speak, and I knew he smiled against my skin.

“Good,” he said softly. He kissed my shoulder, and I could feel his tongue, his teeth, lightly graze the base of my neck, and I suddenly went into overdrive. My body reacted instinctively, tightening around him, and I could feel his smile again. “No,” he whispered. “You don’t want that.”

I wanted to tell him yes, I absolutely did want that, but my voice had disappeared. Just as well—I would probably have begged him.

“You don’t have to beg,” he said. “Just hold still and let me do this.” He slid his hands beneath my butt, pulling me up close against him, and I wrapped my legs around him. The faint ache disappeared in a second, almost before I felt it, and the shift of position brought him in deeper still, and I reacted once again with that instinctive tightening.

He lifted his head to look down at me, and I stared up into his strange eyes, mesmerized. I no longer wanted to hide, to look away. He was invading my soul again, just as he had earlier, only this time he was invading my body at the same time, and I wanted more.

“There’s a limit to what you can take, Allie,” he whispered in my ear, reading me again. “I don’t want to hurt you.” And he began to move, a slow, sweet slide, and I found I could make noise after all, a deep, longing moan, as I slid my arms around his back and held him close, feeling his muscles bunch and release against my hands, wanting the feel of him, the taste of him, all around me.

The slow, steady rhythm of it was shattering. All I had to do was hold on to him as he moved, and each time he filled me I felt a dancing shimmer of delight wash over my body. There was something devastating about the measured, steady ease of it, no rush to completion, no rules, no judgment, just the thick slide of him inside me, touching places I hadn’t known existed, building toward a climax so powerful I wasn’t sure I could survive.

It would be a good death. He pulled me tighter against him, going deeper, and I cried out as the first climax hit me.

We were both covered with sweat, sliding against each other, and I bit his shoulder, tasting him, tasting the salt-sweat of him, and I wanted faster, harder, but he wouldn’t be rushed, thrusting into me at a steady rate that was going to make me scream, I knew it, he needed to stop, I couldn’t bear any more, I needed him to go faster, harder, I needed more, and I clawed at his back in desperation, reaching for a completion like I’d never known.

He reached behind him and took my arms, slamming them down on the mattress as he rose up, pumping into me. The second climax hit me, and then I couldn’t stop. I needed nothing more than the steady movement of him inside me to bring me to a place I hadn’t believed existed, and I threw myself out into the stars as his hands pressed down on mine and the iridescent darkness closed around us once more.

I could feel him inside me, coming, and I arched back, wanting his mouth on me, wanting his teeth on me. Please,I thought, and I felt his mouth against my neck and the first sharp bite of his teeth.

And I was complete.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ICOULD TASTE HER BLOOD ON MY tongue. I touched my mouth, drew my fingers away, and saw the blood on them. I brought my hand back and licked it, the richness of her blood pulsing through me. It had been nothing. The slightest puncture. No veins, not the pulsing artery at the base of her neck that was only allowed for bonded mates. This was barely more than a scrape of my teeth against her soft skin. And it was intoxicating.

I had left her asleep in the middle of the big bed, a small figure wrapped in a down blanket. She looked exhausted, as well she might. I had done my level best to wear her out, and she’d sleep for a long time.

I could see the mark on her neck, the place where I’d bitten her. At least some tiny portion of sanity had remained and I’d managed to pull back. There was a love mark where I’d sucked at her, and the tooth marks were already fading. It had been dangerously close, though. We were already too tied to each other, with breath and now with semen. If I took any more of her blood, there would be no way out.

It had been enough to give me the answers I needed. Uriel could cloud a great many things. He had the harsh powers of a Supreme Being, without the mercy or compassion or any interest in them. But even Uriel couldn’t keep a veil up when she reached her completion and lay cocooned in my wings. And there was no way her blood would be so pure, so rich, so nurturing, if Uriel had touched it. It would have been as bitter as acid.

I should have stopped with the one time. No one in Sheol could deny her right to be here from this point onward. I had claimed her, tasted her. No one else could touch her now. She was my responsibility, nothing more, I reminded myself. Little wonder that I’d lost myself in the sweet welcome of her body.

I’d been celibate too long.

But with my mouth on her neck, breaking through the frail barrier of her flesh, I had almost made an irrevocable mistake. At least I’d managed to pull away before I’d poisoned myself. She’d been reaching for it, not knowing what she sought. Arching her neck against my mouth, offering herself, but it was my fault, my responsibility. And after that first light taste, I was consumed with need.

It was a need I could control. I washed and dressed, then headed out onto the narrow balcony. I could sense where she’d been sitting, and it jarred me.

It was a long terrace—she could have chosen any number of places. Why had she sat in the same spot where I usually stayed, looking out over the ocean, my wings outspread to the night air?

I didn’t think she’d noticed my wings wrapped around her. She’d been too caught up in her climax to realize when my wings unfurled and surrounded us tightly, a protective hood.

It doesn’t always happen. It hadn’t with any of the women I’d used over the last decade or so to relieve my needs. It should have surprised me that it happened this time, but it didn’t. Nothing about Allie Watson surprised me anymore.

My body was still humming with satisfaction and rekindled desire. I could have stayed in that bed, but the closer to her I got, the greater my hunger.

It would be so much easier if I could send her somewhere else to sleep, but that would cause too much gossip. With luck I’d be able to convince the Council that she was no threat, and I could keep my distance, keep the ties between us from growing any stronger. I’d been very careful not to touch her more than strictly necessary in a vain attempt to keep the act impersonal. If I could just shut off this sudden raging need for her, I’d be fine.

Her sleeping mind was a blank to me, and her waking mind was fading with each sex act. If she’d known that, she probably would have jumped me earlier. Between bonded mates, the mental link lessened and evened out between the two. It was easy enough to read human sex partners, but after multiple couplings that ability lessened, probably from lack of use. The women I’d slept with were straightforward and simple to read, just as Allie had been in the beginning. I’d known perfectly well that she wanted me, or at least thought she did. But I’d also known she was uncertain about something as simple and logical as sex, despite her experience. And that she didn’t like her body, which amazed me, since I thought she was close to perfection. Her body had distracted me from the very beginning, the sheer lushness of her curves, the delicious softness of her thighs, the high, round butt. I’d done very well not thinking about it, skittering out of her mind whenever she allowed herself to fantasize.

I’d been too caught up in my own reactions during sex to see hers, beyond her blind pleasure. For me the sex had been disastrous—so much worse than I’d expected, because I’d been shaken by it, so overwhelmed by the power of it that I’d had to repeat it immediately. The wiser thing to do would have been to walk away from her. Instead I’d thought I’d tend to her, be gentle and distant, and within moments I’d been inside her again, lost in her.

With luck, she’d be disappointed. I’d heard and seen her fantasies—no one could live up to that. With luck, my ability to read her would have faded enough that I wouldn’t see anything that might . . . precipitate something. Touching her again would be very unwise.

Now, if only my cursed body understood that.

IT WAS EARLY AFTERNOON WHEN I finally awoke, alone. I knew he wasn’t in the apartment, though I wasn’t sure how. I could drag myself out of bed and into the shower without running into him. It was a small blessing, but I’d take it.

I wasn’t sure what I’d say to him. How to react. I knew instinctively that this wasn’t the start of a love affair. If I went up to him, touched him as a lover would, I could just imagine his reaction, and I shuddered. I would have to do my best to read him. If he was suddenly affectionate . . . the thought was seductive in ways far more dangerous than simple sex. Not that sex was simple, in particular sex with Raziel. Sex with an angel. Sex with a vampire. The best sex of my life, afterlife included.

But that wasn’t the way it was going to be. As sure as I knew he was gone, I knew he was going to act as if last night had never happened. And I could damned well do the same.

I was going to have to be careful, though. He could read my thoughts, see my fantasies, and he’d never believe my lies. Really, that was as close a definition of hell as any. A place where you couldn’t fool your lover.

Your lover. He wasn’t my lover. He was the man who’d taken me to bed last night for reasons I hadn’t quite understood. It had been necessary, he’d said. For an act of duty rather than desire, he’d managed pretty damned well, I thought, letting the shower pound down on my body. But why had he done it a second time?

I wrapped myself in one of the huge bath towels, white terry cloth, of course, and went to the closet, resigning myself to white cult couture. Instead my eyes were met with an explosion of colors, rose and green and aqua and pale yellow. For the first time, my heart lightened. Sarah had come through. And how Raziel would hate it. It was enough to cheer me up.

I pulled out a swirling dress of rainbow colors. The neckline was too low, exposing my abundant charms, and I almost chickened out. But I pulled it on anyway, heading back into the bathroom to check it out.

It fit perfectly. I stared at my face in the mirror, shocked. I looked like me, and yet like a stranger. My thick brown hair curled around my face, my eyes were huge, my lips . . . I had to admit it, they were swollen from his mouth.

But that wasn’t the only place his mouth had been. I saw the mark on the side of my neck. Not the distinct puncture marks from vampire movies, but a scrape, made by something sharp. His teeth? He’d tasted me, I realized, but he hadn’t fed.

He’d had sex with me, but we hadn’t made love. And I was suddenly depressed.

As far as I could tell there were no clocks in Sheol, but I surmised it was somewhere around midday, both by the level of the sun in the misty sky and by the growling of my stomach, which was impressive. I climbed out one of the windows and went out onto the parapet. The damp sea air caught my hair and tossed it back, and I breathed in deeply. Suddenly looking at the ocean wasn’t enough—I needed to be down there, walking barefoot in the grass, wading in the gentle surf. I was tired of being a pariah.

The apartment’s front door opened easily, to my relief. I passed people on the stairs this time, but the hostility I’d felt from them seemed to have disappeared. No one glared at me—they even managed a friendly smile here and there—but clearly I was the least of their worries. Something was going on, and my self-centered mopiness faded as a real sense of anxiety began to intrude.

I made it all the way down the endless flights of stairs, though I knew that was the easy part. I half-expected one of the angelic gatekeepers to stop me as I went toward the door, but no one seemed to have any time for me, an absolute blessing.

I stepped outside onto the thick green grass and quickly kicked off the sandals I’d found. The wind was blowing in from the sea, and I let the damp air sweep over me, closing my eyes in pleasure. My skin would taste of salt, I thought. His skin would taste of salt. And that familiar/unfamiliar heat surged between my legs. Where he had been.

I walked over the grass, then the layer of small stones, then onto the sand, leaving wet footprints as I moved toward the retreating waves. It was odd that I’d never learned to swim, when I loved water so much. I think I’d always been slightly afraid of it, certain that I’d drowned once in a past life. How strange to think that in truth it had been in an afterlife, while trying to save a fallen angel.

I looked around me. The grounds spread off to the right, and for a moment I stared. It almost looked as if there were a shimmer at the distant edge, like a heat mirage, but the weather was temperate and there was no bright sun. I started toward it, walking in the sand, half-expecting it to move. Would I be able to touch it? Put my hand through it? Could I walk through it, to the other side and the real world that Raziel insisted no longer existed for me?

I would be a fool not to try.

I thought it might coalesce as I got closer, but it didn’t. I was close enough to feel it, and I stopped short, staring at it. It was some kind of StarTrefe-ian energy field. It pulsed, almost as if it were alive, and I reached out my hand to touch it—

“Move away from the wall, Allie,” Sarah said, her tone sharp, and I jumped back, startled.

“Is that what it is?” I said disingenuously. What else could it possibly be? But for some reason I didn’t want Sarah to know I was thinking about running away.

“That’s what it is,” she said, her usually warm blue eyes flat. “What were you doing?”

I shrugged. “I was curious.”

She surveyed me for a long moment. “You’re lying,” she said eventually. “And I don’t know why. Raziel told us he lay with you, that he used the Grace of Knowing and even tasted your blood, and that there was no darkness within you, so it must be true.”

“He told you?” I said in a strangled voice. “All of you?”

“All of us. Otherwise you’d be back where he was told to leave you. Most of the Council wanted you gone anyway—only Raziel and I fought for you.”

“Raziel fought for me? Why?”

A small smile curved Sarah’s mouth. “You’ll have to ask him. I know you have a reason to be here in Sheol, but I see things others don’t. Maybe Raziel was simply being stubborn. Maybe it was something more. But you need to come away from the wall. The others won’t be as open-minded. They still think Raziel might be blinded by . . .” She let the words trail off, and her smile widened.

“By what?”

She threaded her arm through mine. “Never mind. Let’s just get away from here. It will be getting dark soon, and the Nephilim are near.”

I shivered, suddenly cold, remembering those howls during the long night when I’d watched over Raziel’s body. Time seemed suspended, moving oddly. It seemed so long ago that I’d curled up next to him, and it was only three days.

I’d heard those unearthy screams last night as well. Before Raziel gave me something else to think about.

By the time we reached the grass, I’d almost managed to shake off my feelings of dread. Until I looked into Sarah’s eyes. “What’s wrong? Where is everyone?”

She looked at me for a long moment, considering. “They’re going to break through. Everyone knows it, we just don’t know when. Someone has led them to the gate, and someone will let them in.”

“Not me!” I said in horror.

“No, not you. Though the others suspected you. And still would, if they saw you lingering down there. But someone inside isgoing to open the gates, and the Nephilim will overrun us.”

“Why? Why now?”

She shrugged. “Who knows how Uriel’s mind works? He’s wanted to destroy us for millennia, and he is very patient. We believe he finally has found a way in.”

“Through the Nephilim?”

“And the traitor.”

I looked out to the churning sea, breathing in the fresh salt spray. “So we’re all going to die,” I said in a flat voice.

“Not all of us. You have got something—”

“Raziel’s looking for me,” I broke in, startled.

She looked just as surprised. “Where?”

I looked around. There was no one in sight. The lawn and beach in front of the house were deserted in the waning light. “I’m sorry. I must have imagined it. What were you saying?”

Sarah shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Don’t do that—I’ll die of curiosity!” I protested. And then I heard him. His voice, calling me. “He’s sounding really pissed off,” I said regretfully. “I’d better go to him.”

“How do you know this?”

I hadn’t even considered it. I shrugged. “I have no idea. I just know.”

A slow smile curved Sarah’s mouth. “How lovely,” she said in a soft voice. “Then you’d better go back. The two of you will have a lot to talk about.”

“I doubt it. I don’t think he’s going to want to talk to me at all. Couldn’t you come with me?

Sarah shook her head. “We’ll talk later. Just don’t let him bully you. Raziel can be very strong-minded.”

“I don’t really want to be left alone with him,” I said, feeling desperate.

“Why?”

“He’s either going to want to talk about it, which will be excruciatingly uncomfortable, or he’ll pretend it never happened, which will be even worse. If you’re with me, then it will be a moot point.”

“Sheol isn’t that different from the world,” Sarah said. “Men never want to talk about things.”

“That’s what I figured. But still—”

“You’ll be perfectly safe ignoring the entire situation until you decide not to ignore it any longer,” Sarah said smoothly. “Go on now.”

I had started walking up the slope when her voice trailed after me: “By the way, that’s a very pretty dress on you.”

I turned back, mortified. “And I never said thank you! It’s gorgeous, and so are all the others that I found in the closet. Thank you so much, Sarah!”

Her eyes twinkled. “I haven’t had time to get you new clothes, Allie. Raziel must have seen to it.”

I stared down at my dress. “Impossible,” I said flatly.

“If you say so. You’d better hurry. You probably don’t want to keep him waiting.”